“When war is rife and danger nigh,God and the soldier is all the cry;When war is over and wrongs are righted,God is forgot and the soldier slighted.”
“When war is rife and danger nigh,God and the soldier is all the cry;When war is over and wrongs are righted,God is forgot and the soldier slighted.”
“When war is rife and danger nigh,God and the soldier is all the cry;When war is over and wrongs are righted,God is forgot and the soldier slighted.”
“When war is rife and danger nigh,
God and the soldier is all the cry;
When war is over and wrongs are righted,
God is forgot and the soldier slighted.”
“After the Secundrabâgh we had to advance on the Shâh Nujeef. As the 24-pounders were being dragged along by our men and Peel’s sailors a poor sailor lad just in front had his leg carried clean off above the knee by a round shot, and although knocked head over heels by the force of the ball, he sat bolt upright on the grass, with the blood spouting from the stump of his limb like water from the hose of a fire-engine, and shouted:
“‘Here goes a shilling a day—a shilling a day! Pitch into them, boys! Remember Cawnpore, 93rd—remember Cawnpore! Go at them, my hearties!’ and then he fell back in a dead faint. He was dead before a doctor could reach him.”
Sir Colin himself was wounded by a bullet after it had passed through the head of a 93rd Grenadier.
Amongst the force defending the Shâh Nujeef there was a large body of archers on the walls armed with bows and arrows, which they discharged with great force and precision, and on Sergeant White raising his head above the wall an arrow was shot right into his feather bonnet. Inside the wire cage of his bonnet he had placed his forage-cap, folded up, and instead of passing right through, the arrow stuck in the folds of his cap. White, drawing out the arrow, cried: “My conscience! Bows and arrows! Have we got Robin Hood and Little John back again? Well, well, Jack Pandy, since bows and arrows are the word, here’s at you!” and with that he raised his bonnet on the point of his bayonet above thetop of the wall, and at once another arrow pierced it through, while a dozen more whizzed past a little wide of the mark.
The Lighter Side of War at LucknowA body of archers were amongst the defenders of the Shâh Nujeef. A Highland sergeant put his bonnet on his bayonet and held it up, and it was at once pierced by an arrow.
The Lighter Side of War at LucknowA body of archers were amongst the defenders of the Shâh Nujeef. A Highland sergeant put his bonnet on his bayonet and held it up, and it was at once pierced by an arrow.
The Lighter Side of War at Lucknow
A body of archers were amongst the defenders of the Shâh Nujeef. A Highland sergeant put his bonnet on his bayonet and held it up, and it was at once pierced by an arrow.
Just then Penny, of No. 2 Company, looking over the wall, got an arrow right through his brain, the shaft projecting more than a foot at the back of his head.
Then they all loaded and capped, and, pushing up their bonnets again, a whole shower of arrows went past or through them. Up they sprang and returned a well-aimed volley from their rifles at point-blank distance, and more than half a dozen of the rebels went down. But Montgomery exposed himself a little too long to watch the effects of the volley, and before he could get down into shelter an arrow was sent through his heart, passing clean through his body, and falling on the ground a few yards behind him. He leaped about 6 feet straight up in the air and fell stone dead.
But as yet we had made little impression on the solid masonry walls, and one of our ammunition waggons exploded, killing several men, and our storming party was repulsed. Just then Sergeant Paton came running up out of breath to say he had found a wide breach on the other side. It seems our shot and shell had gone over the first wall and had blown out the wall on the other side. Paton had climbed up easily and seen right inside the place. So Captain Dawson and his company were sent with Paton, and when the enemy saw them come in behind them they fled like sheep.
Thus ended the terrible 16th of November, 1857.
“An adventure happened to me in the Shâh Nujeef,” says Forbes-Mitchell, “which I still sometimes dream of with horror. This place was the tomb of the first King of Oude, and a place of Mohammedan pilgrimage. It had a number of small rooms round the enclosure for the pilgrims. These the enemy had used for quarters,and in their hurry to escape many had left their lamps burning. As I had lost my greatcoat in the fight, and felt very cold at night, so that I could not sleep, it struck me that some of the sepoys might have left blankets behind them. With this hope I went into one of the rooms where a lamp was burning, took it off its shelf, and walked to the door of the great domed tomb, which was only 20 yards or so away from the spot where the arms were piled and the men lying round the still burning fire. I peered into the dark vault, but could see nothing, so I advanced slowly, holding above my head the clay saucer of oil containing a loose cotton wick. I was looking cautiously round, for fear of surprise from a concealed foe, till I came near the centre of the great vault, where my progress was obstructed by a big black heap about 4 feet high, which felt to my feet as if I were walking in loose sand. I lowered the lamp to see what it was, and discovered that I was standing up to the ankles in loose gunpowder!
“About 40 hundredweight of it lay in a great heap in front of my nose, while a glance to my left showed me a range of some thirty barrels also full of powder, and on the right lots of 8-inch shells, all loaded, with the fuses fixed.
“By this time my eyes had become accustomed to the darkness of the mosque, and I took in my position at a glance. Here I was up to my knees almost in powder—in the very bowels of a magazine—with a naked light!
“My hair literally stood on end. I felt the skin of my head lifting my feather bonnet off my scalp. My knees knocked together, and, despite the chilly night air, the cold perspiration burst out all over me and ran down my face and legs.
