On the twenty-eighth of July, he left New Orleans to join the fleet off
Mobile, and on the way down the river an episode occurred that came nigh
settling the fate of the Chickasaw without risk or chance of battle; for
on nearing the bar, Perkins left the pilot-house a moment to look after
some matters requiring attention outside. He had hardly reached the spot
he sought, when, turning round, he saw that the pilot had changed the
ship's course and was heading directly for a wreck close aboard, which
to strike would end the career of the Chickasaw then and there.
Springing back into the pilot-house, he seized the wheel and brought the
ship back on her course, then snatching a pistol from his belt, said to
the traitorous fellow: "You are here to take this ship over the bar, and
if she touches ground or anything else, I'll blow your d----d brains
out!" Pale with suppressed rage, and trembling with fear, the pilot
expostulated that "the bottom was lumpy, and the best pilot in the river
could not help touching at times."

"No matter," rejoined Perkins, "if you love the Confederacy better than
your life, take your choice; but if you touch a single lump, I'll shoot
you!" Needless to say, no lumps were found, nor that the pilot made
haste to get out of such company the moment he was permitted to do so;
neither may we doubt that the recording angel traced, with lightest
hand, the strong language used by the nearly betrayed captain!

The Chickasaw arrived off Mobile bar August 1, where all was expectancy
and preparation for the coming fight, a fight which perhaps had more in
it of dramatic interest than any other naval battle of the war. The
wooden ships pushing into the bay through the torpedo-strewn channel and
under the fierce storm of shot and shell from Fort Morgan, lashed
together in pairs for mutual support in case of disaster; the sudden and