"We soon made the bay at the west end and ran alongside the mail steamer and let go our anchor, but found to our disappointment that the Governor had gone to town in a carriage sent for him by the officials. After spending a pleasant hour in exchanging visits between the officers of the two steamers, our guests in the meantime partaking of refreshments, we hove up the anchor and started back toward Nassau.
"Among our passengers was the gallant Capt. John N. Maffitt, who was then waiting at Nassau to get theOreto, afterwards named theFlorida,out of irons. We had also Captain Whiting, the American consul at Nassau, who asked permission to go down to the steamer to get his dispatches, which was not denied him, although this man was greatly disliked not only by Confederate sympathizers but by the natives, having, as the Irishman said, winning ways to make everybody hate him. During the run back the consul, overcome by his numerous potations, lay down with his dispatches and was soon asleep. When we aroused him at our destination the dispatches were missing, whereupon he accused Maffitt of stealing them, resulting in a grand row all round. The dispatches were restored to him on the following day, their disappearance being caused by a practical joke on the part of the Confederates. We delivered our passengers in a very shaky condition.
"On Monday morning, having turned out bright and early to start work, our attention was attracted to the shore by a noisy and excited group of negroes gathered around the flagstaff of the American consul, gesticulating and pointing to the top of the flagstaff, from which, to my astonishment, was flying a brand new Confederate flag. It soon appeared that some one, said to be a Confederate sympathizer, and whom every one believed to be Maffitt,who was always ready for a joke, had climbed the flagstaff during the night, carrying up with him a Confederate flag and a bucket of slush. The halyards were first unrove, next the Confederate flag was nailed to the staff, and last of all as the joker descended, he slushed the staff all the way to the ground, making it impossible for any one to ascend to remove the ensign which was so hateful to our friend the consul. When Whiting came down to the consulate after breakfast and took in the situation, he performed a war dance around that pole which was one of the most interesting spectacles ever witnessed by the Confederates in Nassau. He then employed a number of Her Majesty's colored subjects with cans of concentrated lye to remove the slush, and, after great difficulty, one of them succeeded in reaching the top of the staff and removed the Confederate flag, replacing the halyards as before; but this was not the last of it. On the following morning a United States man-of-war appeared off the harbor, and when the consul in full official rig took his seat in the stern of his gig he found on reaching the cruiser that he was hard and fast by the nether extremities, some North Carolina tar having been previously applied by the aforesaid Confederate sympathizer to the seat of his gig. Ofcourse these annoyances created a great deal of feeling, and a down-east shipmaster, desiring to show his spite, made a fool of himself by hoisting the American flag over the British flag, the latter being union down, intending it as an insult, of course, which was immediately noticed on shore, and in a short time several thousand shouting, howling British negroes were lining the water front looking for boats and threatening to drown the American captain who had taken such a liberty with their beloved flag. Before they could carry out their purpose, however, a man-of-war's launch shot out from the British gunboatBulldogwith a file of marines, and, boarding the brig, ordered the flags hauled down and the English flag detached, took the captain in the launch and pulled to the government wharf and immediately shoved him into the calaboose, from which confinement he was not released until the next day, with the admonition that if he remained on board his ship he would have no need of a surgeon. He took the hint and was seen no more on shore.
"On Thursday we were bound for the northwest channel with our regulation cargo of 1,000 barrels of gunpowder and arms and accouterments for 10,000 men. We ran into Charleston on Saturday night and on Sunday morning the Confederate quartermaster pressed every horse and dray in Charleston to haul the cargo to the railroad station. The congregations of the churches along Meeting and King Streets probably derived very little benefit from the sermons delivered that sacred day, as the roar of the drays and wagons was incessant all day Sunday and Sunday night. As fast as a train was loaded it was started out for Johnston's army, and a conductor of a train told me afterwards that the soldiers broke open the cases of rifles on the cars and distributed the firearms and accouterments from the car doors. It may be said that theKatewas a most important factor in the battle of Shiloh. Johnston's army was a mass of undisciplined men with single and double barrel shotguns, old time rifles, and anything else in the way of firearms that they could bring from home. They had nothing suitable to fight with. The three cargoes of war stores, therefore, carried in by theKate, one by theMary Celesteto Smyrna and the fourth cargo carried by theKateinto Charleston, actually equipped Johnston's army, immediately after which came the battle of Shiloh. One thousand barrels of gunpowder was a dangerous shipment to run through the Federal blockade, and it was a great relief to us when the Confederacy established powder mills in Georgia, and our powder cargoes were changed to niter for the mills."
CAPTAIN JOHN WILKINSON.
One of the most intelligent and successful commanders of the blockade-running fleet was Capt. John Wilkinson, who entered the United States Navy as a midshipman in 1837, and, after an honorable and distinguished career, tendered his services upon the secession of his native State, Virginia, to the Confederacy.
Having received a commission in the Confederate States Navy, he served in various responsible positions until ordered upon special service in command of the Confederate States steamerR.E. Lee.
In his interesting book entitledNarrative of a Blockade Runner, speaking of the citizens of Virginia who resigned their commissions in the old service, he says:
"They were compelled to choose whether they would aid in subjugating their State or in defending it against invasion; for it was already evident that coercion would be used by the General Government, and that war was inevitable. In reply to the accusation of perjury in breaking their oath ofallegiance, since brought against the officers of the Army and Navy who resigned their commissions to render aid to the South, it need only be stated that, in their belief, the resignation of their commissions absolved them from any special obligation. They then occupied the same position toward the Government as other classes of citizens. But this charge was never brought against them till the war was ended. The resignation of their commissions was accepted when their purpose was well known. As to the charge of ingratitude, they reply, their respective States had contributed their full share toward the expenses of the General Government, acting as their disbursing agent, and when these States withdrew from the Union their citizens belonging to the two branches of the public service did not, and do not, consider themselves amenable to this charge for abandoning their official positions to cast their lot with their kindred and friends. But yielding as they did to necessity, it was, nevertheless, a painful act to separate themselves from companions with whom they had been long and intimately associated, and from the flag under which they had been proud to serve."
With reference to his experience in blockade running at Wilmington Captain Wilkinson continues:
"The natural advantages of Wilmington for blockade running were very great, chiefly owing to the fact that there were two separate and distinct approaches to Cape Fear River; i.e., either by New Inlet, to the north of Smith's Island, or by the Western Bar to the south of it. This island is ten or eleven miles in length; but the Frying Pan Shoals extend ten or twelve miles farther south, making the distance by sea between the two bars thirty miles or more, although the direct distance between them is only six or seven miles. From Smithville (now Southport), a little village nearly equidistant from either bar, both blockading fleets could be distinctly seen, and the outward-bound blockade runners could take their choice through which of them to run the gauntlet. The inward-bound blockade runners, too, were guided by circumstances of wind and weather, selecting that bar over which they could cross after they had passed the Gulf Stream, and shaping their course accordingly. The approaches to both bars were clear of danger with the single exception of the 'Lump,' before mentioned; and so regular are the soundings that the shore can be coasted for miles within a stone's throw of the breakers.