“I had neither cloth nor handkerchief in my pocket, and there was not a moment to be lost, as already theoverhanging wick was threatening to shed its smouldering red tip into the live magazine at my feet.
“Quick as thought I put my left hand under the down-dropping flame and clasped it firmly. Holding it so, I slowly turned to the door and walked out with my knees knocking one against the other. I never felt the least pain from the wick, fear had so overcome me; but when I opened my hand on gaining the open air, I felt the smart acutely enough. I poured the oil out of the saucer into the burnt hand, then kneeling down, I thanked God for having saved me and all our men around from horrible destruction. I then got up and staggered rather than walked to the place where Captain Dawson was sleeping. I shook him by the shoulder till he awoke, and told him of my discovery and fright.
“‘Bah, Corporal Mitchell!’ was all his answer. ‘You have woke up out of your sleep and have got frightened at a shadow’—for he saw me all trembling.
“I turned my smarting hand to the light of the fire and showed the Captain how it was scorched; and then, feeling my pride hurt, I said: ‘Sir, you’re not a Highlander, or you would know the Gaelic proverb, “The heart of one who can look death in the face will not start at a shadow,” and you, sir, can bear witness that I have not shirked to look death in the face more than once since morning.’
“He replied: ‘Pardon me. I did not mean that. But calm yourself and explain.’
“I then told him that I had gone into the mosque with a naked lamp, and had found it half full of loose gunpowder.
“‘Are you sure you’re not dreaming from the excitement of this awful day?’ he asked.
“With that I looked down to my feet and my gaiters, which were still covered with blood from the slaughterin the Secundrabâgh. The wet grass had softened it again, and on this the powder was sticking nearly an inch thick. I scraped some of it off, throwing it into the fire, and said:
“‘There is positive proof for you that I’m not dreaming, nor my vision a shadow.’
“On that the Captain became almost as alarmed as I was, and a sentry was posted near the door of the mosque to prevent anyone entering it.
“The sleeping men were aroused, and the fire smothered out by jars of water. Then Captain Dawson and I, with an escort of four men, went round the rooms. As Wilson, one of the escort, was peering into a room, a concealed sepoy struck him over the head with his tulwâr; but his bonnet saved him, and Captain Dawson put a pistol bullet through the sepoy to save further trouble.
“After all was quiet the men rolled off to sleep again, and I too lay down and tried to sleep. My nerves were, however, too much shaken, and the burnt hand kept me awake, so I lay and listened to the men sleeping round me. And what a night that was! The horrible scenes through which the men had passed during the day had told with terrible effect upon their nerves, and the struggles with death in the Secundrabâgh were fought over again by some of the men in their sleep, oaths and shouts of defiance being often strangely intermingled with prayers.
“One man would be lying calmly asleep and then suddenly break out into a fierce battle-cry of ‘Cawnpore! you bloody murderer!’ Another would shout, ‘Charge! give them the bayonet!’ and a third, ‘Keep together, boys; don’t fire yet. Forward! forward! If we are to die, let us die like men!’
“Then I would hear one muttering, ‘Oh, mother, forgive me, and I’ll never leave you again.’ So it was through all that memorable night, and I have no doubt it was the same at the other posts. At last I dozed offand dreamed of blood and battle, and anon of Dee or Don side and the Braemar gathering; then the scene would change, and I was a little boy again, kneeling beside my mother, saying my evening hymn. Verily Campbell’s ‘Soldier’s Dream’ is no fiction.”
Next morning they found plenty of pumpkins and piles of flat cakes already cooked, but no salt; but Mitchell had an old matchbox full of salt in his haversack. An old veteran who used to tell stories of Waterloo had said to him at home: “Always carry a box of salt in your haversack when on active service: it will be useful.” So it was very often. After breakfast they sponged out their rifles, which had become so foul that the men’s shoulders were black with bruises from the recoil.
They had to assault the mess-house next, and after they had driven the rebels into the River Goomtee they peppered every head that showed above water.
One tall fellow acted as cunningly as a jackal. Whether struck or not, he fell just as he got into shallow water on the opposite side, and lay without moving, with his legs in the water and his head on the land. He appeared to be stone dead, and every rifle was turned on those that were running across the plain, while many that were wounded were fired on, as the fellows said, in mercy to put them out of pain. For this war of the Mutiny was a demoralizing war for civilized men to be engaged in. The cold-blooded cruelty of the rebels branded them as traitors to humanity and cowardly assassins of helpless women and children.
But to return to our Pandy. He was ever after spoken of as “the Jackal,” because jackals often behave as he did. After he had lain apparently dead for about an hour, some one noticed that he had gradually dragged himself out of the water. Then all at once he sprang to his feet and ran like a deer. He was still within easyrange, and several rifles were levelled at him; but Sergeant Findlay, who was on the rampart, called out: “Don’t fire, men; give the poor devil a chance.” So instead of a volley of bullets the men’s better feelings gained the day, and Jack Pandy was reprieved, with a cheer to speed him on his way. As soon as he heard it he realized his position, and like the Samaritan leper of old, he halted, turned round, and putting up both his hands with the palms together in front of his face, he salaamed profoundly, prostrating himself three times on the ground by way of thanks, while the men on the ramparts waved their bonnets and clapped their hands to him in token of goodwill.
