, and as we go, hear a third gun
fired. It comes from the direction of the brig Perry, and we cut through
the water toward it, at a twelve-knot rate, for a good half hour, but
hearing no more firing, put in near the shore to watch for the rebel
vessel, as we think those guns were intended to put us on our guard. It
soon grows dark; lights are ordered out, and each man blinds his port.
No talking above a whisper must be heard; we are to be still as an
arctic night. Midnight passes, and lights still flicker along the shore.
It is so dark we cannot see the land, though not more than a mile from
it, and only know what it is by our compass and bearings, and the fires
which lighten up the clouds in spots right over them. One, two, and
three o'clock have passed; no sail or sound yet, and the night so dark
we cannot see a ship's length away. Half past three, and we begin to
heave anchor. The rattle of the chains is just enough to drown the sound
of paddle wheels should a steamer approach, and the sound of her own
wheels would in turn drown our noise; so if one does run in to land, it
may be over us, for any warning we should have of its whereabout.

Suddenly the acting master jumps, looks for an instant across the bows
into the thick darkness, and bids a boy report to the captain and
lieutenant 'a vessel almost on us.' The man at the windlass is stopped,
unshackles the chain, and lets the anchor go with a buoy attached.
Captain and lieutenant come on deck, and order to blaze away with our
fifty-pound Parrott. Crash! through the still air rings the sharp
report, and the ball goes whizzing through the gloom, in the direction
the vessel was seen. The bright flash of the gun, and the thick cloud of
smoke make the darkness tenfold more impenetrable. For half an hour, we
chase in every direction, then fire again toward the shore. It is just
four; a gray light is working up through the mist, and we catch the
faintest glimpse of the Daylight, one of our fleet. A few minutes later,
and we see a speck near the shore, which the spyglass shows to be the
steamer we chased and fired after in the night. The surf beats about
her; in her frantic efforts to escape, she in the darkness has been run
ashore by our close pursuit. We steam up, to get within range and
destroy, if we cannot take her, when the Daylight, now discovering her,
opens fire. Once, twice, three times she has banged away a broadside at
the rebel sidewheel, and now the batteries