'No, ye don't, Major—yerHonor, I mean! I'll stand by, an' see Mulock hes far play; but I woan't do nary one's dirty work, I swar.'
'Well, who will volunteer for the duty?' said Gaston, appealing to the audience.
About a score of 'natives' offered themselves; but, fixing his eye on a stout, goodnatured-looking man, who had not volunteered, Gaston said:
'Won'tyoudo it, Mr. Moore?'
'Yas, ter 'blige ye, Major, I will,' replied the man.
The 'judge' then pronounced the court adjourned, and the crowd escorted Mulock and the impromptu executioners to the site of the old distilleries. There an iron kettle filled with tar was already simmering over a light-wood fire, and, being divested of his borrowed plumage, Mulock was soon clad in a close-fitting suit of black. He was about to be led to the pond, when Ally appeared on the ground. Making his way through the crowd, he called out:
'De young missus doan't want dis ting to gwo no fudder. She'll 'sider it a 'ticular favor ef de gemmen'll leff Mulock gwo.'
'We karn't let him off without consent uv the judge,' said Mr. Moore.
A messenger was sent for Gaston, who soon appeared, and consented that further proceedings should be stopped. Mulock was at once released, and, coatless, hatless, and all but trouserless, he made his way through the hooting multitude, and left the plantation, a blacker, if not a wiser and a better man.
As we walked away from the 'scene of execution,' I said to the negro-trader:
'Larkin, you should have been a lawyer; you managed that thing admirably.'
'Th' boys hed got thar blood up, an' I know'd I couldn't clar him. A man stands a sorry chance in sech a crowd, ef they's raally bent on mischief.'
On the following morning the remainder of the negroes were purchased by Joe; and in the afternoon I was on my way home.
As I was sitting in my library, late one evening, rather more than a month after the events recorded in the last chapter, a hasty ring came at the street door.
'Who can be calling so late?' said Kate. 'Hadyounot better go?'
Drawing on my boots, I went to the door. As I opened it, my hand was suddenly seized, and a familiar voice exclaimed:
'What about Selly? How is she?'
'Lord bless you, Frank! is this you? How did you get here?'
'How is Selma! Tell me!'
'Safe and well—in Mobile with Joe.'
'ThankGod! thankGodforthat!'
'How did you get here?'
'By the Africa; she's below. I managed to get up by a small boat. Icouldn'twait.'
'Well, go up stairs. Your mother is in the library.'
After the first greeting had passed between Kate and the newcomer, he plied me with questions in regard to Selma, I told him all, keeping nothing back. Meanwhile, he walked the room, struggling with contending emotions—now joy, now rage, now grief. He said nothing till I mentioned Hallet's connection with the affair; then he spoke, and his words came like the rushing of the tornado when it mows down the trees.
'That is theonething too much. I have held back till now. Now hedies!'
'Don't say that, my son!' exclaimed Kate. 'Leave him to his conscience, and toGod. 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith theLord!''
'Vengeance isMINE! Don't talk to me mother! I want no sermons now!'
She looked at him sadly through her tears, and said:
'Have I deserved this ofyou, Frank?'
'Forgive me! forgive me, my mother!' and he buried his face in her dress, and wept—wept as he never did when a child.
A half hour passed, and no one spoke. Then he rose, and said to me:
'When did you hear from her last?'
'Ihad a letter yesterday; here it is,' said Kate. 'You see, she is expecting you.'
He took it, and read it over slowly. All trace of his recent emotion had gone, and on his face was an expression I had never seen there before. For the first time I noticed his resemblance to his father!
'When will you go!' continued Kate.
'I don't know. I cannotnow.'
'Why notnow? What is there to prevent?'
'I must go home first. I must see Cragin.'
'Cragin does not expect you for a fortnight,' I said; 'you can be back by that time.'
'But Icannotgo now!' and again he rose, and walked the room. 'I'm not ready yet. My mind isn't made up.' After a pause, he added: 'Would you have me marry a slave—a woman of negro blood?'
'I would have you do as your feelings and your conscience dictate.'
'You cannot love her, if you ask that question,' said Kate, kindly, but sorrowfully.
'Idolove her. I love her better than man ever loved woman; but can I make her mywife? A negro wife! negro children!—ha! ha!' and he clasped his hands above his head, and laughed that bitter, hollow laugh, which is the sure echo of fearful misery within.