Just at this time was heard a great sound of cheering near the Residency, the cause of which they shortly learned. It was because General Sir Colin Campbell had met Havelock and Outram. So then they knew the Residency was relieved, and the women and children were saved, though not yet out of danger. Every man in the force slept with a lighter heart that night.
A girl in the Residency—Jessie Brown—had stated that she heard the skirl of the bagpipes hours before the relieving force could be seen or heard by the rest of the garrison, “and I believe it was quite true. I know we heard their bagpipes a long way off. Well, we had relieved Lucknow, but at what a cost! No less than forty-five officers and 496 men had been killed—more than a tenth of our whole number.”
The Residency was relieved on the afternoon of the 17th of November, and the following day preparations were made for the evacuation of the position and the withdrawal of the women and children. To do this in safety, however, was no easy task, for the rebels showed but small regard for the laws of chivalry. There was a long stretch of plain, exposed to the fire of the enemy’sartillery and sharp-shooters from the opposite side of the Goomtee. To protect this part of the route all the best shots were placed on the north-west corner of the ramparts next to the Goomtee. They were under the command of Sergeant Findlay. One very good shot that excellent marksman made. A rebel officer rode out with a force of infantry from the east gate of the Bâdshâh-hibâgh. They had a couple of guns, too, to open fire on the line of retreat. They might have played havoc with the retiring garrison, but Findlay managed to unhorse the officer at long distance, and as soon as he was knocked over the enemy retreated into the bâgh, and did not show themselves any more that day.
By midnight of the 22nd of November the Residency was entirely evacuated, and the enemy completely deceived as to the movements. The women and children had passed the exposed part of their route without a single casualty.
The roll was called on reaching the Martinière, and two were found to be missing. They had been left asleep in the barracks, and came in later, saying that the rebels had not yet discovered that the English had gone and were still firing into the Residency. Shortly after the roll-call a most unfortunate accident took place. Corporal Cooper and four or five men went into one of the rooms of the Martinière in which there was a quantity of loose powder which had been left by the enemy, and somehow the powder got ignited and they were all blown up, their bodies completely charred and their eyes scorched out. The poor fellows all died in the greatest agony within an hour or so of the accident, and none of them could tell how it happened.
“This sad accident made me very mindful of and thankful for my own narrow escape and that of my comrades in the Shâh Nujeef.
“An amusing thing occurred on the march to Cawnpore. As all the subaltern officers in my company were wounded I was told off, with a guard of twenty men, to see all the baggage-carts across Bunnee Bridge. A commissariat cart, loaded with biscuits, got upset, and its wheel broke just as we were moving it on to the road.
“The only person in charge of the cart was a young bâboo, a boy of eighteen years of age, who defended his charge as long as he could; but he was soon put on one side, the biscuit bags were ripped open, and the men commenced filling their haversacks.
“Just at this moment an escort of the 9th Lancers, with some staff-officers, rode up from the rear. It was the Commander-in-Chief and his staff.
“The boy bâboo seeing him, rushed up and called out aloud:
“‘Oh, my lord, you are my father and my mother. What shall I tell you? These wild Highlanders will not hear me, but are stealing commissariat biscuits like fine fun!’
“Sir Colin pulled up, and tried not to smile. ‘Is there no officer here?’ he asked.
“The bâboo replied: ‘No officer, sir—my lord—only one very big corporal, and he tell me grandly “Shut up, you! or I’ll shoot you, same like rebel mutineer.”’
“Hearing this, I stepped out of the crowd, and, saluting Sir Colin, told him that this cart had broken down, and as there were no other means of carrying the biscuits, the men had filled their haversacks with them rather than leave them on the ground.
“Then the bâboo again came to the front with clasped hands, saying: ‘Oh, my lord if one cart of biscuits short, Major Fitzgerald not listen to me; rather order thirty lashes with Provost Marshal’s cat. Oh, what can a poor bâboo do with such supreme and wild Highlanders?’
“Sir Colin replied: ‘Yes, bâboo, I know these Highlanders are very wild fellows when they are hungry. Let them have the biscuits,’ and turning to one of the staff, he directed him to give a voucher to the bâboo that a cart loaded with biscuits had broken down, and the contents had been divided amongst the rearguard by order of the Commander-in-Chief. Sir Colin then turned to us and said: ‘Men, I give you the biscuits. Divide them with your comrades in front; but you must promise me should a cart loaded with rum break down, you will not interfere with it.’
“We all replied: ‘No, no, Sir Colin; if rum breaks down, we’ll not touch it.’
“‘All right,’ said Sir Colin, ‘remember! I trust you, and I know every one of you.’
“We honestly shared those biscuits, and it was well we had them, for about five miles further on a general halt was made for a short rest and for all stragglers to come up. Sir Colin ordered the 93rd to form up, and calling the officers to the front, he announced to the regiment that General Wyndham had been attacked by the Nana Sahib and by the Gwalior contingent in Cawnpore; that his force had been obliged to retire within the fort at the bridge of boats; and that we must reach Cawnpore that night, because if the bridge of boats should be captured before we got there, we should be cut off in Oude, with 50,000 of our enemies in our rear, a well-equipped army of 40,000 men in our front, together with a powerful train of artillery numbering over forty siege-guns to face, and with all the women and children, sick and wounded, to guard. ‘So, 93rd,’ said the old chief, ‘I don’t ask you to undertake this forced march in your present tired condition without good reason. You must reach Cawnpore to-night at all costs.’
