Chapter IX

Getting to sea at last--Half-manned in a gale--Passing the gunboats in the darkness--Hard work, but happy--George and his sea proverbs and superstitions--Dodging cruisers in calm weather--A hot chase and a narrow escape--No desire for company--Arrival at Tampico.

It was now getting near the new moon; the nights were dark, but the weather continued calm, there was scarcely a breath of wind, and we were anxiously waiting for a norther. The other two vessels had come down the river and lay near us. The gunboats off the mouth of the river continued firing at intervals, and their shot often went up the country far beyond us, but it seemed to be wide of any mark, and fell with a heavy thud in the prairie. We did not know what they were firing at, and the Forts took no notice, and did not reply.

At last the expected norther came. It came suddenly and with great fury about five in the afternoon. The pilot, however, would not take us out that night; he said this was too violent, and might only be a squall. The following day the wind fell very much and almost died away, but towards evening it freshened up again. The pilot said this was not a steady norther, and could not be depended upon. He said, however, that it would very likely blow hard all night, and give us a good offing before daylight if we could only carry the muslin.

I determined to go; so did the other two schooners. One of these the _Mary Elizabeth_, Captain Shaeffer, was smaller than the _Rob Roy_; the other, the _Hind_ I think was her name, was larger. It was proposed that we should start as soon as the gunboats were hidden by the darkness, and have eleven hours of darkness before us; and if we could make ten knots an hour we would be 110 miles from the coast by daylight. The pilot said we must go out under low canvas, so that against the darkness of the land we would not be so readily seen from the cruisers or any of their boats until we got out past them; after that we must use our own judgment and scud on as fast as we could.

Everything was got ready; double reefs were put in the main and fore sails, and everything secure for a heavy strain, and the binnacle-light muffled. The pilot came on board of the _Rob Roy_, directing the other two vessels to follow close in her wake.

As soon as the cruisers were fairly hid by the darkness, sail was made, and the vessels stood down the river--the _Rob Roy_ first, followed by the _Mary Elizabeth_, and the _Hind_ third. The wind being off the shore, the water was smooth on the bar. The pilot, with his small boat, did not wish to go far out to sea, knowing the labour of a long pull back against such a strong wind; and as soon as the water deepened he jumped into his boat, saying, "You are all clear now; go ahead, and remember that the British Lion's good wishes are with you!"

The _Mary Elizabeth_ was close up with the _Rob Roy_, almost passing her, but the _Hind_ was some distance astern. I never saw more of the _Hind_, and I believe she was captured.

As soon as we were well clear of the bar, I stood along the coast to the westward, keeping in about two fathoms of water for about three miles, and then stood out to sea and set about getting the reefs out. The course steered was S.S.E., the object being to go square off from the coast. As we got more off the land the wind increased, and the vessel went through the water at a great rate. The men were quite exhilarated; they declared she was making twelve knots. I considered that impossible for a vessel of her size, but I had no log to try. The men got more excited, and wished to set the main-topmast staysail. As we were now far outside of the cruisers and there was no danger of being seen from them, I told them to send it up. When it was set she bounded on still faster, and there seemed every chance of being well out to sea before daylight.

We now set the watches. I appointed George to act as mate, and he would take Polly, the Chilian boy, with him on the one watch, and I would take Hagan with me on the other watch, taking turn at the wheel myself. George was a Scotchman, whose age it would be hard to determine; he might be between forty and fifty. He was partly a wreck, as he was like too many others of his profession who considered it their duty when they got paid off after a voyage to spend all their money in drink. He was, however, when at sea, an excellent man, and understood his business well. He was full of old sea proverbs and sailors' superstitions, and actually believed in many of them. On this trip he discovered when the vessel put to sea she had a slight list to port, which he declared indicated a short and lucky passage, and he firmly believed it would be so. He insisted on the usual ceremony of drawing lots for the choice of watches, and when the lot fell to the starboard watch, which was his, he said this was another lucky omen, and he must follow the rules and choose the first watch. I would rather it had been the other way, as I was too anxious to think of going to sleep just then; but he declared that all our misfortunes and troubles in Texas had arisen from some breach of Neptune's rules on the inward trip, and he insisted that I would go and turn in.

