THE ALABAMA PROCEEDS TO JAMAICA, AND LANDS HER PRISONERS--THE CAPTAIN
VISITS THE COUNTRY--INTERCOURSE WITH THE ENGLISH NAVAL OFFICERS--EARL
RUSSELL'S LETTER--PREPARATIONS FOR SEA--A BOAT-RACE BY MOONLIGHT--CAPTAIN
BLAKE COMPLAINS OF "DIXIE"--HOW THE MATTER IS SETTLED.
The little by-play, in the Gulf of Mexico, related in the last chapter,
being over, I determined to make the best of my way to the island of
Jamaica, there land my prisoners, on _parole_, patch up the two or three
shot-holes the enemy had made above the water-line, re-coal, and proceed
on my eastern cruise, against the enemy's commerce, as originally
contemplated. We had a long passage to Jamaica, as we took a succession of
southerly gales, that greatly retarded our speed. My first intention was
to make the whole run under steam, but after struggling against these
gales for three or four days, I found my fuel diminishing so rapidly, that
it became prudent to let the fires go down, and put the ship under sail.
This delay was very vexatious, as our little ship was greatly
inconvenienced by the number of prisoners we had on board.
_Friday, the 16th of January_, is noted on my journal as follows:--The
gale continued all day, moderating toward night. The sky is overcast with
a dull canopy of leaden clouds, the sun barely showing himself to us, for
a moment at a time, through an occasional rift, during the entire day.
Observing the water to be discolored, at one P. M. we sounded on the
Yucatan Bank. The soundings on this bank being an excellent guide, I
continued to run along the edge of it until eleven P. M., when we passed
off it, into the deep waters of the Yucatan Passage. We now put the ship
under steam again, and aiding the steam by reefed trysails, we battled
with an adverse sea and current during the rest of the night. We found the
current setting into the passage, to be as much as two and a half knots
per hour, which was greater than I had ever known it before.
I may take this occasion to remind the reader, that the old theory of Dr.
Franklin and others, was, that the Gulf Stream, which flows out of the
Gulf of Mexico, between the north coast of Cuba, and the Florida Reefs and
Keys, flows _into_ the Gulf, through the channel between the west end of
Cuba, and the coast of Yucatan, in which the _Alabama_ now was. But the
effectual disproof of this theory is, that we know positively, from the
strength of the current, and its volume, or cross section, in the two
passages, that more than twice the quantity of water flows out of the Gulf
of Mexico, than flows into it through this passage. Upon Dr. Franklin's
theory, the Gulf of Mexico in a very short time would become dry ground.
Nor can the Mississippi River, which is the only stream worth noticing, in
this connection, that flows into the Gulf of Mexico, come to his relief,
as we have seen that that river only empties into the Gulf of Mexico,
about _one three thousandth_ part as much water, as the Gulf Stream takes
out. We must resort, of necessity, to an under-current from the north,
passing into the Gulf of Mexico, under the Gulf Stream, rising to the
surface when heated, and thus swelling the volume of the outflowing water.
I refer my readers, curious in this matter, to the work of Captain Maury,
entitled the "Physical Geography of the Sea." It is full of profound
philosophy, on the subjects of which it treats, and is written in so
pleasing a style, and is so strewn with flowers, as to make the reader
forget that he is travelling the thorny paths of science.
The 18th of January was Sunday, and we were obliged to intermit the usual
Sunday muster, on account of the bad weather, which continued without
intermission--the wind still blowing a gale, and the passing clouds
deluging us with rain. Two days afterward, viz., on the 20th, we made the
west end of the island of Jamaica, a little after midnight, and as we
crawled under the lee of the coast, we broke, for the first time, the
force of the wind with which we had been so long struggling. We had been
thus nine days making the passage from Galveston to the west end of
Jamaica, and were the greater part of another day, in coasting the island
up to Port Royal. We had shown first one, and then another neutral flag to
several neutral ships that we had passed, but the enemy's flag was nowhere
to be seen. Giving chase to a bark, whilst we were still in the Gulf of
Mexico, we were quite amazed, as we came up with her, to find that she was
our old consort, the _Agrippina_! This bluff-bowed old Scotch ship had
been all the time since she left us at the Arcas Islands--eight
days--battling with adverse winds, and was still only a couple of hundred
miles or so advanced on her voyage.
