Dyer and the Sailing Captain.—First Voyage to Nassau.—Major Ficklen and the Two Young Lieutenants.—Our Old Skipper "Captain Dick."—Bermuda.—The Races there and elsewhere.—Description of Bermuda.—Moore, the Poet, and his Rival Mr. Tucker.—Tame Fish.—The Naval Station.—Col. B.'s Accident.

Before sailing with our cargo of cotton for Nassau, a signal officer was detailed for the ship, (signal stations having been established along the coast for the benefit of the blockade-runners;) and I was compelled to discharge my pilot Dyer. He and the sailing captain, who was to take passage with us, his engagement having terminated with the transfer of the vessel to the Confederate flag, had been quarreling incessantly during my absence from Wilmington, and had finally become mortal foes. An hour or more after my return to the ship, while sitting in the cabin, I heard loud and angry altercation overhead; and going on deck, I saw Dyer pacing up and down the wharf, along side which the "Lee" was lying; while the sailing captain was bidding him defiance from the steamer's deck; Dyer with a drawn knife in his hand, and the captain armed with a handspike. They had exhausted their vocabulary of abuse, but neither was disposed to invade the enemy's territory. At last Dyer cried out "Come ashore you d—d English hog, and I'll make mince meat of you!" I shall never forget the expression of the captain's face at this cruel taunt. He was literally struck speechless for a moment; then turning to me and drawing himself up with a thumb in his arm-hole, and the handspike over his shoulder, he exclaimed, "Now, sir, isn't that too bad! Do I look like a Henglish og?" To this pathetic appeal, I could but answer "no," but the fact was they bore a ludicrous resemblance to two boars about to engage in mortal combat; the captain, with his jolly, rosy face and portly figure, not at all unlike a sleek, well fed "White Chester," and Dyer quite as much resembling a lean, lank, wiry "razor-back" native of his own pine woods. I discharged Dyer. The poor fellow's subsequent fate was a sad one. While acting as pilot of a blockade-runner, inward bound, he committed the folly one day of saying that he would put a steamer under his charge ashore, before he would be captured. The remark was overheard and treasured up by some of the crew; and a night or two afterwards the steamer ran aground on the bar in the attempt to enter Cape Fear River, and was deserted. As she was under the shelter of the guns of Fort Caswell, a boat from shore was sent off to her next morning, and poor Dyer was found in a dying condition on the deck with his skull fractured. He had paid for his folly with his life.

Our first voyage to Nassau was made without any unusual incident. The Major took passage with us by permission of the Secretary of War, and his practical jokes amused every one except the butt of them; even the aggrieved party, himself, being frequently obliged to laugh at his own expense. There were two very young lieutenants of the Confederate Navy then in Nassau, on their way to Europe; the senior of whom ranking the other by one or two days, assumed much authority over him. One day the Major with the help of an accomplice, who was supposed to be able to imitate my handwriting, addressed an official letter to the senior in my name, informing him that both of them had been reported to me for unofficer-like and unbecoming conduct, and requiring them to repair immediately on board the Lee with their luggage, as I felt it to be an imperative duty to take them back to the Confederacy for trial by court-martial. The junior demurred, believing it to be a hoax, but the senior peremptorily ordered him to accompany him on board. They were caught in a drenching shower on their way to the Lee; and they made their appearance in the cabin in a sorry plight, reporting themselves "in obedience to orders," handing me the written document. As I pronounced it a forgery, the junior turned to the senior and exclaimed, "What did I tell you? didn't I say it was a hoax of that d—d Major Ficklen?" They started to the shore, vowing vengeance; but the Major had posted his sentinels at every street corner near the landing, and successfully eluded them. They were to sail that afternoon at four o'clock; and after a fruitless chase, went to the hotel to get dinner. While sitting at the table, and some time after soup was served, a waiter came to them "with Major Ficklen's compliments and the pleasure of a glass of champagne with them." After a hurried consultation, they decided to bury the hatchet; and bowed over their wine to the Major, who had just slipped into a seat reserved for him at the other end of the long and crowded table, and was smiling graciously in their direction. As Ficklen bade them "good-bye," he said "Don't forget me, my sons!" "No, indeed," they replied, "you may swear we never will!"

