running the blockade 13

running the blockade 13

When we came out we met with equally good luck, as the night was pitch

dark and the weather very squally. No sooner did we clear the bar than

we put our helm aport, ran down the coast, and then stood boldly

straight out to sea without interference: and it was perhaps as well we

had such good fortune, as before this I had discovered that our pilot

was of a very indifferent calibre, and that courage was not our

captain's most prominent characteristic. The poor _Wild Dayrell_

deserved a better commander, and consequently a better fate than befell

her. She was lost on her second trip, entirely through the want of pluck

on the part of her captain, who ran her ashore some miles to the north

of Fort Fisher; as _he_ said in order to avoid capture,—to my mind a

fatal excuse for any blockade-running captain to make. 'Twere far better

to be sunk by shot and escape in the boats if possible. I am quite

certain that if Steele had commanded her on that trip she would never

have been put ashore, and the chances are that she would have come

through all right.

 

I never forgave myself for not unshipping the captain on my return to

Nassau; my only excuse was that there was no good man available to

replace him with, and he was a particular protégé of my chiefs. But such

considerations should not have weighed, and if I had had the courage of

my convictions it is probable the _Wild Dayrell_ would have proved as

successful as any of our steamers.

 

About this time I had two other new boats sent out, the _Stormy Petrel_

and the _Wild Rover_, both good boats, very fast, and distinct

improvements on the _Banshee_ No. 1 and _Will-o'-the-Wisp_. The _Stormy

Petrel_ had, however, very bad luck, as after getting safely in and

anchoring behind Fort Fisher she settled as the tide went down on a

submerged anchor, the fluke of which went through her bottom, and

despite all efforts she became a total wreck: this was one of the most

serious and unlucky losses I had. The _Wild Rover_ was more successful,

as she made five round trips, on one of which I went in her. She

survived the war, and I eventually sent her to South America, where she

was sold for a good sum.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER IX

 

BERMUDA

 

Yellow fever—The _Night Hawk_—A nervous pilot—Under heavy

fire—Aground on Wilmington bar—Boarded by the Federals—The

_Night Hawk_ set on fire—An Irishman's ruse—To the rescue

of the _Night Hawk_—The close of her career—A hard week's

work—Fever and ague—A waste of expensive material—A famous

Confederate spy—A diabolical idea.

 

 

We had in the early part of the war a depôt at Bermuda as well as at

Nassau, and Frank Hurst was at that time my brother agent there. I went

there twice, once in the first _Banshee_, and once from Halifax, after a

trip to Canada in order to recruit from a bad attack of yellow fever;

but I never liked Bermuda, and later on we transferred Hurst and his

agency to Nassau, which was more convenient in many ways and nearer

Wilmington. Moreover I had to face the contingency, which afterwards

occurred, of the Atlantic ports being closed and our being driven to the

Gulf. The Mudians, however, were a kind, hospitable lot, and made a

great deal of us, and there was a much larger naval and military society

stationed there than in Nassau. They had suffered from a severe outbreak

of yellow fever, and the 3rd Buffs, who were in garrison at the time,

had been almost decimated by it.

 

It was on my second trip to the island that one of the finest boats we

ever possessed, called the _Night Hawk_, came out, and I concluded to

run in with her. She was a new side-wheel steamer of some 600 tons

gross, rigged as a fore and aft schooner, with two funnels, 220 feet

long, 21-1/2 feet beam, and 11 feet in depth; a capital boat for the

work, fast, strong, of light draught, and a splendid sea-boat—a great

merit in a blockade-runner that sometimes has to be forced in all

weathers. The _Night Hawk's_ career was a very eventful one, and she

passed an unusually lively night off Fort Fisher on her first attempt.

 

Soon after getting under weigh our troubles began. We ran ashore outside

Hamilton, one of the harbours of Bermuda, and hung on a coral reef for a

couple of hours. There loomed before us the dismal prospect of delay for

repairs, or, still worse, the chance of springing a leak and

experiencing such difficulties and dangers as we had undergone on the

_Will-o'-the-Wisp_, but fortunately we came off without damage and were

able to proceed on our voyage.

 

Another anxiety now engrossed my mind: the captain was an entirely new

hand, and nearly all the crew were green at the work; moreover, the

Wilmington pilot was quite unknown to me, and I could see from the

outset that he was very nervous and badly wanting in confidence. What

would I not have given for our trusty Tom Burroughs. However, we had to

make the best of it, as, owing to the demand, the supply of competent

pilots was not nearly sufficient, and towards the close of the blockade

the so-called pilots were no more than boatmen or men who had been

trading in and out of Wilmington or Charleston in coasters.