I went below, but not to sleep. The howling of the gale, the rushing of the vessel through the water, and the heaving of the vessel as she got further from the land and into rougher water assured me that we were fast increasing our distance from the blockaded ports and from the scenes of all my troubles, and was a pleasant sensation to me. The idea of a small vessel, drawing about four and a half feet of water, carrying a deckload over five feet high, which weighed more than all the cargo in her hold, going to sea in a violent gale short-handed and handled by men possessing few of the qualifications required by marine regulations, and driven along in the most reckless manner, might seem little short of madness. Yet I can safely say that hundreds of vessels, many of them smaller, less seaworthy, and more overloaded than was the _Rob Roy_ at this time, left the Texas ports in the midst of heavy gales during this war, and, strange as it may appear, with the exception of one case, which I will hereafter mention, I never knew of one of them being lost at sea.

In this kind of blockade running, that is, by sailing vessels, by far the most pleasant and exciting time was the night of coming out from the blockaded port.

In running in it was both difficult and dangerous, especially in a sailing vessel. You approached the coast; you did not know where the cruisers might be stationed; you could not choose your weather, and you could not make your landfall exactly at the time you wished. If you lay in the offing till night you were in great danger of being captured; and even if you knew your exact position, you had afterwards to make in the night a distance of fifteen or twenty miles, and shape your course so as to strike exactly some narrow intricate channel, surrounded and guarded by the blockading fleet. You were subject to baffling winds, calms, currents, or tides; the danger increased as the entrance was approached, and the slightest error might prove fatal.

On the outward trip it was much easier. You could before leaving, mark well the position of the blockading fleet, choose your time, wait for a dark night and a favourable wind, set your course to pass the blockading fleet, and when past crowd sail, and you were getting further and further away from danger.

When I went below I found my two supercargoes trying to be happy. They said they were not going to sleep, they were going to help us to get well away from the Yankee cruisers before daylight. They said they were sure from the rate we were going that we must be near a hundred miles from the coast by this time; did I not think so? The vessel was heaving a little, but they were not sea-sick. Oh no, they never felt better in their life, so they said.

I had not been long down when I heard something crack, and I quickly went on deck. It was the strop round the top-mast which held the topmast staysail which had parted, and the sail was fluttering in the wind.

I took the wheel, and told George to get it taken in. This was soon done. I said never to mind to set it again, we had plenty of sail upon her. I only said this because I did not wish to bid any of them go up to the topmast-head in such a wind. They entreated me to let it be set again, and Polly said he would soon go up. He took a new strop and went up, and soon had the strop fastened, the block hooked on and moused, and the sail was set again.

It was now midnight. We tried the pumps, and found the vessel was making some water, but not a great deal. I then took the middle watch. The gale still continued, and the sea was getting much higher as we increased our distance from land.

After the first two hours I went to relieve Hagan at the wheel. He looked a little uncertain at me and hesitated, then said he had heard that I was good at figures, and a good smart navigator, but it was a very ticklish thing to steer a fore and aft vessel with such a heavy mainsail before the wind in such a wind and sea. I said to let me try it; I would take care she would not broach to. He reluctantly gave me the wheel, warning me that she was taking a good deal of weather helm. He kept standing by my side for some time: at last he seemed satisfied, and said, "Who says you are a shore-going man." I then ordered him to try the pumps, which he did, and reported the vessel still making a little water. At the end of the middle watch I told George to pay particular attention to the pumps. I had always a dread that way since the sinking of the vessel. I then turned in, telling George to call me as soon as daylight was setting in.

At daylight I went on deck. The wind had gone down considerably. I said to Polly that as he appeared to be fond of going aloft to go to the mast-head and see if there was anything in sight. He reported a sail on the horizon to the north-east, which looked like a schooner.

Fearing it might be the _Kittytinnie_ I ordered the topmast staysail to be hauled down to make us less easy to be observed, and taking my binocular I went to the mast-head, where I soon satisfied myself that it was not the _Kittytinnie_, but a much smaller vessel, apparently the _Mary Elizabeth_, which had sailed with us from Brazos River.

The staysail was set again, the wind was dying away but there was still a heavy sea, and the vessel was slipping along very well.

