Derelict Blockade Runners
For many years the summer visitors on Wrightsville Beach have looked out upon the hurrying swell of the broad Atlantic and have felt the fascination of the long lines of crested breakers like Neptune’s racers charging and reforming for the never-ending fray; and, when the unresting tide receded, they have seen the battered hulks of some of the most beautiful ships that ever shaped a course for Wilmington in the days of the Southern Confederacy. They represented an epoch that is unique in our country’s history, for, in the modern art of war the conditions which then prevailed can never occur again.
Some of these wrecks may be visible for a hundred years to come, and, as nearly every one who knew these vessels and of their last voyage has passed away, I have thought it might interest some of our people, and perhaps future generations, to know something of these ships, which I still remember distinctly and with whose officers I was more or less familiar. So that I have noted from memory and from official records of the Four Years’ War, the tragedies which involved the destruction of these fine vessels between Topsail Inlet and Lockwood’s Folly. These will comprise about thirty ships, nearly all of the steamers that were stranded on our coast during the war while running for the Cape Fear Bar under a heavy bombardment by the Federal cruisers.
Many millions were lost with the destruction of these blockade runners, and possibly valuable metal might be recovered now, in the present high prices for all war supplies. The average cost of one of the blockade runners was $150,000 in gold. They were mostly built of thick iron, which does not corrode like steel in salt water.
The cargoes comprised perishable and imperishable goods, and they were often as valuable as the vessels which carried them. When these ships were stranded so high upon the beach that neither Federals nor Confederates could salve them, the guns from both sides were used to destroy them, so that neither could profit by a rescue. The bombshells set some of the ships on fire, but none were totally destroyed, because the breakers extinguished the fires when the superstructure was burned away, so it is very probable that some of them still contain cargoes of value.
For more than fifty years these melancholy tokens of distress have settled in the shifting sands. “Together,” said Mr. George Davis, Attorney-General of the Confederacy, “they stand for warning and for woe; and together they catch the long majestic roll of the Atlantic as it sweeps through a thousand miles of grandeur and power from the Arctic toward the Gulf. It is the playground of billows and tempests, the kingdom of silence and awe, disturbed by no sound save the seagull’s shriek and the breakers’ roar.”
It might be interesting to add later an account of the ships that were captured at sea, numbering over a hundred during the four years of the Cape Fear blockade, and to attempt, at the request of my friend, Professor deRoulhac Hamilton, of the University of North Carolina, a short history of this remarkable traffic (through the beleaguered city of Wilmington) which almost wholly sustained the Confederate States commissariat during the last two years of the war.
The “Fannie and Jennie.”
The Fannie and Jennie was a side-wheel Confederate steamer of note, engaged in running the blockade for about a year during the Four Years’ War. She was of good speed, fourteen knots, and was commanded, it is said, by Captain Coxetter, of Charleston. During the night of February 9, 1864, she made the land to the northward of Wrightsville Beach, but her pilot, Burriss, was not sure of his position, so he anchored the ship and made a landing in the surf to ascertain his bearings. It having been the intention of the captain to make the land about two miles north of Fort Fisher, he then proceeded down the beach in the darkness. Unhappily, however, she stood too close in shore, and grounded repeatedly, and at about midnight stranded on a shoal a mile or two to the southward of where Lumina now stands. At daylight she was discovered by the Federal cruiser Florida, commanded by Capt. Peirce Crosby, who made me a prisoner of war a few months later. Captain Crosby, desiring to save the Fannie and Jennie and realize big prize money, ran a hawser from his ship to the stranded vessel, intending to pull her off into deep water, when a Confederate flying battery of Whitworth guns of long range, from Fort Fisher, opened fire from Masonboro Beach, and with great precision cut off one of the Florida’s paddle-wheel arms, broke a second one, and cut a rim of the wheel in two; also, one of the Confederate shells exploded on board the Florida and came near destroying her. The Florida returned the fire, which so alarmed the captain and crew of the Fannie and Jennie that some of them attempted to reach the beach in boats. In this attempt Captain Coxetter and his purser were drowned in the breakers, the others gaining the shore; the rest of the crew, twenty-five in number, who remained on board were made prisoners by the Federals. Captain Coxetter had in his keeping a very valuable gold jewelled sword, which was to be delivered to Gen. R.E. Lee as an expression of the admiration of many prominent English sympathizers. It is still on board this wreck, which lies near a line of breakers to the south of Lumina. The Fannie and Jennie was loaded with a valuable cargo, five days out from Nassau bound to Wilmington, when she was stranded.
The “Emily of London.”
During the month of January, 1864, while my ship was in St. George, Bermuda, loading for Wilmington, I met frequently an attractive young Virginian named Selden, of the Confederate Signal Service, who had been detailed as signal officer on the fine new steamer Emily of London; and I became most favorably impressed with this courteous Christian gentleman and with the superior qualities of his beautiful vessel. All of her appointments were first-class, and her equipment was superior to that of any other blockade runner of the fleet. As she lies now in sight of my cottage on Wrightsville Beach, visible at every turn of the tide, I often wonder what became of Selden, for I never learned his fate after the stranding and loss of his fine ship a mile or so above the wreck of the Fannie and Jennie, on the same night, February 9, 1864.
The only particulars of the stranding of the Emily are embodied in the official report of her discovery on the beach by Captain Crosby, of the Federal cruiser Florida, who found her ashore between Masonboro Inlet and Wrightsville Beach after her captain and crew had abandoned her. She was then set on fire by bombshells from the cruiser Florida, a loud explosion on board of the wrecked vessel indicating that her cargo was probably partly composed of explosives for the Confederacy.
Captain Crosby adds that she was a new and very handsome steamer, expensively fitted out. It is presumed that the Emily’s captain and crew, numbering about fifty men, succeeded in reaching the protection of the Confederates.
The “Ella.”
An ex-Confederate officer describing Wilmington during the blockade, among many interesting things, said the following:
“Owing to the configuration of the coast it was almost impossible to effect a close blockade. The Cape Fear had two mouths, Old Inlet, at the entrance of which Fort Caswell stands, and New Inlet, nine miles up the river, where Fort Fisher guarded the entrance. From the station off Old Inlet, where there were usually from five to six blockaders, around to the station off New Inlet, a vessel would have to make an arc of some fifty miles, owing to the Frying Pan Shoals intervening, while from Caswell across to Fisher was only nine miles. The plan of the blockade runners coming in was to strike the coast thirty or forty miles above or below the inlets, and then run along (of course at night) until they got under the protection of the forts. Sometimes they got in or out by boldly running through the blockading fleet, but that was hazardous; for, if discovered, the ocean was alive with rockets and lights, and it was no pleasant thing to have shells and balls whistling over you and around you. The chances were then that if you were not caught you had, in spite of your speed, to throw a good many bales of cotton overboard.
“The wreck of these blockade runners not infrequently occurred by being stranded or beached, and highly diverting skirmishes would occur between the blockaders and the garrisons of the forts for the possession. The fleet, however, never liked the Whitworth guns we had, which shot almost with the accuracy of a rifle and with a tremendous range. The soldiers generally managed to wreck the stranded vessel successfully, though often-times with great peril and hardship. It mattered very little to the owners then who got her, as they did not see much of what was recovered—the soldiers thinking they were entitled to what they got at the risk of their lives. But a wreck was a most demoralizing affair. The whole garrison generally got drunk and stayed drunk for a week or so afterwards. Brandy and fine wines flowed like water; and it was a month perhaps before matters could be got straight. Many accumulated snug little sums from the misfortunes of the blockade runners, who generally denounced such pillage as piracy; but it could not be helped.
“We recollect the wrecking of the Ella, off Bald Head, in December, 1864. She belonged to the Bee Company, of Charleston, and was a splendid new steamer, on her second trip in, with a large and valuable cargo almost entirely owned by private parties and speculators. She was chased ashore by the blockading fleet, and immediately abandoned by her officers and crew, whom nothing would induce to go back in order to save her cargo. Yankee shells flying over, and through, and around her, had no charms for these sons of Neptune. Captain Badham, however, and his company, the Edenton (N. C.) Battery, with Captain Bahnson, a fighting Quaker from Salem, N.C., boarded and wrecked her under the fire of the Federals, six shells passing through the Ella while they were removing her cargo. The consequence was that for a month afterwards nearly the whole garrison was on ‘a tight,’ and groceries and dry goods were plentiful in that vicinity. The general demoralization produced by ‘London Dock’ and ‘Hollands’ seemed even to have affected that holy man, the chaplain, who said some very queer graces at the headquarters mess table.”
The “Modern Greece.”
One of the earliest strandings of friendly steamers near New Inlet, or Cape Fear main bar, was that of the Modern Greece, which was also the most important and interesting. On the morning of the 27th of June, 1862, at 4.15 o’clock the Modern Greece had safely evaded many Federal cruisers and was within three miles of Fort Fisher, headed for New Inlet, when she was seen by one of the Federal blockaders, the Cambridge, which immediately gave chase and pelted the Modern Greece with bombshells. The Cambridge was joined by the Federal cruiser Stars and Stripes, which also opened fire on the Modern Greece, the latter being then run ashore to avoid capture, her crew escaping in their boats to the shore. In the meantime Fort Fisher was firing at the enemy and also at the Modern Greece where she was stranded, in order to prevent the Federals from hauling her off. The crew of the Modern Greece was in great peril during this bombardment, as part of her valuable cargo consisted of a thousand tons of powder for the Confederacy and many guns. The garrison at Fort Fisher subsequently landed a large amount of clothing and barrels of spirits, and the spirits flowed like water for several weeks to the scandal of the fort and its defenders. Its potent influence was also felt in Wilmington. The Modern Greece was a large British propeller of about 1,000 tons net register, one of the largest blockade runners of the war. She now lies deep in the sand near Fort Fisher.
The “Elizabeth.”
One of the regular passenger and freight boats which ran between New Orleans and Galveston before the war was named Atlantic. She became a famous blockade runner under her original name, which was changed later to Elizabeth.
I think she was commanded for several voyages by the celebrated Capt. Thomas J. Lockwood of Southport and Charleston, whose capable brother-in-law, George C. McDougal, was her chief engineer. Mr. McDougal was a man of fine qualities, quiet and retiring in his demeanor. He made in various steamers sixty successful runs through the blockade. For more than twenty-five years after the war I enjoyed the privilege of his intimate confidences, and I have no hesitation in saying that he was to my mind the most remarkable man who had been engaged in blockade running.
On the 19th of September, 1863, the Elizabeth sailed from Nassau with a general cargo, mostly steel and saltpeter, bound for Wilmington, but through some unknown cause ran ashore at Lockwood’s Folly, twelve miles from Fort Caswell. The captain set her on fire and burned her on the 24th, the crew escaping to the shore. A man who gave his name as Norris or Morris was captured, second officer on the Douro, stranded October 12, 1863, and he told the commander of the cruiser Nansemond that he was a Federal spy and that he was on the Elizabeth when she was stranded, and he exhibited eight ounces of laudanum and two ounces of chloroform which he said he bought in Nassau to put in the whisky and water of the firemen of the Elizabeth and of the Douro so as to cause the capture of these vessels, but he did not explain why the Elizabeth went ashore while he was in her.
The “Georgiana McCaw.”
About the year 1878 there flourished in Wilmington the Historical and Literary Society, composed of about fifty eminent citizens of education and refinement. In those days our representative men found pleasure and relaxation from the drudgery of business or the strain of professional life in the congenial company which assembled for mutual benefit once a month in the lecture room of the Presbyterian Church on Orange Street. Such men as Doctor Wilson, father of the President, Doctor DeRosset, Alfred Martin and his son E.S. Martin, who sometimes represented opposing views, Doctor Wood, Edward Cantwell, Doctor Morrelle, Alexander Sprunt, Henry Nutt, and many others, engaged in learned discussions of subjects suggested by the title of this organization.
