hail, the skipper asked for a boat to put off for us. “Come off in your
own boat.” Skiff of Sharon! But there was no choice. With all the pathos
of that remarkable structure, it could not go down in such a short row.
And if it did? Well, “there is not a more terrible place for sharks
along this coast,” the captain had told us incidentally _en route_. Our
boat was inclined to impartiality in its relation with the water, and
took quite as much inside as it could hold, but we soused into it, and
the men pulled like Doggett’s Badgers, and soon we were out of shark
depth and alongside the jetty, where were standing to receive us Mr.
Brown, our friend of yesterday, Captain Vogdes, and Captain Berry,
commanding a United States battery in the fort. The soldiers of the
guard were United States regular troops of the artillery, wore blue
uniforms with brass buttons and remarkably ugly slouched hats, with an
ornament in the shape of two crossed cannons. Captain Vogdes informed me
that Col. Moore had sent off a reply to my letter to the fleet, stating
that he would gladly permit me to go over the fort, but that he would
not allow any one else, under any circumstances, whatever, to visit it.
My friends were, therefore, constrained to stay outside; but one of them
picked up a friend on the beach, and got up an impromptu ride along the
island.
The way from the jetty to the entrance of the fort is in the universal
deep sand of this part of the world; the distance from the landing place
to the gateway is not much more than two hundred yards, and the approach
to the portal is quite unprotected. There is a high ramp and glacis on
the land side, but the face and part of the curtain in which the gate is
situate are open, as it was not considered likely that it would ever be
attacked by Americans. The sharp angle of the bastion on this face is so
weak that men are now engaged in throwing up an extempore glacis to
cover the base of the wall and the casemates from fire. The ditch is
very broad, and the scarp and counterscarp are riveted with brick-work.
The curvette has been cleared out, and in doing so, as a proof of the
agreeable character of the locality, I may observe, upwards of sixty
rattlesnakes were killed by the workmen. An abattis has been made along
the edge of this part of the ditch--a rough inclined fence of stakes and
boughs of trees. “Yes, Sir; at one time when those terrible fire-eating
gentlemen at the other side were full of threats, and coming to take the
place every day, there were only seventy men in this fort, and Lieut.
Slemmer threw up this abattis to delay his assailants, if it were only
for a few minutes, and to give his men breathing time to use their small
arms.”
The casemates here are all blinded, and the hospital is situated in the
bomb-proofs inside. The gate was closed. At a talismanic knock it was
opened, and from the external silence we passed into a scene full of
activity and life, through the dark gallery which served at first as a
framework to the picture. The parade of the fort was full of men, and at
a _coup d’œil_ it was obvious that great efforts had been made to
prepare Fort Pickens for a desperate defence. In the parade were several
tents of what is called Sibley’s pattern, like our bell tents, but
without the lower side wall, and provided with a ventilating top, which
can be elevated or depressed at pleasure. The parade ground has been
judiciously filled with deep holes, like inverted cones, in which shells
will be comparatively innocuous; and, warned by Sumter, everything has
been removed which could prove in the least degree combustible. The
officer on duty led me straight across to the opposite angle of the
fort. As the rear of the casemates and bomb-proofs along this side will
be exposed to a plunging fire from the opposite side, a very ingenious
screen has been constructed by placing useless gun platforms and parts
of carriages at an angle against the wall, and piling them up with sand
and earth for several feet in thickness. A passage is thus left between
the base of the wall and that of the screen through which a man can walk
with ease.
Turning into this passage we entered a lofty bomb-proof, which was the
bed-room of the commanding officer, and passed through into the casemate
which serves as his headquarters. Colonel Harvey Brown received me with
every expression of politeness and courtesy. He is a tall, spare,
soldierly-looking man, with a face indicative of great resolution and
energy, as well as of sagacity and kindness, and his attachment to the
Union was probably one of the reasons of his removal from the command of
Fort Hamilton, New York, to the charge of this very important fort. He
has been long in the service, and he belonged to the first class of
graduates who passed at West Point after its establishment in 1818.