On looking over the stern I could now and then see small flakes of the white lead and tallow which had been put on the vessel's bottom. It was now washing off, and taking with it any grass or shells which might have adhered to it. I knew this would leave her clean and in good sailing trim.

On getting the latitude at noon, and working up the time, I found that we had made a run of about 130 miles, but we were not in a very good position.

I knew that the Federals having landed forces at Point Isabel, their war vessels would be often passing back and forward between that place and New Orleans, and they would be on the look-out for blockade runners, and we were just about their track, and the wind seemed to be dying away. The norther, as the pilot had surmised, was not a lasting or steady one, and had spent itself.

About one p.m. it was dead calm, and we lay helpless. We lowered every sail and lay under bare poles, so that we would not be so easily seen from a distance. This I afterwards found to be an excellent plan, as we would be less apt to be observed at a distance of seven miles than at a distance of twelve miles with sails up, and it was not long before this was made plain.

About two p.m. a steamer was observed from the mast-head to the westward, steering to the eastward. She was evidently a cruiser or transport, in fact there were none others in those waters at that time, and whether cruiser or transport she would make a prize of us if she observed us. She was yet about twelve miles distant, but if she continued on her course she would pass within four or five miles of us.

There was not a breath of wind, and the sea had calmed down. If we were only two miles further to the south we believed she would pass without noticing us; could we do anything?

The two old sweeps which we had picked up on the Brazos River had been placed one on each side to reach from the main to the fore rigging, and lashed to the shrouds to form safety rails for the men walking on the deck load. No time was to be lost. They were cut clear and swung at the fore shrouds, and all hands, including the cook, bent on to them; while the two supercargoes, having got a little over their seasickness, were told that exercise would do them good, and they got each one of the oars of the boat and pulled abaft the deck load from the quarter rail. All helped, and all worked with a will, each in turn getting a little change to breathe by taking the wheel.

The effect was greater than I expected, and the speed we made was astonishing; and I believe we pulled the schooner between two and three miles before the steamer was abreast of us, and she passed at a distance of fully seven miles without observing us.

Seeing we were in a dangerous place--right in the track of the cruisers--we longed for a breeze.

George kept whistling and calling upon the other men to whistle. He said it was certain to bring a breeze. I laughed and said, "Yes, if you whistle long enough you will get wind no doubt." But he maintained that whistling would bring wind, for he had seen it happen many a time, and he continued to whistle with all his might.

Towards evening the sky had a sort of marbled appearance, and a few light streaks of reddish clouds were to be seen.

"See," cried George, "did I not tell you that whistling would bring wind?"

"Where is the wind?" said I.

"See yon sky," said he.

"A mackerel sky, and long mare's tails,
Makes lofty ships carry low sails."

About sunset a light breeze sprang up from the south-east, and we made sail and stood to the south-west, shaping the course for Tampico.

The breeze continued all night, but very light, and just before daylight it died away again, and every sail was lowered.

The vessel being fitted up throughout with patent blocks and powerful peak purchases, the hoisting and handling of the sails was comparatively easy.

All that day the wind was light and baffling, and we made but little progress. We kept a constant look-out from the mast-head, but nothing appeared in sight.

During the night it fell dead calm, and before daylight broke all sail was taken down, and we lay under bare poles. This was fortunate, for when daylight broke a square rigged vessel was observed lying becalmed to the northward. She bore about north by west, and seemed to be about eight or nine miles distant.

I thought it might be some vessel homeward bound from Matamoras, as we were now near to their track, but George was sure she was a man-of-war, and one of the sailing vessels which cruised in the Gulf further out from the land.

In any case it was best to give her a wide berth, and the sweeps were got out and all hands laboured at them.

The morning was hot, and it was laborious work, and there were many applications to the water cask. We were, however, increasing our distance from her considerably.

About eight a.m. a light breeze sprang up from the south-east. This was unfortunate as it was against us pulling, and if we made sail we would be observed.

As the men were getting fatigued, to encourage them I told them that if we could just hold our own against the wind for a short time without making sail, the breeze would soon reach the square-rigged vessel, and then if she had not seen us, and did not stand close hauled on the port tack to the southward, any other course she might take would soon take her out of sight. George, however, had served on board of a man-of-war, and he was of opinion that if she was a man-of-war that would be the very course she would stand upon, and she would be down close upon us before we had time to make sail, whereas if we made sail now we would have a good start to windward before the breeze would reach her.