Notwithstanding my fears, all went well on the way across, and the

_Night_ _Hawk_ proved to be everything that could be desired in speed

and seaworthiness.

 

We had sighted unusually few craft, and nothing eventful occurred until

the third night. Soon after midnight we found ourselves uncomfortably

near a large vessel. It was evident that we had been seen, as we heard

them beating to quarters and were hailed. We promptly sheered off and

went full speed ahead, greeted by a broadside which went across our

stern.

 

When we arrived within striking distance of Wilmington bar the pilot was

anxious to go in by Smith's inlet, but as he acknowledged that he knew

very little about it I concluded it was better to keep to the new inlet

passage, where, at all events, we should have the advantage of our good

friend Lamb to protect us; and I felt that as I myself knew the place so

well, this was the safest course to pursue. We were comparatively well

through the fleet, although heavily fired at, and arrived near to the

bar, passing close by two Northern launches which were lying almost upon

it. Unfortunately it was dead low water, and although I pressed the

pilot to give our boat a turn round, keeping under weigh, and to wait a

while until the tide made, he was so demoralised by the firing we had

gone through and the nearness of the launches, which were constantly

throwing up rockets, that he insisted upon putting her at the bar, and,

as I feared, we grounded on it forward, and with the strong flood-tide

quickly broached-to, broadside on to the Northern breaker. We kept our

engines going for some time—but to no purpose, as we found we were only

being forced by the tide more on to the breakers. Therefore we stopped,

and all at once found our friends, the two launches, close aboard: they

had discovered we were ashore, and had made up their minds to attack us.

 

At once all was in confusion; the pilot and signalman rushed to the

dinghy, lowered it, and made good their escape; the captain lost his

head and disappeared; and the crews of the launches, after firing

several volleys, one of which slightly wounded me, rowed in to board us

on each sponson. Just at this moment I suddenly recollected that our

private despatches, which ought to have been thrown overboard, were

still in the starboard life-boat. I rushed to it, but found the lanyard

to which the sinking weight was attached was foul of one of the thwarts;

I tugged and tugged, but to no purpose, so I sung out for a knife which

was handed to me by a fireman, and I cut the line and pitched the bag

overboard as the Northerners jumped on board. Eighteen months afterwards

that fireman accosted me in the Liverpool streets, saying, "Mr. Taylor,

do you remember my lending you a knife." "Of course I do," I replied,

giving him a tip at which he was mightily pleased: poor fellow, he had

been thirteen months in a Northern prison.

 

When the Northerners jumped on board they were terribly excited. I don't

know whether they expected resistance or not, but they acted more like

maniacs than sane men, firing their revolvers and cutting right and left

with their cutlasses. I stood in front of the men on the poop and said

that we surrendered, but all the reply I received from the lieutenant

commanding was, "Oh, you surrender, do you?..." accompanied by a string

of the choicest Yankee oaths and sundry reflections upon my parentage;

whereupon he fired his revolver twice point blank at me not two yards

distant: it was a miracle he did not kill me, as I heard the bullets

whiz past my head. This roused my wrath, and I expostulated in the

strongest terms upon his firing on unarmed men; he then cooled down,

giving me into the charge of two of his men, one of whom speedily

possessed himself of my binoculars. Fortunately, as I had no guard to my

watch, they didn't discover it, and I have it still.

 

Finding they could not get the ship off, and afraid, I presume, of Lamb

and his men coming to our rescue, the Federals commenced putting the

captain (who had been discovered behind a boat!) and the crew into the

boats; they then set the ship on fire fore and aft, and she soon began

to blaze merrily. At this moment one of our firemen, an Irishman, sung

out, "Begorra, we shall all be in the air in a minute, the ship is full

of gunpowder!" No sooner did the Northern sailors hear this than a panic

seized them, and they rushed to their boats, threatening to leave their

officers behind if they did not come along. The men who were holding me

dropped me like a hot potato, and to my great delight jumped into their

boat, and away they rowed as fast as they could, taking all our crew,

with the exception of the second officer, one of the engineers, four

seamen and myself, as prisoners.

 

We chuckled at our lucky escape, but we were not out of the wood yet, as

we had only a boat half stove in, in which to reach the shore through

some 300 yards of surf, and we were afraid at any moment that our