When we came out we met with equally good luck, as the night was pitch dark and the weather very squally. No sooner did we clear the bar than we put our helm aport, ran down the coast, and then stood boldly straight out to sea without interference: and it was perhaps as well we had such good fortune, as before this I had discovered that our pilot was of a very indifferent calibre, and that courage was not our captain's most prominent characteristic. The poor _Wild Dayrell_ deserved a better commander, and consequently a better fate than befell her. She was lost on her second trip, entirely through the want of pluck on the part of her captain, who ran her ashore some miles to the north of Fort Fisher; as _he_ said in order to avoid capture,—to my mind a fatal excuse for any blockade-running captain to make. 'Twere far better to be sunk by shot and escape in the boats if possible. I am quite certain that if Steele had commanded her on that trip she would never have been put ashore, and the chances are that she would have come through all right. I never forgave myself for not unshipping the captain on my return to Nassau; my only excuse was that there was no good man available to replace him with, and he was a particular protégé of my chiefs. But such considerations should not have weighed, and if I had had the courage of my convictions it is probable the _Wild Dayrell_ would have proved as successful as any of our steamers. About this time I had two other new boats sent out, the _Stormy Petrel_ and the _Wild Rover_, both good boats, very fast, and distinct improvements on the _Banshee_ No. 1 and _Will-o'-the-Wisp_. The _Stormy Petrel_ had, however, very bad luck, as after getting safely in and anchoring behind Fort Fisher she settled as the tide went down on a submerged anchor, the fluke of which went through her bottom, and despite all efforts she became a total wreck: this was one of the most serious and unlucky losses I had. The _Wild Rover_ was more successful, as she made five round trips, on one of which I went in her. She survived the war, and I eventually sent her to South America, where she was sold for a good sum. CHAPTER IX BERMUDA Yellow fever—The _Night Hawk_—A nervous pilot—Under heavy fire—Aground on Wilmington bar—Boarded by the Federals—The _Night Hawk_ set on fire—An Irishman's ruse—To the rescue of the _Night Hawk_—The close of her career—A hard week's work—Fever and ague—A waste of expensive material—A famous Confederate spy—A diabolical idea.