running the blockade 10

running the blockade 10

It was, I think, on our sixth trip out in the little _Banshee_, when

soon after daylight we had got safely through the fleet, and I was lying

on a cotton bale aft, that Erskine, the chief engineer, suddenly

exclaimed, "Mr. Taylor, look astern!" I looked, and not four miles from

us I saw a large side-wheel cruiser, with square sails set, coming down

on us hand over fist. This was an instance of gross carelessness on the

part of the look-out man at the masthead (he turned out to be an

American whom we had shipped in Nassau, on the previous trip, and about

whom both Steele and I had our private suspicions). At such a critical

moment as the approach of daylight the chief officer should have chosen

a picked man for the look-out. After this we were more careful: either

the chief officer or I myself, when on board, making it a point to

occupy this post at that particular hour.

 

Erskine rushed to the engine-room, and in a few moments volumes of smoke

issuing from our funnels showed that we were getting up all the steam we

could—almost too late, as with the freshening breeze the chaser (which

we afterwards found out to be the well-known _James Adger_, a boat

subsequently sent to cruise in search of the _Alabama_) so rapidly

overhauled us that we could distinctly see the officers in uniform as

they stood on the bridge; each one, doubtless, counting his share of the

prize money to which he would soon become entitled.

 

[Illustration: THE _BANSHEE_ CHASED BY _JAMES ADGER_. _To face page 78_]

 

"This will never do," said Steele, who, although it put us off our

course to Nassau, ordered the helm to be altered, so as to bring us up

to the wind. We then soon had the satisfaction of seeing our enemy

obliged to take in sail after sail, and a ding-dong race of the most

exciting nature right in the wind's eye commenced.

 

The freshening breeze and rising sea now seemed to increase the odds

against our, the smaller, boat, and so critical did matters become, and

so certain did capture appear, that I divided between Murray-Aynsley—who

was a passenger on this trip,—Steele, and myself sixty sovereigns which

I had on board, determined that when captured we wouldn't be penniless.

As the weather grew worse we found ourselves obliged to throw overboard

our deck cargo in order to lighten the boat. This was done as quickly as

possible, heart-breaking though it was to see valuable bales (worth from

£50 to £60 apiece) bobbing about on the waves. To me more especially did

this come home, for my little private venture of ten bales of Sea Island

cotton had to go first, a dead loss of £800 or more!

 

A fresh cause of excitement now arose; in clearing out these very bales,

which were in a half finished deck cabin, an unfortunate stowaway came

to light, a runaway slave, who must have been standing wedged between

two bales for at least forty-eight hours, and within three feet of whom

I had unconsciously been sleeping on the cotton bales during the last

two nights before putting to sea. He received a great ovation on our

landing him at Nassau, though his freedom cost us $4000 on our return to

Wilmington, this being what he was valued at. His escape was an unusual

one, for, before leaving port the hold and closed up spaces were always

fumigated to such an extent as to have brought out or suffocated any one

in hiding; but this being an open-deck cabin, the precaution was

impossible.

 

Having got rid of our deck cargo, we slowly but steadily began to gain

in the race. It was an extraordinary sight to see our gallant little

vessel at times almost submerged by green seas sweeping her fore and

aft, and the _James Adger_, a vessel of 2000 tons, taking headers into

the huge waves, yet neither of us for a moment slackening speed, a

course we should have thought madness under ordinary circumstances.

Murray-Aynsley stood with his sextant, taking angles, and reporting now

one now the other vessel getting the best of it.

 

Suddenly a fresh danger arose from the bearings of the engines becoming

heated, owing to the enormous strain put upon them. Erskine said it was

absolutely imperative to stop for a short time. But by dint of loosening

the bearings and applying all the salad oil procurable mixed with

gunpowder they were gradually got into working order again, all in the

engine-room having assisted in the most energetic manner at this crucial

moment.