On a certain occasion one of the gentlemen named, to whose patriotic ardor we were almost wholly indebted for the closure of New Inlet and the consequent benefit to Cape Fear commerce, rose in his usual dignified and impressive manner with an air of extraordinary importance and mystery. Said he, “Mr. Chairman, I hold in my hands a relic of prehistoric times, cast up by the heaving billows off Federal Point, formerly known as Confederate Point. It is a piece of corroded brass upon which is inscribed a legend as yet indecipherable; in all probability it long antedates the coming of Columbus.”
A curious group immediately surrounded the learned member with expressions of awe and admiration, and after several speeches had been made, by resolution unanimously adopted, Mr. E.S. Martin and two other members were entrusted with the precious relic for its elucidation by conferring with the antedeluvian societies of the North.
At the following monthly meeting Mr. Martin reported for his committee that their efforts to identify the relic through reference to archæological societies in the North had been futile, but that a profane Scotchman had informed them that the piece of metal was no more than a part of the bow or stern escutcheon of the stranded blockade runner Georgiana McCaw, the palm tree in the center surrounded by the motto “Let Glasgow Flourish,” being the coat of arms of Glasgow,1 Scotland, the home port of the said blockade runner. Alas! it was only another case of Bill Stubbs, his mark, but we never took the antedeluvians of the North into our confidence about it.
The official report of Acting Master Everson, U. S. Navy, commanding the Federal cruiser Victoria, dated off Western Bar, Wilmington, N.C., June 2, 1864, addressed to the senior officer of the blockading squadron, is as follows, with reference to the stranding of the Georgiana McCaw:
“Sir: I have the honor to report that at 3 a.m., of this date, and while drifting in three and a half fathoms water, Bald Head Light bearing east, saw white water near the beach to the south and westward, which I supposed to be a steamer. I immediately steamed ahead at full speed toward the beach in order to cut her off.
“On near approach I discovered her to be a side-wheel steamer, steering for the bar.
“As he crossed my bow I rounded to in his wake and discharged at him my starboard 8-inch gun, loaded with one 5-second shell and stand of grape, and kept firing my 30-pound rifle as I continued the chase, until 3.30 a.m. she struck on the bar. I immediately ordered the first and second cutters to board and fire her, the former under command of Acting Master’s Mate William Moody, the latter under charge of Acting Third Assistant Engineer Thomas W. Hineline.
“On arrival on board they found that two boats, with their crews, had escaped to the shore.
“They, however, succeeded in capturing twenty-nine of the crew, including the captain and most of the officers, together with three passengers.
“They fired her in several places, and she continued to burn until 10 a.m., when she was boarded from the shore. At daylight Fort Caswell and the adjacent batteries opened fire on our boats with shot and shell, which compelled them to return without accomplishing her destruction.
“She proved to be the Georgiana McCaw of Liverpool, 700 tons burden, from Nassau, bound to Wilmington, N.C.
“Her cargo consists of about 60 tons provisions, etc.
“I would add, sir, that too much credit can not be awarded to Acting Master’s Mate William Moody and Acting Third Assistant Engineer Thomas W. Hineline for their perseverance and energy displayed, and their cool and gallant conduct while under fire of the enemy.”
The “Wild Dayrell.”
One of the most prominent personalities of the blockade era was Thomas E. Taylor, a young Englishman, aged twenty-one, who was sent by a wealthy Liverpool firm to direct in person the movements of steamers which they had bought or builded for this dangerous traffic. He began with the old steamer Dispatch, which was found to be too slow and after one or more voyages was sent back to England. His employers then began building lighter, faster boats specially adapted to the purpose, until they owned and operated a fleet of fifteen steamers. One of them, the Banshee, was the first steel vessel that crossed the Atlantic, and Mr. Taylor came in her to Wilmington. His agreeable manners and courteous deportment attracted the favorable recognition of General Whiting and of Colonel Lamb, whose personal and official regard was of great value to Mr. Taylor. He wrote an interesting book after the war from which I take the following incidents in his eventful career.
“As soon as the nights were sufficiently dark we made a start for Wilmington, unfortunately meeting very bad weather and strong head winds, which delayed us; the result was that instead of making out the blockading fleet about midnight, as we had intended, when dawn was breaking there were still no signs of it. Captain Capper, the chief engineer, and I then held a hurried consultation as to what we had better do. Capper was for going to sea again, and if necessary returning to Nassau; the weather was still threatening, our coal supply running short, and, with a leaky ship beneath us, the engineer and I decided that the lesser risk would be to make a dash for it. ‘All right,’ said Capper, ‘we’ll go on, but you’ll get d——d well peppered!’
“We steamed cautiously on, making as little smoke as possible, whilst I went to the mast-head to take a look around; no land was in sight, but I could make out in the dull morning light the heavy spars of the blockading flagship right ahead of us, and soon after several other masts became visible on each side of her. Picking out what appeared to me to be the widest space between these, I signaled to the deck how to steer, and we went steadily on, determined when we found we were perceived to make a rush for it. No doubt our very audacity helped us through, as for some time they took no notice, evidently thinking we were one of their own chasers returning from sea to take up her station for the day.
“At last, to my great relief, I saw Fort Fisher just appearing above the horizon, although we knew that the perilous passage between these blockaders must be made before we could come under the friendly protection of its guns. Suddenly, we became aware that our enemy had found us out; we saw two cruisers steaming toward one another from either side of us, so as to intercept us at a given point before we could get on the land side of them. It now became simply a question of speed and immunity from being sunk by shot. Our little vessel quivered under the tremendous pressure with which she was being driven through the water.
“An exciting time followed, as we and our two enemies rapidly converged upon one point, others in the distance also hurrying up to assist them. We were now near enough to be within range, and the cruiser on our port side opened fire; his first shot carried away our flagstaff aft on which our ensign had just been hoisted; his second tore through our forehold, bulging out a plate on the opposite side. Bedding and blankets to stop the leak were at once requisitioned, and we steamed on full speed under a heavy fire from both quarters. Suddenly, puffs of smoke from the fort showed us that Colonel Lamb, the commandant, was aware of what was going on and was firing to protect us; a welcome proof that we were drawing within range of his guns and on the landward side of our pursuers, who, after giving us a few more parting shots, hauled off and steamed away from within reach of the shells which we were rejoiced to see falling thickly around them.
“We had passed through a most thrilling experience; at one time the cruiser on our port side was only a hundred yards away from us with her consort a hundred and fifty on the starboard, and it seemed a miracle that their double fire had not completely sunk us. It certainly required all one’s nerve to stand upon the paddle box, looking without flinching almost into the muzzles of the guns which were firing at us; and proud we were of our crew, not a man of whom showed the white feather. Our pilot, who showed no lack of courage at the time, became, however, terribly excited as we neared the bar, and whether it was that the ship steered badly, owing to being submerged forward, or from some mistake, he ran her ashore whilst going at full speed.”
On the following voyage Mr. Taylor says: “It was a critical time when daylight broke, dull and threatening. The captain was at the wheel and I at the mast-head (all other hands being employed at the pumps, and even baling), when, not four miles off, I sighted a cruiser broadside on. She turned round as if preparing to give chase, and I thought we were done for, as we could not have got more than three or four knots an hour out of our crippled boat. To my great joy, however, I found our alarm was needless, for she evidently had not seen us, and instead of heading turned her stern toward us and disappeared into a thick bank of clouds.
“Still we were far from being out of danger, as the weather became worse and worse and the wind increased in force until it was blowing almost a gale. Things began to look as ugly as they could, and even Captain Capper lost hope; I shall never forget the expression on his face as he came up to me and said, in his gruff voice, ‘I say, Mr. Taylor, the beggar’s going, the beggar’s going,’ pointing vehemently downwards. ‘What the devil do you mean?’ I asked. ‘Why, we are going to lose the ship and our lives, too,’ was the answer. It is not possible for any one unacquainted with Capper to appreciate this scene. Sturdy, thickset, nearly as broad as he was long, and with the gruffest manner but kindest heart—a rough diamond and absolutely without fear. With the exception of Steele he was the best blockade-running captain we had.
“In order to save the steamer and our lives we decided that desperate remedies must be resorted to, so again the unlucky deck cargo had to be sacrificed. The good effect of this was soon visible; we began to gain on the water, and were able, by degrees, to relight our extinguished fires. But the struggle continued to be a most severe one, for just when we began to obtain a mastery over the water the donkey engine broke down, and before we could repair it the water increased sensibly, nearly putting out our fires again. So the struggle went on for sixty hours, when we were truly thankful to steam into Nassau Harbor and beach the ship. It was a very narrow escape, for within twenty minutes after stopping her engines the vessel had sunk to the level of the water.
“After this I made a trip in a new boat that had just been sent out to me, the Wild Dayrell. And a beauty she was, very strong, a perfect sea boat, and remarkably well engined.
“Our voyage in was somewhat exciting, as about three o’clock in the afternoon, while making for Fort Caswell entrance (not Fort Fisher), we were sighted by a Federal cruiser that immediately gave chase. We soon found, however, that we had the heels of our friend, but it left us the alternative of going out to sea or being chased straight into the jaws of the blockaders off the bar before darkness came on. Under these circumstances what course to take was a delicate point to decide, but we solved the problem by slowing down just sufficiently to keep a few miles ahead of our chaser, hoping that darkness would come on before we made the fleet or they discovered us. Just as twilight was drawing in we made them out; cautiously we crept on, feeling certain that our enemy astern was rapidly closing up on us. Every moment we expected to hear shot whistling around us. So plainly could we see the sleepy blockaders that it seemed almost impossible we should escape their notice. Whether they did not expect a runner to make an attempt so early in the evening, or whether it was sheer good luck on our part, I know not, but we ran through the lot without being seen or without having a shot fired at us.
“Our anxieties, however, were not yet over, as our pilot (a new hand) lost his reckoning and put us ashore on the bar. Fortunately, the flood tide was rising fast, and we refloated, bumping over stern first in a most inglorious fashion, and anchored off Fort Caswell before 7 p.m.—a record performance. Soon after anchoring we saw a great commotion among the blockaders, who were throwing up rockets and flashing lights, evidently in answer to signals from the cruiser which had so nearly chased us into their midst.
“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 very indifferent caliber, 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 or Capper 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, and he was a particular protégé of my chief. 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.”
The rest of the story of the loss of the fine steamer Wild Dayrell, which was accidentally run ashore at Stump Inlet February 1, 1864, is told in the official report of Lieut. Commander F.A. Roe of the U.S. cruiser Sassacus to Admiral S.P. Lee, as follows:
U.S.S. “Sassacus.”
Off Stump Inlet, N.C., February 3, 1864.
“Sir: I have to report that about 11 o’clock a.m., on the morning of the 1st instant, in about the parallel of Topsail Inlet, N.C., I discovered a steamer close inshore, showing heavy columns of smoke. I headed for her at once, and, upon approaching, found her ashore at the mouth of Stump Inlet. Her crew were busy throwing overboard her cargo, a portion of which was scattered along the beach. When within reach of my guns, her crew and people fled in their boats, when I fired a few guns to disperse any enemies that might be hovering near. I boarded and took possession of the steamer, which proved to be the blockade runner Wild Dayrell. All the papers which I could find I herewith transmit. She was inward bound, two days from Nassau. I found her furnaces filled with fuel and burning, with the intention of destroying her boilers. I hauled her fires and found her machinery and the vessel in perfect order, with a portion of her cargo, consisting of assorted merchandise, still on board. I immediately got our hawsers and attempted to pull her off, but failed, owing to the falling of the tide. I made another attempt at 1 o’clock a.m. on the morning of the 2d, but parted the hawser. The weather looking bad, I put to sea until daylight, when I returned and assumed a new position to endeavor to get her off.