"These facts explain why the United States fleet was unable wholly to stop blockade running. It was, indeed, impossible to do so; the result to the very close of the war proves this assertion, for, in spite of the vigilance of the fleet, many blockade runners were afloat when Fort Fisher was captured. In truth the passage through the fleet was little dreaded; for although the blockade runner might receive a shot or two, she was rarely disabled; and in proportion to the increase of the fleet the greater would be the danger, we knew, of their firing into each other. As the boys before the deluge used to say, they would be very apt to 'miss the cow and kill the calf.' The chief danger was upon the open sea, many of the light cruisers having great speed. As soon as one of them discovered a blockade runner during daylight, she would attract other cruisers in the vicinity by sending up a dense column of smoke, visible for many miles in clear weather. A cordon of fast steamers stationed ten or fifteen miles apart, inside the Gulf Stream, and in the course from Nassau and Bermuda to Wilmington and Charleston, would have been more effectual in stopping blockade running than the whole United States Navy concentrated off those ports; and it was unaccountable to us why such a plan did not occurto good Mr. Welles; but it was not our place to suggest it. I have no doubt, however, that the fraternity to which I then belonged would have unanimously voted thanks and a service of plate to the Honorable Secretary of the United States Navy for this oversight. I sayinside the Gulf Stream, because every experienced captain of a blockade runner made a point to cross the stream early enough in the afternoon, if possible, to establish the ship's position by chronometer, so as to escape the influence of that current upon his dead reckoning. The lead always gave indication of our distance from the land, but not, of course, of our position; and the numerous salt works along the coast, where evaporation was produced by fire, and which were at work night and day, were visible long before the low coast could be seen. Occasionally the whole inward voyage would be made under adverse conditions. Cloudy, thick weather and heavy gales would prevail so as to prevent any solar or lunar observations, and reduce the dead reckoning to mere guesswork. In these cases the nautical knowledge and judgment of the captain would be taxed to the utmost. The current of the Gulf Stream varies in velocity and (within certain limits) in direction; and the stream itself, almost as well defined as ariver within its banks under ordinary circumstances, is impelled by a strong gale toward the direction in which the wind is blowing, overflowing its banks, as it were. The countercurrent, too, inside of the Gulf Stream, is much influenced by the prevailing winds. Upon one occasion while in command of theR.E. Lee, formerly the Clyde-built iron steamerGiraffe, we had experienced very heavy and thick weather, and had crossed the stream and struck soundings about midday. The weather then clearing, so that we could obtain an altitude near meridian, we found ourselves at least forty miles north of our supposed position, and near the shoals which extend in a southerly direction off Cape Lookout. It would be more perilous to run out to sea than to continue on our course, for we had passed through the offshore line of blockaders, and the sky had become perfectly clear. I determined to personate a transport bound to Beaufort, which was in the possession of the United States forces and the coaling station of the fleet blockading Wilmington. The risk of detection was not very great, for many of the captured blockade runners were used as transports and dispatch vessels. Shaping our course for Beaufort and slowing down as if we were in no haste to get there, we passed several vessels, showing United States colors to them all. Just as we were crossing through the ripple of shallow water off the 'tail' of the shoals, we dipped our colors to a sloop of war which passed three or four miles to the south of us. The courtesy was promptly responded to, but I have no doubt her captain thought me a lubberly and careless seaman to shave the shoals so closely. We stopped the engines when no vessel was in sight, and I was relieved of a heavy burden of anxiety as the sun sank below the horizon, and the course was shaped at full speed for Masonboro Inlet.
"The staid old town of Wilmington was turned 'topsy turvey' during the war. Here resorted the speculators from all parts of the South to attend the weekly auctions of imported cargoes; and the town was infested with rogues and desperadoes, who made a livelihood by robbery and murder. It was unsafe to venture into the suburbs at night, and even in daylight there were frequent conflicts in the public streets between the crews of the steamers in port and the soldiers stationed in the town, in which knives and pistols would be freely used; and not unfrequently a dead body would rise to the surface of the water in one of the docks with marks of violence upon it. The civil authorities were powerless toprevent crime. 'Inter arma silent leges!' The agents and employees of different blockade-running companies lived in magnificent style, paying a king's ransom (in Confederate money) for their household expenses, and nearly monopolizing the supplies in the country market. Toward the end of the war, indeed, fresh provisions were almost beyond the reach of everyone. Our family servant, newly arrived from the country in Virginia, would sometimes return from market with an empty basket, having flatly refused to pay what he called 'such nonsense prices' for a bit of fresh beef, or a handful of vegetables. A quarter of lamb at the time of which I now write, sold for $100, a pound of tea for $500. Confederate money which in September, 1861, was nearly equal to specie in value, had declined in September, 1862, to 225; in the same month, in 1863, to 400, and before September, 1864, to 2,000!
"Many of the permanent residents of the town had gone into the country, letting their houses at enormous prices; those who were compelled to remain kept themselves much secluded, the ladies rarely being seen upon the more public streets. Many of the fast young officers belonging to the Army would get an occasional leave to come to Wilmington, and would live at free quarters on board the blockade runners or at one of the numerous bachelor halls ashore.
"The convalescent soldiers from the Virginia hospitals were sent by the route through Wilmington to their homes in the South. The ladies of the town were organized by Mrs. DeRosset into a society for the purpose of ministering to the wants of these poor sufferers, the trains which carried them stopping an hour or two at the depot, that their wounds might be dressed and food and medicine supplied to them. These self-sacrificing, heroic women patiently and faithfully performed the offices of hospital nurses.
"Liberal contributions were made by companies and individuals to this society, and the long tables at the depot were spread with delicacies for the sick to be found nowhere else in the Confederacy. The remains of the meals were carried by the ladies to a camp of mere boys—home guards outside of the town. Some of these children were scarcely able to carry a musket and were altogether unable to endure the exposure and fatigue of field service; and they suffered fearfully from measles and typhoid fever. General Grant used a strong figure of speech when he asserted that 'the cradle and the grave wererobbed to recruit the Confederate armies.' The fact of a fearful drain upon the population was scarcely exaggerated, but with this difference in the metaphor, that those who were verging upon both the cradle and the grave shared the hardships and dangers of war with equal self-devotion to the cause. It is true that a class of heartless speculators infested the country, who profited by the scarcity of all sorts of supplies, but it makes the self-sacrifice of the mass of the Southern people more conspicuous, and no State made more liberal voluntary contributions to the armies or furnished better soldiers than North Carolina.
"On the opposite side of the river from Wilmington, on a low marshy flat, were erected the steam cotton presses, and there the blockade runners took in their cargoes. Sentries were posted on the wharves day and night to prevent deserters from getting aboard and stowing themselves away; and the additional precaution of fumigating outward-bound steamers at Smithville was adopted, but in spite of this vigilance, many persons succeeded in getting a free passage aboard. These deserters, or 'stowaways,' were in most instances sheltered by one or more of the crew, in which event they kept their places of concealment until the steamer hadarrived at her port of destination, when they would profit by the first opportunity to leave the vessel undiscovered. A small bribe would tempt the average blockade-running sailor to connive at this means of escape. The impecunious deserter fared more hardly and would usually be forced by hunger or thirst to emerge from his hiding place while the steamer was on the outward voyage. A cruel device employed by one of the captains effectually put a stop, I believe, certainly a check, to the escape of this class of 'stowaways.' He turned three or four of them adrift in the Gulf Stream in an open boat with a pair of oars and a few days' allowance of bread and water."