After a short and very interesting conversation, he proceeded to show me
the works, and we mounted upon the parapet, accompanied by Captain
Berry, and went over all the defences. Fort Pickens has a regular
bastioned trace, in outline an oblique and rather narrow parallelogram,
with the obtuse angles facing the sea at one side and the land at the
other. The acute angle, at which the bastion toward the enemy’s
batteries is situated, is the weakest part of the work; but it was built
for sea defence, as I have already observed, and the trace was prolonged
to obtain the greatest amount of fire on the sea approaches. The crest
of the parapet is covered with very solid and well-made merlons of heavy
sand-bags, but one face and the gorge of the bastion are exposed to an
enfilading fire from Fort M’Rae, which the Colonel said he intended to
guard against if he got time.
All the guns seemed in good order, the carriages being well constructed,
but they are mostly of what are considered small calibres now-a-days,
being 32-pounders, with some 42-pounders and 24-pounders. There are,
however, four heavy columbiads, which command the enemy’s works on
several points very completely. It struck me that the bastion guns were
rather crowded. But, even in its present state, the defensive
preparations are most creditable to the officers, who have had only
three weeks to do the immense amount of work before us. The brick
copings have been removed from the parapets, and strong sand-bag
traverses have been constructed to cover the gunners, in addition to the
“rat-holes” at the bastions. More heavy guns are expected, which, with
the aid of a few more mortars, will enable the garrison to hold their
own against everything but a regular siege on the land side, and so long
as the fleet covers the narrow neck of the island with its guns, it is
not possible for the Confederates to effect a lodgment. If Fort M’Rae
were strong and heavily armed, it could inflict great damage on Pickens;
but it is neither one nor the other, and the United States officers are
confident that they will speedily render it quite untenable.
The _bouches à feu_ of the fort may be put down at forty, including the
available pieces in the casemates, which sweep the ditch and the faces
of the curtains. The walls are of the hardest brick, of nine feet
thickness in many places, and the crest of the parapets on which the
merlons and traverses rest are of turf. From the walls there is a
splendid view of the whole position, and I found my companions were
perfectly well acquainted with the strength and _locus_ of the greater
part of the enemy’s works. Of course I held my peace, but I was amused
at their accuracy. “There are the quarters of our friend, General
Bragg.” “There is one of their best batteries just beside the
lighthouse.” The tall chimney of the Warrington Navy Yard was smoking
away lustily. The Colonel called my attention to it. “Do you see that,
Sir? They are casting shot there. The sole reason for their
‘forbearance’ is that Navy Yard. They know full well that if they open a
gun upon us we will lay that yard and all the work in ruins.” Captain
Vogdes subsequently expressed some uneasiness on a point as to which I
could have relieved his mind very effectually. He had seen something
which led him to apprehend that the Confederates had a strong intrenched
camp in the rear of their works. Thereupon I was enabled to perceive
that in Captain Vogdes’ mind there was a strong intention to land and
carry the enemy’s position. Why, otherwise, did you care about an
intrenched camp, most excellent engineer? But now I may tell you that
there is no intrenched camp at all, and that your vigilant eye, Sir,
merely detected certain very absurd little furrows which the
Confederates have in some places thrown up in the soft sand in front of
their camps, which would cover a man up to the knee or stomach, and are
quite useless as a breastwork. If they thought a landing probable, it is
unpardonable in them to neglect such a protection. These furrows are
quite straight, and even if they are deepened the assailants have merely
to march round them, as they extend only for some forty or fifty yards,
and have no flanks. The officers of the garrison are aware the enemy
have mortar batteries, but they think the inside of the fort will not be
easily hit, and they said nothing to show that they were acquainted with
the position of the mortars.
From the parapet we descended by a staircase into the casemates. The
Confederates are greatly deceived in their expectation that the United
States troops will be much exposed to the sun or heat in Pickens. More
airy, well-ventilated quarters cannot be imagined, and there is quite
light enough to enable the men to read in most of them. The plague of
flies will infest both armies, and is the curse of every camp in summer.
