Unfortunately, we lost one of
our officers there--one whom we all respected--as fine an officer as
ever trod this ship's deck. He was in a boat in the bay, shooting wild
fowl; he drew his gun towards him, the barrel in his hand; the trigger
caught, the charge passed through his lung, and his only dying words
were, 'Oh, me!' and he fell back a corpse. But for that circumstance, we
should always remember Saldanha Bay with pleasure. The gun was within an
inch of his breast when it went off."
After this melancholy recital, we walked across to get a little chat
with the prisoner so recently captured. He is a superior man, and spoke
of the loss of his ship in the spirit of a philosopher. He was leaning
against a rail just opposite the cabin. "What can't be cured must be
endured," said he. In answer to our remark, that an hour more would have
saved him, he said, "Yes, it would; I had not the remotest idea of a
capture at this end of the world. I never supposed that she was in this
direction. I was in my cabin, washing," said he, "and my mate came down
and said there was a steamer in sight. 'Capital!' I said; 'it is the
English mail-steamer; I shall be just in time for my letters.' He went
up again, and shortly returning, said, 'She is going to hail us.' 'Hail
us!' I said; 'what the deuce can she want to hail us for?' and I went on
deck. I looked at that (pointing to the Confederate flag), and I soon
saw who we were falling into the hands of.
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