Colonel Scharf, writing of the Confederate States Navy, mentions the shore lights: "At the beginning of the war," he says, "nearly all the lights along the Southern coast had been discontinued, the apparatus being removed to places of safety. In 1864 it was deemed expedient to re-establish the light on Smith's Island, which had been discontinued ever since the beginning of hostilities, and to erect a structure for a light on the 'Mound.' The 'Mound' was an artificial one, erected by Colonel Lamb, who commanded Fort Fisher." Captain Wilkinson says of the "Mound" and the range lights: "Two heavyguns were mounted upon it, and it eventually became a site for a light, and very serviceable for blockade runners; but even at this period it was an excellent landmark. Joined by a long, low isthmus of sand with the higher mainland, its regular conical shape enabled the blockade runners easily to identify it from the offing; and in clear weather, it showed plain and distinct against the sky at night. I believe the military men used to laugh slyly at the colonel for undertaking its erection, predicting that it would not stand; but the result showed the contrary; and whatever difference of opinion may have existed with regard to its value as a military position, there can be but one as to its utility to the blockade runners, for it was not a landmark alone, along this monotonous coast, but one of the range lights for crossing New Inlet Bar was placed on it. Seamen will appreciate at its full value this advantage; but it may be stated for the benefit of the unprofessional reader, that while the compass bearing of an object does not enable a pilot to steer a vessel with sufficient accuracy through a narrow channel, range lights answer the purpose completely. These lights were only set after signals had been exchanged between the blockade runner and the shore station, and were removed immediately afterthe vessel had entered the river. The range lights were changed as circumstances required; for the New Inlet Channel itself was and is constantly changing, being materially affected both in depth of water and in its course by a heavy gale of wind or a severe freshet in Cape Fear River."
A NORMAL BLOCKADING EXPERIENCE.
Probably one of the quickest and most uneventful voyages made during the war in running the blockade was that made by Capt. C.G. Smith, of Southport. The following story on the blockade was told by Captain Smith, and is published to show the contrast between what some of the blockade runners had to undergo and how easy it was at other times to make the round trip without hindrance or adventure:
"On a delightful day, about the first of May, 1863, I left Nassau as pilot on the fine side-wheel steamerMargaret and Jessie, Captain Wilson in command.
"TheMargaret and Jessiewas at that time regarded as one of the fastest steamers. Of about 800 tons, this steamer when in ballast could make fifteen miles an hour, but of course she was usually loaded down, therefore seldom doing better than ten knots while running the blockade.
"Passing out from Nassau with a general cargo of goods, bound for Wilmington, N.C., the firsttwenty-four hours were passed without incident, the steamer making a good passage, until a gale from the northeast met us, which lasted till noon of the third day out.
"When the wind had lessened somewhat, Captain Wilson came to me and asked what point of land I wanted to make, to which I replied that I intended to run in at the Western Bar of the Cape Fear. Finding it an impossibility on account of the weather to make the Western Bar before daylight, I made for Masonboro and came in at New Inlet, anchoring abreast of the mound battery which guarded this approach at about 11 o'clock at night, and at daylight, with a fair tide, ran up to Wilmington.
"Nothing in the shape of a blockader disturbed our voyage. At one time a steamer was seen east-southeast of us, but paid no attention to us. When at Masonboro, one of the blockading squadron went to the southeastward of us, but being under the lee of the land she could not make us out.
"After laying up in Wilmington about ten days, discharging our cargo and taking on a load of cotton, we quietly dropped down the river one morning, and, anchoring in five-fathom hole, waited until night, when we passed out of New Inlet, bound for Nassau.
"The return trip was made without incident of any kind, the weather was fine, not a vessel of any description could be seen on the voyage; and in fifty-two hours from the time of leaving the Cape Fear, we were safe at the dock at Nassau, discharging our cargo, making one of the quickest and safest passages ever made by any of the blockade runners."
CAPTAIN JOSEPH FRY.
In the year 1841, a winsome, honest lad who had determined to join the Navy of his country, and who had been thwarted in his purpose by friends at home, made his way alone from Florida to Washington and demanded his right to speak to the President, which was not denied him.
Mr. Tyler was so pleased by the youthful manliness of the little chap, who was only eight years old, that he invited him to dine at the White House on the following day. The young Floridian was the observed of all observers; members of the Cabinet and their wives, members of Congress and officers of the Navy had heard of the little lad's story, and all united in espousing his patriotic cause.
The President, won by his ardor as well as by his gentlemanly and modest behavior, granted the boy's request and immediately signed his warrant as a midshipman in the United States Navy.
The subsequent record of Capt. Joseph Fry, the Christian gentleman, the gallant sailor, the humane commander, the chivalrous soldier, is known toreaders of American history. Of heroic mould and dignified address, he was
"A combination and a form indeed,Where every god did seem to set his sealTo give the world assurance of a man."
When the Civil War came, it found him among the most beloved and honored officers in the service. The trial of his faith was bitter but brief. He could not fight against his home and loved ones, much as he honored the flag which he had so long and faithfully cherished. He was a Southerner, and with many pangs of sincere regret he went with his native State for weal or woe.
His personal bravery during the war was wonderful; he never performed deeds of valor under temporary excitement, but acted with such coolness and daring as to command the admiration of superiors and inferiors alike. He was severely wounded at the battle of White River, and while on sick leave was ordered, at his own request, to command the Confederate blockade runnerEugénie, upon which the writer made a voyage.
On one occasion theEugéniegrounded outside of Fort Fisher while trying to run through the fleet in daylight. The ship was loaded with gunpowder, the Federal fleet was firing upon her, the risk of immediate death and destruction to crew and ship was overwhelming. Fry was ordered by Colonel Lamb to abandon the vessel and save his crew from death by explosion. He accordingly told all who wished to go to do so, but as for himself, he would stand by the ship and try to save the powder, which was greatly needed by the Confederate Government. Several boatloads of his men retreated to the fort; a few remained with Fry, the enemy's shells flying thick and fast around them. In the face of this great danger, Fry lightened his ship, and upon the swelling tide brought vessel and cargo safely in.
Later on he commanded the steamerAgnes E. Fry, named in honor of his devoted wife. In this ship he made three successful voyages, after which she was unfortunately run ashore by her pilot and lies not far distant from theVirginius. Captain Fry was then placed in active service during the remainder of the war in command of the Confederate gunboatMorganand was highly complimented by his general, Dabney H. Maury, for conspicuous bravery in action.