'I cannot advise you, my son. You must act,now, on your own judgment. I will only say, that through it all—when put at slave work—when bound to the whipping stake—when she stood on the auction block for two long hours—she was sustainedonlyby trust inyou. It is true—she told me so; and if you forsake her now, it will'——
'Kill her! I know it! I know it, O myGod! myGod!' and he groaned in agony—such agony as I never before saw rend the spirit of mortal man.
The next morning he started for Mobile. Ten days afterward, the following telegram was handed me:
'Selma is dead. Frank is here, raving crazy. Come on at once.Joseph Preston.'
'Selma is dead. Frank is here, raving crazy. Come on at once.
Joseph Preston.'
That night I was on my way, and that day week I reached Mobile. The first person I met, as I entered Joe's warehouse, was Larkin.
'Where is Joe?'
'Ter th' plantation. He's lookin' fur ye. I'll tote ye thar ter onst.'
In half an hour we were on the road.We arrived just before dark, and at once I entered the mansion. Joe's hand was in mine in a moment.
'What caused this terrible thing?' I asked, hastily, eagerly.
'I don't know. When he arrived, Frank was low-spirited and moody, but very glad to see me. I brought him up here at once. He seemed overjoyed at meeting Selma, and would not let her go out of his sight for a moment. Still he appeared excited and uneasy, till I met him at the supper table. Then he was more like himself. I went with them into the parlor, and there conversed with Frank on business matters for fully two hours. We planned some shipments to Europe, and talked over sending Larkin to Texas to buy cattle for the New Orleans market. We agreed on it. I was to provide means, by keeping ninety-day drafts afloat on them (I'm short, just now, having paid out so much for the negroes), and they and I were to divide the profits with Larkin. Frank's head was as clear as a bell. I had no idea he was so good a business man. Well, about eight o'clock I left them together, and, a little after nine, went to bed. Selma's room is next to mine, and it couldn't have been later than eleven when I heard her go to it.
'The next morning she didn't come down as usual. I had a servant call her. She made no reply; but I thought nothing of it, till half an hour afterward. Then I went up myself. I rapped repeatedly, but got no answer. Becoming alarmed, I sent a servant for an axe. Frank brought it up, and I battered down the door, and found her lying on the bed, dressed as usual, a half-empty bottle of laudanum beside her—DEAD!'
'MyGod! And Frank made her do it!'
'Don't say that. If hedid, he is fearfully punished; he has suffered terribly.'
'Where is he?'
'In the front room. He has raved incessantly. At first four men couldn't hold him. Somehow, he got a knife, and cut himself badly. I got it away, but he threw me in the struggle, and nearly throttled me. He's calmer now, and I've had him untied; but old Joe has to stay with him night and day. Nobody else can manage him.'
We went into the room. Frank sat in one corner, pale, haggard, only the shadow of what he was but ten days before. His head was leaning against the wall, and he was gazing out of the window.
As I entered, 'Boss Joe' came forward and greeted me, but neither of us spoke. Approaching Frank, I laid my hand on his shoulder.
'My boy, I have come for you.'
He rose, and looked at me, a wild glare in his eyes.
'Well, it's high time; I've waited long enough. I'm ready. I don't deny it—I killed her. Make short work of it. I'd have saved you the trouble, but this infernal nigger told me I'd go to hell if I did it; and I knowsheisn't there. I want to see her again! I want her to forgive me—to forgive me! Oh! oh!' and he sank into his chair, and moaned piteously.
'He tinks you'm de sheriff, massa Kirke,' whispered Joe.
I leaned over him. The tears started from my eyes, and fell on his face, as I said:
'Youwillsee her again. She does pity and forgive you.'
He sprang from his seat, and clutched my hands. 'Do you believe it? Joe says so; but Joe is a nigger, and what does aniggerknow?' Then, putting his mouth close to my ear, he added: 'They told meshewas one. It was false—false as hell; but'—and he threw his arms above his head, and groaned the rest—'but it made me say it. O myGod! myGod! it made me say it!' His head sank on my shoulder, and again he gave out those piteous moans.
'Have comfort, my boy. I know she loves and pities you,now!'
He looked up. 'Say that again! For the love of God say that again!'
'It is so! As sure as there's another life, it is so!'
He gazed at me fixedly for a few moments—then again commenced pacing the room.
'I wish I could believe it. Butyouought to know; you look like a parson. You are a parson, aren't you?'
'Yes; I'm a parson. Iknowit is so!'
'Well, tell them to hurry up. I want to go to her at once—now! I can't live another week in this way. Tell them to hurry up.'