We made the Plum Point lighthouse, at half-past four P. M., and were off
the mouth of the harbor of Port Royal just as the evening began to deepen
into twilight. We hoisted the French flag, and firing a gun, and making
the usual signal for a pilot, one came promptly on board of us. Day was
fading into night so fast, that we had scarcely light enough left to
enable us to grope our way through the tortuous and narrow channel, and it
was quite dark when our anchor was let go. Of course, we did not permit
the pilot to anchor us as a _Frenchman_, and when we told him that it was
the _Alabama_ he was taking in, he did not appear at all surprised, but
remarked very coolly, "I knew all the while that you were no Frenchman." I
felt much relieved, when at length I heard the plunge of the anchor into
the water, followed by the rattling of the chain-cable through the
hawse-hole. On the high seas, with the enemy all the time in full chase of
me, constant vigilance was required to guard against surprise; and my
battle with the elements was almost as constant, as that with the enemy.
When I reached the friendly shelter, therefore, of a neutral port,
belonging to such of the powers of the earth as were strong enough to
prevent themselves from being kicked by the enemy, my over-taxed nervous
system relaxed in a moment, and I enjoyed the luxury of a little
gentlemanly idleness. Kell was of wonderful assistance to me, in this
respect. I always left the ship in his hands, with the utmost confidence,
and my confidence was never misplaced. He was, as the reader has seen, an
excellent disciplinarian, and being, besides, a thorough master of his
profession, I had in him all that I could desire.
We were boarded by a lieutenant from the English flag-ship, immediately
upon anchoring, and the news spread like wildfire through all Port Royal,
that the _Alabama_ had arrived, with the officers and crew of a Federal
gunboat which she had sunk in battle, on board as prisoners. Night as it
was, we were soon swarmed with visitors, come off to welcome us to the
port, and tender their congratulations. The next morning I called on
Commodore Dunlap, who commanded a squadron of Admiral Milne's fleet, and
was the commanding naval officer present. This was the first English port
I had entered, since the _Alabama_ had been commissioned, and no question,
whatever, as to the antecedents of my ship was raised. I had, in fact,
brought in pretty substantial credentials, that I was a ship of war--130
of the officers and men of one of the enemy's sunken ships. Great Britain
had had the good sense not to listen to the frantic appeals, either of Mr.
Seward or Minister Adams, both of whom claimed, as the reader has seen,
that it was her duty to stultify herself, and ignore the commission of my
ship. Nor did Commodore Dunlap say anything to me of my destruction of
British property, or of the three ships of war, which that adept in
international law, the "Commercial Advertiser," of New York, had asserted
Admiral Milne had sent after me. These questions, indeed, had all been
authoritatively settled, I found, by Earl Russell, the British Foreign
Secretary, by the following letter to the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce,
which had applied to him for information. It is copied from the New York
"World":
"SIR: I am directed by Earl Russell to reply to your letters of the
6th inst., respecting the destruction by the Confederate steamer
_Alabama_ of British property embarked in American vessels and burned
by that steamer. Earl Russell desires me to state to you that British
property on board a vessel belonging to one of the belligerents must
be subject to all the risks and contingencies of war, so far as the
capture of the vessel is concerned. The owners of any British
property, not being contraband of war, on board a Federal vessel
captured and destroyed by a Confederate vessel of war, may claim in a
Confederate Prize Court compensation for the destruction of such
property."
The "World" said lachrymosely of the above, that "it was but one of a
crowd of eloquent indications which constantly multiply upon us to prove
that Earl Russell, like Mr. Gladstone, whatever his sympathies may be,
really regards the 'nation of Jefferson Davis' as substantially created,
and looks upon recognition as simply a question of time."