After the war his fortunes underwent many changes. Several undertakings met with varying success or failure. At last, he went to New York in July, 1873, where he hoped to secure employment in command of an ocean steamer. There he was introduced to General Quesada, agent of the Cuban Republic, who offered him the command of the steamerVirginius, then lying in the harbor of Kingston, Jamaica. He accepted the offer, and received a month's pay in advance, $150, two-thirds of which he sent to his needy family, and reserved the remainder for his personal outfit. TheVirginius, originally namedVirgin, was built in Scotland in 1864 and was specially designed for a blockade runner in the Confederate service. She made several successful trips between Havana and Mobile. Being shut up in the latter port, she was used by the Confederates as a dispatch and transport steamer. For a time after the war she was used by the Federal Government in the United States Revenue Service, but proving unsatisfactory, owing to her great consumption of coal, was sold at public auction by the United States Treasury Department to an American firm. The owners in 1870 took out American papers in legal form and cleared her for Venezuela. From that time she was used in carrying volunteers and supplies to Cuba; and while engaged in this business under the American flag, recognized by American consuls as an American vessel, she was overhauled at sea on the 31st ofOctober, 1873, by the Spanish man-of-warTornadoand declared a prize to the Spanish Government. Fry never dreamed of greater danger; he occupied the same position he had assumed while running the Federal blockade and the same as in the recent cases of theCommodoreand theBermuda. He was a merchantman, carried no guns, made no armed resistance, and flew the American flag. Notwithstanding all this, a drumhead court martial was held on board theTornadoand on the second day afterwards the unfortunate victims were condemned as pirates and sentenced to immediate execution at Santiago de Cuba, where the Spanish warship had arrived. Even then Captain Fry and his crew, who were nearly all Americans, expected a release through the intervention of the United States authorities. Vain hope! The American consul was absent; the vice-consul did what he could in vain; the Home Government was silent; the British consul protested, but without avail, and the butchery of these brave men began. We read from the newspaper accounts of the dreadful scene as the victims were ranged facing a wall. Captain Fry asked for a glass of water, which was given him by the friendly hand of one of his own race. He then walked with firm, unfaltering steps to the place assigned him, andcalmly awaited the volley which ended his noble life.
A touching incident occurred on the march to execution. When the brave man passed the American Consulate, he gravely saluted the bare pole which should have borne the flag, once and again so dear to his heart, but which had failed him in his extremity.
Although the firing party was only ten feet away, says the published account, Fry was the only one killed outright. Then ensued a horrible scene. "The Spanish butchers advanced to where the wounded men lay, writhing and moaning in agony, and placing the muzzles of their guns in the mouths of their victims, shattered their heads into fragments. Others were stabbed to death with knives and swords."
Fifty-three victims had suffered death, ninety-three more were made ready for execution; the bloody work was to be resumed, when an unlooked-for intervention came. The news had reached Jamaica, and it found in the harbor the British man-of-warNiobeunder command of Capt. Sir Lambton Lorraine, who, true to his Anglo-Saxon instincts, needed no orders to speed to the rescue. Leaving in such haste that many of his men were left behind, he steamed with forced draft to Santiago. Beforethe anchor reached the bottom of the harbor theNiobe'sdrums had beat to quarters and the well-trained gunners were at their stations.
Commander Lorraine ignored the customary formalities; precious lives were trembling in the balance; moments were vital. Before the Spanish general was made aware of his arrival, Lorraine stood before him and demanded that the execution be stayed. To Burriel's unsatisfactory response the brave commander returned answer that in the absence of an American man-of-war he would protect the interest of the Americans. Still the Spaniard hesitated; he had tasted human blood, but his thirst was not satisfied. Again the gallant Britisher demanded an unequivocal answer, and, report says, confirmed it by a threat that he would bombard the town, as he had in Honduras for the protection of the Anglo-Saxon. His prompt, decisive action arrested the bloody work, and eventually saved the lives of the remainder of the crew of theVirginius.
On his return to England some months later, Sir Lambton was detained some days in New York. The city authorities, animated by his gallant conduct, tendered him a public reception, which was modestly declined. Virginia City, Nev., desiring to testify its appreciation of his noble humanity, forwarded to him a fourteen-pound brick of solid silver, upon which was inscribed his name and the incident, with the legend "Blood is thicker than water," signifying also in Western eulogy "You're a brick."
A tardy recognition of the rights of American possession was made later by the Spanish Government, and theVirginiuswas delivered to an American man-of-war. While towing the unfortunate craft off Cape Fear and bound for a Northern port, theVirginiussprang a leak, or, some say, was scuttled, and found her grave in the ocean depths beneath us.
RECAPTURE OF THE "EMILY ST. PIERRE."
The following strange story was told to me many years ago, and, although some of the details have been forgotten, the incident, which was declared to be quite true, led to one of the most extraordinary exploits of the War between the States in the famous recapture of theEmily St. Pierre.
While Great Britain was at war with France in the year 1813, a small Scotch brig was approaching the British Channel on the last leg of her voyage from the West Indies for Greenock on the river Clyde. She had successfully eluded strange sails and the captain was quite hopeful of reaching his destination without encountering a French privateer, but alas, when the brig was within a few days' sail of the "land o'cakes," a smarter vessel, bearing the tricolor at her peak, overhauled the Scotsman, and, with a round shot across her bows, compelled her surrender. A French prize crew was placed on board with orders to sail the brig to the nearest French port for adjudication. The Scotch captain and his cabin boy were retained on board as prisoners, the former to assist in the working of the brig and the latter to wait upon the prize crew. With the enemy's flag apeak, the little brig was headed for the enemy's country and was soon alone upon the sea. With the accustomed discipline of the man-of-war somewhat relaxed, the Frenchmen, wishing to make merry over their good fortune, sought among the brig stores the red wine to which they were accustomed, instead of which they broached a cask of Jamaica rum, under whose masterful potency they became as dead men. The Scotsman was quick to seize his opportunity, and with the lone assistance of his cabin boy he dragged every man Jack into his forecastle and securely tied them to their bunks; the officers were likewise secured in the cabin and the course of the brig laid straight and true again for bonnie Scotland. On the following morning while the brig was slowly proceeding under light canvas, which the master himself had set while the boy steered, another Frenchman gave chase and the hopes of the Scotsman gave way to despair as the swift cruiser overhauled him hand over hand. Turning to the French officer whom he had secured to the poop deck for the fresh air, he was astonished to find him in a state of terror instead of in triumph at the prospect of his release. Quickly the Frenchman explained in his own language, with which the Scotch captain was familiar, that his disgraceful plight and that of his crew would result in his speedy courtmartial and execution at the yard arm; that if the Scotch captain would accept his parole, restore to him his uniform and sword, assume with his cabin boy the uniforms of two of his Frenchmen, hoist the French ensign and leave the rest to him, he would extricate the brig, resume his bonds, and cast his lot in Scotland, for he could never see his own country again. This was quickly done, for the alternative but assured the brig's recapture. On came the armed Frenchman. Boom! went one of her guns. The brig rounded to, and in response to his countryman's hail, the quondam prize master shouted through his trumpet that he was of the French privateer, in charge of a prize ship, taking her to a French port. The commander of the armed vessel waved a salute and sailed away quite satisfied. Thestatus quo anteof the brig was resumed, as arranged, the Clyde was reached in safety, and the descendants of the French prize crew can account for some of the mysterious French names still heard in the Scottish Highlands to this day. And,mirabile dictu, the cabin boy of the brig became the hero of the following true story and was subsequently well known as the captain ofa Confederate blockade-running steamer into Wilmington. It was during the fourth year of the war that this very extraordinary man, Capt. William Wilson, appeared in Cape Fear waters in command of a steamer which ran the blockade at Wilmington perhaps three or four times; but there was nothing unusual about this incident, and perhaps for that reason I have forgotten her name. There was, however, something very unusual about Wilson, whose unequalled bravery in recapturing his ship theEmily St. Pierre, of Charleston, S.C., in 1861, was, of all the stirring incidents of the blockade, the most admirable example of personal pluck and endurance. I have been told by a kinsman of Miss Emily St. Pierre, for whom the ship was named, that she still lives in Charleston, and I am repeating this story of Wilson's wonderful exploits at his request. Although not strictly a story of the Cape Fear, it will be none the less interesting to our readers, and I reproduce the account published inChambers's Edinburg Journalentitled "A Matter-of-Fact Story."