'Yes, I will; and you'll go with me to-morrow, won't you?'
He gave me again, a long, scrutinizing look. 'You're the sheriff, aren't you?'
'Yes.'
'Well, then, I'll go with you. But you must promise to make short work of it.'
'Yes, yes; I'll promise that. But lie down now, and be quiet. I'll be ready for you in the morning.'
'Well, well, I'll try to be patient;' and he threw himself on the small cot in one corner of the room. 'But you'll let old Joe stay with me, won't you?'
'Yes; certainly.'
'Thank you, sir. Joe, bring me a cigar—that's a good fellow. You're the decentest nigger I ever knew. It's an awful pity you're black. They told meshewas black. 'Twas an infernal lie! I know it, for I saw her last night, and she was whiter than any woman you ever saw. Black! Pshaw! nobody but the devil's black; andshe—she's an angel NOW!'
As we passed out of the room, Joe said to me:
'Would you like to see Selma?'
'Have you kept the body?'
'Yes; I knew you would want to see her.'
He led the way up stairs to her chamber. In a plain, air-tight coffin, lay all that was left of the slave girl. Her hands were crossed on her bosom; her long, glossy, brown hair fell over her neck, and on her face was the look the angels wear. She seemed not dead, but sleeping!
As I turned away, Joe took my hand, and, while a nervous spasm passed over his face, he said:
'She was all that I had; but I—I forgive him!'
'And for that, GOD will forgiveyou!'
The next day we buried her.
'Boss Joe' accompanied us to the North. We reached home just after dark. When we entered the parlor, Frank gazed around with an eager, curious look, as if some familiar scene was returning to him. In a few moments Kate entered. She rushed to him, and clasped him in her arms. He took her face between his two hands, and looked long and earnestly at her. Then, dropping his head on her shoulder, and bursting into tears, he cried:
'My mother! O my mother!'
He had awoke. The terrible dream was over. From that moment he was himself.
What passed between him and Selma on that fatal evening, I never knew. He has not spoken her name since that night.
Mrs. Dawsey lay at the mansion, under guard, for several weeks. When finally able to be moved she was conveyed to the 'furnished apartments' bespoken for her by Joe. Her husband, after a short confinement in jail, was set at liberty, and then made strenuous efforts to effect his wife's release on bail. He did not succeed. Public feeling ran very high against her; and that, probably more than the fact that she was charged with an unbailable crime, operated to prolong her residence at the public boarding house kept for runaway slaves and common felons at Trenton.
At the next session of the 'countycourt,' after an imprisonment of four months, she was arraigned for trial. Owing to the death of Selma, Mulock was the only white witness against her. He told a straightforward story, the most rigid cross-examination not swerving him from it, and deposed to Dawsey's having attempted to bribe him to go away. His evidence was conclusive as to the prisoner's guilt; but her counsel, an able man, made so damaging an assault on his personal character, that the jury disagreed. Mrs. Dawsey was then remanded to jail to await a new trial, at the next sitting of the court.
Shortly after the trial, Mulock suddenly disappeared. Hearing of it, and suspecting he had been spirited away by Dawsey, Joseph Preston went to Trenton, and, procuring a judge's order for Mulock's arrest as an absconding witness, caused a thorough search to be made for him in Jones and the adjoining counties. He himself visited Chalk Level, in Harnett County, and there found him, living again with his white wife. That lady had previously won and lost a second spouse, but, it appeared, was then in such straits for another husband, that she was willing to take up with her own cast-off household furniture. Whether a new marriage ceremony was performed, or not, I never learned; but I have been reliably informed that Mulock complained bitterly of his wife for having defrauded him of twenty-five of the fifty dollars she had agreed to pay as consideration for his again sharing her 'bed and board.'
Mulock admitted having received four hundred dollars from Dawsey for absenting himself, and gave, as an excuse for accepting the bribe, his conviction that Mrs. Dawsey could not be found guilty on his testimony. After his arrest he was confined in the same jail with the 'retired' schoolmistress.
The second trial was approaching; but, late on the night preceding the sitting of the court, the jailer's house—which adjoined and communicated with the prison—was forcibly entered by four armed men disguised as negroes. They bound and gagged the jailer, his wife, and two female servants, and, seizing the keys, entered the jail, and carried Mulock off by force. The keeper heard a desperate struggle, and it was supposed Mulock was foully dealt by. The footprints of four men were the next morning detected leading to a spot on the bank of the river, where a boat appeared to have been moored; but there all traces were lost, and the overseer's fate is still shrouded in mystery.