“As usual, when he took the men into his confidence,he was answered from the ranks: ‘All right, Sir Colin, we’ll do it.’ And we did.”
By this time they could hear the guns of the Gwalior contingent bombarding General Wyndham’s position in Cawnpore. Although terribly footsore and tired, not having had their clothes off for eighteen days, they trudged on their weary march, every mile hearing the guns more clearly. There is nothing to rouse tired soldiers like a good cannonade in front. It is the best tonic out.
But they will never forget the misery of that march. They reached the sands on the banks of the Ganges, on the Oude side of the river opposite Cawnpore, just as the sun was setting, having covered the forty-seven miles under thirty hours. And when they got in sight of Cawnpore the first thing they saw was the enemy on the other side of the river making bonfires of their spare kit and baggage, which had been left at Cawnpore when they advanced for the relief of Lucknow.
How on the 29th of November they crossed the bridge of boats; how by the 3rd of December all the women and children and wounded were on their way to Allahabad; how they smashed up the famous Gwalior contingent and sent the Nana flying into the desert—all this belongs to another story. Sir Colin thanked his old regiment for their great toil and prowess. “But we old soldiers should like our deeds and the deeds of those who gave their lives for England to be remembered by our children’s children, and to be studied with a grateful sympathy.”
From “Reminiscences of the Great Mutiny,” by William Forbes-Mitchell. By kind permission of Messrs. Macmillan and Co.This is one of the most interesting books that has been written by a soldier who took part in the Mutiny War.
From “Reminiscences of the Great Mutiny,” by William Forbes-Mitchell. By kind permission of Messrs. Macmillan and Co.
This is one of the most interesting books that has been written by a soldier who took part in the Mutiny War.
Northv.South—A new President hates slavery—Fort Sumter is bombarded—Ladies on the house-top—Niggers don’t mind shells—A blockade-runner comes to Oxford—TheBansheestrips for the race—Wilmington—High pay—Lights out—Cast the lead—A stern chase—The run home—Lyingperdu—TheNight-hawksaved by Irish humour—Southern need at the end of the war—Negro dignity waxes big.
In November, 1860, Abraham Lincoln was elected President of the United States. As the new President was in sympathy with those who wished to abolish slavery, and as the Southern States were mostly inhabited by large landholders possessing thousands of slaves, this election was felt to doom their ascendancy unless they could resist the will of the North. Therefore, on the 17th of December a convention of the State of South Carolina was held at Charleston, which formally repealed their acceptance of the United States Constitution.
Neither side at first foresaw the results of secession. Each thought the other would offer little resistance. The North were totally unprepared for war; the South were weakened by internal dissensions, but they fought as long as they had any soldiers left, and at last “robbed the cradle and the grave.” The South were in the end quite exhausted, while the North seemed to gather new strength every month. As the war went on the soldiers of theSouth, or Confederates, wore out their clothes, and could not replace them. Things were so scarce and dear that it became a proverb, “In going to market, you take your money in your basket and bring your purchases home in your pocket.” Planters in the South had to borrow money to support their hordes of negroes in idleness while they themselves were away at the front.
On the 4th of March Lincoln formally entered on office. Secession, he said, meant rebellion. The Constitution must be preserved, if necessary, even by force.
Major Anderson, who held a small fort in Charleston Harbour for the North, spiked his guns and moved into Fort Sumter, also in the harbour. This was considered an act of war, and Fort Sumter was bombarded and taken. The little town was full of excited soldiers, singing and shouting. We have a peep of what was going on and what it felt like in Mrs. Chestnut’s diary for the 12th of April:
“I do not pretend to go to sleep. How can I? If Anderson does not accept terms at four the orders are he shall be fired upon. I count four. St. Michael’s bells chime out, and I begin to hope. At half-past four the heavy booming of a cannon! I sprang out of bed, and on my knees prostrate I prayed as I never prayed before. There was a sound of stir all over the house, pattering of feet in the corridors. All seemed hurrying one way. I put on my double gown and went on the house-top. The shells were bursting. The roar of the cannon had begun. The women were wild there on the house-top. Prayers came from the women and imprecations from the men. Then a shell would light up the scene, and we all wondered why Fort Sumter did not reply.”
On the next day Fort Sumter was on fire. The warships of the North were outside the bar, and could notenter for want of depth of water. On the 15th Anderson had to give the fort up to the South.
The slaves were taking it all very quietly, seemed not much moved by the thought of being free—rather preferred to be slaves and be well fed.
A negro was rowing in the bay towards Charleston during the bombardment with some supplies from a plantation. He was met and asked: “Are you not afraid of Colonel Anderson’s cannon?”
“No, sar. Mars Anderson ain’t daresn’t hit me. He knows marster wouldn’t ’low it.”
The next step taken by the President was to declare all the Southern ports in a state of blockade, in order that the seceding States might be starved out. The coast-line was some 3,000 miles in length, and the whole fleet of the United States did not reach 150 ships, of which many were unseaworthy. But the energy of the North increased this fleet to nearly 700 vessels. Thus any attempt to run in through the blockading squadron was very dangerous.
A royal proclamation in England admonished all loyal subjects to respect the Federal blockade; but the high profits to be made tempted many Liverpool firms to adventure their argosies. A ship taken while running the blockade is treated as an enemy, and if she resists she is treated as a pirate.
