Voyage of the Destroyer from New York to Brazil | Page 9

about, but for special reasons Duarte
had the Count's sympathy, so he invited him to come to the show. The
note was written in the politest of French, but the Admiral didn't
come--and tell it not to the Marines--the gun didn't go off! Worse than
that, the Destroyer that was by this time tight and comfortable, had now
to be put on the bank again, in order to unload the projectile from the
cannon, since it wouldn't discharge by fire. This so strained the ship--a
swell setting in that rolled her heavily against the bank, that she became
leaky again. Though not a severe leak it was still discouraging. The
only trouble about the whole affair with the gun was that the powder
got wet.
But it was now hurrah for the war, boys, get a cargo of powder in and
be off, ship and cargo was supposed to go against the arch rebel, Mello,
who would have been "Liberator" of Brazil, but for the other man.
Peixoto was bound to be "Liberator" himself. There was no time now to
be lost! But wait! I'll tell all about that, too, pretty soon.
The Destroyer is carrying powder now for the whole fleet, which burnt
all they had saluting the admiral on the way to Bahia in his old ark.
These ships preceded us by a few days; ostensibly, in haste, for Rio, but
Mello not being ready to leave just then, the "attack" was postponed. It
being untimely, however, to come back for more powder, it was
shipped along to them on the Destroyer. The dear old craft had in
already gun-cotton and dynamite enough to make a noise, but
Goncalves wanted more thunder of his own old-fashioned sort, so we
filled her chock-a-block with the stuff to make it. The submarine
cannon was all stowed over with barrels of powder and was not
get-atable at all the rest of the voyage to Bahia. In fact powder was all
about. Three barrels of it found stowage in the Captain's room. The
fourth one we couldn't get in. It was stowed back of the galley. That it
didn't all blow up is how I am here to-day--thinking of my sins.
Well, in due course the stuff was all delivered in good order to the

various ships in Bahia, for which the Destroyer was heartily maligned
by all the Naval Officers, except the Minister of Marine, whom I
judged to be with the legal government. Goncalves, the Admiral, was
himself so enraged that he "romped" my "trata" at once. It was a
portion of this same cargo of powder, which, forwarded on to Rio soon
afterwards, was laid in the mine to blow up the Aquideban--and was
fired after the great battleship got by and comfortably out of the way of
it.
When I began the "voyage," I had no thought of writing a history of the
whole war. Unconsciously I am drawn a distance beyond my first intent
by the facts afloat of great achievements.
Horrors of war! how, when a lad, I shuddered at your name. I was in
my ninth year, hired out on a farm when the thrilling news came to our
township of a probable religious war. The four little churches bounding
our small world, had always been in a light warfare, but now the
Catholics were coming.
My employer, the good farmer, I shall never forget, armed his farm
hands and his family with pitchforks, scythes, reaping hooks and the
like--to do or die! There was great excitement. My own weapon was a
hatchet, but that is no matter. The enemy came upon us, as it were,
before we got our courage "screwed up to the sticking point." The
rumpus began in the hen house, adjoining the kitchen: a heavy roost
fell, and the de-il was to pay among the chickens. "The enemy! the
enemy!! was the cry; the Pope's men have come sure enough!!! Where
upon my employer, with laudable discretion, flinging open his doors,
made haste to welcome the invaders. "Gentlemen," he cried, "come in,
I have always been of opinion with you. Come in, gentlemen, and make
yourselves at home in my house." When lo! it appeared there wasn't a
man of any kind to come in. An old warrior cock, with bedraggled
feathers, strutted in, however, and said "tooka-rio-rooa," or something
to that effect, and the dear little chickens were all put back to roost--all
except a few which next day went into the soup, and the war was
finished.
But that, so far as I know, had nothing to do with this cruel war in

Brazil. Nor can I say that history, in this case, repeats itself. The
association is with me in the chain of my own thoughts and feelings. In
those