Mrs. Dawsey, whose cell adjoined Mulock's, was not disturbed, but public suspicion connected her husband with the affair. There was, however, no evidence against him, and he went 'unwhipped of justice.'
The lady was arraigned for trial on the following day, but, no witnesses appearing against her, she was—after a tedious confinement of ten months—set at liberty. Thus, at last, she achieved 'a plantation and a rich planter;' but her darling object in life—to lead and shine in society, for which her education and character peculiarly fitted her—she missed. With the exception of her brutal husband, an ignorant overseer, and a superannuated 'schulemarm,' imported from the North, she has no associates. Society has built up a wall about her, and, with the brand of Cain on her forehead, she is going through the world.
Larkin, after breaking off his connection with his 'respectable associates,' descended from trading in human cattle, to trafficking in fourfooted beasts, and all manner of horned animals. Joe offered him an interest in his business; but the negro-trader had too long led a roving life to be content with the dull routine of regular business. Young Preston, and Cragin, Mandell & Co., stipulating for a half of his profits, furnished him a capital of fifty thousand dollars; and with that he embarkedlargely in 'cattle driving.' He bought in Texas, and sold in New Orleans, and did a profitable business until the breaking out of the rebellion. Since that event he has been an officer in the confederate army.
Frank remained at my house for a fortnight after his return from the South, and then, apparently restored, went to Boston. Business had grown distasteful to him, and he sought a dissolution with Cragin; but the latter prevailed on him to remain in the firm, and go to Europe. He continued there until news reached Liverpool of the fall of Fort Sumter. Then he took the first steamer for home. Arriving in Boston, he at once effected a dissolution with Cragin, and then came on to New York to make his 'mother' a short visit prior to entering the army. He expressed the intention of enlisting as a private, and I tried to dissuade him from it, by representing how easily he could raise a company in Boston, and go as an officer. 'No,' he replied; 'I know nothing of tactics. I am unfit to lead; I can only fire a musket. With one on my shoulder, I will go and sell my life as dearly as I can.'
On the 18th of May, 1861, he left New York, a private in Duryee's Zouaves (5th Regiment N. Y. V.), and on the 10th of June following, while fighting bravely by the side of York, Winthrop, and Greble, at Big Bethel, fell, badly wounded by a musket ball.
When he was fit to be moved, I had him conveyed home. His recovery was slow, but, as soon as he was able to go out, and, while still suffering from his wound, he went on to Boston to render Cragin some assistance in his business. General Butler's expedition was then fitting out for New Orleans. Weak as he was, Frank raised a company of Boston boys for it, and went off as their captain.
He was present at the bombardment and capture of New Orleans; but growing weary of the inactivity which followed those events, and hearing of the stirring times in Tennessee, he resolved to resign his commission, and seek service in the Western army.
After his resignation had been accepted, and on the eve of his departure for the North, when returning, one night, to his lodgings, he was accosted by a woman of the street. Her face seemed familiar, and he asked her name. She answered, 'Rosey Preston.' He went with her to her home—a miserable room in the third story of a tumbledown shanty in Chartres street—and there found her child, a bright little fellow of about six years. With them, on the following day, he sailed for the North.
Arriving here, he settled on Rosey the income of a small sum, and procured her apartments in a modest tenement house in East Thirtieth street. There Rosey now works at her needle, and the little boy attends a public school.
Within the week of Frank's arrival, and when he was about setting out for the West, I was surprised one morning, by Ally's appearance in my office. Newbern had fallen, and he had made his way, with his mother, into the Union lines, and, after a good deal of difficulty, had secured a passage on a return transport to New York. I provided employment for his mother, but Ally insisted on going into the war with Frank. He went as his servant, but fought at his side at Lawrenceburgh, Dog Walk, Chaplin Hills, and Frankfort, and in three of those engagements was wounded. His bones now whiten the plains of Tennessee. Rosey he never saw, and never forgave.
Frank was with the small body of regulars who, at Murfreesboro, on the 31st of December, checked the advance of Hardee's corps after McCook's division had been driven from the field, and who saved the day. He was wounded in the arm, early in the morning, but kept the field, and joined in that heroic movement wherein fifteen hundred men marched through an openfield, and charged a body of ten thousand posted in a grove of cedars. Six hundred and forty-six of the brave band were left on the field. Frank was one of them. A Belgian ball pierced his side, and came out at his back. He saw and recognized the man who gave him the wound, and, raising himself on his elbow, fired a last shot. It did its work. The rebel lies buried where Frank fell.
