as shipped as quickly as possible. In the first
place, the hold was stored by expert stevedores, the cotton-bales being
so closely packed that a mouse could hardly find room to hide itself
among them. The hatches were put on, and a tier of bales put fore and
aft in every available spot on the deck, leaving openings for the
approaches to the cabins, engine-room, and the men's forecastle; then
another somewhat thinner tier on the top of that, after which a few
bales for the captain and officers, those uncontrollable rascals whom
the poor agents could not manage, and the cargo was complete. Loaded in
this way, the vessel with only her foremast up, with her bow-funnel, and
grey-painted sides, looked more like a huge bale of cotton with a stick
placed upright at one end of it, than anything else I can think of. One
bale for----, and still one more for---- (I never tell tales out of
school), and all was ready.

We left the quay at Wilmington cheered by the hurrahs of our brother
blockade-runners, who were taking in and discharging their cargoes, and
steamed a short distance down the river, when we were boarded to be
_searched_ and _smoked_. This latter extraordinary proceeding, called
for perhaps by the existing state of affairs, took me altogether aback.
That a smoking apparatus should be applied to a cargo of cotton seemed
almost astounding. But so it was ordered, the object being to search for
runaways, and, strange to say, its efficacy was apparent, when, after an
hour or more's application of the process (which was by no means a
gentle one), an unfortunate wretch, crushed almost to death by the
closeness of his hiding-place, poked with a long stick till his ribs
must have been like touchwood, and smoked the colour of a backwood
Indian, was dragged by the heels into the daylight, ignominiously put
into irons, and hurled into the guard-boat. This discovery nearly caused
the detention of the vessel on suspicion of our being the accomplices of
the runaway; but after some deliberation, we were allowed to go on.

Having steamed down the river a distance of about twenty miles, we
anchored at two o'clock in the afternoon near its mouth. We were hidden
by Fort Fisher from the blockading squadron lying off the bar, there to
remain till some time after nightfall. After anchoring we went on shore
to take a peep at the enemy from the batteries. Its commandant, a fine,
dashing young Confederate officer, who was a firm friend to
block