During the first year of the war many captures were made, and stories came to England of hairbreadth escapes which set many young men longing to join in the exciting game.
I remember a man coming to Oxford when I was an undergraduate with a letter of introduction from a friend. He was running into Charleston, and had brought from that port a store of watches and jewellery, which he persuaded us to take in exchange for a quantity of discardedclothing. The lady’s gold watch which I got is, I hear, still going strong, and belies the suspicion with which I took it. At this time there were no mills, and almost no manufactories in the Southern States, so that they soon began to feel the want of clothes, buttons, boots, socks, medicines, and chemicals. Nassau, a little island in the Bahamas, was the chief base for the steamers that were running the blockade. It is about 560 miles from Charleston and 640 from Wilmington.
The Bahama group afforded neutral water to within fifty miles of the American coast, but it required a very fast vessel to succeed in evading the chain of cruisers which soon patrolled the coast. These fast vessels were being built in England and elsewhere. Let us follow the fortunes of one of them—theBanshee.
She arrived safely across the Atlantic and put into Nassau. There she was stripped for the work that lay before her. Everything aloft was taken down, and nothing was left standing but the two lower masts, with cross-trees for a look-out man. The ship was painted a dull white, and the crew wore a grey uniform. As the success of a blockade-runner depends much on her speed, the qualities of the engineer are important.
TheBansheepossessed a model chief engineer in Mr. Erskine, a man cool in danger and full of resource. In her pilot, Tom Burroughs, she had a man who knew the waters thoroughly, and was a genius in smelling out a blockader on the darkest night. A good pilot received about £800 for the trip there and back, for there was some risk in the service, and if they were captured they went to prison. The pay of the seamen was from £50 to £60 for the trip. So theBansheestole out of Nassau Harbour on a dark night, laden with arms, gunpowder, boots, and clothing, on her way to Wilmington.
Wilmington lies to the north of Charleston, somesixteen miles up the Cape Fear River. Off the mouth of this river lies Smith’s Island, which divides the approach to the port into two widely different channels.
Fort Fisher, placed at the northern point, obliged the blockaders to lie far out, beyond the range of the guns. Further out still was a cordon of cruisers, and outside these were gunboats always on the move; so that it required speed and a good look-out to elude the three lines of blockaders. They crept as noiselessly as possible along the shores of the Bahamas, and ran on safely for the first two days out, though as often as they saw a sail on the horizon they had to turn theBanshee’sstern to it till it vanished. The look-out man had a dollar for every sail he sighted, and was fined five dollars if it were seen first from the deck. On the third day they found they had only just time to run under cover of Fort Fisher before dawn, and they tried to do it.
“Now the real excitement began,” says Mr. Taylor, who was in charge of the cargo, “and nothing I have ever experienced can compare with it. Hunting, pig-sticking, big-game shooting, polo—all have their thrilling moments, but none can approach ‘running a blockade.’ Consider the dangers to be encountered, after three days of constant anxiety and little sleep, in threading our way through a swarm of blockaders, and the accuracy required to hit in the nick of time the mouth of a river only half a mile wide, without lights, and with a coast-line so low that as a rule the first intimation we had of its nearness was the dim white line of the surf.”
They steamed along cautiously until nightfall. Though the night was dark it was dangerously clear. No lights, not even a cigar. The hatchways of the engine-room were covered with tarpaulins, and the poor stokers had to breathe as best they could.
All hands were on deck, crouching down behind thebulwarks. On the bridge were Taylor, the captain, Mr. Steele, and the pilot, all straining their eyes into the “vasty deep.”
Presently the pilot muttered: “Better cast the lead, captain.”
Steele murmured down the tube that led to the engine-room, and the vessel slowed down and then stopped. A weird figure crept into the fore-chains and dropped the leaded line, while the crew listened to see if the engines would seize the opportunity to blow off steam and so advertise their presence for miles around. In two minutes came the seaman, saying: “Sixteen fathoms, sir. Sandy bottom, with black specks.”
“We are not so far in as I thought,” said the pilot. “Port two points and go a little faster.”
He knew by the speckled bottom where they were. They had to be north of that before it was safe to head for the shore.
In an hour or less the pilot asked for another sounding. No more specks this time. “Starboard and go ahead easy” was the order now.
The paddle-floats were flapping the water softly, but to the crew the noise they made was terrifying. They could be heard a long way.
Suddenly the pilot said: “There’s one of them, Mr. Taylor, on the starboard bow.”
Presently straining eyes could see a long, low, black object lying quite still. Would she see theBanshee?
They passed within a hundred yards of her and were not heard.
Soon after Burroughs whispered: “Steamer on the port bow.”
A second cruiser was made out close to them.
“Hard a port,” said the captain, and the steamer swung round, bringing the enemy upon her beam. Nosound! The enemy slept! Then suddenly a third cruiser came out of the gloom and steamed slowly across theBanshee’sbows.
“Stop her,” said Captain Steele down the tube, and the blockade-runner gurgled to a standstill, while the cruiser moved across and was lost in the darkness.
Then “Slow ahead” was the order, until the low-lying coast and the grey surf came dim to the eye. But it was getting near dawn, and there was no trace of the river mouth.
They knew not quite where they were, and thoughts of prison and prison fare would come uppermost.
At length the pilot said: “All right, boys. I can see the big hill yonder.”