“In the meantime, I commenced to lighten the vessel by throwing overboard about 20 tons of coal. At high water, about 2 p.m. of the 2d, I commenced tugging at her again, when, after some time, the current sweeping me close to the shoal to leeward, the Sassacus struck twice lightly. I cut the hawser and steamed up to a new position and anchored. During this trial, the U.S.S. Florida, Commander Crosby, came in and anchored, with offers of assistance to us. During this trial the wind blew fresh from the southward and westward in heavy flaws, which was the principal cause of my failure to get her off. I then steamed up to a new position to try her again. On the 3d, while getting on board our hawsers to the prize, with the assistance of the boats of the Florida, my cable suddenly parted and I was forced to steam out to keep from fouling the Florida, which was anchored near, and in so doing parted the hauling lines of the hawsers, which were being hauled in by the Florida’s men on board the prize.
“During this last operation the enemy appeared and opened fire with musketry upon the Sassacus and the boats coming from the prize. Both vessels promptly opened fire and the enemy were driven off.
“I would here observe that the cable of this vessel parted unduly, without having been strained by any swell or heavy wind, thus losing the anchor and about five fathoms of cable. We were anchored in two and three-quarter fathoms water; the cable was undoubtedly bad.
“Upon consultation with Commander Crosby we decided that it was impossible to get the steamer off, and that we must destroy her. Accordingly, I gave the signal to the men on board of her to set fire to her thoroughly and return aboard, which was done. Both vessels then opened fire upon the steamer, and she was riddled at about the water line with raking shots from the Sassacus. No attempt was made to save her cargo, as I deemed it impracticable to do so. Not one-half of her cargo had been thrown overboard and the rest, which I deemed very valuable merchandise, was consumed with the vessel. Valuable time would have been lost in the effort, and to pillage her would have demoralized my men for healthy action in some future similar service. Having effected this duty, I put to sea at about eight o’clock of the evening of the 3d.
“I transmit herewith an appraisement of value of the steamer and cargo, made by a board ordered upon that service.
“I have the honor to be, Sir,
“Very respectfully,
“Your obedient servant,
“F.A. Roe,
“Lieutenant Commander.
“Acting Rear Admiral S.P. Lee,
“Comdg. North Atlantic Blockading Squadron,
Hampton Roads.”
The “General Beauregard.”
Of the steamer General Beauregard I have but little information, although I remember her as a valuable ship. The Richmond Whig of December 16, 1863, states that according to the Wilmington Journal this steamer was chased ashore by the Federal blockaders on the night of the 11th instant some distance above Fort Fisher, near Battery Gatlin, and that she had been set on fire.
Captain Ridgely of the Federal cruiser Shenandoah (which chased my ship the Lilian for five hours later) reported to Admiral S.P. Lee, December 16, 1863, that on the evening of the 11th of December, 1863, between seven and eight o’clock, the cruiser Howquah saw the General Beauregard coming down the beach heading for Cape Fear or New Inlet. He gave chase and opened fire on him. The Beauregard being impeded by a heavy sea and finding escape impossible, ran ashore at the point already described.
The next morning the cruiser, accompanied by the Tuscarora, tried to board the Beauregard, but they were attacked by two Confederate batteries, one to the north and another to the south of the stranded vessel, and driven off, the Tuscarora being struck by a Confederate shell in her quarter. The Beauregard is still conspicuous on Carolina Beach at all stages of the tide, showing her battered hull high above the level of the sea.
The “Douro.”
In the spring of 1863 this fine steamer was captured at sea by the Federal cruisers, sent to a port of adjudication in the North, condemned and sold at auction, taken to the British Provinces (Halifax, I think) and there purchased, it was said, by the Confederate Government. At all events she was fitted out for the same service and in a few weeks reappeared at Nassau, where I saw her as a Confederate steamer under the Confederate flag. On the night of the 11th of October, 1863, the Douro attempted to run the blockade at New Inlet, loaded with a valuable cargo of 550 bales of cotton, 279 boxes of tobacco, 20 tierces of tobacco, and a quantity of turpentine and rosin, belonging to the Confederate Government. At 8.30 of the same night she eluded the Federal fleet and was running up the beach towards Masonboro in two and one-half fathoms of water, when she was pursued by the cruiser Nansemond, which tried to get between the Douro and the beach, but failed because of shoal water. Had the Douro kept on her course she would have escaped, but, taking a panic, she reversed her course, and headed back for the bar at New Inlet, was then intercepted by the Nansemond and run ashore, instead of facing the gun fire of the fleet with a chance of getting under Fort Fisher’s protection. The captain and most of the crew escaped in the Douro’s boats, but five, remaining on board, were captured by the cruiser Nansemond. It was said at the time that this fine ship (a propeller) was owned in Wilmington and that her cargo was for the Confederate Government. She now lies just above the Hebe between Fort Fisher and Masonboro Inlet.
The “Dee.”
Two of the finest blockade runners, sister ships, called the Don and the Dee, met at last with disaster. The Don, after running the gauntlet some ten or twelve times, was captured at sea. She had been commanded from her first voyage to the one before the last by Captain Roberts, so-called, really Captain Hobart, of the Royal British Navy, who later became Hobart Pasha, admiral in chief of the Turkish Navy. He was a son of the Earl of Buckinghamshire. The Dee was commanded for three successful voyages by Capt. George H. Bier, formerly a Lieutenant in the U.S. Navy. At 8 o’clock a.m. February 6, 1864, the U.S.S. Cambridge on the blockade off New Inlet discovered the Dee from Hamilton, Bermuda, loaded with pig lead, bacon, and military stores, bound for Wilmington, ashore and on fire about a mile to the southward of Masonboro Inlet.
The Cambridge at once boarded the stranded vessel and attempted to salve her, but the fire was too hot and the ship too deeply embedded in the sand to haul her off into deep water. She was accordingly bombarded and abandoned. The Dee’s crew escaped to the shore, with the exception of seven men, who fell into the hands of the Federals. It is not known whether the Dee ran ashore from accident or design.
Steamer “Nutfield.”
I learn from official reports that after Captain Roe of the U.S.S. Sassacus had practically destroyed the Wild Dayrell by gun fire he stood out to sea and regained his position in the outer line of cruisers, known as the Bermuda line or track, and that at daylight of the 4th of February, 1864, he discovered a blockade runner to the northward, which proved to be the fine new iron steamer Nutfield of 750 tons (unusually large size), from Bermuda bound for Wilmington. The Sassacus, being the faster ship, increased her speed to thirteen knots, and at noon succeeded in getting in range of the Nutfield with her 100-pounder rifle guns, which did such execution that the hard pressed Nutfield changed her course, heading for the land, and ran ashore at New River Inlet. The Nutfield’s crew set her on fire and fled precipitately in their boats for the beach. One of the Nutfield’s boats capsized in the surf and the Federals tried to rescue the crew but only succeeded in saving the purser, the others being supposedly drowned. Efforts were made by the Sassacus for two days to haul off the Nutfield, which was a very valuable prize, being loaded with an assorted cargo of merchandise, drugs, munitions of war, Enfield rifles, a battery of eight very valuable Whitworth guns, and a quantity of pig lead; the battery and the lead were thrown overboard during the chase. The Nutfield had escaped from the blockading fleet at New Inlet the night before and was off New River intending to try the Cape Fear the following night, but most unfortunately fell in with the Sassacus, a fast cruiser, during the day. A large part of her valuable cargo was taken out of her by the Federals.
The “Banshee’s” Narrow Escape.2
Mr. Thomas E. Taylor was agent for the blockade runner Banshee, and I quote his narrative: “One very dark night (I think it was either on the fourth or fifth trip) we made the land about twelve miles above Fort Fisher, and were creeping quietly down as usual, when all at once we made a cruiser out, lying on our port bow, and slowly moving about 200 yards from the shore. It was a question of going inside or outside her; if we went outside she was certain to see us, and would chase us into the very jaws of the fleet. As we had very little steam up we chose the former alternative, hoping to pass unobserved between the cruiser and the shore, aided by the dark background of the latter. It was an exciting moment; we got almost abreast of her, as we thought, unobserved, and success seemed within our grasp, till we saw her move in toward us and heard her hail as we came on, ‘Stop that steamer or I will sink you!’
“Old Steele growled out that we hadn’t time to stop, and shouted down the engine-room tube to Erskine to pile on the coal, as concealment was no longer any use. Our friend, which we afterwards found out was the Niphon, opened fire as fast as she could and sheered close into us, so close that her boarders were called away twice, and a slanging match went on between us, like that sometimes to be heard between two penny steamboat captains on the Thames. She closed the dispute by shooting away our foremast, exploding a shell in our bunkers, and, when we began to leave her astern, by treating us to grape and canister. It was a miracle that no one was killed, but the crew were all lying flat on the deck, except the steersman; and at one time I fear he did the same, for as Pilot Burroughs suddenly cried, ‘My God, Mr. Taylor, look there!’ I saw our boat heading right into the surf, so, jumping from the bridge, I ran aft and found the helmsman on his stomach. I rushed at the wheel and got two or three spokes out of it, which hauled her head off land, but it was a close shave.
“Two miles farther we picked up another cruiser, which tried to treat us in a similar manner, but as we had plenty of steam we soon left her. A little farther we came across a large side-wheel boat, which tried to run us down, missing us only by a few yards; after that we were unmolested and arrived in safe, warmly congratulated by Lamb, who thought from the violent cannonade that we must certainly be sunk.
“Not more than one man out of a hundred would have brought a boat through as Steele did that night—the other ninety-nine would have run her ashore.”
The “Venus.”
The official report of Lieutenant Lamson, U.S. steamer Nansemond, off New Inlet, October 21, 1863, says, “I have the honor to report the capture and entire destruction of the blockade runner Venus, from Nassau to Wilmington with a cargo of lead, drugs, dry goods, bacon, and coffee.
“This morning at 12.30 she attempted to run the blockade, but was discovered by this vessel, and after a short chase overhauled. When abeam, I opened fire on her, one shot striking her foremast, another exploding in her wardroom, a third passing through forward and killing one man, and a fourth, striking under the guard near the water line, knocked in an iron plate, causing her to make water fast. She was run ashore. We boarded her at once, capturing her captain and twenty-two of her officers and crew. The U.S.S. Niphon, Acting Master J.B. Breck commanding, which was lying near where she went ashore, came immediately to my assistance. I ran a 9-inch hawser to the Venus, and Captain Breck sent a 7-inch hawser to the Nansemond’s bow, but all our efforts were unavailing, as the tide had turned ebb and she was going at least 14 knots an hour when she went ashore. Finding it impossible to move her, I ordered her to be set on fire, which was done in three places by Acting Ensigns Porter and Henderson, of this vessel. Our boats were for some time exposed to a sharp fire of musketry from the beach, and the vessel was within range of one of the batteries. We had just commenced shelling her machinery when another vessel was seen off shore, and by the light of the burning steamer I was able to give her one shot and started in pursuit, but it was so cloudy and hazy that we lost sight of her almost immediately. I ran east at the rate of fourteen knots till 7 o’clock, but did not get sight of her again, and ran back, making the land on the northward.
“In the meantime, Captain Breck, with the assistance of the Iron Age, Lieut. Commander Stone, had completed the destruction of the Venus, her boilers having been blown up and her hull riddled with shell.
“I have to express my thanks to Captain Breck for the prompt assistance rendered me by sending his boats to assist in carrying my heavy hawser to the Nansemond’s bows. His boats then reported to Acting Ensign J.H. Porter, who was in charge of the Venus. The fire forward not burning well as it was expected, he sent a boat on board in the morning and rekindled it.”
The Venus was 265 feet long and 1,000 tons measurement, and is represented by her captain and officers to have been one of the finest and fastest vessels engaged in running the blockade. She had the finest engines of any vessel in this trade and was sheathed completely over with iron. She drew eight feet of water, and when bound out last, crossed the bar at low water with over 600 bales of cotton on board. The wrecks of the Hebe, Douro, and Venus are within a short distance of each other.
A private notebook was found by the Federal boarding party in the effects of the captain of the Venus, in which a list of blockade runners engaged in the year 1863 was entered as follows, a total of 75 steamers, of which 34 were captured or destroyed, but this list was not complete, as a hundred at least were engaged during that period.
