human
About the beginning of the war, in 1862, the Confederates--these were the Southern men--blew up our ironclad, the _Cairo_, in which I lost one of my most intimate friends; and in 1864 they attempted to blow up the _Wabash_, and myself along with it. The _Cairo_ business was caused by sunk torpedoes. She was going up the Yazoo river at the time, and had lowered a boat to search for torpedoes, which were known to be sunk there. They succeeded in fishing up one, which was found to be an exploded one. Meanwhile the _Cairo_, having got rather too close in shore, backed out towards the middle of the stream, when two explosions occurred in quick succession, one close to the port-quarter, the other under the port-bow. The effect was tremendous. Some of the heavy guns were actually lifted from the deck. The captain instantly shoved the _Cairo_ on the bank, and got a hawser out to a tree to keep her, if possible, from sinking in deep water. The pumps, steam and hand, were set going immediately; but her whole frame, ironclad though she was, had been so shattered, that nothing could save her. Twelve minutes afterwards she slipped down into six fathoms water, giving them barely time to get out the boats and save the sick men aboard, and the arms. My friend was one of the sick, and the moving was ultimately the death of him, though no lives were lost at the time.
gpt
You're not tellin' me crackers, are you?
human
My good fellow, returned the skipper,
gpt
I wish that I were. The story is only too true, and I would it were the only one of the sort I had to tell. You can find a book in London, [see note 1] if you like, which tells all about this and the other torpedo work done during the late American war.
human
Well, then, said Lancey, in the tone of an eager listener, while, by the tapping on the combings of the hatchway, I could distinguish that he was emptying his pipe, with a view, no doubt, to the enjoyment of another,