Here was an opportunity, a desperate one, but Cushing had grown ready for desperate chances.  He had had enough of wandering through mire and thorns.  Without hesitation he lowered himself noiselessly into the water, swam across the stream, untied the boat, pushed it cautiously from the bank, and swam with it down the stream until far enough away to be out of sight of its recent occupants.  Then he climbed into the boat and paddled away as fast as possible.

There was no sign of pursuit.  The soldiers kept unsuspiciously at their mid-day meal.  The swamp-lined creek-sides served well as a shelter from prying eyes.  For hours Cushing pursued his slow course.  The sun sank; darkness gathered; night came on.  At the same time the water widened around him; he was on the surface of the Roanoke.

Onward he paddled; the night crept on till midnight was reached; for ten hours he had been at that exhausting toil.  But now before his eyes appeared a welcome sight, the dark hull of a Union gunboat.

“Ship ahoy!” came a loud hail from the exhausted man.

“Who goes there?” answered the lookout on the gunboat.

“A friend.  Take me up.”

The gunboat was quickly in motion.  This might be a Confederate ruse, possibly a torpedo might have been sent to blow them up; they were in dangerous waters.  Boats were quickly lowered, and rowed towards the small object on the stream.

“Who are you?” came the cry, as they drew near.

“Lieutenant Cushing, or what is left of me.”

“Cushing!” was the excited answer.  “And the Albemarle?”

“Will never trouble a Union fleet again.  She rests in her grave on the muddy bottom of the Roanoke.”

Loud cheers followed this stirring announcement.  The sailors bent to their oars, and quickly had the gallant lieutenant on board.  Their cheers were heightened tenfold when the crew of the Valley City heard what had been done.  In truth, the exploit of Lieutenant Cushing was one that for coolness, daring, and success in the face of seemingly insuperable obstacles has rarely been equalled in history, and the destruction of the Albemarle ranks with the most notable events in the history of war.

ALASKA, A TREASURE HOUSE OF GOLD, FURS, AND FISHES

In 1867, when the far-seeing Secretary Seward purchased Alaska from the Russian government for $7,200,000, there was an outcry of disapproval equal to that made when Louisiana territory was purchased from France in 1803.  Many of the people called the region “Seward’s Folly” and said it would produce nothing but icebergs and polar bears, and General Benjamin F. Butler, representative from Massachusetts, said in the House:  “If we are to pay this amount for Russia’s friendship during the war, then give her the $7,200,000 and tell her to keep Alaska.”  Representative Washburn, of Wisconsin, exclaimed:  “I defy any man on the face of the earth to produce any evidence that an ounce of gold has ever been found in Alaska.”