Seeing the necessity, while at Nassau, of carrying a Bahama Banks pilot, I engaged our worthy old skipper, Captain Dick Watkins, who served under my command for many months, maintaining and deserving the respect of all on board. His son, and only heir to his name and fortune, Napoleon Bonaparte, gave him much anxiety. "Ah, Sir," he said on one occasion, "dat b—y's heddication has cost me a sight of money, as much as ten dollars a year for two or three years, and he don't know nothing hardly." During one of our voyages he had left his wife quite sick at home. My young friend Johnny T—— was endeavoring to console him. "But the ole 'oman is mighty sick, Master Johnny," said the old fellow, "and I don't spect to see her no more." Johnny's heart was touched. The silence was broken by Captain Dick after a long pause, "dere are some mighty pretty yaller gals in Nassau, Master Johnny!" He had the profoundest respect for the head of the firm of A—y and Co. in Nassau, the "King Conch" as he was irreverently styled by us outside barbarians. Speaking of the firm upon one occasion he assured me the members were as wealthy as the "Roths children." My good purser and the old captain were fast friends, the former fighting the old fellow's battles in Rebeldom; and once, when the latter was unjustly treated in Wilmington, the purser "took the daggers," and bore him triumphantly through the difficulty.

We made two or three trips between Wilmington and Nassau during the winter of 1862-3 encountering no extraordinary hazards. During one of them we arrived within ten or twelve miles of the western bar too early in the night to cross it, as the ebb tide was still running; and it was always my custom to cross the bar on a rising tide, if possible. All the usual preparations had been made on board for running through the fleet, and as no sail was in sight we steamed cautiously in toward the land until we arrived within a cable's length of the shore, and in the dense shadow of a comparatively high bluff. Here we dropped a kedge and rode by the hawser. Although there was no moon, the stars were shining brightly; and the air was so calm and still, that the silence was oppressive. While we were lying in the friendly shadow of the bluff, one of the blockading fleet could be occasionally seen from our deck, steaming slowly along upon her "beat" a short distance outside of us. When the time arrived for making the dash at the bar, the kedge was run up to the bows by willing hands, and the "Lee" started at full speed. When the land was once fairly got hold of, and our exact position known, the chances were ten to one in our favor. No blockader could get inshore of us to cut us off from the bar, and we believed that we could either go by or go over anything in our course; and in extremity we could beach the vessel with the probability of being able to save most, if not the whole of the cargo.

During the month of March, 1863, the Lee's port of destination was St. George's, Bermuda. This island is easily accessible on the southern side, and was much resorted to by blockade-runners. Surrounded on all other sides by dangerous coral reefs, which extend for many miles into deep water, a vessel of heavy draft can approach from the south within a cable's length of the shore. A light of the first class at the west end of the group composing the "Bermudas," is visible for many miles in clear weather. It may as well be mentioned here, that the blockade-runners rarely approached any head land during daylight; "preferring darkness rather than light." The agent of the Confederate Government, Major Walker, with his staff of assistants, lived at St. George's; and he and his accomplished wife always welcomed their compatriots with genuine hospitality. The house of Mr. Black (an assistant of the Major) was also open to us, and no sick exile from home will ever forget the tender nursing of Mrs. Black and the kindness of that whole family. The little graveyard attached to the Episcopal church at St. George's, contains all that is mortal of several gallant youths from the south, who died of yellow fever; but they were soothed in the hours of their last illness by Christian counsel, and by tender hands. The white natives of the island, too, extended many attentions and civilities to Confederates, so that St. George's became not only a harbor of refuge, but a pleasant resting place after the excitement and fatigue of an outward voyage. The same antagonism which prevails between the white and the black races, wherever they live together upon equal terms, exists in Bermuda. People are classed there as "colored and plain" and a fine of one pound sterling is imposed for calling the former "negroes." There must be a natural antipathy between the two races; or at least it seems to exist in the heart of the negro, for wherever he has the power, he shows his dislike and jealousy of the white man. In Hayti, since the French inhabitants were murdered, the jealousy and hatred of the negroes have been directed against the mulattoes, who have been nearly exterminated; and the whites in Jamaica would have shared the same fate at the hands of a brutal horde of black savages a few years ago, but for the premature exposure of the plot, and the vigorous action of the Governor of the island. In the model republic of Liberia no white man can obtain the right of citizenship, own real estate, nor sit upon a jury. Nowhere in the world did there exist the same kindly relation between the two races, as in the South before the war; and even now, the older negroes seek aid and advice, when in difficulties, from their former owners, although they have been misled by unprincipled adventurers, by whom they have been taught to distrust them in politics. A short time ago Dr. B—, a Virginia gentleman, was asked by a Northerner his opinion of the negroes' feelings toward the Southern people. "I will tell you," replied Dr. B. "If you and I were candidates for the same office, you would get every negro's vote; but, if one of them wanted advice or assistance he would come to me or some other southerner."

