I gave orders to the first lieutenant, to see that every person belonging to the ship was on board, at sundown, and directed him to make all the necessary preparations for getting his anchor, and putting the ship under steam, at eight P. M.--the hour of gun-fire; the gun at the garrison to be the signal for moving. The ship was put in her best sailing trim, by removing some barrels of wet provisions aft, on the quarter-deck; useless spars were sent down from aloft, and the sails all "mended," that is, snugly furled. Every man was assigned his station, and the crew were all to be at quarters, a few minutes before the appointed hour of moving. I well recollect the _tout ensemble_ of that scene. The waters of the bay were of glassy smoothness. The sun had gone down in a sky so clear, that there was not a cloud to make a bank of violets, or a golden pyramid of. Twilight had come and gone; the insects were in full chorus--we were lying within a hundred yards of the shore--and night, friendly, and at the same time unfriendly, had thrown no more than a semi-transparent mantle over the face of nature.
The market-place, as though it had some secret sympathy with what was to happen, was more densely thronged than ever, the hum of voices being quite audible. The muffled windlass on board the _Sumter_ was quietly heaving up her anchor. It is already up, and the "cat hooked," and the men "walking away with the cat." The engineer is standing, lever in hand, ready to start the engine, and a seaman, with an uplifted axe, is standing near the taffarel, to cut the sternfast. One minute more and the gun will fire! Every one is listening eagerly for the sound. The _Iroquois_ is quite visible, through our glasses, watching for the _Sumter_, like the spider for the fly. A flash! and the almost simultaneous boom of the eight o'clock gun, and, without one word being uttered on board the _Sumter_, the axe descends upon the fast, the engineer's lever is turned, and the ship bounds forward, under a full head of steam.
A prolonged, and deafening cheer at once arose from the assembled multitude, in the market-place. Skilful and trusty helmsmen, under the direction of the "master," bring the _Sumter's_ head around to the south, where they hold it, so steadily, that she does not swerve a hair's breadth. There is not a light visible on board. The lantern in the captain's cabin has a jacket on it, and even the binnacle is screened, so that no one but the old quartermaster at the "con" can see the light, or the compass. The French steamer-of-war, _Acheron_, lay almost directly in our course, and, as we bounded past her, nearly grazing her guns, officers and men rushed to the side, and in momentary forgetfulness of their neutrality, waved hats and hands at us. As the reader may suppose, I had stationed a quick-sighted and active young officer, to look out for the signals, which I knew the Yankee schooner was to make. This young officer now came running aft to me, and said, "I see them, sir! I see them!--look, sir, there are two red lights, one above the other, at the Yankee schooner's mast-head." Sure enough, there were the lights; and I knew as well as the exhibitor of them, what they meant to say to the _Iroquois_, viz.: "Look out for the _Sumter_, she is under way, standing south!"