The only hill on the coast was near Fort Fisher. Now they knew where they were; so did six or seven gunboats, which, in the silver light of early dawn, catching sight of their prey, steamed hard and fast towards theBanshee, with angry shots from the bow gun. The balls were dropping all around and churning up the sea. It was mighty unpleasant to men who knew they had several tons of gunpowder in the hold; and just then they were obliged to steer out to avoid the North Breaker shoal, so that the gunboats crept ever nearer and nearer, barking like disappointed puppies.
The pilot looked at the captain and the captain at the supercargo. Their lips tightened and their breath came faster as they eyed the gunboats askance.
“One good shot into the paddle will end this trip,” thought Mr. Taylor; “and it is my first run in, too!”
Then came a welcome sound overhead. A shell from the fort whirred its way towards the gunboats and warned them off.
With a parting broadside they sheered off out of range, and after half an hour’s run theBansheewas over the barand in quiet waters. They soon sped up the sixteen miles to Wilmington, and found a large posse of willing slaves ready to discharge their cargo.
The poor folk at Wilmington were then very much pinched for want of good food and drink, and the advent of theBansheerestored smiles all round. Living on corn-bread, bacon, and water grows monotonous, and invitations to lunch on board theBansheewere never declined—in fact, many friends did not even wait for an invitation.
Within a very few days theBansheewas again ready for sea, ballasted with tobacco and laden with cotton—three tiers even on deck! High profit tempted them to pile up their vessels like hay-waggons, and put to sea in a condition quite unfit to meet a boisterous wind.
It was fortunately more easy to run out than to run in, as there was no harbour mouth to find in the dark, and the open sea lay before them. They learnt that the Admiral’s ship remained at anchor during the night, while the other vessels moved slowly to and fro across the mouth of the river; so they formed a bold plan, thinking that security lay in a startling impudence. They hid theBansheebehind Fort Fisher till nightfall, rowing ashore to get the latest news from Colonel Lamb, who commanded the fort.
“Which, sir, is the Admiral’s flag-ship?”
“TheMinnesota, a sixty-gun frigate. Don’t go too near her.”
“That is just what we mean to do, Colonel; but first we will take her bearings exactly. We don’t want to bump into her.”
The Colonel was very kind and helpful, and they often enjoyed his society and that of his wife, who lived in a cottage not far off.
As soon as night fell over the sea theBansheeslipped quietly from her secret anchorage, crossed the river bar,and following the observations they had taken, ran close by the flagship, and so out to sea, clear of the first cordon. But in trying to pass the second they ran across a gunboat, which at once opened fire. The men lay down on the deck, and the engines throbbed and thumped. Luckily the gunboat was very slow, and they soon lost one another; but as they could hear her pounding along behind, they attempted a ruse. The helm was put hard over, so that they steamed in a direction at right angles to their former course, and in a few minutes their engines were stopped. TheBansheelay perfectly still. The crew rose on their elbows and peeped over the bulwarks, following the course of the gunboat by the flashes of her guns and by the rockets she was sending up madly to attract or warn her consorts. So they saw her go plunging past them and firing madly into the dark abyss of the night.
After resting five minutes on the heaving wave, theBansheestarted again as noiselessly as she could. One danger remained—the third cordon. You may be sure they stared wide-eyed round the horizon as morning broke. With theBansheeso heavily laden it would be fatal to meet a cruiser in the daylight.
No smoke visible—no sail! All that day and for two days more they steamed on with fear beside them. On the evening of the third day they steamed proudly into Nassau, though a heavy list to starboard made them present a rather drunken appearance.
The profits of blockade-running may be estimated by the fact that though theBansheeafterwards became a total loss by capture, she earned enough on her eight successful trips to pay the shareholders 700 per cent. on their investment. The Northerners turned her into a gunboat, but she asserted her sympathies for the South by running foul of the jetty in the naval yard at Washington.
On another run in theNight Hawk, after getting safely through the blockading fleet, they grounded on the bar, and two launches speedily boarded them. The Northerners were very excited, and evidently expected to meet with desperate resistance, for firing of revolvers and wild cutlass blows surprised the crew of theNight Hawk, who stood quietly on the poop waiting to be taken prisoners.
“This roused my wrath,” says Taylor, “and I expostulated with the Lieutenant upon his firing on unarmed men.”
They then cooled down and began a search for portable valuables; but, perhaps because they feared Colonel Lamb might come to the rescue, they made haste about this, and then set fire to the ship fore and aft.
They were quickened in their departure by the humour of an Irish fireman, who sang out lustily:
“Begorra! begorra! but we shall all be in the air in a minute, with this ship full of gunpowder!”
The men who were holding Taylor dropped him “like a hot potato,” and away they rowed, taking some of the crew as prisoners. The gunpowder existed only in the fancy of the Irishman.
The blockaders opened fire on theNight Hawk, which was blazing merrily, and Colonel Lamb shelled the blockading fleet; then through the boiling surf the rest of the crew rowed safely, wet through and exhausted.
With the rising tide she bumped herself over the sandbank, still burning. They telegraphed to Wilmington for help, and some 300 negroes came down the river to assist in baling and pumping. So they managed to save theNight Hawkand make her fit to undertake other voyages, though to look at she was no beauty, for her sides were all corrugated with the heat, and her stern twisted, and not a bit of woodwork on her was left unconsumed by the fire. Yet she managed to stagger across the Atlantic through some very bad weather.
