First introduction to the _Will-o'-the-Wisp_—Making a dash for it—A question of speed—Under heavy fire from both quarters—Run ashore at full speed—An awkward predicament—All hands to the pumps—Resort to desperate remedies—A struggle for sixty hours—Sale of the _Will-o'-the-Wisp_—Her end—The _Wild Dayrell_—A record performance—Loss of the _Wild Dayrell_—An incapable Captain—The _Stormy Petrel_ and the _Wild Rover_. The reason for my leaving the _Banshee_ was the arrival at Nassau of a new steamer which my firm had sent out to me. This was the _Will-o'-the-Wisp_, and great things were expected from her. She was built on the Clyde, was a much larger and faster boat than the _Banshee_, but shamefully put together, and most fragile. My first introduction to her was seeing her appear off Nassau, and receiving a message by the pilot boat, from Capper, the captain, to say that the vessel was leaking badly and he dare not stop his engines, as they had to be kept going in order to work the pumps. We brought her into the harbour, and having beached her and afterwards made all necessary repairs on the slipway, I decided to take a trip in her. As soon as the nights were sufficiently dark we made a start for Wilmington, unfortunately meeting very bad weather and strong head winds, which delayed us; the result was that instead of making out the blockading fleet about midnight, as we had intended, when dawn was breaking there were still no signs of them. Capper, the chief engineer, and I then held a hurried consultation as to what we had better do. Capper was for going to sea again, and if necessary returning to Nassau; the weather was still threatening, our coal supply running short, and, with a leaky ship beneath us, the engineer and I decided that the lesser risk would be to make a dash for it. "All right," said Capper, "we'll go on, but you'll get d——d well peppered!" We steamed cautiously on, making as little smoke as possible, whilst I went to the masthead to take a look round: no land was in sight, but I could make out in the dull morning light the heavy spars of the blockading flagship right ahead of us, and soon after several other masts became visible on each side of her. Picking out what appeared to me to be the widest space between these, I signalled to the deck how to steer, and we went steadily on—determined when we found we were perceived to make a rush for it. No doubt our very audacity helped us through, as for some time they took no notice, evidently thinking we were one of their own chasers returning from sea to take up her station for the day.