Vessels Engaged in Running the Blockade in 1863.
(Those marked C had been captured or destroyed.)
| Nina (C) | Gladiator |
| Leopard (C) | Hebe (C) |
| Antonica | Venus (C) |
| Thistle (C) | Juno (C) |
| Douro (C) | Princess Royal (C) |
| Calypso (C) | Cronstadt (C) |
| Granite City (C) | Phantom (C) |
| Flora | Lord Clyde |
| Ruby (C) | Dolphin |
| Eagle (C) | Hansa |
| Havelock | Ella |
| Douglas | Spaulding (C) |
| Annie Childs (C) | Mary Ann |
| Wave Queen (C) | Mail (C) |
| Giraffe (C) | Spunkie |
| Cornubia (C) | Jupiter |
| Nicolai I (C) | Gibraltar |
| St. John (C) | Boston |
| Hero3 | Juno II |
| Gertrude (C) | Scotia |
| Britannia (C) | Flora II |
| Emma (C) | Herald |
| Georgiana (C) | Elizabeth (C) |
| J.P. Hughes | R.E. Lee |
| Banshee | Beauregard |
| Alice (Mobile) | Sumter |
| Aries (St. Thomas) (C) | Corsica |
| Neptune (C) | Bendigo |
| Norseman (C) | Diamond |
| Merrimac (C) | Margaret and Jessie |
| Kate (C) | Don |
| Orion | Pet |
| Siriens (Sirius?) | Charleston |
| Atlantic | Rouen |
| Eugénie | Hero II |
| Cuba (Mobile) (C) | Fanny |
| Raccoon | Stonewall Jackson |
| Arabian (C) |
Total, 75; captured and destroyed, 34.
The “Hebe.”
Between the 15th of August and the 21st of October, 1863, the Federal fleet known as the “North American Blockading Squadron” drove ashore five blockade runners between New Inlet and Masonboro—the Arabian inside the bar of New Inlet, which became an obstruction to our ships trying to pass her; the beautiful steamer Hebe near Masonboro Inlet, the Phantom, the Douro, and the Venus near each other off Masonboro Sound.
As her classical name implies, the Hebe was a fine example of marine architecture. She was loaded with a full cargo of drugs, coffee, clothing, and provisions, and although she was a fast ship of 14 knots, she seems to have made a bad landfall on the morning of the 18th of August, 1863, and while she was heading for New Inlet, distant about eight miles, she was intercepted by the Federal gunboat Niphon, when she up helm and ran ashore, the crew escaping in boats.
When the Federals attempted to haul the Hebe off the beach after she had run ashore, they met with formidable resistance by the Confederates. Owing to a heavy sea the Niphon’s boat was driven ashore and the Federals were attacked by a troop of Confederate cavalry and all of them were captured. A Confederate force of riflemen, supported by a battery of Whitworth guns, also attacked the cruiser Niphon from the shore and drove the blockader away from the Hebe, but not before the Confederate had destroyed another Federal boat load of the enemy which attempted to land. The Niphon and the Shokokon, the latter under the command of the celebrated Lieut. W.B. Cushing, then bombarded the Hebe and set her on fire.
On August 24, 1863, General Whiting, in command of the Confederate forces at Wilmington headquarters, sent to the Secretary of War, Mr. Seddon, the following account of the Hebe disaster:
“Headquarters,
“Wilmington, August 24, 1863.
“Sir: * * * Yesterday the enemy took a fancy to destroy what remained of the wreck of the Hebe, a Crenshaw steamer run ashore some days ago, and from which a company of the garrison of Fort Fisher was engaged in saving property. The steam frigate Minnesota and five other gunboats approached the beach, and, under a terrific fire, attempted to land, but were gallantly repulsed by Captain Munn, with a Whitworth and two small rifle guns of short range. The site was about nine miles from Fisher, on the narrow and low beach between the sounds and the ocean, and completely under the fire of the enormous batteries of the enemy. A portion of the squadron, steaming farther up the beach, effected a landing some two miles off in largely superior force, and came down upon Captain Munn, still gallantly fighting his little guns against the Minnesota, they being moved by hand, and, having fired his last round, the Whitworths disabled, one gunner killed, a lieutenant and four men wounded, Captain Munn and his small party were compelled to fall back under a heavy enfilade fire toward Fort Fisher, with the loss of his guns.
“This took place about nine miles from Fort Fisher and about the same distance from the city. The narrow beach, separated from the mainland by the sounds, gives every facility to the enemy, and secures them from us who are without boats or means of getting at them. The Fiftieth (North Carolina) Regiment—the only one I have—was off at a distance, called by a landing made by the enemy at Topsail, in which they burned, the night before, a schooner, a salt work, and took two artillerymen prisoners.
“These little affairs, however, are only mentioned in illustration. This is the first time they have landed; but what they have done once they can do again and doubtless will. There is no day scarcely until the winter gales set in but what they could put 5,000 men on the beach; they can get them from New Berne and Beaufort before I could know it. I only say if they do they can get either Fort Fisher or the towns, as they elect, if they set about it at once.
“The efforts of the enemy to stop our steamers are increasing. Their force is largely increased. I have met with a serious and heavy loss in that Whitworth, a gun that in the hands of the indefatigable Lamb has saved dozens of vessels and millions of money to the Confederate States. I beg that a couple of the Whitworth guns originally saved by him from the Modern Greece may be sent here at once. Their long range, five or six miles, makes them most suitable for a seaboard position. Could I get them with horses we could save many a vessel that will now be lost to us. But chiefly in this letter I beg of you, if you concur in my views, to lay the matter of the necessity of increasing the force here before the President.
“Very respectfully,
“W.H.C. Whiting,
“Major General.
“Hon. James A. Seddon,
“Secretary War, Richmond.”
A Port of Refuge.
The natural advantages of Wilmington at the time of the War between the States made it an ideal port for blockade runners, there being two entrances to the river—New Inlet on the north and Western or Main Bar on the south of Cape Fear.
The slope of our beach is very gradual to deep water. The soundings along the coast are regular, and the floor of the ocean is remarkably even. A steamer hard pressed by the enemy could run along the outer edge of the breakers without great risk of grounding; the pursuer, being usually of deeper draft, was obliged to keep farther off shore.
The “Lilian.”
The Confederate steamer Lilian, of which I was then purser, was chased for nearly a hundred miles from Cape Lookout by the U.S. steamer Shenandoah, which sailed a parallel course within half a mile of her and forced the Lilian at times into the breakers. This was probably the narrowest escape ever made by a blockade runner in a chase. The Shenandoah began firing her broadside guns at three o’clock in the afternoon, her gunners and the commanding officers of the batteries being distinctly visible to the Lilian’s crew. A heavy sea was running, which deflected the aim of the man-of-war, and this alone saved the Lilian from destruction. A furious bombardment by the Shenandoah, aggravated by the display of the Lilian’s Confederate flag, was continued until nightfall, when, by a clever ruse, the Lilian, guided by the flash of her pursuer’s guns, stopped for a few minutes; then, putting her helm hard over, ran across the wake of the warship straight out to sea, and, on the following morning, passed the fleet off Fort Fisher in such a crippled condition that several weeks were spent in Wilmington for repairs.
The “Lynx” and Her Pilot.
He is now the Rev. James William Craig,4 Methodist preacher, but I like to think of him as Jim Billy, the Cape Fear pilot of war times, on the bridge of the swift Confederate blockade runner Lynx, commanded by the intrepid Captain Reed, as she races through the blackness of night on her course west nor’west, straight and true for the Federal fleet off New Inlet, in utter silence, the salt spray of the sea smiting the faces of the watches as they gaze ahead for the first sign of imminent danger.
Soon there is added to the incessant noise of wind and waves the ominous roar of the breakers, as the surf complains to the shore, and the deep sea lead gives warning of shoaling water. “Half-speed” is muttered through the speaking tube; a hurried parley; a recognized landfall, for Reed is a fine navigator, and “Are you ready to take her, Pilot?” “Ready, sir,” comes from Jim Billy in the darkness. Then the whispered orders through the tube: “Slow down,” as there looms ahead the first of the dread monsters of destruction; “Starboard,” “Steady.” And the little ship glides past like a phantom, unseen as yet. Then “Port,” “Port,” “Hard a’port,” in quick succession, as she almost touches the second cruiser. She is now in the thick of the blockading squadron; and suddenly, out of the darkness, close aboard, comes the hoarse hail, “Heave to, or I’ll sink you,” followed by a blinding glare of rockets and the roar of heavy guns. The devoted little Confederate is now naked to her enemies, as the glare of rockets and Drummond lights from many men-of-war illuminate the chase. Under a pitiless hail of shot and shell from every quarter, she bounds forward full speed ahead, every joint and rivet straining, while Jim Billy dodges her in and out through a maze of smoke and flame and bursting shells. The range of Fort Fisher’s guns is yet a mile away. Will she make it? Onward speeds the little ship, for neither Reed nor Jim Billy has a thought of surrender. A shell explodes above them, smashing the wheelhouse; another shell tears away the starboard paddle box; and, as she flies like lightning past the nearest cruiser, a sullen roar from Colonel Lamb’s artillery warns her pursuers that they have reached their limitations, and in a few minutes the gallant little ship crosses the bar and anchors under the Confederate guns. The captain and his trusty pilot shake hands and go below, “to take the oath,” as Reed described it—for the strain must be relaxed by sleep or stimulation. “A close shave, Jim,” was all the captain said. “It was, sir, for a fact,” was the equally laconic answer.
The “Ranger” and the “Vesta.”
These two fine ships were stranded on our coast upon their first voyage and as I had no personal knowledge of either of them, I have copied in full the Federal official reports, and a letter dated Wilmington, N.C., January 27, 1864, by Lieutenant Gift of the Confederate Navy, who was in command of the Ranger.
“U.S. Flagship ‘Minnesota,’
“Off Lockwood’s Folly Inlet,
“January 11, 1864.
“Sir: At daylight this morning a steamer was seen beached and burning one mile west of this inlet. Mr. O’Connor, from this ship, boarded her with the loss of one man, shot under the fire from the enemy’s sharp shooters occupying rifle pits on the sand hills, which were high and near, and got her log book, from which it appears that she is the Ranger; that she left Newcastle [England] November 11, 1863, for Bermuda, where, after touching at Teneriffe, she arrived on the 8th of December; that she sailed from Bermuda January 6, 1864, made our coast January 10, about five miles northeast of Murrell’s Inlet, and landed her passengers. The next morning at daylight, intercepted by this ship, the Daylight, Governor Buckingham, and Aries, in her approach to Western Bar, she was beached and fired by her crew, as above mentioned. The attempts of the Governor Buckingham, aided by the Daylight and Aries, to extinguish the fire and haul the Ranger off were frustrated by the enemy’s sharpshooters, whose fire completely commanded her decks. This ship, drawing about twenty-four feet, was taken in four and one-half fathoms of water in front of the wreck, and the other vessels stationed to cross fire on the riflemen on the sand hills opened a deliberate fire with a view to dislodge the enemy and allow an attempt to haul off the Ranger at high water at night. Meanwhile, the Ranger was burning freely forward and the commanding officers of the Governor Buckingham and Daylight, who had a good view of her situation, thinking that it was not practicable to get her off, she was also fired into, which, as her hatches were closed, had the effect of letting the air in, when the fire burned freely aft and doubtless burned the Ranger out completely. Meanwhile, black smoke was rising in the direction of Shallotte Inlet, and the Aries, withdrawn last night from her station there, was ordered to chase. She soon returned, and Acting Volunteer Lieutenant Devens reported a fine-looking double-propeller blockade runner, resembling the Ceres, beached and on fire between Tubb’s and Little River Inlets, and that the enemy’s sharpshooters prevented his boats from boarding her. This was probably the same steamer that was chased the previous evening by the Quaker City, Tuscarora, and Keystone State, and escaping from them made the western shore, where, communicating and learning of the presence of the blockaders in force, and perhaps being short of coal, was beached by her crew and fired rather than be captured.