Such were some of the adventures of the blockade-runners in the Civil War of the United States. To those who bought the ships it was a matter of pecuniary profit merely; to the Southerners in Richmond, Wilmington, and Charleston, and even on the plantations inland, the arrival of these vessels staved off famine and cold and nakedness. To the Northerners they meant a prolongation of the unequal struggle, and it was no wonder that they dealt rather harshly with those whom they caught.
A rich lady of South Carolina wrote during this war: “I have had an excellent pair of shoes given me. For more than a year I have had none but some dreadful things made by our carpenter, and they do hurt my feet so. Uncle William says the men who went into the war to save their negroes are abjectly wretched. Neither side now cares a fig for these beloved negroes, and would send them all to heaven in a hand-basket to win the fight.”
The negroes on the whole were very faithful to their old masters, for many of them had been treated with all justice and kindness. Of course, some of them gave themselves airs on becoming free and independent voters. One old negro said to his master: “When you all had de power you was good to me, and I’ll protect you now, massa. No niggers nor nobody shall tech you. If you want anything, call for Sambo. Ahem! I mean call for Mr. Samuel: dat my name now.”
From “Running the Blockade,” by T. E. Taylor. By kind permission of Mr. John Murray.
Will they sink or swim?—Captain Ericsson, the Swede—TheMerrimacraised and armoured—TheMonitorbuilt by private venture—Merrimacsurprises Fort Monroe—TheCumberlandattacked—The silent monster comes on—Her ram makes an impression—Morris refuses to strike his flag—TheCumberlandgoes down—TheCongressis next for attention—On fire and forced to surrender—Blows up at midnight—TheMinnesotaaground shows she can bite—General panic—Was it Providence?—A light at sea—Only a cheese-box on a raft—Sunday’s fight between two monsters—TheMerrimacfinds she is deeply hurt, wounded to death—The four long hours—Worden and Buchanan both do their best—Signals for help—The fiery end of theWhitehallgunboat.
The War of Secession between the Federals and Confederate States gave rise to a new kind of warship—the ironclad. TheMerrimacwas converted into such a vessel by the South, and theMonitorwas built by the North, or Federals, in the space of 100 days.
Most people, experts and others, predicted a watery grave for a ship cased in iron. Very few ventured on board at the launching of theMonitor, and even the builders provided a steam-tug to save the passengers in case she went to the bottom. But theMonitor, after the first graceful dip, sat like a wild duck on a mere, being flat-bottomed, having a turret 9 feet high, capable of revolving, with two circular portholes to fire from. Captain Ericsson, a Swede, was her architect.
The South had seized all the forts and dockyards below Chesapeake Bay, and had struck great consternation into the Federal hearts. When the Federals burnt and evacuated the Norfolk Navy Yard they scuttled the steam frigateMerrimac; but the Confederates raised her, plated her with railroad iron, and fitted her with a slanting roof to serve as a shield. TheMerrimac, when finished, did not take the water so gracefully as theMonitor, for her weight was so enormous that she nearly broke her back in launching. It was known that both sides were at work upon some monster of the deep, but which would be ready first no one could predict.
However, on the 8th of March theMerrimacleft Norfolk, accompanied by two other war vessels—theJamestownandYorktown—and followed by a little fleet of armed tugs. She was heading for Newport News, where there was a Federal garrison, guarded by the sailing frigates theCumberlandand theCongress, which rode at anchor within half a mile of the shore battery. Their boats were hanging at the booms, and the week’s washing fluttered in the rigging—as peaceful a scene as could be imagined.
But the look-out on Fortress Monroe caught sight of a monster vessel ploughing the waves, and signalled to the war-ships to get under way. TheMinnesotahad her steam up and soon went off towards Newport News, where theCumberlandandCongresslay on blockading duty. The crew of theCumberland, seeing a strange ship come round Craney Island, recognized her as the expected ironclad. All hands were beat to quarters, and theCumberlandswung across the channel in order to bring her broadside to bear. The slanting roof of theMerrimacpuzzled them, and the long iron ram churned up the water as she advanced relentlessly and in silence. At the distance of a mile theCumberlandbegan to useher pivot guns, but theMerrimacmade no reply, only steamed majestically on, though broadside after broadside was poured upon her like hail; but the heavy shot glanced off harmlessly, and ever theMerrimaccame closer and closer.
As she passed theCongresstheMerrimacfired one broadside, and then, leaving her to the tender mercies of theJamestownand theYorktown, made straight for theCumberland. Both the Federal ships discharged their broadsides against the armoured monster. She just quivered under the blow and came on in silence. The National battery at Newport News opened upon her at point-blank range, and every man on board theCumberlanddrew a breath of relief. “Now,” they thought, “our massive guns will teach her a lesson.” But it seemed as if theMerrimachad received no damage. Not a soul could be seen on her decks, not a splinter on her sides; but she was coming towards them—coming madly, as it seemed, to destruction.