As to mosquitoes, the Confederates will probably suffer, if not more, at
least as much as the States’ troops. The effect of other tormentors,
such as yellow fever and dysentery, will be in all probability felt on
both sides; but, unless the position of the fort is peculiarly
unhealthy, the men, who are under no control in respect to their
libations, will probably suffer more than those who are restrained by
discipline and restricted to a regular allowance. Water can always be
had by digging, and is fit to use if drunk immediately. Vegetables and
fresh provisions are not of course so easily had as on shore, but there
is a scarcity of them in both camps, and the supplies from the
store-ships are very good and certain. The bread baked by the garrison
is excellent, as I had an opportunity of ascertaining, for I carried off
two loaves from the bakehouse on board our schooner.
Our walk through the casemates was very interesting. They were crowded
with men, most of whom were reading. They were quiet, orderly-looking
soldiers--a mixture of old and young--scarcely equal in stature to their
opponents, but more to be depended upon, I should think, in a long
struggle. Everything seemed well arranged. Those men who were in bed had
mosquito curtains drawn, and were reading or sleeping at their ease. In
the casemates used as a hospital there were only some twelve men sick
out of the whole garrison, and I was much struck by the absence of any
foul smell, and by the cleanliness and neatness of all the arrangements.
The Colonel spoke to each of the men kindly, and they appeared glad to
see him. The dispensary was as neat as care and elbow-grease could make
it, and next door to it, in strange juxtaposition, was the laboratory
for the manufactory of fusees and deadly implements, in equally good
order. Everything is ready for immediate service. I am inclined to think
it will be some time before it is wanted. Assuredly, if the enemy attack
Fort Pickens, they will meet with a resistance which will probably end
in the entire destruction of the Navy Yard and of the greater part of
their works. A week’s delay will enable Colonel Brown to make good some
grave defects; but delay is of more advantage to his enemy than it is to
him, and if Fort Pickens were made at once _point d’appui_ for a
vigorous offensive movement by the fleet and by a land force, I have
very little doubt in my mind that Pensacola must fall, and that General
Bragg would be obliged to retire. In a few weeks the attitude of affairs
may be very different. The railroad is open to General Bragg, and he can
place himself in a very much stronger attitude than he now occupies.
At last the time came for me to leave. The Colonel and Captain Berry
came down to the beach with me. Outside we found Captain Vogdes kindly
keeping my friends in conversation and in liquid supplies in the shade
of the bakehouse shed, and, after a little more pleasant conversation,
we were afloat once more. Probably no living man was ever permitted to
visit the camps of two enemies within sight of each other before this
under similar circumstances, for I was neither spy nor herald, and I owe
my best thanks to those who trusted me on both sides so freely and
honorably. A gentleman who preceded me did not fare quite so well. He
landed on the island and went up to the fort, where he represented
himself to be the correspondent of an American journal. But his account
of himself was not deemed satisfactory. He was sent off to the fleet.
Presently there came over a flag of truce from General Bragg, with a
warrant signed by a justice of the peace, for the correspondent, on a
charge of felony; but the writ did not run in Fort Pickens. The officers
regarded the message as a clever ruse to get back a spy, and the
correspondent is still in durance vile, or in safety, as the case may
be, on board the squadron.
All sails filled, the Diana stood up toward the Navy Yard once more in
the glare of the setting sun. The sentinels along the battery and beach
glared at us with surprise as the schooner, with her flag of truce still
flying, ran past them. The pier was swept with the glass for the Mobile
gentlemen; they were not visible. “Hollo! Mr. Captain, what’s that
you’re at?" His mate was waving the Confederate flag from the deck.
“It’s only a signal, Sir, to the gentlemen on shore.” “Wave some other
flag, then, while there’s a flag of truce flying, and while we are in
these waters.” After backing and filling for some time, the party were
descried in the distance. Again, the watery skiff was sent off, and in a
few minutes they were permitted, thanks to their passes, to come off.