"On the morning of the 18th of March, 1862, the Liverpool shipEmily St. Pierre(William Wilson, captain) arrived within about twelve miles of Charleston and signaled for a pilot. She had made a long and tedious voyage of four months fromCalcutta, bound for St. John, New Brunswick, calling at Charleston for orders if Charleston was open. If the Southern port was blockaded, Captain Wilson's orders were to proceed direct to the British port of St. John, New Brunswick. The ship had formerly belonged to Charleston, but since the outbreak of the American Civil War she had sailed under the English flag. Her nominal owners were Messrs. Fraser, Trenholm & Co., of 10 Rumford Place, Liverpool, a firm doing an extensive business, who had very close relations with the Confederate or Southern States, for whom they acted as bankers and agents in this country.
"Upon approaching the Charleston Bar, the ship was hailed by a vessel which proved to be the Northern cruiserJames Adger, and in response Captain Wilson hauled up his courses, backed his main yard, and lay to. An American naval lieutenant and a score of men came on board and demanded his papers. The manifest showed an innocent cargo, 2,000 bales of gunny bags, and the registration of the ship as English was in due order. Charleston being blockaded, the captain demanded permission to proceed to his destination, the British port of St. John. The lieutenant refused, and referred the matter to his superior in command; and the twovessels proceeded into Charleston roadstead, where they arrived at half past two in the afternoon.
"Captain Wilson was ordered on board the flagship of the blockading squadron, theFlorida, where he was kept for two hours in solitude and suspense. At last a flag officer, Captain Goldsboro, came to him and said they had decided to seize theEmily St. Pierreon several grounds. He asserted that she carried contraband of war—namely, saltpeter; that her English registration was not bona fide; that many articles on board had been found bearing the name Charleston; that the same word had been scraped out on her stern and the name Liverpool substituted; that Captain Wilson had not disclosed all his papers, but had been observed from theJames Adgerto throw overboard and sink a small parcel, probably of incriminating documents. Captain Wilson protested and appealed to the maritime law of nations, but in vain. He was informed that the law courts of Philadelphia would adjudicate the matter; and finally Captain Wilson was invited to take passage in his vessel to Philadelphia and to place at the disposal of the navigator his charts and instruments. The invitation in form was in fact a command. He returned to his vessel to find that his crew had all been removed, with the exception of two who were not sailors—the steward, named Matthew Montgomery, and the cook, named Louis Schevlin, hailing from Frankfort-on-the-Main. These were merely passengers and with them was an American engineer who had obtained permission to take passage to Philadelphia.
"The prize crew who took charge of the vessel consisted of Lieutenant Stone, of the United States Navy, in command; a master's mate and twelve men, fourteen in all; with the American passenger, fifteen. The moment that Captain Wilson again stepped aboard his own vessel, he formed the resolution to recapture her and take her home. He was bold enough to think that it might be possible to recapture the ship even against such odds. An unarmed man, aided by the questionable support of a steward and a cook, was practically powerless against the fifteen of the crew. On the other hand, Captain Wilson was a brawny, big-framed Scotsman (a native of Dumfriesshire), a thorough seaman, determined in resolve, cool and prompt in action. He called the steward and the cook to him in his stateroom and disclosed the wild project he had formed. Both manfully promised to stand by their chief. This was at half past four on the morning of the 21st of March, the third day out fromCharleston. Captain Wilson had already formed his plan of operations, and had prepared to a certain extent for carrying it out. With the promise of the cook and the steward secured, he lost no time, gave them no chance for their courage to evaporate, but proceeded at once in the darkness and silence of the night to carry out his desperate undertaking. He was prepared to lose his life or to have his ship; that was the simple alternative.
"It was Lieutenant Stone's watch on deck, and the prize master's mate was asleep in his berth. The Scotch captain went into the berth, handed out the mate's sword and revolvers, clapped a gag made of a piece of wood and some marline between his teeth, seized his hands, which Montgomery, the steward, quickly ironed, and so left him secure. The lieutenant still paced the deck, undisturbed by a sound. Then across to another stateroom, where the American engineer lay asleep. He also was gagged and ironed silently and without disturbance. His revolvers and those already secured were given to the steward and the cook, who remained below in the cabin. Captain Wilson went on deck.
"Lieutenant Stone was pacing the deck, and the watch consisted of one man at the helm, one at the lookout, on the forecastle, and three others whowere about the ship. For ten minutes Captain Wilson walked up and down, remarking on the fair wind, and making believe that he had just turned out. The ship was off Cape Hatteras, midway of their journey between Charleston and Philadelphia, the most easterly projection of the land on that coast. It is difficult navigation thereabouts, with the cross currents and a tendency to fogs, affording the two captains subject for talk.
"'Let her go free a bit, Captain Stone; you are too close to the cape. I tell you and I know.'
"'We have plenty of offing,' replied the lieutenant; and then to the helmsman: 'How's her head?'
"'Northeast and by east, sir,' came the reply.
"'Keep her so. I tell you it is right,' said the lieutenant.
"'Well, of course I am not responsible now, but I am an older sailor than you, Captain Stone, and I tell you if you want to clear Hatteras, another two points east will do no harm. Do but look at my chart; I left it open on the cabin table. And the coffee will be ready now,' and Captain Wilson led the way from the poop to the cabin, followed by the commander.
"There was a passage about five yards long leading from the deck to the cabin, a door at either end.The captain stopped at the first door, closing it, and picking from behind it an iron belaying pin which he had placed there. The younger man went forward to the cabin where the chart lay upon the table.
"'Stone!' The lieutenant turned at the sudden peremptory exclamation of his name. His arm upraised, the heavy iron bolt in his hand, in low, but hard, eager, quick words, 'My ship shall never go to Philadelphia!' said the captain. He did not strike. It was unnecessary. Montgomery had thrust the gag in the young lieutenant's mouth; he was bound hand and foot, bundled into a berth, and the door locked. Three out of fifteen were thus disposed of. There was still the watch on deck and the watch below.
