Experiences in Quarantine
Eluding the blockading fleet at the Cape Fear Bar was not the only adventure in those perilous days. It was quite within the range of possibility that a steamer would run into a harbor and find the town, hitherto perfectly healthy, withered under the malign spell of some scourge like yellow fever or smallpox. Sometimes the plague would break out in the town while the steamer was loading, sometimes it would break out among the crew of the steamer, and this is what was alleged of the Lilian on the occasion I am about to relate.
After several narrow escapes from the squadron in the Gulf Stream, the Lilian made St. George, Bermuda, on the morning of the fourth day, and at once discharged her cargo, hoping to get away in time for another run while we had a few hours of darkness.
We had, however, hardly received the half of our inward cargo of gunpowder and commissary supplies when we were visited by the harbor doctor, who alleged that we had a case of smallpox on board and peremptorily ordered us to the quarantine ground, about two miles out of port, among some uninhabited rocks, which made the usual dreariness of a quarantine station more distressing, and where he informed us we must remain at least twenty-one days. In vain our captain protested that he was mistaken, that the case to which he referred was a slight attack of malarial fever, combined with other symptoms which were not at all dangerous (which subsequently proved to be true). The doctor was unrelenting; if we did not proceed at once, he said, he would report us to the governor at Hamilton, who would send H.M.S. Spitfire, then on the station, to tow us out, and after we had served our quarantine, we would be arrested for resisting his authority. Finding remonstrance of no avail, our captain agreed to get away as soon as possible, but before we could make preparation for our departure a tug was sent alongside which towed us out, nolens volens, and left us at anchor among the sea gulls, with only ten days’ provisions for a three weeks’ quarantine.
Being ex officio the ship’s doctor, I began at once to physic the unfortunate sailor who had unwittingly brought us into this trouble, and, although my knowledge of the pharmacopœia did not go beyond cathartic pills and quinine, I soon had him on his feet to join all hands for inspection by the quarantine officer, who came off to windward of us every day and at a respectable distance bawled out his category of questions which were required by law.
We were daily warned that if any of our officers or crew were found on shore or on board any of the vessels in the harbor, the full extent of the law would be meted out to them, and we were given to understand that twenty-one days’ quarantine was a mere bagatelle compared with the punishment which would follow any attempt to evade these restrictions; notwithstanding which, we came to a unanimous decision at the end of three days that we would prefer the risk of capture at sea to such a life in comparative security, and it was accordingly resolved by the captain that if any of us were plucky enough to take his gig and a boat’s crew to St. George and secure some castings at a shipsmith’s on shore which were required by the chief engineer, we would proceed toward Wilmington without further preparation and without the formality required by law.
Being comparatively indifferent as to the result, albeit somewhat confident of success, I at once volunteered, to which our captain agreed, and amid a good deal of chaffing from several Confederate officers who were with us as passengers, I started with our second engineer and five trustworthy men for the shore.
We were careful to leave shortly after the visit of the health physician, so that our absence would not be noticed when all hands were turned out, and as we approached the harbor I was gratified to observe that we were entirely unnoticed. We landed about half a mile below the town, and leaving the men with the boat, which I ordered them to keep concealed, I proceeded with the engineer to dispatch our business, which delayed us several hours.
At last we were ready for the return, and finding our men unmolested, we proceeded down the harbor toward the ship Storm King, which had recently left the China trade to carry Confederate States Government cotton from the Bermuda rendezvous to Liverpool. As we passed under her quarter, we were excitedly hailed by her captain, to whom I was well known personally, with the intelligence that a quarantine boat had just left our ship and that we were probably discovered, as its course had been suddenly changed for us while we were pulling down the bay.
Thinking to elude the pursuer, if such it proved to be, I steered for the rocks along shore, the men giving way at the oars with a will, but we soon saw that we were closely watched and that our friend’s fears were fully realized. The well-known yellow flag was borne by a boat now clearly in pursuit of us; and, finding escape cut off, we at once returned to the Storm King and entreated the captain to secrete us on board, and if the health officer boarded him, to profess ignorance of us altogether. This the good fellow agreed to do, and my men having been set to work as if they were part of the crew, I, with the engineer, was at once secreted and locked in one of the many staterooms then empty.
We had hardly settled ourselves in the berths, determined that if the worst came we would cover up our heads and draw the curtains, when we heard the measured sound of oars approaching the gangway near the room in which we were hiding, and a moment later the hail, “Storm King ahoy!” “Aye, aye, sir; what do you want?”
“You have on board a boat’s crew from the steamer Lilian in quarantine, who have left contrary to law. I demand their surrender.”
“Quite a mistake, Doctor; quite a mistake, I assure you,” responded Captain McDonald.
“But I saw the boat pull under your quarter a few minutes ago, and I insist upon their forthcoming, or we will search your ship.”
“But I protest, Doctor, there are no such people on board my ship.”
“What a consummate liar old McDonald is,” groaned the engineer, sweltering under two pairs of blankets.
“Ah ha,” exclaimed the health officer at this moment, “we have here the captain’s gig alongside; and here is the name Lilian on the stern. How is this?”
“Oh,” replied the imperturbable McDonald, “we picked her up adrift this morning; I am glad to know the owner.”
“A very unlikely story, Captain, and we will have to search,” quoth the doctor; and then we heard several persons ascending the ladder, followed by further expostulations on the part of our friend the captain, evidently of no avail, for the party immediately entered the saloon and began their search. Door after door was opened and shut, and as they gradually approached our hiding place, I looked up at Sandy McKinnon, the Scotch engineer, who presented a most ludicrous and woeful sight, the perspiration pouring down his fat cheeks, as in a most despairful voice he moaned, “It’s a’ up wi’ us the noo, Purser, it’s a’ up wi’ us; we shall be put in preeson and the deil kens what’ll be to pay.”
With anxious hearts we waited for the worst, and at last it came; a heavy hand wrenched our door knob and an impatient voice demanded that the door be unlocked. The steward protested that the room was empty and that the key was lost, which only seemed to increase the officer’s determination to enter. High words ensued. The captain, with a heartiness which excited our admiration but increased our fear, poured a volley of abuse upon the unlucky doctor, who was apparently discharging his duty, and at times I fancied they had almost come to blows. This was at last quelled by a peremptory demand that the ship’s carpenter be sent for to force the door. The steward at this juncture produced the key, which he averred had just been found in another lock, and while he fumbled at our door I thought I heard the sound of suppressed laughter on the outside, but dismissed the idea as absurd.
A moment after the door opened, and before our astonished vision were ranged our good friends and shipmates, Major Hone of Savannah, Capt. Leo Vogel of St. Augustine, Sergeant Gregory of Crowells, and Eugene Maffitt, who with Captain McDonald and several of his friends were fairly shrieking with laughter at our sorry plight. We had been completely sold. The whole scheme was planned on board our own ship immediately after our departure, and Captain McDonald was privy to the arrangement which he so successfully carried out.
The voices which we supposed in our fright came from Her Majesty’s officers, were feigned by our own people, who made the most of the joke at our expense. The trick was too good to keep, and when the good doctor came next day to discharge us from quarantine, all traces of sickness having disappeared, no one enjoyed the fun more than he, although he said it might have resulted seriously enough.