"But then," said I, "what chance have we against a fast vessel of that size with ten hours of daylight before us?"

"You don't know what chance we would have," said he, "with a light breeze and smooth water, and a good start to windward. She is no doubt a fast vessel or she would not be there, and by her size she must, no doubt, oversail us. But her bottom must be foul, and we are clean, and we can lay a point closer to the wind than she can, and if we look sharp we can get a good start before the wind reaches her."

"Then lose not a moment," said I. "All hands, cook, and supercargoes to make sail quick."

We soon had all sail set, and the breeze freshing up a little we were speeding along nicely before the breeze had reached the square-rigged vessel. It, however, soon reached her, and the alacrity with which she was speeding after us showed only too plainly what she was.

We stood first on the port tack to the southward; she followed us on the same tack. Seeing this I changed tack and stood on the starboard tack to the northward. She still kept on her port tack, and passed dead to leeward of us at a distance of about six miles.

I saw she was barque-rigged, and from the accounts I had of sailing cruisers in the Gulf, I knew that there was one, a large barque, which had been a merchant vessel, named _John Anderson_, which had been selected by the United States Government on account of her fast-sailing qualities, and fitted up as a ship of war, and sent to this station to look out for the blockade-running schooners in the Gulf, and from her appearance I had no doubt but this was the vessel.

The vessels were now partly stern to stern, and the distance between them widening. I hoped it might remain so, but it was not long before she changed tack again, and stood after us on the starboard tack.

Seeing this I again changed tack and stood to the southward.

"That is the way you will do her," cried George. "Keep going about, and if she follows us she must do the same. We can go about without losing an inch of ground, whilst she cannot go round without making stern board, and before she gathers headway again we will gain a good piece on her."

I saw the force of this, and began to work in the wind's eye by short tacks. She continued to follow us for a short time, but seeing we gained by it, she perceived our drift and made longer tacks, though by doing this she ran the chance of losing if the wind veered against her.

We strained every nerve and watched every chance to gain any advantage; everything was made taut, and water dashed upon the sails. One of the supercargoes suggested the throwing over of part of the deck load, but this was ridiculed, as it would have done more harm than good. This might appear strange to some, but to any one acquainted with the working of flat shallow vessels at sea, it is well known that a deck load, particularly of light material, such as cotton, is of great advantage. It causes them to roll easier, and saves jerking and chaffing aloft, and in light winds they sail steadily, and are less apt to shake the wind out of their sails, and when cotton-loaded the increased draught gave them a better hold on the water, and they made better weather.

The barque was evidently gaining upon us, but still I thought that if we could only keep out of the range of her guns until night, we might escape her in the darkness.

About one p.m. she passed us dead to leeward, about four miles distant, standing on a tack to the northward, as we stood on the opposite tack to the southward. The wind was now going down a little, and very soon after she put about and followed us on our tack to the southward.

It was evident that they expected the wind would soon die away, and they wished to keep near to us, so that they might have recourse to their boats if it fell calm.

To baffle them in this we again changed tack and stood to the northward, to widen the distance between us, or compel her to tack again, by which they would lose considerable ground.

Our conjecture seemed to have been correct, for they again changed tack and followed us.

George, who had been watching the barque closely when she was going about, now cried out, "Did not I tell you that her bottom would be foul?"

"How do you know?" said I.

"Because she is lazy in stays, and we will soon beat her at this game if the wind holds;" and he began to whistle with great earnestness.

As soon as we saw her fairly round we again changed tack and stood to the southward.

It was plain that she was losing ground by going about so often, while we did not lose an inch, and the advantage we gained was perceptible, and the wind still holding she did not put about again, but continued on her tack to the northward to make a longer board.

Fortunately for us she did this, as soon after it fell dead calm, and both vessels lay helpless. It was only fortunate at having placed us farther apart, but still the wind dying away was most unfortunate for us. She lay about seven miles due north from us, and we knew she would send her boats.

We got out the sweeps and pulled with great vigour, to make the distance greater for the boats to come, in hopes that the breeze might spring up again before they reached us. There was, however, a slight sea against us, and we did not make great headway.