I forwarded, through Commodore Dunlap, an official report of my arrival to
the Governor of the island, with a request to be permitted to land my
prisoners, and put some slight repairs upon my ship; both of which
requests were promptly granted. Governor Eyre was then in authority. He
behaved with great spirit and firmness, afterward, in nipping in the bud a
widespread negro insurrection, which had for its object, the massacre of
the whites and the plunder of their property. A few negroes were killed by
the troops, and I have been sorry to learn since, that his Excellency has
been much harassed, in consequence, by both English and American fanatics.
The English squadron at anchor consisted of the _Jason_, the _Challenger_,
and _Greyhound_. The most cordial relations were at once established
between the officers of all these ships, and those of the _Alabama_.
Indeed, many of them were our old acquaintances.
An English friend having come on board, to invite me to pass a few days
with him, in the mountains, while my ship was being prepared for sea, I
accepted his invitation, and turning over all the unfinished business of
the ship to Kell, we pulled up to Kingston in my gig. Here I found my
friend's carriage in waiting, and entering it, we were soon whirled out of
the limits of the dusty city, into the most charming of tropical scenery.
Except landing, occasionally, for a few hours at a time, at the desert
little islands I had visited in the Caribbean Sea, and the Gulf of Mexico,
I had not had a holiday on shore, since leaving the _Mersey_, on my way to
commission the _Alabama_, five months before. I needed a little rest, and
recreation, to restore my wasted energies, and I found both with my
excellent friend, Mr. Fyfe.
For the first ten miles, we rode over a beautiful macadamized road, or
rather avenue, lined with the gigantic cactus, growing frequently to the
height of twenty and thirty feet, and several specimens of the palm; chief
among which was the cocoanut-tree, shooting its trunk with the
straightness of an arrow to a great height, and waving gracefully in the
breeze, its superb, feather-like foliage. The way was lined with many
picturesque country houses, each surrounded by its extensive and well-kept
grounds, on which were growing crops, chiefly of fruits and vegetables,
but interspersed occasionally with a field of Indian corn, or sugar-cane.
Hedgerows and shade-trees adorned the front yards, and protected the
residences from the sun, giving them an air of seclusion, coolness, and
quiet that was very inviting. We occasionally obtained glimpses of
beautiful valleys, on the right hand, and on the left, in which fairy
cottages were nestled. The scenery was continually changing, as the road
wound along, now skirting the base of abrupt hills, now running over a
stream, and now plunging into the recesses of a wood, with the trees
arching overhead, like the groined work of a cathedral.
At the end of our ten miles of carriage-drive, we found ourselves at the
foot of the mountains. Here we alighted at a large hostelry, which was a
sort of combination of the inn, caravansary, and country store, and after
some refreshment, mounted saddle-horses which we found in waiting. The
roads soon became mere bridle-paths. As we ascended the slopes of the
mountains, we changed rapidly the character of the vegetation; every
hundred feet of elevation being equivalent to a change of a degree or more
of latitude, and bringing us in the presence of new forest-trees and new
plants, until we dismounted on the lawn of my friend, the immediate
surroundings of which were all English; the cedar, and other well-known
trees and shrubs of the temperate latitudes, supplanting the tropical
vegetation we had left in the _tierra caliente_ below us. The air, too,
was so delightfully changed, from the sultry heats of the coast, that we
found a fire lighted of the dry and fragrant branches of the cedar-tree,
quite pleasant as the night set in.
The reader may imagine how magical the change was, from the cramped
quarters, and other _desagremens_ of a small ship, to the ample halls, and
elegant leisure of an English home, perched on the mountain-side, and
overlooking a perfect wilderness of tropical vegetation. The sea was in
plain sight to the eastward of us, and Kingston and Port Royal lay, as it
were, at our feet. With the aid of a fine telescope which my friend had
mounted in his piazza, I could distinguish my own ship from the other
vessels in the harbor, though they all appeared as diminutive as so many
sea-gulls, nestling upon the water. I need not say how soundly I slept
that night, far away from war's alarms, fanned by the gentlest of
sea-breezes, in the sweetest of sheets, and lullabied by the distant
breaker, as it stranded itself at regular intervals upon the beach.