The telegram which informed me of this event, said: 'He is desperately wounded, but may survive.' He is now at home, slowly recovering. What he saw and did while serving in Kentucky and Tennessee, I may at some future time narrate to the reader.
In relating actual events, a writer cannot in all cases visit artistic justice on each one of his characters; for, in real life, retribution does not always appear to follow crime. But, whateverappearancesmay be, who is there that does not feel that virtue is ever its own reward, and vice its own punishment? and what one of my readers would exchange 'a quiet conscience, void of offence toward God and toward man,' for the princely fortune of John Hallet—who is still the great merchant, the 'exemplary citizen,' the 'honest man'?
Whoever comes before the American people in a time of greatdeedslike this, with merewords, should have no idle story to tell. He should have something to say; some fact to relate, or truth to communicate, which may awaken his countrymen to a true estimate of their interests, or a true sense of their duties.
The writer of these articleshassomething to say; some facts to relate which have not been told; some truths to communicate about Southern life and society, which the public ought to know. Some of these facts, gathered during sixteen years of intimate business and social intercourse with the planters and merchants of the South, he has endeavored to embody in this volume.
He has woven them into a story, but they are nevertheless facts, and all, excepting one, occurred under his own observation. That one—the death of old Jack—was communicated to him as a fact, by his friend, Dr. W. H. Holcombe, of Waterproof, La., now an officer in the confederate army.
The author does not mean to say that his story is true as a connected whole. It is not. In it, persons are brought into intimate relations who never had any connection in life; events are grouped together which happened at widely different times; and incidents are described as occurring in the vicinity of Newbern—the slave auction, for instance—parts of which occurred in Alabama, parts in Georgia, and parts in Louisiana. But all of the characters he has describedhavelived, and all of the events he has relatedhavetranspired. He would, however, not have the reader believe that all he says of himself is true. Some of it is; some of it is not. The story needed some one to revolve around; and, as he began by using the personal pronoun, he continued its use, even in parts—like the scenes with Hallet, wherein theIstands for entirely another individual.
The real name of the character whom he has called Selma (he can state this without wounding the feelings of any one, as none of her relatives are now living), was Selma Winchester. She was educated at Cambridge, Mass., was a slave, and died of a broken heart shortly after being put at menial labor in her mother-in-law's kitchen. Her character and appearance, even the costume she wore on the occasion of her visit to the opera—a scene which many residents of Boston and vicinity will remember—are attempted to be described literally. She was not the daughter of Preston;herfather was a very different sort of man. Nor was she sold at auction. The young womanwho was engaged to 'Frank Mandell,' and bought at the sale by her brother, was equally as accomplished, though not so beautiful as Selma. She committed suicide, as herein related. The author has blended the two characters into one, but in no particular has he departed from the truth.
The gentleman called Preston in the story was for many years one of the writer's correspondents. He had two wives, such as are described, and was the father of Joe and Rosey, whose connection was as is related. He wasnotthe owner of 'Boss Joe.' The original of that character belonged (and the writer trusts still belongs) to a cotton planter in Alabama. He managed two hundred hands, and in no respect is he overdrawn in the story. His sermon is repeated from memory, and is far inferior to the original. He was a Swedenborgian, and one of the finest natural orators the writer ever listened to. Old Deborah was his mother, and died comfortably in her bed. The old woman who fell dead on the auction block, was the nurse of the young woman who was engaged to Frank. The excitement of the scene, and her anxiety for her 'young missus,' killed her.
Larkin's real name is Jacob Larkin. He was at one time connected with the person called Hallet. He was well known in many parts of the South, and relinquished Negro trading under circumstances similar to those related in the story. He is now—though a rebel in arms against his country—an honest man.
John Hallet, the writer is sorry to say, is also a real character; but he does not disgrace the good city of Boston. He operates on a wider field.
That most excellent woman, Mrs. C. M. Kirkland, said to the author, shortly after the fall of Fort Sumter: 'If you cannot shoulder a musket, you can blow a bugle.' In this, and in a previous book, he has attempted to blow that bugle. If the blasts are not as musical as they might be, he has no apology to make for them. They have, at least, the ring oftruth;and whether they please the public ear, or not, the author is satisfied; for he knows that each one of his children will say of him, when he is gone:
'Myfather did not stand by with folded arms, while this great nation was threatened with ruin. Against his best friends—against the convictions of a lifetime—he spoke theTRUTH! Hetriedto do something for his country.'