I proposed to lower the sails, so that the boats might lose sight of us. This George protested against, saying there was no fear of the boats going off the track. Boats never left a man-of-war for a distance like that without a boat compass, and they would take our bearing before they left the ship. Besides, he was certain that this lull of the wind was too sudden to last long, and he began to whistle vehemently.

In about half an hour I could plainly make out with the glass two boats pulling towards us, but I said nothing about this to the men, who still plied the sweeps vigorously, and the sea was going down a little, and they were making a little headway.

The boats, however, were soon close up with us, the first being within a mile. The men had seen the boats, and they said it was all up with us, and it was no use straining more at the oars. I had General Magruder's despatches all ready to consign to the deep. The first boat was within half a mile, when a slight curl was seen coming over the water. Every heart leaped. It was from S.S.E. The vessel was kept away to let the light wind act on her sails, and the men redoubled their vigour at the sweeps.

I could now see one of the boats within a quarter of a mile, and the men pulling with all their might to reach the schooner before the breeze caught her.

It was an exciting moment. The boats were getting very near, but the breeze was beginning to act on the schooner. The sweeps were plied with desperation, George whistling as if he would burst his cheeks. The breeze gradually increased, and seemed to be setting on steady, and the schooner was again speeding along at a good pace.

The boats were almost within hail, and the men in them were pulling as if for dear life, but the schooner was now fast dropping them, and the breeze had every appearance of continuing.

The sweeps were taken in and lashed in their place. Every one was jubilant, the two supercargoes got on to the cabin roof and began to taunt the men in the boats by waving their handkerchiefs and beckoning to them to come along.

I was telling them not to be too happy, we were still very far from being out of danger, and they did not know whose hands they might yet fall into, when they jumped down very quickly, not from what I had said, but at the report of a rifle from the head-most boat, as a demand for us to heave to. Of course we paid no attention, and it was soon followed by a general fire from both boats. We heard the bullets whistle, but none came alarmingly near.

As in duty bound, I told the men to keep down, and I would take the wheel myself, but George, who was at the wheel, refused to leave it, but said to bring a bale of cotton and stick up behind him. Before, however, we could get a bale moved the schooner was far out of reach of shot from the boats, and the firing ceased. This, however, suggested to me the necessity for some protection for the man at the helm in the event of being chased by boats.

Fortune had certainly favoured us.

The barque happening to be about seven miles to the northward when the lull in the wind took place, and the fresh breeze coming out from S.S.E., threw her more dead to leeward, and then we knew she would lose a little time in picking up her boats.

The wind continued to freshen up, and we began to fear we were going to have too much of it for our advantage, and George stopped whistling.

A heavy sea was getting up, which, on a wind, was greatly to our disadvantage and in favour of our pursuer, and had the chase continued for a few hours longer she would certainly have overhauled us. Night, however, was coming on, and if we could keep out of range of her shot till darkness set in, we should be pretty sure to escape her.

The wind still increasing, we had to take in our upper small sails. The vessel, which had been making considerable water since we left port, leaked much worse on a wind in a heavy sea, and to keep her perfectly clear, she was pumped every half hour.

We considered her leaking at the staunchions where the joints had been started by the forcing up, and afterwards beating down of the deck when the sinking disaster occurred, and with our deckload on we could not get at them to caulk them.

Since the wind had increased and the heavy sea had got up, the barque had gained considerable upon us, and just as it was getting dark she passed dead to leeward of us, closer than she had done yet, and we saw a flash and heard the report of a heavy gun. This was followed by two others, which was a demand for us to heave to; but as the shot fell short of us, and we knew she could come no closer on this tack, we paid no heed, and she kept on her tack to the northward.

We were now pretty safe for this day, and I began to consider what course it would be best for us to take when hid by darkness.

When I considered what the barque would be likely to do, I thought that would depend upon what she guessed we would be likely to do.

The boats had no doubt reported that the schooner was loaded with cotton, and that she was a valuable prize, and they would have her if possible.

After a good deal of pondering I could come to no conclusion of what they might be likely to suppose or do, and I determined to put the schooner on her best leg and make as big a run as possible before daylight. The wind blew fresh from S.S.E., and it looked black and squally towards the south. The barque was to the north-east of us, four or five miles distant.