 

The chase went on for fifteen weary hours—the longest hours I think I

ever spent!—until nightfall, when we saw our friend, then only about

five miles astern, turn round and relinquish her pursuit. We heard

afterwards that her stokers were dead beat. For some time we pursued our

course, thinking this might be only a ruse on their part, and then held

a council of war as to our next move. Steele and Erskine were for making

Bermuda, as we had been chased 150 miles in that direction, and both

feared our coal would not hold out for us to reach Nassau. It was,

however, very necessary that I should go to the latter place, as I was

expecting two new steamers out from England, so we decided to make the

attempt. We only succeeded in reaching land at all by a very close

shave. At the end of the third day we saw our last coal used; mainmast,

bulwarks, deck cabin and every available bit of wood, supplemented by

cotton and turpentine as fuel, only just carried us into one of the

north-east keys of the Bahamas, about sixty miles from Nassau, into

which we absolutely crawled, the engines working almost on a vacuum. We

had not anchored there more than two hours when we saw a Northern

cruiser steam slowly past, evidently eyeing us greedily; but we were

safe in British territory, and even the audacious cruiser dare not take

us as a prize.

 

The difficulty of procuring the necessary fuel, in order to take us to

Nassau, now presented itself; fortunately we spied out a schooner in the

neighbourhood with whom we communicated, and after some negotiations I

arranged that she should take Murray-Aynsley and myself to our

destination, and bring back a cargo of coal.

 

We started with a fair wind, but before long this had changed to a

regular hurricane—during which it was impossible to keep on any sail,

and the crew became terrified and helpless, thereby very nearly letting

us drift on to the rocks near Abaco lighthouse. It was an awful night,

the lightning vivid, and the coast line not many yards away. The crew

became more and more demoralised, and when the weather moderated refused

to proceed. This new difficulty was only overcome by Murray-Aynsley and

myself producing our revolvers; then, partly by threats, and partly by

promised bribes, we prevailed on them to think better of their resolve.

 

Utterly wearied out, having had no sleep to speak of for one week, and

having lived in our sea-boots since we made our first start from

Wilmington (my feet were so swollen that the boots had to be cut off,

and sleeping draughts at first were powerless to restore the lost

faculty), we finally arrived in safety. The schooner was despatched back

with coal, and three days later I had the satisfaction of seeing the

_Banshee_ after these hair-breadth escapes steam safely in, though

looking considerably dilapidated; lucky in having lost only our deck

cargo—which represented a good half, or more, of what she started with.

 

This chase, which lasted fifteen hours, and covered nearly 200 miles,

was considered one of the most notable incidents connected with

blockade-running during the war, and we heard a good deal about it

afterwards. At the time we had been struck by the fact of the _James

Adger_ not opening fire on us, when so close. The explanation was, that

she had no "bow-chasers," and was so certain of capturing us eventually,

that she did not think it worth while to "yaw" and fire her broadside

guns, and as the weather was so bad she did not care to cast them loose.

 

This is the last trip I made in the _Banshee_ on which anything of note

occurred. She made eight round trips in all, and I then left her. She

was captured on the ninth, after another long chase off Cape Hatteras,

her captain and crew being taken to Fort Lafayette, where they were

detained for about eight months as prisoners in a casemate, badly fed

and clothed, and of course overcrowded. Steele spent some weeks in

Ludlow Street gaol; when he was released he found, to his delight, that

another boat had been built expressly for him, which was christened

_Banshee_ No. 2.

 

Some idea of the vast profits accruing from blockade-running at this

time can be gathered from the fact that, notwithstanding the total loss

of the _Banshee_ by capture, she earned sufficient on the eight

successful round trips which she made to pay her shareholders 700 per

cent on their investment.

 

Her captors turned her into a gunboat; and we heard afterwards that she

had proved anything but a success, being much too tender. Moreover her

engines, as we knew, were very hard to manipulate, so much so that on

one occasion it was found impossible to stop her, and she ran right into

the jetty of the naval yard at Washington.

       CHAPTER VII

 

LIFE AT NASSAU

 

Society at Nassau—Dinners and dancing—The only frock-coat in

Nassau—Mrs. Bayley's receptions—Arthur Doering—Old friends

who have gone—Hobart Pasha—Capture of the _Don_—Hugh

Burgoyne—Captain Hewett—Murray Aynsley—A private Joint Stock

Company—Increased responsibilities—A day's misfortunes—Career

of the _Tristram Shandy_—Yellow Jack—Death-rate at

Wilmington—Saved from quarantine by a horse—A pet game-cock.

 

 

As the moon was now approaching full, we had ample time to repair

damages and refit ship before making another start, and we all enjoyed<