"The construction of theEmily St. Pierrewas of a kind not unusual, but still not very common. The quarters of the crew were not in the forecastle, but in a roundhouse amidships. The name does not describe its shape. It was an oblong house on deck with windows and one door. From the poop, or upper deck, at the stern, over the cabins and staterooms and the passage before mentioned, there was a companion stair on the port side leading to the deck at the waist; whilst a similar companionway at the stern led down to the level of the deck, whichcould also be approached direct from the cabins through the passage. In this space, behind the poop, was the wheel, slightly raised, for the steersman to see clear of the poop; and there was a hatchway leading to the lazaret hold, a small supplementary hold usually devoted to stores, extra gear, coils of spare rope, and so on. Nothing that might be done on this part of the deck could be seen, therefore, from the waist of the ship; vice versa, except by the steersman, who was elevated by a step or two above the level.
"Coming on this part of the deck from the cabin, Captain Wilson called to the three men who were about, and pointing to a heavy coil of rope in the lazaret, ordered them to get it up at once—Lieutenant Stone's orders. They jumped down without demur, suspecting nothing, as soon as the captain shoved the hatch aside. They were no sooner in than he quickly replaced and fastened the hatch. The three were securely trapped in full view of the helmsman, whose sailor's instinct kept him in his place at the wheel.
"'If you utter a sound or make a move,' said the captain, showing a revolver, 'I'll blow your brains out!' and then he called aft the lookout man, the last of the watch on deck. The man came aft.Would he help to navigate the ship to England? No; he would not. He was an American. Then would he call the watch? He would do that. And eagerly he did it; but the next moment he was laid low on the deck, and bundled unceremoniously into the lazaret with his three companions, the hatchway replaced and secured, Captain Wilson standing on guard near by.
"Meanwhile the watch below had been called and were astir. When sailors tumble out they generally do so gradually and by twos and threes. The first two that came aft were quickly overpowered, one at a time, and bound. The third man drew his knife and dashed at the steward, who fired, wounding him severely in the shoulder. It was the only shot that was fired. Finding that cook and steward and captain were all armed, the rest of the watch below quietly surrendered, and submitted to be locked in the roundhouse, prisoners of the bold and resolute man who in the course of an hour had thus regained possession of his ship against overwhelming odds.
"For England! Yes, homeward bound in an unseaworthy ship; for a ship that is undermanned is unseaworthy to the last degree. It is worse than overloading. And here is our brave captain 3,000 miles from home calmly altering her course the fewpoints eastward he had recommended to the lieutenant, homeward bound for England, his crew a steward and a cook! Neither could steer, nor hand, nor reef. Brave-hearted Matthew Montgomery, honest Louis Schevlin, now is the time to show what savor of seamanship you have picked up amongst your pots and pans of the galley and the pantry.
"The first thing was to wash and bandage the wounded shoulder of the man who was shot, the next to put all the prisoners in the roundhouse under lock and key. Four of them out of twelve volunteered to assist in working the ship rather than submit to the tedium of imprisonment. The irony of fate. But one of the four could steer, and he imperfectly. And the courses are set, and the topsails, lower and upper, are drawing and the topgallant sails, too—pray Heaven this wind may last and no stronger.
"The lieutenant was admitted to the captain's table under guard and on parole. The meal over, he was ushered into his stateroom and locked in. Once a day only—for the captain is captain and crew combined—bread and beef and water were passed to the prisoners in the roundhouse; no more attention than absolutely necessary could be spared to them.
"Homeward bound! Captain Wilson had overcome his captors; could he overcome the elements? The glass was falling, the wind was rising, threatening a gale. The reef tackles were passed to the capstan, so that one man's strength could haul them. Then the wheel was resigned to the Irish steward and German cook, whilst the captain had to lie aloft and tie the reef points, ever and anon casting a look behind and signaling to his faithful men how to move the wheel. Hours of hard work, fearful anxiety before all is made snug to meet the fury of the coming storm. All is right at last, thought the captain, if everything holds.
"Yes, if. Everything did not hold. The tiller was carried away in the midst of the gale, and Captain Wilson, brave heart as he was, felt the sadness of despair. He had been keeping watch day and night without intermission for many days, snatching an hour's sleep at intervals, torn with anxiety, wearied with work. It was but a passing faintness of the heart. The ship rolled and tossed, helmless, at the mercy of the sea. For twelve hours he wrought to rig up a jury rudder, and at last, lifting up his heart in gratitude, for the second time he snatched his ship out of the hands of destruction; for the second time he could inform LieutenantStone that he was in command of his own ship. No longer was the ship buffetted at the mercy of the wild wind and the cruel Atlantic rollers, but her course was laid true and her head straight—for England.
"For thirty days they sailed with westerly gales behind them. They made the land in safety, and the code signal was hoisted as they passed up the English Channel. On the morning of the 21st of April, exactly one month since her course was altered on Cape Hatteras, theEmily St. Pierrethreaded the devious channels which led into the broad estuary of the Mersey, the anchor fell with a plunge and an eager rattle of the leaping cable, and the ship rode stately on the rushing tide.
"Much was made of Captain Wilson during the next few weeks. All England rang with applause of his brave exploit. Meetings were convened, presentations were made, speeches were delivered to the extent that might have turned the head of a less simple and true-hearted man. Large sums of money were subscribed, of which plucky Matthew Montgomery and honest Louis Schevlin, the cook, got their share. But probably the happiest and proudest moment of his life was when the captain stood on deck on the day of the arrival, his wife by hisside, near her the owner of the ship, Charles K. Prioleau, of Fraser, Trenholm & Co., whilst he narrated in simple words the story of his exploit. His big beard was torn and ragged, his eyes bloodshot with weariness and loss of sleep, his face haggard, weather-beaten, and drawn; but he was a man of whom all Britain was proud, a man to inspire her with the faith that the race of heroes does not die."
THE "LILIAN'S" LAST SUCCESSFUL RUN.
The four years of blockade running, from 1861 to 1865, were so crowded with incidents and adventures of an extraordinary and startling nature that each day brought a new and novel experience.
I recall my first day under fire, the trembling knees, the terrifying scream of the approaching shells, the dread of instant death. Again, the notable storm at sea in which our ship was buffetted and lashed by the waves until the straining steel plates cut the rivets and the fireroom was flooded and the engines stopped, while the tempest tossed us helpless upon the mountainous waves and all hope of our lives was gone, until we were mercifully cast upon a reef which extends about thirty miles from Bermuda. Again, when our party of five persons, endeavoring to reach the Confederacy in a small launch after the fall of Fort Fisher, was cast away the second day upon Green Turtle Cay, an obscure island of the Bahamas, where we dwelt in a negro's hut for three weeks, and then foolishly risked our lives again for two weeks at sea in asmall boat which landed us in the surf among the man-eating sharks off Cape Canaveral, in Florida.
In the narration of these reminiscences of war times on the Cape Fear, I have adhered to facts, supported, when in doubt, by official records. In the following story of my personal adventures, I have written some extraordinary incidents which came under my observation, although not in the sequence described; and the romantic features are based on a true incident of the war, the hero of which, Captain M——, still lives in an honored old age. For uniformity, I have changed the text as it appeared in theCharlotte Observermany years ago, by the substitution of real names.
Abstract Log of U.S.S. "Shenandoah."