Some confidential person had informed them the attack was certainly
coming off in a very short time. They were anxious to stay. They had
seen friends at Pensacola, and were full of praises of “the quaint old
Spanish settlement,” but mine is, unfortunately, not an excursion of
pleasure, and it was imperative that I should not waste time. Everything
had been seen that was necessary for my purpose. It was beyond my power
to state the reasons which led me to think no fight would take place,
for doing so would have been to betray confidence. And so we parted
company: they to feast their eyes on a bombardment--and if they only are
near enough to see it, they will heartily regret their curiosity, or I
am mistaken--and we to return to Mobile.
It was dark before the Diana was well down off Fort Pickens again, and,
as she passed out to sea, between it and Fort M’Rae, it was certainly to
have been expected that one side or other would bring her to. Certainly
our friend Mr. Brown, in his clipper Oriental, would overhaul us
outside; and there lay a friendly bottle in a nest of ice waiting for
the gallant sailor, who was to take farewell of us according to promise.
Out we glided into night, and into the cold sea breeze, which blew fresh
and strong from the north. In the distance the black form of the
Powhatan could be just distinguished; the rest of the squadron could not
be made out by either eye or glass, nor was the schooner in sight. A
lantern was hoisted by my orders, and was kept aft some time after the
schooner was clear of the forts. Still no schooner. The wind was not
very favorable for running toward the Powhatan, and it was too late to
approach her with perfect confidence from the enemy’s side. Beside, it
was late; time pressed.
The Oriental was surely lying off somewhere to the west-ward, and the
word was given to make all sail, and soon the Diana was bowling along
shore, where the sea melted away in a fiery line of foam so close to us
that a man could, in nautical phrase, “shy a biscuit” on the sand. The
wind was abeam, and the Diana seemed to breathe it through her sails,
and flew along at an astonishing rate through the phosphorescent waters
with a prow of flame and a bubbling wake of dancing meteor-like streams
flowing from her helm, as though it were a furnace whence boiled a
stream of liquid metal. “No sign of the Oriental on our lee bow?”
“Nothin’ at all in sight, Sir.” The sharks and huge rays flew off from
the shore as we passed and darted out seawards, making their runs in
brilliant trails of light. On sped the Diana, but no Oriental came in
sight.
I was tired. The sun had been very hot; the ride through the batteries,
the visits to quarters, the excursion to Pickens had found out my weak
places, and my head was aching and legs fatigued, and so I thought I
would turn in for a short time, and I dived into the shades below, where
my comrades were already sleeping, and kicking off my boots, lapsed into
a state which rendered me indifferent to the attentions no doubt
lavished upon me by the numerous little familiars who recreate in the
well-peopled timbers. It never entered into my head, even in my dreams,
that the Captain would break the blockade if he could--particularly as
his papers had not been indorsed, and the penalties would be sharp and
sure if he were caught. But the confidence of coasting captains in the
extraordinary capabilities of their craft is a madness--a hallucination
so strong that no danger or risk will prevent their acting upon it
whenever they can.
I was assured once by the “captain” of a “Billyboy,” that he could run
to windward of any frigate in her majesty’s service, and there is not a
skipper from Hartlepool to Whitstable who does not believe his own “Mary
Ann,” or “Three Grandmothers,” is, on certain “pints,” able to bump her
fat bows and scuttle-shaped stern faster through the seas than any
clipper which ever flew a pendant. I had been some two hours and a half
asleep when I was awakened by a whispering in the little cabin. Charley,
the negro cook, ague-stricken with terror, was leaning over the bed, and
in broken French was chattering through his teeth--“Monsieu, Monsieu,
nous sommes perdus! The bateman de guerre nous poursuit. Il n’a pas
encore tiré. Il va tirer bientôt! Oh mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" Through the
hatchway I could see the skipper was at the helm, glancing anxiously
from the compass to the quivering reef points of his mainsail. “What’s
all this we hear, captain?" “Well, Sir, there’s been somethin’ a runnin’
after us these two hours” (very slowly). “But I don’t think he’ll keech
us up no how this time.” “But, good heavens, you know, it may be the
Oriental, with Mr. Brown on board.” “Ah wall--may bee. But he kep quite
close upon me in the dark--it gev me quite a stark when I seen him. May
bee, says I, he’s a privateerin’ chap, and so I draws in on shore close
as I cud,--gets mee centerboard in, and, says I, I’ll see what yer med
of, mee boy. He an’t a gaining much on us.” I looked, and sure enough,
about half or three-quarters of a mile astern, and somewhat to leeward
of us, a vessel, with sails and hull all blended into a black lump, was
standing on in pursuit. I strained my eyes and furbished up the glasses,
but I could make out nothing definite. The skipper held grimly on. The
shore was so close we could have almost leaped into the surf, for the
Diana, when her center-board is up, does not draw much over four feet.