I was awakened the next morning by the merry songs of a hundred birds,
that came appropriately blended with the perfume of the flowers that
clustered around my windows; and I have seldom looked upon a more
beautiful picture, than when I threw back the blinds, and caught a view of
the landscape, rejoicing in the morning's sun, with all its wealth of
tropical fruits and flowers, and the sea--the glorious sea--glittering
like a mirror in the distance. Nothing can be more charming than the
interior of an English household, when the ice has been broken and you
have fairly gained admission into the interior of the temple. The
successful entertainment of a guest is one of those _artless_ arts, of
which the English gentleman, above all others, is master; and the art
consists in putting the guest so entirely at ease, as to make him feel at
home in the first half-hour. With a library, servants, and horses at your
command, you are literally left to take care of yourself--meeting the
family in the parlors and sitting-rooms, as much, or as little as you
please.
From Flamstead, which was the name of the country-seat of my friend, we
rode over to Bloxburg, the country-seat of his brother, where some ladies
from the neighborhood did me the honor to make me a visit; and from
Bloxburg we made several other agreeable visits to neighboring
plantations. I was in an entirely new world--those mountains of
Jamaica--and was charmed with everything I saw. All was nature; and nature
presented herself in her most lovely aspect, whether we viewed the sky
overhead, the sea at our feet, or the broken and picturesque country
around us. Time flew rapidly, and what with delightful rides, and lunches,
and evening parties, where music, and the bright eyes of fair women
beguiled the senses, I should have been in danger of forgetting the war,
and the _Alabama_, if Kell had not sent me a courier, on the third or
fourth day, informing me that he was nearly ready for sea.
I descended at once from the empyrean in which I had been wandering, took
a hasty leave of my friends, and in company with Mr. Fyfe, rode back to
the coast. We took a new route back, and re-entered Kingston through a
different suburb--stopping to lunch with one of Mr. Fyfe's friends, an
English merchant, at his magnificent country-house. But, alas! much of the
magnificence of the Kingston of former years is passing away. I had known
it in its palmiest days, having visited it when a midshipman in the old
service, before the happy slave had been converted into the wretched
freedman. It was then a busy mart of commerce, and the placid waters of
its unrivalled harbor were alive with shipping bearing the flags of all
nations, come in quest of her great staples, sugar, coffee, cocoa,
gensing, &c. Now, a general air of dilapidation and poverty hangs over the
scene. A straggling ship or two only are seen in the harbor; the merchants
have become shop-keepers, and the sleek, well-fed negro has become an
idler and a vagrant, with scarce rags enough to hide his nakedness. My
host, in the few days I remained with him, gave me much valuable
information concerning the negro, since his emancipation, which I will not
detain the reader to repeat. I may say in a few words, however, that the
substance of this information was, that there has been no increase, either
in numbers, intelligence, or morals among them; and that, too, under
circumstances, all of which were favorable to the negro. He was the pet of
the government for years after his emancipation, and English fanatics have
devoted their lives to his regeneration, but all without success. He is,
to-day, with a few exceptions about the towns, the same savage that he is
in his native Dahomey. An English parliament had declared that he was the
political equal of the white man--that is, of the colonial white man, for
England takes the best of care, that the imperial legislature is never
tainted by his presence--and I found him a generation afterward, far below
his former level of slave.
I found my gig in waiting for me at the wharf in Kingston, and taking
leave of my friend, with many thanks for his hospitality, I pulled on
board of my ship about sunset. And here, what a scene of confusion met me,
and what reports Kell had to make of how my fellows had been "cutting up!"
The paymaster had been drunk ever since he landed, neglecting his duty,
and behaving in a most disreputable manner. He was "hail fellow, well met"
with all the common sailors, and seemed to have an especial fancy for the
sailors of the enemy. Kell had suspended his functions; and had sent on
shore, and had him brought off under arrest. He had become partially
sobered, and I at once ordered him to pack up his clothing, and be off. He
was landed, bag and baggage, in half an hour, and in due time, as the
reader has already seen, he married a negro wife, went over to England
with her, swindled her out of all her property, and turned Yankee, going
over to Minister Adams, and becoming one of his right-hand men, when there
was any hard swearing wanted in the British courts against the
Confederates.