As soon as darkness fairly closed around, and the vessels were totally obscured from each other, we eased off sheets and headed away W. by S., giving her a free sheet, and she rushed through the water at a good speed. George, still at the helm, looked in the direction of the barque and began singing, "Good-bye to you, John Anderson my Joe."

The men now sat down to their supper, well worn out, after a most fatiguing and exciting day, but they were exceedingly jubilant, and rejoiced to think that we had beaten the Yankee cruiser.

I had a very little rum on board, which I got from Captain Downs, and I gave them all a drachm and thanked them, telling them that if we got safe to the end of the trip this day's work would do for them to crow about for years to come.

George was quite sure we should escape and make a successful trip into port, because the vessel when she put to sea had a list to port. He asked me if I did not believe now that he could bring wind by whistling; I did not dispute the matter with him.

The wind continued the whole night, and we made a good run, and at daylight nothing was to be seen from the mast-head in any direction.

This was now the fourth day out, and, as I had taken no observation on the previous day, I was wishful of ascertaining our position, and got a good morning sight. The longitude of Brazos River being well determined, I had, while lying there, carefully tested the chronometer, and could depend upon it. When I got the latitude at noon, I found that we were just about 220 miles south by east of the mouth of Brazos River, the beating to windward of the previous day having taken us a good deal out of our course.

The wind now fell considerably, and blew about due south. This was unfavourable, as we could not lay our course to Tampico, so I determined to lay her as close to the wind as she would lay with a good full, and make what southing we could until we neared the coast of Mexico, and then work south to Tampico. By taking this route we were more likely to be out of the way of cruisers.

We kept on this course for two or three days with light southerly winds, until we were within about thirty miles of the Mexican coast.

There is no difficulty in those seas for an ordinary navigator to be always sure of his position. The currents are no doubt strong and deceiving, but the sun is seldom obscured by day, and the planets generally bright and clear by night, and, the pole star being near the horizon, a pretty correct latitude can be got by it at any time of night.

We now began to beat southward, but, the wind being light and the current of the Gulf Stream against us, we made rather slow progress.

For several days we had seen nothing, and the excitement was dying away, and we began to be more concerned about our provisions and water giving out, as we had but a small stock at first, and we went on short allowance.

We kept standing off and on, tacking against a light southerly wind, until we were within forty miles of Tampico, but we had never yet sighted the land, when suddenly, one afternoon, we were startled by the cry of a steamer on the starboard bow close aboard.

Sure enough we had not been on the look out, and there was a steamer coming up at a rapid rate, and within three miles of us; every one was startled, but we could do nothing. Suddenly Polly cried out, "Oh, no fear of that steamer. I know her very well; she won't trouble us. She is an English steamer of the Pacific Company."

He was right. The steamer ran right across our bows, but took no notice of us.

I merely mention this incident to show the constant terror and alarm at the sight of every object. This, however, reminded us that for some cause the look-out had been for a short time that day neglected, and the necessity of that being strictly maintained.

On the following morning we sighted a schooner, which bore down upon us. We did not want her company. We wished to shun all acquaintance. She might be a captured blockade runner with a prize crew on board, who might, with friendly pretensions, creep up alongside, and then, with muskets and cutlasses, jump on board and make a prize of us. As instances of that kind had occurred, I was upon my guard. We were still tacking against a light southerly wind. I stood a little to the westward to keep out of her way, but, not wishing to lose any ground, we kept our luff. She bore down, showing the British flag, as if desirous to speak.

Being to the south and to windward of us, she came down with the wind free, and crossed our bow, close on; this threw her to the leeward of us, and I immediately tacked. She did the same, and, coming round on our quarter, the master hailed.

"Schooner ahoy! What is your longitude?"

"About 97," I answered.

He stood a little, and then cried, "I would like to speak with you about that."

"Tell me," said I, "who you are, and where you are from?"

"The schooner _Sylvia_," he replied, "from St. John, and bound to Tampico with a cargo of lumber; but," continued he, "I have got wrong somehow in my calculation."

I now saw lumber on his deck, and knew he was all right. The wind being light, the vessels came close together.