“The Department will perceive that this is the twenty-second steamer lost by the rebels and the blockade runners attempting to violate the blockade of Wilmington within the last six months, an average of nearly one steamer every eight days. These losses must greatly lessen the means of the rebel authorities to export cotton, obtain supplies, and sustain their credit, and thus dispirit and weaken them very much.
“I have the honor to be, Sir,
“Very respectfully yours,
“S.P. Lee,
“Acting Rear Admiral,
“Comdg. North Atlantic Blockading Squadron.
“Hon. Gideon Welles,
“Secretary of the Navy,
“Washington, D.C.”
“U.S.S. ‘Aries,’
“Off Little River,
“January 12, 1864.
“Sir: I would most respectfully report that the steamer stranded between Tubb’s Inlet and Little River is the blockade runner Vesta. Boarded her this a.m.; made a hawser fast to her, but on examining her found her whole starboard side opened and several of the plates split; took two anchors from her, which was all we could save.
“The Vesta was exactly like the Ceres.
“I left her a complete wreck, with five feet of water in her. Her boats lay on the beach badly stove.
“Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
“Edward F. Devens,
“Acting Volunteer Lieutenant, Commanding.”
“Wilmington, N.C., January 27, 1864.
“My Dear Sir: In Bermuda I took command of a splendid merchant steamer, called the Ranger, for the passage to Wilmington. I had very heavy weather and no observation for the first three days out. On the fourth got sights which put me at noon eighty miles southeast from lightship off Frying Pan Shoals. I went ahead full speed in heavy sea to sight the light early in the night, but the Yankees had put it out, and fearing the drift of the Gulf, I determined to run inshore and anchor during the next day (10th instant) and ascertain my position accurately, which I did, and landed my passengers and baggage. On the morning of the 11th, at 12.25 a.m., I got underway and ran along the coast for the bar near Fort Caswell. When eight miles from the fort I made the Minnesota about one mile off, and whilst observing her motions the pilot (who had charge of the ship) suddenly sheered her inshore, and in an instant she was in the breakers. I made every effort to get her off, but unavailingly, so you see a couple of turns of a wheel in the hands of a timid man lost a fine ship and a valuable cargo. She was destroyed. I was loaded for Government.
“Your obedient servant,
“George W. Gift.”
The “Spunkie.”
Many blockade runners were given corresponding names, Owl, Bat, Badger, Phantom, Lynx, but none seemed to be more appropriate than that given to a little toy steamer from the Clyde named Spunkie. She was not fast but she managed to make several successful runs. When I saw her in Nassau I could scarcely believe that this little cockleshell of a boat had crossed the North Atlantic and had run through the blockading fleet. The commander of the Federal cruiser Quaker City reported to Admiral Lee February 13, 1864, that he had discovered the Spunkie ashore at daylight on the 9th on the beach a short distance west of Fort Caswell, but he could not determine whether she was attempting to run in or run out. Two tugs belonging to the blockading fleet made repeated but ineffectual efforts to float the Spunkie and she still lies near Fort Caswell. As the Spunkie was loaded with blankets, shoes, and provisions for the Confederate soldiers, there is no doubt she was trying to come into the river by the Western Bar when she ran ashore.
The “Phantom.”
This was a new Confederate steamer built abroad on the most approved lines for the Confederate Government. She was a handsome iron propeller of about 500 tons, camouflaged, as were all blockade runners, to decrease her visibility. The usual method was to paint the hull and smoke funnels a grayish green to correspond with the sea and sky and the coast-line sand dunes, which often made them invisible even at close range. There were two Federal cruisers most dreaded by the blockade runners because of their great speed: the Connecticut and the Fort Jackson. The former made many prizes. At daylight, the morning of September 23, 1863, when about fifty miles east by north of New Inlet, the Phantom was discovered by the Connecticut standing to the eastward. The Phantom was bound from Bermuda for Wilmington with a very valuable cargo of Confederate arms, medicine, and general stores. She had evidently made a very bad landfall too far to the northward and eastward at daylight and was running away from the land until darkness would help her into Cape Fear River, when she would face the fleet again. But the Connecticut gave chase at her top speed and after four hours’ vain effort to escape, the Phantom suddenly hauled in and ran ashore near Rich Inlet, where she still lies. The crew escaped in their own boats, after setting the Phantom on fire. The Federals attempted to put out the fire and salve the Phantom, but failed to do so.
The “Dare.”
This steamer was built abroad in 1863 for the Confederate Government. At daybreak on the morning of the 7th of January, 1864, the cruiser Montgomery saw the Dare with Confederate colors flying near Lockwood’s Folly, heading for Cape Fear. The Montgomery and her consort the Aries gave chase, the latter heading off the Dare, which endeavored to escape, but being in range of the guns of both pursuers for about four hours, she headed for the beach, and was stranded at 12.30 p.m. a little to the northward of North Inlet, near Georgetown, S.C. The weather was very stormy and the surf very high so that one of the Federal boats, in attempting to board the Dare, was capsized and her crew made prisoners by the Confederates behind the sand dunes. Other Federal boats reached the stranded vessel and set her on fire.
The officers and crew of the Dare escaped to the shore.
The “Bendigo.”
In 1863, when the demand for suitable merchant steamers to run the Wilmington blockade could not be met, even at enormous prices, the eager buyers began to bid on the Clyde River steamers. Some of extraordinary speed but of frail construction were lost on the long and often tempestuous voyage across the Atlantic via Madeira and Bermuda, while others succeeded in passing the blockade with almost the regularity of mail boats. Of such was the Bendigo, previously named the Milly. Her description was as follows: Topsail yard schooner Bendigo; steamship of Liverpool, late Milly, 178 tons, built of iron, hull painted green, three portholes on either side fore and aft of paddle boxes. Elliptic stern, carriage and name on same painted white, bridge athwartships on top of paddle boxes; after funnel or smokestack, with steam pipe fore part of same, fire funnel or smoke stack with steam pipe fore part of same; draws eight feet six inches aft and eight feet forward.
I am putting this description (now obsolete) on record because it was a type of many other blockade runners in 1863-64.
The Wilmington Journal of January 11, 1864, described the stranding of the blockade runner Bendigo at Lockwood’s Folly Inlet, from which it appears that the wreck of the blockade runner Elizabeth was mistaken by the Bendigo for a Federal cruiser, and in trying to run between the wreck and the beach the Bendigo was stranded. The Bendigo was discovered at 11 a.m. January 4, 1864, by Acting Rear Admiral S.P. Lee on his flagship Fahkee, who attempted with the assistance of the Fort Jackson, Iron Age, Montgomery, and Daylight to haul off the Bendigo, in which they failed because the Confederate batteries on shore drove them off with the loss of the Iron Age, which got aground and blew up. The Bendigo was set on fire and abandoned and her hull may be still visible at Lockwood’s Folly Bar.
The “Antonica.”
This Confederate blockade runner I remember as a fine ship and very successful. She was of the old American type of passenger and mail boat, 516 tons, known previously as the Herald. So regular and reliable in her runs was she that I recall a remark of one of her officers that it was only necessary to start her engine, put her on her course for either Wilmington or Nassau, lash her wheel, and she would go in and out by herself.
She ran several times in and out of Charleston, where she was registered carrying 1,000 to 1,200 bales of cotton and some tobacco. She was commanded on her last voyage by Capt. W.F. Adair, who reported that on the night of the 19th of December, 1863, the Antonica made the land at Little River Inlet, the dividing line between North Carolina and South Carolina, and stood to the eastward of Lockwood’s Folly Inlet and waited until the moon set at 2.30 a.m., when he attempted to run the blockade at Cape Fear Bar, but in trying to pass the blockader Governor Buckingham was forced ashore on Frying Pan Shoals, and he and his crew, twenty-six all told, were captured while making for the beach in their own boats.
The Antonica was loaded and bound for Wilmington with a very valuable cargo of war supplies when she was lost. The wreck still remains on Frying Pan Shoals.
I recall an interesting episode with reference to the Antonica which nearly caused a rupture between the British and Federal Governments while I was with my ship in the British port of Nassau. The incident was referred to by the late Capt. Michael Usina of Savannah in his most interesting address many years ago before the Confederate Veterans, and I repeat it in his words:
“On one occasion I was awakened by the sound of cannon in the early morning at Nassau, and imagine my surprise to see a Confederate ship being fired at by a Federal man-of-war. The Confederate proved to be the Antonica, Captain Coxetter, who arrived off the port during the night, and, waiting for a pilot and daylight, found when daylight did appear that an enemy’s ship was between him and the bar. There was nothing left for him to do but run the gauntlet and take his fire, which he did in good shape, some of the shot actually falling into the harbor. The Federal ship was commanded by Commodore Wilkes, who became widely known from taking Mason and Slidell prisoners. After the chase was over Wilkes anchored his ship, and when the Governor sent to tell him that he must not remain at anchor there he said: ‘Tell the Governor, etc., etc., he would anchor where he pleased.’ The military authorities sent their artillery across to Hog Island, near where he was anchored, and we Confederates thought the fun was about to begin. But Wilkes remained just long enough to communicate with the consul and get what information he wanted, and left.”
The “Florie” and the “Badger.”
These two fine boats were well known to me. The former was named after Mrs. J.G. Wright, of Wilmington, the beautiful daughter of Capt. John N. Maffitt, who commanded my ship the Lilian, a sister boat.
The Florie was owned by the State of Georgia and by some of its prominent citizens, Gov. Joseph Brown, Col. C.A.L. Lamar, and others. She made several successful runs to Wilmington, but her end is clouded in mystery. There is no record of her fate except a report by some “intelligent contrabands” to the Federal fleet that she was sunk inside the bar in Cape Fear River; whether by accident or by shell fire I am unable to ascertain. It was said that the Badger, sister ship to the Lynx, came to her end the same way after making several runs through the fleet.
The following order of the Confederate Secretary of the Navy to Capt. John N. Maffitt, who was then in command of the Owl, will explain why so many valuable ships were run ashore rather than surrendered into the hands of the Federals:
Order of the Secretary of the Navy to Commander Maffitt, C.S. Navy, repeating telegram of instructions regarding the command of the blockade runner Owl.
“Confederate States of America,
“Navy Department, Richmond,
“September 19, 1864.
“Sir: The following telegram was this day sent to you:
“It is of the first importance that our steamers should not fall into the enemy’s hands. Apart from the specific loss sustained by the country in the capture of blockade runners, these vessels, lightly armed, now constitute the fleetest and most efficient part of his blockading force off Wilmington.
“As commanding officer of the Owl you will please devise and adopt thorough and efficient means for saving all hands and destroying the vessel and cargo whenever these measures may become necessary to prevent capture. Upon your firmness and ability the Department relies for the execution of this important trust. In view of this order, no passenger will, as a general rule, be carried. Such exceptions to this rule as the public interests may render necessary, embracing those who may be sent by the Government, will receive special permits from this Department.
“Assistant Paymaster Tredwell has been instructed to pay over to you, taking your receipt for the same, 5,000 pounds in sterling bills. You will please keep an accurate account with vouchers in duplicate of all your expenditures, one set of which you will submit to Mr. W.H. Peters, our special agent at Wilmington, upon each round trip you may make.
“I am respectfully your obedient servant,
“S.R. Mallory,
“Secretary of the Navy.
“Commander John N. Maffitt, C.S. Navy,
“Care W.H. Peters, Esq.,
“Wilmington, N.C.”
The “Cape Fear.”
A notable blockade runner called the Virginia was bought by the Confederate Government during the war and renamed the Cape Fear. She was put under the command of Captain Guthrie, a Cape Fear pilot of recognized ability, who was succeeded by an English gentleman, a fine sailor, Captain Wise, who cast his lot with our people and ran the Cape Fear up and down the river for several years as a Confederate transport. She was destroyed in the river when the Federals captured Fort Fisher. Captain Wise married a Miss Flora McCaleb, of Wilmington, and for years after the war conducted a lumberyard here. He was a most courteous, attractive gentleman, generally respected in the community. He died here many years ago.