Oh! the sky is blue, and the sward is green,And the soft winds wake from the balmy west,—The leaves unfold in their gilded sheen,And the bird, in the tree top, builds its nest;The truant zephyr plumes her wingsOnce more, and quitting her perfumed bed,Soft calls on the sleeping flowers to wake,And sportive roams o'er each dewclad head.The bluebells nod within the wood,The snowdrop peeps from its milky bell,The motley Thora bends her hood,Whilst beauteous wild flowers line the dell;The wildbrier rose its fragrance breathes,The violet opes her cup of blue,The timid primrose lifts its leaves,And kingcups wake, all bathed in dew.From flower to flower the wild bee roams,Then buried within the cowslip's cup,He murmurs his low and music tones,Till she folds the wanton intruder up;The spring bird, wakening, soars on high,Gushing aloft its melting lay;Whilst painted clouds flit o'er the sky,All ushering in the dawn of May!Like a laughing nymph she springs to light,And tripping along in the world of flowers,Brushes the dew, in the morning bright,And weaves a joy for each heart of ours!With frolic hands, the daisy meek,From her lap of green she playful throws;Whilst the loveliest flowers spring round her feet,And fragrance bursts from the wild wood rose!Oh! glad is the heart, as through leafing treesThe soft winds roam and in music play;Whilst the sick come forth for the healing breeze,And rejoice in the birth of the beauteous May,And glad is the heart of the joyous child,As bounding away through the tangled dell,It roams 'mid the flowers in greenwoods mild,And hunts the caged bee in the cowslip's bell!Oh! bright is this world—'tis a world of gems—And loveliness lingers where'er we tread;On the mountain top—or in lone wood glens:A spirit of beauty o'er all is spread!Then warmed be our hearts to that kindly PowerThat scatters bright roses o'er life's rough way;That unfolds the cup of the snowdrop's flower,And mantles the earth with the gems of May!
There is perhaps no branch of our service which is more efficient at the present time than that of the navy. Since the war of 1812, we have been comparatively inactive, with the exception of some coast service during the Mexican war, which was scarcely worth mentioning. In the present civil war, however, our navy has increased in a tenfold proportion—increased in activity and efficiency—and to-day, with its superior force of iron-clad steamers, will favorably compare with any navy on the globe in power, even though it may be inferior in a numerical point.
Though crippled at first at the commencement of this rebellion by the traitors among her officers in command—crippled by the loss of vessels and property destroyed by rebels—her ranks thinned by resignations and desertions, the navy struggled onward, slowly but surely, gaining vitality and power, until, under the present administration, it has 'lengthened its cords and strengthened its stakes,' attaining its present efficiency. Accessions have been made in vessels, new grades of officers have been appointed, the various bureaus have been enlarged, and an immense number of volunteer officers have been appointed, mostly chosen from petty officers and seamen, or from the merchant service, to command armed transports and the smaller craft used for the shallow waters of the Atlantic coast. A strong blockade has been effected, a number of valuable prizes taken, and the navy has rendered invaluable service by its bombardments of the enemy's towns and fortifications, on the coast of the United States as well as along the banks of the Mississippi, Ohio, and Tennessee rivers. In fact, much is due to the navy for its great efficiency in the present civil war in America.
We will give to the reader some statistics, taken from the September issue of the Naval Register for 1862, from which an idea can be formed of the great strength of this branch of our service. As these statistics are official, they will serve as a valuable source of information to those who are interested in the welfare of the country. Let us then review the organization of the United States navy.
The organization of the navy is as follows: The Navy Department, which consists of the office of the Secretary of the Navy and its various bureaus, and the officers of the navy, consisting of officers of the navy, officers of the marine corps, and warrant officers, besides volunteer and acting volunteer officers, these two last being new grades. There is no list of petty officers and seamen published in the Register, these being simply kept on the unpublished rolls, kept in the office of the Secretary of the Navy.
In the Navy Department proper may be found the following officers: The Secretary of the Navy; his Assistant; the chiefs of the bureaus of yards and docks, equipment, and recruiting, navigation, ordnance, construction and repair, steam engineering, provisions and clothing, and medicine and surgery. Since the publishing of the last annual Register, one of these bureaus is a new organization—the bureau of navigation not yet perfected. It will be seen by referring to this Register that the office of the Secretary of the Navy and the bureaus attached, require, besides the chief officers, one engineer, forty-four clerks, five draughtsmen, and eight messengers.
