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