The “North Heath.”
During the third year of the War between the States, I was appointed at the age of seventeen years purser of the blockade-running steamer North Heath, under command of Captain Burroughs, who had successfully run the blockade twelve times in charge of the Confederate steamer Cornubia, later named Lady Davis, after the wife of the President. I believe that under God, Captain Burroughs, by his fine qualities as a cool and capable seaman, saved this ship from foundering at sea when we ran into a hurricane shortly after our departure from St. George, Bermuda, bound for Wilmington. For two days and nights we were in imminent danger of our lives—tossed upon a raging sea, every man of our crew of 48 except those at the wheel was lashed to the vessel, while we bailed with buckets and the use of hand pumps the flooded fireroom of our sinking vessel. For an entire night she wallowed like a log in a trough of mountainous waves, which broke over us in ever-increasing fury. I can never forget this frightful scene. It seems photographed upon my memory in all its fearsome details.
The water had risen in our hold until every one of our fourteen furnaces was extinguished. There was no steam to run our donkey boilers and steam-power pumps. Lashed to one another, in the blackness of darkness, relieved only by the intermittent flashes of lightning which illuminated the giant waves towering around us and threatening to overwhelm and sink the laboring, quivering fabric, we held on in despair until morning, when we began to gain on the leaks until our steam pumps could be used in relieving the boiler room, and our brave captain got the ship under control. Then we succeeded in putting her about and headed back to Bermuda.
The strain of this exposure resulted in an attack of fever, which confined me to bed for a long time on shore, and Captain Burroughs reluctantly left me behind when the ship was ready for sea. After we repaired our badly damaged hull and machinery, the North Heath proceeded again toward Wilmington, passing the blockading fleet safely. When she was about to load cotton for the outward voyage, the Federal expedition against Fort Fisher arrived off Cape Fear and presented such a formidable appearance that the Confederate Government seized the North Heath, loaded her with stone and sank her at a point below Sunset Park where the river channel is narrow, as an obstruction to the Federal fleet which subsequently captured Wilmington. For many years after she was an obstruction to peaceful commerce, but the wreck was finally removed by the River and Harbor Improvement Engineers.
The “Kate.”
There were two blockade runners named Kate, but they were quite different as to origin and enterprise. The first one of that name was an American-built steamer, previously in the coast trade. She was commanded by Capt. Thomas J. Lockwood, and it was this vessel that brought to Wilmington on the 6th of August, 1862, the fearful plague of yellow fever, which raged for ten weeks and carried off 446 of our people. After several successful voyages she ran ashore above Fiddler’s Dreen, near Southport, and went to pieces.
About twenty years ago I related in Justice Clark’s North Carolina Regimental Histories, published in five volumes, 1901, an incident in the career of this steamer Kate which may be worth repeating:
On one occasion in the Kate Lockwood had run inside the line of blockaders at the Main Bar some distance up the beach, and suddenly took the ground while jammed between an anchored man-of-war and the breakers. The blockader did not see him, although so near that no one on board the Kate was permitted to speak above a whisper. The tide was near the last of the ebb and there were only a few hours of darkness in which to work. George C. McDougal, chief engineer and Captain Lockwood’s brother-in-law, always ready for an emergency, had promptly loaded the safety valve down with a bag of iron castings to prevent any noise from escaping steam, and when it became absolutely necessary the steam was blown off very gently under the water. The boats were lowered noiselessly and several passengers and a lot of valuables landed in the surf on the lee side of the vessel, with orders to proceed to Fort Caswell in the distance. At first it seemed impossible to save the ship, as any noise from her paddles would inevitably have led to her destruction by the blockaders, which were seen plainly only a cable’s length from the Kate’s perilous position. Lockwood held a consultation with his trusted engineer, and decided to open the gangway and quietly slide overboard a lot of lead wire in heavy coils, which was part of the inward cargo, and which was intended to be cut into bullets by the Confederate Government. This served to lighten the ship and also as an effectual bulkhead which prevented the vessel from working higher up on the beach when the tide turned, and the discharge went on for some time without apparent effect; but the rising tide soon after began to bump the bilges of the vessel against the sand bank inside. Lockwood proposed an attempt to back clear or to beach her at once, but the “Boss,” as McDougal was called, calmly showed him that unless they were sure of floating clear on the first attempt they would never be permitted to make a second trial, as the paddles would surely betray them to the fleet. Another fifteen minutes that seemed an hour of suspense, and the captain again urged immediate action, but the imperturbable engineer said: “Wait a little longer, Oakie; she is rising every minute; let us be sure of getting off before we make the effort.” Meantime the bumping increased, and at last, with everything in readiness and a full head of steam, the engines were reversed full speed, and the Kate, quickly afloat and responding to the wheel, gallantly passed the blockading fleet in the gray dawn and shortly afterwards anchored under the guns of Fort Caswell. She had hardly swung to the anchor before she was seen by the disappointed blockaders, who sent shell after shell flying after her, bursting in such uncomfortable proximity, that the Kate was moved up to Mrs. Stuart’s wharf at Smithville, where the shell and solid shot still followed her, many passing in a line more than a thousand yards beyond the wharf. With the aid of a good glass a man could be seen in the foretop of the Federal flagship with a flag in his hand, which he waved to right or left as he saw the effect of the firing; this enabled the gunners to better their aim until the shells struck just astern of the Kate or passed in a line ahead of the vessel. On a closer approach of the fleet they were driven off by Fort Caswell’s heaviest guns. The Kate and her crew were in great peril on this occasion, owing to the fact that there were a thousand barrels of gunpowder on board for the Confederacy, making the risk from the shells extremely dangerous. Mr. McDougal said to me on this occasion that when the Yankees began shelling them at Fort Caswell a detachment of soldiers was being embarked for Wilmington on the Confederate transport James T. Petteway, and that when the first shell struck the beach near the Petteway, the whole company broke ranks and ran like rabbits to the fort again.
Some time ago the Wilmington Daily Review published an account of the recovery of a large lot of wire from the bottom of the sea near Fort Caswell. This was doubtless part of the Kate’s cargo thrown overboard as described.
The Second “Kate.”
The second Kate was a new iron steamer, double-screw propeller, 344 tons, English built, commanded by Captain Stubbs. She had made a successful run into Charleston with a valuable cargo, and was also successful in running out again with 700 bales of cotton, which she landed in Nassau.
She had loaded a second inward cargo at Nassau and sailed for Charleston, but, failing to elude the blockaders, she ran for Wilmington and on July 12, 1863, at 4.55 o’clock a.m., was making for New Inlet close ahead when she was intercepted by the Federal blockader Penobscot, which opened a heavy fire on her and drove her ashore on the south end of Smith’s Island, where her wrecked hull still remains. The Federals attempted to haul the Kate off into deep water, but were prevented by the Confederates on shore, who drove them away. With the exception of two of her crew who remained and were captured, the officers and men of the Kate escaped to the shore.
The “Night Hawk.”
It is not surprising that the Federal blockading fleet so often failed to refloat blockade runners after they were stranded on the beach, because the runners always timed their attempt to pass the fleet at high tide, the depth of water on the bar being only 10 to 12 feet and the channel beset with shoals and obstructions, so that before the Federals could prepare for hauling off these vessels and thereby secure for themselves large sums of prize money, the tide would have fallen, leaving the stranded ships more firmly embedded in the sand, and when in daylight another high tide would come the Federals had to deal with the Confederate guns, which kept them at a distance. There were, however, several instances which I recall of the rescue of stranded ships by the Confederates, notably that of the Kate and of the Night Hawk. The latter was a most spectacular, exciting affair, which I will relate in Mr. Thomas Taylor’s words:
“It was on my second trip to Bermuda 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, 21½ 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, which 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 way our troubles began. We ran ashore outside Hamilton, one of the harbors 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 pilot Tom Burriss! However, we had to make the best of it, as, owing to the demand, the supply of competent pilots was not nearly sufficient, and toward 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 around, keeping under way, and to wait awhile until the tide made, he was so demoralized 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 breakers. 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 dispatches, which ought to have been thrown overboard, were still in the starboard lifeboat. 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 charge of two of his men, one of whom speedily possessed himself of my binocular. 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 Federate 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, sang 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 woods yet, as we had only a boat half stove in in which to reach the shore through some three hundred yards of surf, and we were afraid at any moment that our enemies, finding there was no powder on board, might return. We made a feeble effort to put the fire out, but it had gained too much headway, and although I offered the men with me £50 apiece to stand by me and persevere, they were too demoralized and began to lower the shattered boat, swearing they would leave me behind if I didn’t come with them. There was nothing for it but to go, yet the passage through the boiling surf seemed more dangerous to my mind than remaining on the burning ship. The blockaders immediately opened fire when they knew their own men had left the Night Hawk and that she was burning; and Lamb’s great shells hurtling over our heads, and those from the blockading fleet bursting all around us, formed a weird picture. In spite of the hail of shot and shell and the dangers of the boiling surf, we reached the shore in safety, wet through, and glad I was, in my state of exhaustion from loss of blood and fatigue, to be welcomed by Lamb’s orderly officer.
“The poor Night Hawk was now a sheet of flame, and I thought it was all up with her; and indeed it would have been had it not been for Lamb, who, calling for volunteers from his garrison, sent off two or three boat loads of men to her, and when I came down to the beach, after having my wound dressed and a short rest, I was delighted to find the fire had visibly decreased. I went on board, and after some hours of hard work the fire was extinguished. But what a wreck she was!
“Luckily, with the rising tide she had bumped over the bank, and was now lying on the main beach much more accessible and sheltered. Still it seemed an almost hopeless task to save her; but we were not going to be beaten without a try, so, having ascertained how she lay and the condition she was in, I resolved to have an attempt made to get her dry, and telegraphed to Wilmington for assistance.
“Our agent sent me down about three hundred negroes to assist in bailing and pumping, and I set them to work at once. As good luck would have it, my finest steamer, Banshee No. 2, which had just been sent out, ran in the next night. She was a great improvement on the first Banshee, having a sea speed of 15½ knots, which was considered very fast in those days; her length was 252 feet, beam 31 feet, depth 11 feet, her registered tonnage 439 tons, and her crew consisted of fifty-three in all. I at once requisitioned her for aid in the shape of engineers and men, so that now I had everything I could want in the way of hands. Our great difficulty was that the Night Hawk’s anchors would not hold for us to get a fair haul at her.
“But here again I was to be in luck. For the very next night the Condor, commanded by poor Hewett, in attempting to run in stuck fast upon the bank over which we had bumped, not one hundred yards to windward of us, and broke in two. It is an ill wind that blows nobody good, and Hewett’s mischance proved the saving of our ship. Now we had a hold for our chain cables by making them fast to the wreck, and were able gradually to haul her off by them a little during each tide, until on the seventh day we had her afloat in a gut between the bank and the shore, and at high water we steamed under our own steam gaily up the river to Wilmington.
“Considering the appliances we had and the circumstances under which we were working, the saving of that steamer was certainly a wonderful performance, as we were under fire almost the whole time. The Northerners, irritated, no doubt, by their failure to destroy the ship, used to shell us by day and send in boats by night; Lamb, however, put a stop to the latter annoyance by lending us a couple of companies to defend us, and one night, when our enemies rowed close up with the intention of boarding us, they were glad to sheer off with the loss of a lieutenant and several men. In spite of all the shot and shell by day and the repeated attacks by night, we triumphed in the end, and, after having the Night Hawk repaired at a huge cost and getting together a crew, I gave May, a friend of mine, command of her, and he ran her out successfully with a valuable cargo, which made her pay, notwithstanding all her bad luck and the amount spent upon her. Poor May! he was afterwards governor of Perth gaol, and is dead now—a high-toned, sensitive gentleman, mightily proud of his ship, lame duck as she was.