The officers of the navy proper are divided into the following grades: Rear admirals, commodores, captains, commanders, lieutenant commanders,lieutenants, surgeons ranking with commanders, surgeons ranking with lieutenants, passed assistant surgeons ranking next after lieutenants, assistant surgeons ranking next after masters, paymasters ranking with commanders, paymasters ranking with lieutenants, assistant paymasters, chaplains, professors of mathematics, masters in the line of promotion, masters not in the line of promotion, passed midshipmen, midshipmen detached from the naval academy and ordered into active service, boatswains, gunners, carpenters, sailmakers, navy agents, naval store keepers, naval constructors, officers of the naval academy, officers on special service, engineers in chief, first assistants, second assistants, third assistants, and officers of the marine corps.
The volunteer officers of the navy are acting lieutenants, acting volunteer lieutenants, acting masters, acting ensigns, acting master's mates, acting assistant surgeons, acting assistant paymasters and clerks, and acting first, second, and third engineers.
The petty officers of the navy are comprised as follows: Yeomen, armorers, boatswains, gunners, carpenters, sailmakers, and armorer's mates, master-at-arms, ship's corporals, coxswains, quarter masters, quarter gunners, captains of forecastle, tops, afterguard, and hold, coopers, painters, stewards, ship's officers, surgeons, assistant surgeons and paymasters, stewards, nurses, cooks, masters of the band, musicians, first and second class, seamen, ordinary seamen, landsmen, boys, first and second class firemen, and coal heavers.
The ranking of officers of the navy compared to the grades of the army may thus be enumerated: An admiral of the navy ranks with a major general in the army, a commodore as a brigadier general, a captain as a colonel, a commander as a lieutenant colonel, a lieutenant commander as a major, a lieutenant as a captain, a master as a first lieutenant, and an ensign (the new grade) as second lieutenant. The senior rear admiral of the navy, Charles Stewart of Pennsylvania, now on the retired list, ranks as a major general commanding in chief, and is the highest official in the navy except the Secretary.
The pay of the navy is quite an item in the list of Government expenditures. A few statistics relative to the expenditures will not prove uninteresting to the reader. The pay of seven admirals in the active list, commanding squadrons, and of fourteen rear admirals in the retired list, is $87,000; of twenty-six commanders and six on the retired list, is $117,860; of seventy captains on the active list, $239,300; thirty-two on the retired list, $85,400; one hundred and seventy commanders on active list, $554,380, and nine on the reserved list, $18,800; two hundred and forty-four lieutenant commanders, active list, $672,000; one hundred and eighty surgeons of various grades, $708,000; ten passed assistant surgeons, $8,700; two hundred and eighteen assistant surgeons, $422,900; eighty-one paymasters, $81,000; sixty assistant paymasters, $67,850; twenty-three chaplains, $34,500; twelve professors of mathematics, $21,600; seventeen masters, $18,320; three passed midshipmen, and one midshipman (old list), $4,308; four hundred and eighteen midshipmen, graduates of the naval academy, $259,600; fifty-four gunners, $67,500; forty-two acting gunners, $33,600; sixty carpenters, $60,000; forty-six sailmakers, $43,650; eight navy agents, $25,000; twelve naval store keepers, $18,000; nine naval constructors, $16,200; engineers and assistants, $756,700; officers of the naval academy, $759,000; officers of the marine corps, $536,000; acting volunteer officers of the navy of all grades, $2,975,300, and petty officers and seamen, $2,560,000; making a total of $10,863,118, for pay alone.
Let us add to this, other expenses to swell out the list. For clerk hire alone it is said that $600,000 is annually paid out; for navy yards and depots,$12,583,280 64; for the different bureaus, $8,325,161; and for contingent expenses, $2,600,000. Add to this the pay of the hospitals, $1,200,000; for magazines, $200,000; repair and equipment, $11,400,000; chartering and purchasing of vessels for naval purposes, $10,800,000; thus making a total of $47,708,441 64, which, added to the pay of the navy, makes the annual expenditure $58,571,559 64.
