I started in at once to master practical navigation, the theory of which I knew, and to familiarize myself with the handling of a ship. I stood at the wheel for hours at a time and almost wore out the instruments taking reckonings by the sun and the stars. Navigation came to me naturally, for I loved it, and in three days I would have been willing to undertake a cruise around the world with a Chinese crew. We arrived off Charleston late in the afternoon and steamed up close inshore until we could make out the smoke of the blockading fleet, standing well out, in a semicircle. Then we dropped back a bit and anchored. All of the conditions shaped themselves to favor us. It was a murky night with a hard blow, which came up late in the afternoon, and when we got under way at midnight a good bit of a sea was running. With the engines held down to about half speed, but ready to do their best in a twinkling, we headed for the harbor, standing as close inshore as we dared go. We passed so close to the blockading ship stationed at the lower end of the crescent that she could not have depressed her guns enough to hit us even if we had been discovered in time, but she did not see us until we had passed her. Then she let go at us with her bow guns and while they did no damage, we were at such close quarters that their flash gave the other ships a glimpse of us as we darted away at full speed. They immediately opened on us but, after the first minute or two, it was a case of haphazard shooting with all of them. They knew how they bore from the channel and, making a guess at the proper allowance for our speed, they blazed away, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. The first shells exploded close around us and some of the fragments came aboard but no one was injured. When I saw where they were firing I threw my ship farther over toward Sullivan’s Island, where she could go on account of her light draft, and sailed quietly along into the harbor at reduced speed. At daylight we went up to the dock and were warmly welcomed.