"You say your longitude is 97?" said he.

"About that," said I. "It was 96 40 yesterday, but I have not worked up to-day's sight."

"Then we must be near the Mexican coast," said he.

"I expect to sight Mount Tamana this afternoon," said I.

"According to my calculation," said he, "I would be in Mexico some hundreds of miles up the country--I make it over 100."

"Your chronometer must be wrong," said I.

"The optician said she was all right, and I have been keeping her rates."

"Give me your Greenwich time, and I will compare it with mine."

He called out his Greenwich time, and I compared it with mine, and there was not ten seconds of difference.

"Your chronometer is quite right," said I. "The error must be in your work."

"There is no mistake in the work," said he. "I have gone over it a dozen times; but there must be some confounded thing wrong, and I would like to find it out, as I am in a mighty bad fix."

"Can't you come on board," said I, "and bring your work with you, and we will compare it with mine?"

"I will do that," said he, and he lowered his boat and came alongside.

We compared the working up of the time, until it came to the applying of the equation of time, which he had been subtracting instead of adding to the apparent time. In this he would not at first admit that he was wrong and the way of applying it at the time was a little confounding, but he at length was convinced and satisfied.

He then looked around and said, "You have got a mighty valuable cargo, if you get it safe into port."

I said it had cost me great trouble and expense to get it this length, and we had come from a starvation-stricken country, and I was exceedingly wishful to get into Tampico, not only for safety, but because we were just about out of provisions.

"Oh," said he, "I guess I can spare you a little," and, going back on board, he returned with a quantity of biscuit, half a box of salt cod-fish, and some potatoes, all of which was most welcome and a great treat to us.

Fred, the cook, said to me, "You see, it does not always do to be too shy of making acquaintance. You were trying to cut away from that one, and now we are glad we met him."

I thought there might be a moral in this, if we could always tell when it is best to make or shun acquaintance.

Soon after this we sighted Mount Tamana, which is a high mountain about twenty-five miles north of Tampico. Although far inland, it is from its height the first of the land that is seen.

The wind having become very light, we made but little progress that night, and in the morning we drew close into the land, intending to creep along the shore and avoid any cruisers which might be at sea off Tampico with the object of catching any blockade runner making for that port.

The wind continuing light and from the south, and a current setting to the northward, we made little progress all that day, and on the following morning it fell dead calm, and we dropped anchor to prevent us drifting back northward with the current.

In the afternoon a sharp breeze sprung up from the eastward, and we got under weigh, and stood southward along the coast at good speed.

The town of Tampico is situated on a river of that name, about six miles up from its mouth.

The only approach to the town from the sea is by the river, across the mouth of which there is, like the other rivers on this coast, a dangerous bar or shoal, through which there is a narrow intricate channel, which is constantly changing, and will never at any time admit of vessels of more than seven feet draught. Larger vessels must lay at anchor in the open roads and discharge and load by means of lighters.

There was no definite landmark by which the mouth of the river could be made out from sea, but we suspected that there would be some large vessels lying outside of the bar.

This proved to be the case, and we soon came in sight of several vessels riding at anchor, and we made direct for them, and soon came to anchor under the lee of a large French transport.

The French were at that time at war with Mexico, and they had landed troops at Tampico. This, however, did not affect us, as trade was not interfered with.

A pilot's boat was cruising among the ships, seeming to take things easily. I asked them to take us in over the bar the same night, but, with their usual procrastination, they answered, "Bueno, Mañana" ("All right, to-morrow"), the general reply from a Mexican when he agrees to do anything. We were quite safe from capture, but if a norther came on, Tampico roads is a very dangerous place.

Shortly after we anchored, our friend the _Sylvia_ from St. John, which we had spoken two days previous, also came to anchor.

We lay here all night, but the weather remained calm, and on the following day a light breeze sprung up from the eastward.

The pilot came on board and took us across the bar, and with the breeze we sailed slowly up the river and anchored opposite the town.

We were safe in port at last, and the voyage was over, and a strange and eventful one it had been, lasting nearly five months, and attended by much worry, delay, and misfortune, but counterbalanced in the end by some strokes of good fortune which seemed morally to compensate for all, and I felt truly grateful.