Let us now turn our attention to the vessels of the United States navy. In this department has the navy greatly increased within a few years. To give the reader an idea of our navy, we append the following statistical account of the vessels, giving their class, tonnage, number of guns, name, and station, which cannot but be of great interest to all who are interested in the affairs of the nation. We will give them in the following table:
Of these, the Alabama is on the stocks at Kittery, Maine, the New Orleans on the stocks at Sackett's Harbor, and the Virginia on the stocks at Boston. The Vermont is store ship at Port Royal, South Carolina, while the North Carolina and Ohio are receiving ships at Boston and New York. The Pennsylvania, 120-gun ship, was destroyed by the rebels at Gosport, Virginia, last year. This class of vessels are the most ineffective we have in the service, the Ohio being the only one which has done good service.
The Brandywine, Independence, and Potomac are used as receiving and store ships. The Sabine is at New London recruiting, the Santee is in ordinary at Boston, and the St. Lawrence is attached to the East Gulf Squadron.
Of the sailing sloops and brigs the following are in active service: Saratoga, coast of Africa; Mediterranean Squadron, the Constellation; the West Gulf Squadron, Portsmouth, Preble, and Vincennes; Pacific Squadron, Cyane, and St. Marys; St. Louis on special service; the Dale and Vandalia in the South Atlantic Squadron; the Constitution, Macedonian, Marion, and Savannah, as school and practice ships; the Falmouth, Warren, and Fredonia as store ships, and the sloop of war, Decatur, in ordinary. In the West Gulf Squadron are the brigs Bohio and Sea Foam; in the East Gulf Squadron is the brig Perry, while the Bainbridge is at Aspinwall.
The ships are divided as follows: The Supply and William Badger are in the North Atlantic Squadron; the Ino, the Onward, and Shepard Knapp in the South Atlantic Squadron; the Fearnot, the Kittatinny, and Morning Light in the West Gulf Squadron; the Courier is used as a store ship at Port Royal, the Charles Phelps as a coal ship, and the Roman as ordnance vessel at Hampden Roads, Virginia.
In the East Gulf Squadron are the barks Amanda, Ethan Allen, Jas. L. Davis, Jas. S. Chambers, Kingfisher, and Pursuit. In the West Gulf Squadron, the Arthur Houghton, J. C. Kuhn, Midnight, and W. G. Anderson. In the South Atlantic Squadron the Braziliera, Fernandina, Roebuck, and Restless, while the Release is a store ship in the Mediterranean. To these may be added one barkantine, the Horace Beals, of 3 guns and 296 tons, employed in the Western Gulf Squadron.
In the Potomac Flotilla is the schooner Chotank. The G. W. Blunt and the Hope are in the South Atlantic Squadron; the Dart and Sam Houston in the West Gulf Squadron, while the Sam Rotan, Wanderer, and Beauregard (the last named captured from the rebels) are in the East Gulf Squadron.
These vessels are used chiefly as tenders and despatch vessels.
Of these eighteen mortar schooners, five are at Baltimore, two in the North Atlantic Squadron, five in the West Gulf Squadron, one in the East Gulf Squadron, four in the Potomac Flotilla, and one in the James River Flotilla.
We have thus given the statistics of the sailing vessels of the navy. We now give a table of the steam vessels of all descriptions in our navy, which are the most valuable auxiliaries wehave. It is probably the most effective steam navy in the world, and in its department of huge iron-clads cannot be excelled even by the navies of the old world. The steam vessels of our navy may thus be enumerated:
The Niagara, one of the finest screw frigates in the navy, and which, with the Colorado, is now repairing, is noted for being connected with the Atlantic cable expedition, as well as for conveying the Japanese embassy home. She is the pet of the navy, and great credit is due the late George Steers for such a splendid specimen of naval architecture. The Powhattan, Minnesota, and Mississippi are attached to the South Atlantic Squadron; the San Jacinto to the East Gulf Squadron; the Susquehanna to the West Gulf Squadron, and the Saranac to the Pacific Squadron. The old Princeton is the receiving ship at Philadelphia. Of these steam frigates, six are screw, and three sidewheel.
The Brooklyn, Hartford, Housatonic, Pensacola, Richmond, and Oneida are in the West Gulf Squadron; the Canandaigua in the South Atlantic Squadron; the Lancaster in the Pacific, and the Dacotah and the Wachusett in the West India Squadron.
Of these gunboats, some of them rated as steam sloops of the third class, twelve are in the South Atlantic Squadron; five in the North Atlantic Squadron; ten in the West Gulf Squadron; three in the East Gulf Squadron; two in the Potomac Flotilla; one in the East Indies; one in the Pacific; one at Philadelphia; and five under repairs at the different navy yards.