Raphael Semmes, Memoirs of Service Afloat During the War Between the States

‘ [749] is truly and verily the property of the Peruvian Government.’ This was about equal to some of the Yankee attempts, that have been noticed, to cover cargoes. With the most perfect unconcern for the laws of nations, no one swore to anything. Mr. Danino certified, and the Consul certified that Mr. Danino had certified. Voila tout! We transferred to the Alabama such stores and provisions as we could make room for, and the weather being fine, we made a target of the prize, firing some shot and shell into her with good effect; and at five P. M. we burned her, and filled away on our course.

A few days afterward—on the 27th of April—being in latitude 11° 16′ S. and longitude 32° 07′ W., the weather being fine, and the wind light from the south-east, we descried, at three P. M., a large ship standing directly for us. Neither ship changed tack or sheet until we were within speaking distance. Nor had we shown the stranger any colors. We now hailed, and ordered him to heave to, whilst we should send aboard of him, hoisting our colors at the same time. We had previously seen the Yankee colors in the hands of one of his seamen, ready to be hoisted. The whole thing was done so quietly, that one would have thought it was two friends meeting. The prize proved to be the Tycoon, from New York, for San Francisco. She had the usual valuable and assorted cargo. There was no claim of neutral property among the papers. The ship being only thirty-six days from New York, we received from her a batch of late newspapers; and a portion of her cargo consisting of clothing, the paymaster was enabled to replenish his store-rooms with every variety of wearing apparel. We applied the torch to her soon after nightfall.

On the 2d of May, we recrossed the equator into the northern hemisphere, took the north-east trade-wind, after the usual interval of calm, and the usual amount of thunder, lightning, and rain, and with it, ran up to our old toll-gate, at the crossing of the 30th parallel, where, as the reader will recollect, we halted, on our outward passage, and vised the passports of so many travellers. The poor old Alabama was not now what she had been then. She was like the wearied fox-hound, limping back after a long chase, foot-sore, and longing for quiet and repose. Her commander, like herself, was well-nigh worn down. Vigils by