“When she was burning, our utmost efforts were of course directed toward keeping her engine room and boilers amidships intact, and confining the flames to both ends; in this we were successful, mainly owing to the fact of her having thwartship bunkers; but as regards the rest of the steamer she was a complete wreck; her sides were all corrugated with the heat, and her stern so twisted that her starboard quarter was some two feet higher than her port quarter, and not a particle of wood work was left unconsumed. Owing to the limited resources of Wilmington as regards repairs, I found it impossible to have this put right, so her sides were left as they were, and the new deck put on the slope I have described, and caulked with cotton, as no oakum was procurable. When completed she certainly was a queer looking craft, but as tight as a bottle and as seaworthy as ever, although I doubt if any Lloyd’s surveyor would have passed her. But as a matter of fact she came across the Atlantic, deeply immersed with her coal supply, through some very bad weather, without damage, and was sold for a mere song, to be repaired and made into a passenger boat for service on the East Coast, where she ran for many years with success.
“It had been a hard week for me, as I had no clothes except what I had on when we were boarded, my servant very cleverly, as he imagined, having thrown my portmanteau into the man-of-war’s boat when he thought I was going to be captured, and all I had in the world was the old serge suit in which I stood. Being without a change and wet through every day and night for six days consecutively, it is little wonder that I caught fever and ague, of which I nearly died in Richmond, and which distressing complaint stuck to me for more than eighteen months. I shall never forget, on going to a store in Wilmington for a new rig-out (which by the by cost $1,200), the look of horror on the storekeeper’s face when I told him the coat I had purchased would do if he cut a foot off it; he thought it such a waste of expensive material.”
The Three-Funnel Boats.
In the latter part of the War between the States, the experience of the blockade runners evolved a superior type of construction for great speed, shallow depth of hold, and increased furnace draught, for which three funnels were provided. A very interesting and unusual sight were these three-funnel boats. I recall their names, Falcon, Flamingo, Condor, Ptarmigan, Vulture. Mr. Taylor in his book says that Admiral Hewett commanded the Falcon on an ill-fated voyage, but I remember it was the Condor and also that one of the passengers was the celebrated and unfortunate lady Mrs. “Greenhow” or “Greenough,” who lost her life when the Condor ran aground near the bar. The Condor went to pieces when she was stranded, the crew escaping to the shore.
The “Pevensey.”
The last stranded steamer on my list, the Pevensey, was probably named for the Earl of Wilmington, who was also Viscount Pevensey.
Her chief officer, who gave his name to his captors as Joseph Brown, was undoubtedly Joseph Brown Long, who ran the blockade many times in the Cornubia as chief officer with Captain Burroughs, and as the right-hand man of Maj. Norman S. Walker, the Confederate agent at Bermuda. He was greatly esteemed by all Southerners. I recall his many kindnesses to me with gratefulness.
I quote in full the official reports of the stranding and destruction of the Pevensey.
Destruction of the Blockade Runner “Pevensey,”
June 9, 1864.
(Report of Acting Volunteer Lieutenant Harris,
U.S. Navy.)
“U.S.S. ‘New Berne,’
“Hampton Roads, Va., June 16.
“Sir: I have the honor to report the stranding, on the 9th instant, of the blockade runner Pevensey (named Penversey in the extracts April 16, 1864), under the following circumstances:
“3.30 a.m., steering N.E. by N., Beaufort 45 miles distant, made a steamer bearing N.E. by E., 4 miles distant, running slow and heading E.N.E.; she, being to the eastward, did not immediately discover this vessel. Hauled up E.N.E., when, gaining on her within 2½ miles, she made all speed, steering E. Opened fire and stood E by N. The second shot carried away the forward davit of her quarter boat. She immediately changed her course, steered N., and struck the beach 9 miles west of Beaufort at 8.05 a.m. Her crew took to the boats at once, this vessel at the time being 1½ miles distant. Ran into 3½ fathoms, and when within 100 yards of the strand she blew up.
“Sent in three boats, boarded her, and found her engines and boilers completely blown out. Plugged up the pipes; anchored in 3 fathoms, and made arrangements to pull her off; 9 a.m., tug Violet came down from Beaufort and anchored on the quarter; 9.30 a.m., Commander B.M. Dove arrived in the Cherokee, came on board and said he would take charge of the wreck, and the New Berne would proceed to Beaufort, it being then high water, to save the tide in. Recalled boats and arrived at Beaufort at 11 a.m., anchoring outside too late for the tide.
“One prisoner was found on board the vessel, unharmed from the explosion, who proved himself to be an escaped prisoner from Johnson’s Island, of Morgan’s guerillas. One body was found upon the beach, and thirty-five prisoners were captured on shore by the cavalry, three of whom are supposed to be Confederate officers, one of them adjutant general to Magruder. She was loaded on Confederate account, cargo consisting of arms, blankets, shoes, cloth, clothing, lead, bacon, and numerous packages marked to individuals. She had been chased on the 7th instant by the Quaker City, and had thrown overboard, by log book, 30 tons lead and 20 tons bacon; was 543 tons, of English register; no manifest of cargo found. Gunner S.D. Hines has discovered seven Whitworth tompions tied together, bright, and in good condition, which suggests the possibility of that number of guns being under the musket boxes.
“The prisoners captured ashore were held in Fort Macon, and the one secured on board was transferred there by order of Commander Dove. I understood that after the army authorities had satisfied themselves with regard to the identity of the prisoners they were to be transferred to this [place] per Keystone State.
“I have learned since leaving Beaufort that the reputed mate is the real captain; that he is a Captain Long, the outdoor agent of Major Walker (the Confederate agent at Bermuda), a citizen of New York, and having formerly commanded a ship from there. The reputed captain (an Englishman) was merely the paper or clearing captain. Of these facts I have informed Captain Gansevoort.
“It will not now be possible to get the vessel off, but a large amount of the cargo can be saved, if properly guarded.
“Had the after 30-pound Parrott, for which the requisition was approved by you April 22, been furnished, his chances of reaching the shore would have been reduced. He evidently was ignorant of his position, as the first question asked was, ‘How far is it to Fort Caswell?’
“Very respectfully,
“Your obedient servant,
“T.A. Harris,
“Acting Volunteer Lieutenant, Commanding.
“Acting Rear Admiral S.P. Lee,
“Commanding North Atlantic Blockading Squadron.”
(Report of Acting Rear Admiral Lee, U.S. Navy.)
“Flagship North Atlantic
Blockading Squadron,
“Washington, D.C., July 14, 1864.
“Sir: Inclosed I forward to the Department a list of those of the crew of the blockade runner Pevensey, which ran on shore and was destroyed by her crew near Beaufort, N.C., on the 9th ultimo, who are now detained at Camp Hamilton, Fort Monroe, and at Point Lookout. The late master of the Pevensey was detained by Captain Gansevoort as a witness, he supposing that a portion of the cargo of the blockade runner was saved and would be sent North as a prize.
“The others are detained as habitual violators of the blockade under the instructions of the Department, dated May 9, 1864, to Rear Admiral Farragut, forwarded to me for my information May 16, 1864.
“The examination of these men took place in presence of Commander Peirce Crosby and Lieut. Commander Chester Hatfield. The chief officer of the Pevensey, Joseph Brown, is detained at Camp Hamilton as an habitual violator of the blockade; all the others are detained at Point Lookout. I have requested the commandant of the post at Fort Monroe to discharge the master of the Pevensey, as there is no longer any reason for detaining him, the vessel and cargo having proved a total loss.
“I have the honor to be, Sir,
“Very respectfully,
“S.P. Lee,
“Acting Rear Admiral,
“Comdg. North Atlantic Blockading Squadron.
“Hon. Gideon Welles,
“Secretary of the Navy.”
The “Ella and Annie.”
The chief purpose of this book was to record the incidents leading to the stranding of blockade runners upon the Cape Fear coast while endeavoring to elude the Federal cruisers in the War between the States. There were more than three times as many captured or sunk at sea; and a recital of some of these exciting chases would make another volume.
I am tempted, however, to include in these stories of derelicts, an official account of the attempt of the Confederate steamer Ella and Annie, in command of Captain Bonneau, with whom I was comparatively intimate, to run down the Federal cruiser Niphon, which opposed her entrance into the Cape Fear River, on the 9th of November, 1863, because this incident was of unusual daring on the part of Captain Bonneau, who was liable to be hanged as a pirate for such temerity.
The Ella and Annie was subsequently armed and equipped as the U.S. flagship Malvern and served that purpose until the end of the war.
(Report of Acting Rear Admiral Lee, U.S. Navy.)
“U.S. Flagship ‘Minnesota,’
“Off Newport News, Va.,
“November 12, 1863.
“Sir: In addition to the captures of the Margaret and Jessie and the Cornubia, or Lady Davis, detailed in my Nos. 948 and 949 of this date, I have the gratification of presenting to the department the details of the capture of the rebel blockade runner Ella and Annie, off Wilmington.
“At 5.30 o’clock on the morning of the 9th instant, the Niphon, returning from an unsuccessful chase and steaming along the beach to the northward of New Inlet, made another steamer near Masonboro Inlet coming down along the shore. The stranger finding himself intercepted, put his helm up and endeavored to run down the Niphon. This attempt was partly avoided, though the Niphon was struck about the fore rigging, and her bowsprit, stem and starboard boats carried away. At the moment of collision Acting Master Breck reports he opened upon the enemy with shell and canister and carried the prize by boarding. A keg of powder and slow match were found ready to blow her up.
“The Ella and Annie is represented to be a vessel of 905 tons burden, in good order, with the exception of some small damages from shell and grape.
“Her cargo is chiefly composed of 480 sacks of salt, 500 sacks of saltpeter, 281 cases of Austrian rifles, 500 barrels of beef, 42 cases of paper, etc.
“In the collision three men on board the Niphon and four on board the Ella and Annie were slightly injured.
“Inclosed is a list of passengers from this prize, brought up by the New Berne (thirty-eight in number) and sent to New York in her.
“The capture seems to have been well and gallantly made by Acting Master Breck. Captain Ridgely, senior officer, commends his spirit and promptness. I hope that the department, in view of this especial and other good service on the part of Acting Master Breck, will favorably consider my application for his promotion.
“The Ella and Annie, I am informed, was built at Wilmington, Del., is of light draft, fast, and would, I think, be very convenient for general purposes in this squadron, being available either for inside or outside service. I would suggest that she be purchased by Government and sent to this squadron, if, after examination, she be found suitable.
“I have the honor to be, Sir,
“Very respectfully yours,
“S.P. Lee,
“Acting Rear Admiral,
“Comdg. North Atlantic Blockading Squadron.
“Hon. Gideon Welles,
“Secretary of the Navy, Washington, D.C.”
(Report of Acting Master Breck, U.S. Navy, Commanding U.S.S. Niphon.)
“U.S.S. ‘Niphon,’
“Off New Inlet,
“November 9, 1863.
“Sir: I have the honor to report that on the morning of this date, while near the beach, saw a blockade runner running along the beach; gave chase, fired several guns and rockets, but at last lost sight of her; stood back to my station and steamed along the beach to the north and about 5.30 a.m. saw another steamer running along the shore to the southward; stood in to cut him off, when he turned directly toward me, evidently with the intention of running me down, which I avoided, in part, owing to this vessel answering her helm with great quickness. He struck me forward, both vessels running at great speed. As we came together, I fired a broadside—grape, canister, and shell—and immediately boarded him and took possession. In securing the prisoners a lot of shavings and a slow match attached to a keg of powder were found in the run, the captain acknowledging his intention to destroy the vessel. The collision broke bowsprit, stove all my starboard boats, broke beam, also some planks near the wood ends, damaged guard, chain plates, and caused her decks to leak badly. We have three men wounded; also four of the crew of the Confederate steamer, one dangerously, by grape or shell. The blockade runner, which proved to be the Ella and Annie, of Charleston, S.C., is 905 tons; is in good order with the exception of numerous shot holes in her upper works. Her cargo consists, as near as we can ascertain, of rifles, salt, saltpeter, paper, and hardware. She is a Confederate steamer, officered mostly [by men] of the Confederate Navy. She was captured off Masonboro Inlet in four fathoms water, eighteen miles north of Fort Fisher; no vessel in signal distance or in sight immediately after her capture. Steamed toward the fleet, and in about half an hour made the mastheads of a vessel which proved to be the U.S.S. Shenandoah, and shortly after seven o’clock came to anchor about three miles north of the senior officer’s usual station. About half an hour afterwards the Shenandoah came to anchor near us, and contrary to the usual custom the senior officer sent his own prize master on board. Transferred the following officers and crew on board the Ella and Annie by order of senior officer: Acting Ensign J.J. Reagean, Acting Third Assistant Engineer J.J. Sullivan, one fireman, one ordinary seaman, three landsmen, and two black refugees.