What did theMerrimacmean? Why did she not fire her guns? The crew on theCumberlandsoon found out, when the great ram struck their frigate amidships with a shock that threw every man down on the deck, crushed in the ribs, and heeled the ship over till her topsail yards almost splashed the water. TheMerrimacreversed her engines and backed away under a murderous broadside, replying as she too turned her broadside with a deadly volley of shot and shell, which swept her enemy’s decks of guns and men. Meanwhile the water was pouring into the terrible gaping wound in the side of theCumberland; but Lieutenant Morris, who was in command, fought her to the last with unflinching courage. Yet once again theMerrimacturned her prow and crushed in close upon the old wound, and the great oak ribs snapped like twigs under the weight of iron. TheCumberlandbegan to ridelower in the water, but still aimed with calm accuracy at theMerrimac, riddling her smoke-stack and bending her anchor. But theMerrimaclay off a little and poured a storm of shot into the sinking frigate, dealing death and mutilation. Yet Morris refused to yield, and the whole crew in their desperate plight thought of nothing but saving the honour of the flag. One sailor, with both his legs shot off, hobbled up to his gun on bleeding stumps and pulled the lanyard, then fell in a swoon by the gun.
“She is sinking!” was the cry; but they still fought on, though the frigate was settling deeper every minute. Then the water came gurgling into the portholes, and choked the guns and drowned the gunners. The last gunner was knee-deep in water when he fired the last shot, and then theCumberlandcareened over on her side. Down she sank amid a whirl of circling waters, a caldron of wave and air—caught in one, and vomiting steam all around and over the dying vessel, and in a moment 400 men were on the verge of death, some being carried down into the revolving vortex, some being cast up on the outside, some swimming frantically towards the shore, or reaching desperately for fragments of wreck. About 100 went down with the ship. The chaplain went down with the wounded who were below deck.
It took forty-five minutes for theMerrimacto finish off theCumberland, and she now turned her ram towards theCongress, which spread all sail and endeavoured to get clear away.
But at this moment theCongressgrounded and became helpless. The gunboats of the Confederates were still firing heavily at her from a respectful distance, but as they saw theMerrimacapproaching they too drew near under her protection.
TheMerrimacchose her position at about 100 yards’ range, despising the guns of theCongress, and raked herfore and aft, dismounting guns and covering her deck with mangled limbs. In three places theCongressburst into flames, and the dry timber crackled and blazed and smoked like a volcano. The men could not stand by the guns for the fervent heat. The wounded were slowly burned alive. The officers could not bear this sight, and hauled down the flag.
A tug was sent by the Confederates to take off the prisoners from the burning wreck, but, unfortunately, some sharpshooters from the shore still kept up a hot fire upon the Southern vessels. In consequence of this theMerrimacfired another broadside into the sinkingCongress, and killed many more of her crew. TheCongress, being deserted, still burned on till darkness fell, and the ruddy glare lit up the moving waters as if they had been a sea of blood. At midnight the fire reached her magazine, and with a thunder of explosion theCongressblew up into a myriad fragments. The Northern warshipMinnesotahad also grounded, so had the frigateSt. Lawrence, and theMerrimac, while it was still light enough to aim a gun, steamed towards them to see what little attention she could bestow upon them. TheMerrimacwas, perhaps, a little overconfident in her coat of mail. Anyhow, she risked receiving a broadside at very short range from the heavy guns of theMinnesota.
A shot seems to have entered her porthole and damaged her machinery, for she hesitated, put about, and returned to safe anchorage behind Craney Island.
Meanwhile, a very natural terror was gnawing at the hearts of the Federal crews and garrison in Hampton Roads.
They had listened to the sounds of the conflict and seen the dire results in wonder, almost in despair. TheMerrimac, they said, was invulnerable. Not a shot could pierce her. On Sunday morning she would return anddestroy the whole Federal fleet at her leisure. She would shell Newport News Point and Fortress Monroe, at the entrance of Hampton Roads, set everything on fire, and drive the garrisons from their guns. Nay, as the telegraph wires flashed the news to Washington, it was foreseen with an agony of horror that theMerrimacmight ascend the Potomac and lay the capital in ashes. Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, Boston, were in a state of panic. No one knew what might not follow. It was a blind horror of a new and unknown danger. For the experience of one hour had rendered the shipbuilding of the past a scorn and a laughing-stock. Wooden frigates might go to the scrap-heap now. With theCumberlandhad gone down morally all the great navies of Europe. A new order had to be found for ship and battery, and steel must take the place of planks of oak.
Such a night of anxiety and alarm the Northern States had never experienced. It was ten o’clock at night when the look-out in the garrison thought he saw lights out at sea in Chesapeake Bay. He called his mate. By-and-by they made them out to be two small steamers heading for Old Point Comfort. An eye-witness from Fort Monroe thus describes what happened:
“Oh, what a night that was! I can never forget it. There was no fear during the long hours—danger, I find, does not bring that—but there was a longing for some interposition of God and waiting upon Him, from whom we felt our help must come, in earnest, fervent prayer, while not neglecting all the means of martial defence. Fugitives from Newport News kept arriving. Ladies and children had walked the long ten miles from Newport News, feeling that their presence only embarrassed their brave husbands. Sailors from theCongressandCumberlandcame, one of them with his ship’s flag bound about his waist, as he had swum with it ashore. Dusky fugitivescame mournfully fleeing from a fate worse than death—slavery. These entered my cabin hungry and weary. The heavens were aflame with the burningCongress. But there were no soldiers among the flying host. The sailors came only to seek another chance at the enemy, since theCumberlandhad gone down in deep waters, and theCongresshad gone upward, as if a chariot of fire, to convey the manly souls whose bodies had perished in that conflict upward to heaven.