The group composing the "Bermudas" still justifies the reputation given to it by one of the British admirals of the "olden time." The "Bermoothees," he records in his quaintly written journal, "is a hellish place for thunder, lightning, and storms." Shakspeare, too, sends "Ariel" to "fetch dew" from the "still vexed Bermoothes" for his exacting master Prospero. But although gales of wind during the winter, and thunder storms in the summer, are so prevalent, the climate is delightful. There are upward of three hundred islands in the group, most of them mere barren coral rocks; and the largest, St. George's, is not more than three miles long, and about a mile in width. The roads are cut out of the soft coral, which hardens by exposure to the atmosphere, and are perfect.

There are several very curious natural caves about five miles distant from St. George's; and near one of them is still pointed out the calabash tree under which the Irish poet, Tom Moore, is said to have composed one of his sonnets to Nea, who afterwards became the wife of Mr. Tucker, and left many descendants on the island. The venerable old gentleman was living, in his ninetieth year, when I was last in St. George's; and although the bride of his youth, and his rival the poet, had been long mouldering in their graves, he was still so jealous of the latter that he would not allow his great-grandchildren to keep a copy of the poet's works in the house.

The only indigenous tree upon the islands, I believe, is the cedar; the oleander, which now grows everywhere, having been introduced by Mr. Tucker. Nearly all of the tropical fruits grow there, and many indigenous to the temperate zone; but the staple products are potatoes and onions, chiefly for the New York market, and arrow root. The waters teem with fish of the most brilliantly beautiful colors. An ingenious individual has succeeded in taming a number, by availing himself of a natural cavity in the coral situated close to the shore and a few miles distant from St. George's. The sea water, percolating through the coral, supplies the basin. At a whistle the tame fish swim close to the edge and feed from one's hand.

There is a naval station at "Ireland Island," and a floating dock (which was built in England and towed out,) capable of taking in the largest-sized man of war. The naval officers attached to the dock-yard, and to the men of war, were always friendly and more than civil to Confederates; being sometimes, indeed, too profuse in their hospitality. Upon one occasion, Col. —— a personal friend of mine, had obtained a furlough, and permission to make a trip in the Lee, for the sake of his health, broken by the hardships of a campaign in northern Virginia. The purser, who was always ready for a "lark," and the Colonel, who was of an inquiring turn of mind, paid a visit to the dock-yard. After an inspection of it, they went on board several of the men of war in harbor, receiving on board each of them refreshments, solid and liquid. They had crossed over to Ireland Island in a sail-boat, and when about to return, were escorted to the wharf by a party of officers. Their boat was lying outside of another, containing a fat old washerwoman; and Col.——, who had had no experience in boating in his life, except "paddling his own canoe" upon a mill pond in Amelia county, Va., stopped to exchange farewell salutations with the party of officers on the wharf, while he stood with one foot in the "stern sheets" of the washerwoman's boat, and the other in his own. The boatman forward, ignorant of the critical state of affairs, hoisted the jib, and the boat, under the influence of a stiff breeze, began to "pay off" before the wind. Before Col. —— could "realize the situation," he was in the attitude of the Colossus of Rhodes. The purser promptly seized one of his legs, and the fat washerwoman with equal presence of mind, laid hold of the other. Each was determined not to let go, and the strain upon the Colonel must have been terrific; but he was equal to the emergency. Taking in the whole situation, he deliberately drew his watch out of his pocket, and holding it high above his head with both hands, he said, with his usually imperturbable calmness, "Well I reckon you had better let go!" His endeavors to protect his watch proved to have been fruitless; the purser indeed always insists that he touched bottom in three fathoms of water. He returned on board the Lee to be wrung out and dried.