“Very respectfully,
“Your obedient servant,
“J.B. Breck,
“Commanding U.S.S. ‘Niphon.’
“Hon. Gideon Welles,
“Secretary U.S. Navy, Washington, D.C.”
(Third Report of Acting Master Breck, U.S. Navy, Commanding U.S.S. Niphon.)
“U.S.S. ‘Niphon,’
“Beaufort, N.C., November 12, 1863.
“Sir: In addition to my former report, which was very hurried for want of time, I have to say that F.N. Bonneau, captain of the Ella and Annie, states that he has an appointment as lieutenant in the Confederate Navy, and that one of the wounded prisoners, now on shore in the Hospital Beaufort, has an appointment as master in the Confederate Navy, and that all prisoners, except those detained on board of the prize as witnesses, and those in the Hospital Beaufort, were sent by order of Commander Lynch to Fortress Monroe per steamer New Berne.
“I wish also to state that no vessels were either in sight or signal distance at the time of the capture of the Ella and Annie and that I know nothing more as to her cargo, as the senior officer in command sent an officer who is my senior to command the prize.
“I also find that my damage to this ship is more serious than I at first thought, and will inclose reports from my executive officer and master in regard to the matter.
“The Niphon will be hauled up on the sand to-morrow to ascertain the damage done to her, and we are lightening her forward.
“I am, Sir, very respectfully,
“Your obedient servant,
“J.B. Breck,
“Commanding U.S.S. ‘Niphon.’
“Acting Rear Admiral S.P. Lee,
“Comdg. North Atlantic Blockading Squadron,
“Off Newport News.”
A Near Derelict.
This caption with reference to a vessel on fire at sea permits me to describe one of my gallant Captain Maffitt’s last runs through the Federal blockade in the War between the States.
It should be borne in mind that the dangers of blockade running materially increased as the enemy became more expert and accumulated facilities to out-wit and out-maneuver the blockade runners. On one of the last voyages of Captain Maffitt he found that the risks were aggravated by the concentration of interest on the part of the Federals to Abaco Light, a night’s run from Nassau, and the turning point for blockade runners. Three Federal men-of-war were stationed in the neighborhood and greeted the appearance of the small vessel with a salvo of shot which splintered spars and damaged bulwarks, and would have made short order of the 900 barrels of gunpowder which constituted a portion of the cargo, if the Confederate had not been able, by superior speed facilities, to put a safe distance between her and her pursuers. Hardly out of danger from these three men-of-war, two others were sighted on the horizon, and the race was redoubled as the Federals made a fight for the prize. The same methods used so successfully in the war just concluded in Europe were the best expedients in those days, and Captain Maffitt’s ship was saved by following a zig-zag course, which kept the enemy guessing, and finally eluded him altogether. It was after these strenuous experiences of the morning that the lookout announced to the weary officer, “A burning vessel reported aloft.”
Surely this was a challenge to the chivalry and humanity of the captain of the hard-pressed Confederate. To the perils of adventure that demanded all his wit and courage were now added the perils of the unknown and the perils of delay and risk to the inflammable cargo. Plainly, however, it was a duty to be faced, not a danger to be evaded, and the captain ordered his ship’s course in the direction of the burning vessel. When near enough to discern her character, it was perceived that she was a Spanish barque with ensign at half-mast. From her fore hatch arose a dense smoke, abaft were gathered panic-stricken passengers and crew. The chief mate was dispatched in a cutter to render what assistance might be necessary, and he found on boarding the foreign barque that there were four ladies among the few passengers, and these were calmer than the officers and crew. The latter had completely lost their heads, and in the very act of lowering the long boat were confusedly hauling upon the stay tackle. The Confederate mate went at once to the forecastle, which he instantly deluged with water, to the astonishment of the Spaniards, who had not thought of this method of dealing with the fire which proved so effectual in this case that the flames were soon under control and the fire quickly extinguished.
Three of the ladies were natives of Marblehead, returning from a visit to their uncle in Cuba. They became quite confidential in explaining to the mate their great fears of being captured by Confederate buccaneers with which the waters were infested, according to Cuban rumors. On leaving the boat after rendering this important service, the mate could not refrain from declaring himself one of those awful Confederate slave owners which were the terror of the high seas, but he did not add, as he well might have done, that he was also an officer in command of one of the blockade runners which they so greatly feared. Their amazement was great enough without this bit of information, which might have been passed on by them and given aid and comfort to the enemy.
As the Confederate came into the waters off the coast of North Carolina the dangers were materially increased, because all beacon lights were naturally shrouded to prevent disclosures to the enemy. Ten miles from the bar one of the officers reported to Captain Maffitt his fear that they were in the proximity of the blockaders. The atmosphere was very hazy and to this they owed the possibility of escape, for two cruisers were at anchor just ahead of them and there was no course to pursue except the perilous one of running between the enemy ships. The Federals were immediately aware of this daring maneuver, and a fiery rocket revealed the Confederate and the moment’s flare of a calcium light was followed by the curt demand of a Federal officer, “Heave to, or I’ll sink you.”
In this case discretion was the better part of valor, and Captain Maffitt gave the order in a voice loud enough to be heard by foe as well as friend. Assured that the Confederate captain was complying with orders, the enemy did not suspect that the order that had been so plainly heard was merely a ruse and that the engineer had received whispered instructions, “Full speed ahead, sir, and open your throttle valve.” The movements of the paddle deceived the Federals into the belief that the Confederate was really backing, but just as the advantage was with the blockade runner and her clever scheme was detected, fire was opened upon her with relentless fury. Drummond lights were burned, doubtless to aid the artilleryists, but so radiated the mist as to raise the hull above the line of vision, and the destructive missiles were poured into the sparse rigging and the hull was spared injury. Thus the blockade runner escaped from the foe and delivered 900 barrels of gunpowder to the Confederates at Wilmington, and this ammunition was used afterwards by General Johnston at the battle of Shiloh.
A Human Derelict.
The story of disasters on Cape Fear during the Federal blockade, 1861-1865, would be incomplete without reference to a human tragedy, the drowning of an accomplished Southern woman, Mrs. Rose O’Neal Greenhow. Mrs. Greenhow was a prominent figure in Washington society during the Buchanan administration. She had become a resident of Washington in her girlhood, and had grown to womanhood under the influences which are thrown around the society element in the Nation’s Capital. She was rich, beautiful, and attractive, possessing a ready wit and a charming and forceful personality. She was a close personal friend of President Buchanan and a friend of William H. Seward. With such friends her social position was of the highest, and she entertained many of the most prominent men in the country in her hospitable home.
When the War between the States began she was entertaining Col. Thomas Jordan, later Adjutant General of the Confederate Army. Knowing well Mrs. Greenhow’s strong sympathy for the land of her birth, Colonel Jordan determined to secure her services for the newborn Confederacy, and proposed to her that she become a secret agent for his government. Her social position, her wide acquaintance, her personal magnetism made her pre-eminently the one to extract information of military value for the Southern cause. Mrs. Greenhow consented to perform this perilous service for the land she loved, and started at once to get possession of facts which would be useful in the coming campaign.
She began her work in April, 1861, and by November Allan Pinkerton, head of the Federal Secret Service, sent in a report to the War Department vehemently inveighing against Mrs. Rose Greenhow for alienating the hearts of Federal officers from their sympathy with their country, and accusing her of obtaining through her wiles and powerful personal methods memoranda (and maps) which could only have been known to officials of the Federal Government.
When the cry “On to Richmond!” was raised, it was absolutely essential for the Confederate Army under General Beauregard to have definite information about the point of attack. This data was furnished him by Mrs. Greenhow. She advised him that the enemy would advance across the Potomac and on Manassas, via Fairfax Court House and Centerville.
The Federal Army delayed the advance, and a second messenger was sent to Mrs. Greenhow, who was able to add to her previous information, and on the strength of it Johnston was ordered to re-ënforce Beauregard with the last of his 8,500 men, and the wavering Federal Army turned back and fled in a rout—a mob of panic-stricken fugitives. It was soon known in Washington that Mrs. Greenhow had supplied the information upon which the Confederates had constructed their plans, and she was closely watched. Long after she knew that she must some day be arrested, she continued her activities, finding opportunities every day to communicate with Confederate officers, and her services were so valuable that she could not be persuaded to take refuge in the Confederate lines when there was so much work for her to do in the Federal Capital.
She was in her own home when she was finally placed under arrest. Here she was closely guarded, but a friend and her little daughter were permitted to remain with her. In spite of the heavy guard, she continued to communicate with Southern messengers and kept them informed of what she heard. After a few months she was transferred to the Old Capitol Prison and kept in confinement with her child in a room 10 by 12. She suffered keenly in this cold and cheerless place. The soldiers who guarded her were very strict, but in spite of their closest scrutiny she managed under their very eyes to send messages to the people who were eagerly awaiting news of her on the other side of the lines. After tedious months of imprisonment she was tried5 on the charge of treason. There was much direct and indirect evidence against her, but her attitude was uncompromising, and after the trial she was permitted to make her way through the lines to Richmond, where she spent some time until she took passage in a blockade runner with her daughter, whom she wished to place in a convent in Paris. She took with her letters to Mason and Slidell, which requested that every courtesy be shown her.
In Paris she was given a private audience with Napoleon III.
While Mrs. Greenhow was in England her book, My Imprisonment, or The First Year of Abolition Rule in Washington, was published and created a sensation. It was a vehicle for the most pronounced propaganda for the cause of the Confederacy and served it well. Not a little sympathy was created for the South by this book of personal experience.
While in London Mrs. Greenhow became engaged to a nobleman and she expected to return and marry him after a voyage to America. In August, 1864, she took passage on the Condor and there is strong reason to suppose that her business in Wilmington was in the interests of the Confederacy.
The Condor arrived opposite the mouth of the river on the night of September 30, but as she crept up the river, the pilot saw an object about 200 yards from shore which he thought was an enemy vessel, and he swerved his course and ran his vessel on New Inlet Bar. The object was the Night Hawk, a blockade runner which had been run down the previous night, and the Condor might have completed the trip in safety. Mrs. Greenhow and her party begged the captain to send them ashore in a boat, as this seemed the only chance of escape from a second arrest as a spy. The captain acceded to her request, and the boat put off. It capsized, however, and Mrs. Greenhow, weighted by her clothing and a quantity of golden sovereigns, was drowned a few yards from land.
Her body washed ashore the next day and was found by Mr. Thomas E. Taylor, who afterwards took it to Wilmington. She was laid out in the Seamen’s Bethel, beautiful in death as she had been in life. She was wrapped in the Confederate flag and with full honors of war interred in Oakdale Cemetery, where a small cross bearing her name may be seen to this day.
After the funeral her personal effects and the articles she had brought with her from abroad were sold at public auction. It was said that an English countess or duchess had an interest in the speculation and was to have shared the profits.
Notes
1 “Let Glasgow flourish by the preaching of the Word.”
2 The Banshee and a few other blockade runners mentioned in this book as escaping capture were later either captured or stranded.
3 Returned to England.
4 Mr. Craig has since died.
5 There are no formal records available to verify this.