"Saturday, July 30, 1864. At meridian, latitude (D.R.) 33 50 N.; longitude (D.R.) 76 16 W., latitude (observed) 34 01 N., longitude (by chronometer) 76 10 W. At 3.45 p.m. sighted a steamer burning black smoke to the eastward; made all sail in chase. At 4.30 p.m. made stranger out to be a double smokestack, side-wheel steamer, apparently a blockade runner, standing to the northward and westward. At 5.45 he showed rebel colors. Called the first division and powder divisionto quarters and began to fire at her with the 30 and 150 pounder rifle Parrott. At 6 p.m. boat to quarters and fired all the divisions. At 7 p.m. took in fore-topgallant sail and foresail. At 7.30 took in fore-topsail. During the chase fired 70 rounds from 30-pounder Parrott, 18 rounds from 11-inch guns, and one round from 24-pounder howitzer. At 8 p.m. stopped firing, gave up the chase, stopped engines. At 9.20 Cape Lookout Light bore N.E. by N., 14 miles distant. Sounded in 12 fathoms of water. First saw the steamer in latitude 33 34, N., longitude 76 33 W. At midnight Cape Lookout Light bore N.E. by N. ½ N., distant seventeen miles.
"(Signed)Acting Master,U.S. Navy."
This matter-of-fact entry, read at random from the official records of the war, stirs my blood, because I, then seventeen years of age, was purser of that blockade runner, and it was I who hoisted those "rebel" colors on that eventful day fifty-five years ago; and thereby hangs a tale.
The steamerLilianwas one of the most successful examples of a Clyde-built blockade runner of 1864 in design and equipment. Of 500 tons net register, with two rakish funnels, the finest marine oscillating engines, a battery of boilers which drove her fifteen knots an hour, and loaded to her marks, she presented to the critical eye the graceful appearance of a racing yacht. A thing of beauty and a joy forever she was to all of us on board, and our beloved chief, the celebrated John Newland Maffitt, no less, was, we thought, the man of all men to command her. Unluckily for us he was ordered to take charge of the ramAlbemarle, which the intrepid Cushing later destroyed—the most conspicuous example of personal daring recorded in the history of the war.
Another Southern man succeeded him, and, we having received from the Confederate agent a cargo of mysterious packages, which was most carefully handled, proceeded from St. George, Bermuda, bound for the port of Wilmington, N.C. This desired haven of these fugitives of the sea was preferred to the more difficult blockaded ports farther south. There were two inlets, Main Bar or Western Channel, commanded by Fort Caswell, and New Inlet, guarded by that Malakoff of the South, Fort Fisher.
Many fine ships were lost in sight of these defenses when daylight overtook a belated landfall, and it was pitiful to watch the desperate efforts ofthe little greyhounds to run the gauntlet of the fleet, whose concentrated fire at close range sometimes drove them among the breakers, where many wrecks may still be seen after all these years. There were many more fortunate, whose daring roused to the highest pitch of enthusiasm the brave fellows of the Confederate garrison who manned the protecting guns which kept the fleet at a respectful distance.
As we passed the ships which lined the docks of the friendly islands of Bermuda, their crews were mustered and cheer after cheer greeted us from lusty throats in unison. Beyond the bar we sailed upon a tranquil sea, without a sail in sight, and then I paid each man his bounty of $40 gold, an earnest of the greater sum which he would get for a successful run.
Upon our ship the discipline was rigorous and unrelenting. To each was given in few words his orders for the run; sobriety, silence, and civility were enforced. Our Chief Engineer Lockhart, Chief Officer Vogel, Pilot Jim Billy Craig, our Signal Officer Fred Gregory and I were served at the captain's table; the other officers messed together. Our crew numbered 48 men.
When night drew on the finest Welsh coal was picked and piled upon the boiler-room plates, foruse in an emergency, and the dexterous handling of the dampers prevented the telltale sparks from betraying our dangerous course across the line of the ever-watchful cruisers, which formed their cordon around the Bermudas, upon the edge of the Gulf Stream, and across the most dangerous approaches to the Cape Fear River. No lights were permitted, smoking was inhibited, as, through impenetrable darkness, we ran full speed for Dixie's land.
A double watch was kept aloft, and upon the turtleback well forward, and the keenest eyes were fixed upon the course to guard against a collision with watchful cruisers, which also masked their lights.
Next in importance to the Wilmington pilot, Jim Billy Craig, who was a man of great ability, was a long thin fellow, a landsman, a nondescript known as "the watchman," who held himself in readiness day and night for service as a special lookout. This person's vision was wonderfully clear and far-reaching. He could see an object on the darkest night quite invisible to the rest of us, and his most efficient service was in the hour before daylight, when proximity to Uncle Sam's gunboats was most undesirable. Several easy captures had been made in the first streak of dawn by the accidental meetingof a casual cruiser and his unhappy quarry, when escape by speed was simply impossible. It was for this reason that our Long Tom was retained at high wages, which he squandered with other prodigals in playing crackaloo with double gold eagles. It was a simple game; two or more persons each threw up a gold piece, the one falling upon a joint or crack in the deck winning the others which fell between the lines. This was forbidden at sea, but such discipline was relaxed in port.