“Captain, I think you had better shake your wind, and see who he is. It
may be Mr. Brown.” “Meester Brown or no I can’t help carrine on now. I’d
be on the bank outside in a minit if I didn’t hold my course.” The
captain had his own way; he argued that if it was the Oriental she would
have fired a blank gun long ago to bring us to; and as to not calling us
when the sail was discovered, he took up the general line of the cruelty
of disturbing people when they’re asleep. Ah! captain, you know well it
was Mr. Brown, as you let out when we were safe off Fort Morgan. By
keeping so close in shore in shoal water the Diana was enabled to creep
along to windward of the stranger, who evidently was deeper than
ourselves. See there! Her sails shiver! so one of the crew says; she’s
struck! But she’s off again, and is after us. We are just within range,
and one’s eyes become quite blinky, watching for the flash from the bow,
but, whether privateer or United States schooner, she was too
magnanimous to fire. A stern chase is a long chase. It must now be
somewhere about two in the morning. Nearer and nearer to shore creeps
the Diana. “I’ll lead him into a pretty mess, whoever he is, if he tries
to follow me through the Swash,” grins the skipper. The Swash is a very
shallow, narrow, and dangerous passage into Mobile Bay, between the
sand-banks on the east of the main channel and the shore. Our pursuer
holds on, but gains nothing. The Diana is now only some nine or ten
miles from Fort Morgan, guarding the entrance to Mobile. Soon an uneasy,
dancing motion, welcomes her approach to the Swash. “Take a cast of the
lead, John!” “Nine feet.” “Good! Again!” “Seven feet.” “Good--Charley,
bring the lantern.” (Oh, Charley, why did that lantern go out just as it
was wanted, and not only expose us to the most remarkable amount of
“cussin,” imprecation, and strange oaths our ears ever heard, but expose
our lives and your head to more imminent danger?) But so it was, just at
the critical juncture when a turn of the helm port or starboard made the
difference perhaps between life and death, light after light went out,
and the captain went dancing mad, after intervals of deadly calmness, as
the mate sang out, “Five feet and a half! seven feet--six feet--eight
feet--five feet--four and a half feet (oh Lord!)--six feet,” and so on,
through a measurement of death by inches, not at all agreeable. And
where was Mr. Brown all this time? Really we were so much interested in
the state of the lead-line, and in the very peculiar behavior of the
lanterns, which would not burn, that we scarcely cared much when we
heard from the odd hand and Charley that she had put about, after
running aground once or twice, they thought, as soon as we entered the
Swash, and had vanished rapidly in the darkness. It was little short of
a miracle that we got past the elbow, for just at the critical moment,
in a channel not more than one hundred yards broad, with only six feet
water, the binnacle light, which had burned speedily for a minute, sank
with a splutter into black night. When the passage was accomplished the
captain relieved his mind by chasing Charley into a corner, and with a
shark which he held by the tail, as the first weapon that came to hand,
inflicting on him condign punishment, and then returning to the helm.
Charley, however, knew his master, for he slyly seized the shark and
flung his defunct corpse overboard before another fit of passion came
on, and by the morning the skipper was good friends with him, after he
had relieved himself by a series of castigations of the negligent
lamplighter with every variety of Rhadamanthine implement.