Our first night at sea was clear and beautiful, the air, cool and grateful, contrasted with the severe and at times almost suffocating warmth of the limestone islands. After the evening meal, Gregory and I, snugly ensconced in the lee of the cabin, which was on deck, sat far into the night gazing with wonder upon the tranquil glory of the stars, which shone with exceeding splendor, and talking with sad hearts of the waning light of the star of the Confederacy, which had reached its zenith at Chancellorsville and which sank so disastrously at the later battle of Gettysburg. The wind was light, but the rush of the staunch little ship at full speed brought to our listening ears the faint sound of a bell, not that of a ship striking the change of the watch, but a continuous peal of irregular strokes. In a few momentsit ceased, and I have often wondered what it meant, for no sail was visible that night. Alert and eager for its repetition, which came not, our wonderment was increased by the cry of a human voice in the darkness ahead, which was also observed by the lookouts aloft and alow, and, while Long Tom was rapidly climbing the ratlines of the foremast to the crosstrees, our captain appeared on the bridge and brought the ship to a full stop. In painful silence all eyes and ears were strained to catch a sight or sound from the mysterious object ahead. Again and again the long-drawn, wailing cry. Could it be a castaway? The sailor's instinct and sympathy is never so much aroused as by such an incident. Shifting our course a point or two, we proceeded slowly ahead; the cry grew clearer, with despairful lamentations; again our course was changed, the paddles slowly turning. Ignoring the usual precaution of silence on board at night, the captain ordered the officer of the deck to answer with a hail. Immediately the voice responded, and in a few moments Long Tom reported to the commander on the bridge, "A nigger in a ship's boat, sir." "What," said the captain, "can he be doing out here in a boat 160 miles from land?" "I'm blessed if I know, sir, but I'm telling you the truth." "Cast-away, sir, close aboard," was the second officer's report a few moments later. "Heave him a line," said the commander. The falls of the davits were soon hooked on and the boat, with its lonesome occupant, hoisted to the deck. The next morning, when I was dressing, the chief steward knocked at my door and gravely asked if I would see the man whom we had rescued the night before, "for," said he, "there is something mysterious about his plight which he refuses to make known to me." On going forward I found a negro man of about fifty years of age, apparently in deep distress; mutual recognition was instantaneous; the poor fellow fell at my feet and embraced my knees, with broken sobs of "Oh, Marse Jeems, Marse Jeems, Marse Jeems!" His story was soon told in the homely and pathetic vernacular of the old-time Southern darkey. He had long been the butler and body servant of my friend at Orton plantation, whose lovely daughter had given her heart to a manly young neighbor before he went away to the war which had desolated many Southern homes. The fearful news of disaster had come from Gettysburg, in which her lover was engaged with his company on Culp's Hill. He had been shot through the lungs and was left dying on the field, which was later occupied by the enemy.Then a veil was drawn, for all subsequent inquiries as to his death and the disposal of his body were unavailing. The poor girl at Orton, grief stricken, haunted by fears of the worst, and mocked by her efforts to seek him beyond the lines, slowly faded to a shadow of her former self. Again and again my friend returned from a hopeless search among the living and the dead, when, he, too, began to pine away, for the war had robbed him of all but the child whom he adored, and now she was slipping away from him. It was then that this Nature's nobleman in a black skin came forward and desired his liberty to go through the lines in Virginia and never return until he brought the body dead, or news of his young master living, to the dear mistress whom he loved more than his own life. In vain my friend refused. How could he, a slave, overcome obstacles which the master, with all his influence, had failed to overcome? At last he gave the desired pass to proceed to the missing boy's command upon this mission of mercy, which was countersigned by the proper authority, and the faithful fellow proceeded on foot toward his destination. What followed, "in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness," would fill a volume. He reachedthe regiment at last, and carried to many hungry hearts the news of their loved ones at home, but he was told that his quest was in vain; the captain was dead, a Federal surgeon who approached him on the field had found his wounds mortal, had received from him his sword, to be sent home to the young mistress, with fond words of his devotion to the last; he had better return home. But no, he attempted that night to slip through the lines toward the Federal Army; he was caught, brought back, and sentenced to be shot at sunrise. How he was saved, as by a miracle, through the recognition of the officer of the firing squad, and sent back to Wilmington need not be told.
He had formed another desperate resolve—he would go to Orton in the night, and in a frail bateau attempt to pass the picket boats at Fort Anderson and Fort Fisher, and reach the blockading fleet beyond the bar. Perhaps when they heard his story they would take pity and send him North, when he might resume his search. He had crossed the river by the Market Street ferry and was passing through the cotton yard, where several blockade runners were loading their outward cargoes, when a new idea came to him; why could he not go as a steward on a steamer, and, with his wages, reach the Northby way of the West Indies? With deferential humility he approached the captain of a steamer, which shall be nameless. He was not an American, neither was he a man in the sense of the noblest work of God; he was the embodiment of a personal devil; he laughed the old man to scorn; he had carried away on previous voyages runaway niggers, who, he said, had stowed away, and he had been obliged to pay for them on his return; the next one he caught at sea on board his ship would wish he had never been born; he didn't need a steward, and he did not doubt his tale of the young master was a lie. As the poor man turned away he was drawn aside by a kindly steward who had overheard the conversation, and, after much discussion and apprehension, he agreed to arrange a secret passage to Bermuda. That night he was stowed away, where it was hoped that the cruel process of fumigation for the discovery of fugitive slaves and deserters from the army, then in vogue before sailing, would not reach him. Cramped by the narrow space which forbade lying down, and deathly seasick, on the second night he crawled out for fresh air, was detected and seized by a passing sailor and reported to the captain. Infuriated by his recognition of the stowaway, he actually stopped the shipand set the poor wretch adrift in a leaky boat, without oars or food or water. It was on the second night after that he heard the mysterious bell and shrieked aloud for deliverance.
Although these qualities were not a common possession, this remarkable instance of a slave's devotion to his owner was not exceptional. There were hundreds and perhaps thousands of such examples, especially on the part of those whose duties were of a domestic nature. It was not the evolution of gentle traits of character, for this man's grandfather had lived and died a savage in the wilds of Africa. It was the result of daily contact with refined and kindly people whom he served, whose characteristic urbanity was unconsciously imitated, and whose consideration for others, which constitutes true politeness, was reflected in their servitor's devotion. I have a pensioner at Orton who is ninety-four years of age. He was the personal servant in his youth of Doctor Porcher, of Charleston. He is as polite as a cultivated Frenchman might be, but he is sincere in speech. He uses at times French phrases. He can tell you in polished language, and with becoming deference, of the grand people of the exclusive set of Charleston of long ago, and his solicitude for your health and forthat of everyone connected with you whom he has never heard of is shown in expressions of old-time gentility, but he belongs to a class that is passing away.
I have up to this time refrained from mentioning the fact that we had on board, as passengers, three important personages of the old Navy, whose duty, as they saw it, impelled them to resign their commissions in a service which was dear to them, and to cast in their lot for weal or woe with the fortunes of their native State, which had seceded from the Union. They had served with distinction afloat and around the world upon a noted Confederate war vessel, and they were under orders to report to Secretary Mallory at Richmond. At the time of which I write there were in Nassau and in Bermuda certain spies said to have been in the pay of the Federal Government, and they sometimes succeeded in passing themselves, disguised and under assumed names, as sailors and firemen, but more frequently as stewards on the blockade runners that were not careful enough in the selection of their crew. By this means much valuable information was communicated to the authorities at Washington, and the mysterious loss of several fine blockade runners was attributed to the seditious influence of such personsin time of peril. There were also in each of our foreign ports of refuge a few fanatics, who, contrary to the usages of war, and upon their own initiative and responsibility, attempted the destruction of Confederate steamers at sea by secretly hiding in their bunkers imitation lumps of coal, containing explosives of sufficient power to sink a vessel when this object was shoveled into the furnaces under the boilers. Several such attempts had been frustrated because the deception was clumsy and easily detected in time by the coal passers, and I remember that these nefarious undertakings were frequently discussed by the engineers of our ship.
Meanwhile, I observed with some curiosity that we were off our regular course, and also, with feelings of dismay, that we were approaching a long, low, rakish-looking war vessel, barque-rigged and under steam, which was evidently lying to and awaiting us, but my apprehension was changed to wonder and amazement as I beheld flying apeak the new white flag of the Confederacy. It was a sight I shall never forget; alone upon the wide sea, hunted by a hundred adversaries, the corvetteFlorida, under the gallant Maffitt, had circumnavigated the globe and spread consternation among the merchant marine of the Stars and Stripes without the loss ofa man. She was a beautiful vessel and had been handled with consummate skill and daring. There was something pathetic in the object of our meeting, which had been secretly prearranged, for a boat was immediately lowered, into which were placed sundry parcels of opium for the hospital service of the Southern Army, probably from the hold of one of her prizes; and this sympathetic offering from these homeless fellows on the high sea to their sick and wounded comrades in the field hospitals, for the mitigation of their sufferings, appealed strongly to our hearts.