This little matter disposed of, we turned our attention to the crew. They
had had a run on shore, and Kell was just gathering them together again.
The ship's cutters, as well as the shore-boats, were constantly coming
alongside with small squads, all of them drunk, some in one stage of
drunkenness, and some in another. Liquor was acting upon them like the
laughing gas; some were singing jolly, good-humored songs, whilst others
were giving the war-whoop, and insisting on a fight. They were seized,
ironed and passed below to the care of the master-at-arms, as fast as they
came on board.
A couple of them, not liking the appearance of things on board, jumped
into a dug-out alongside, and seizing the paddles from the negroes, shoved
off in great haste, and put out for the shore. It was night, and there was
a bright moon lighting up the bay. A cutter was manned as speedily as
possible, and sent in pursuit of the fugitives. Jack had grog and Moll
ahead of him, and irons and a court-martial behind him, and he paddled
like a good fellow. He had gotten a good start before the cutter was well
under way, but still, the cutter, with her long sweeping oars, was rather
too much for the dug-out, especially as there were five oars to two
paddles. She gained, and gained, coming nearer and nearer, when presently
the officer of the cutter heard one of the sailors in the dug-out say to
the other, "I'll tell you what it is, Bill, there's too much cargo in this
here d----d craft, and I'm going to lighten ship a little," and at the
same instant, he saw the two men lay in their paddles, seize one of the
negroes, and pitch him head foremost overboard! They then seized their
paddles again, and away darted the dug-out with renewed speed.
Port Royal Bay is a large sheet of water, and is, besides, as every reader
of Marryatt's incomparable tales knows, full of ravenous sharks. It would
not do, of course, for the cutter to permit the negro either to drown or
to be eaten by the sharks, and so, as she came up with him, sputtering and
floundering for his life, she was obliged to "back of all," and take him
in. The sailor who grabbed at him first, missed him, and the boat shot
ahead of him, which rendered it necessary for her to turn and pull back a
short distance before she could rescue him. This done, he was flung into
the bottom of the cutter, and the pursuit renewed. By this time the
dug-out had gotten even a better start than she had had at first, and the
two fugitive sailors, encouraged by the prospect of escape, were paddling
more vigorously than ever. Fast flew the dug-out, but faster flew the
cutter. Both parties now had their blood up, and a more beautiful and
exciting moonlight race has not often been seen. We had watched it from
the _Alabama_, until in the gloaming of the night, it had passed out of
sight. We had seen the first manoeuvre of the halting, and pulling back
of the cutter, but did not know what to make of it. The cutter began now
to come up again with the chase. She had no musket on board, or in
imitation of the _Alabama_, she might have "hove the chase to," with a
blank cartridge, or a ball. When she had gotten within a few yards of her,
a second time, in went the paddles again, and overboard went the other
negro! and away went the dug-out! A similar delay on the part of the
cutter ensued as before, and a similar advantage was gained by the
dug-out.
But all things come to an end, and so did this race. The cutter finally
captured the dug-out, and brought back Tom Bowse and Bill Bower to their
admiring shipmates on board the _Alabama_. This was the only violation of
neutrality I was guilty of, in Port Royal--chasing, and capturing a
neutral craft, in neutral waters. My excuse was, the same that Wilkes
made--she had contraband on board. I do not know whether Commodore Dunlap
ever heard of it; but if he had complained, I should have set-off the
rescuing of two of her Majesty's colored subjects from drowning, against
the recapture of my own men. The fact is, the towns-people, themselves,
were responsible for all these disorders. They had made heroes of all my
fellows, and plied them with an unconscionable number of drinks. Every
sea-port town has its sailor quarter, and this in the good old town of
Kingston was a constant scene of revelry, by day as well as by night,
during the stay of the _Alabama's_ liberty men on shore. There was no end
to the "break-downs," and "double-shuffles," which had been given in their
honor, by the beaux and belles of Water Street. Besides my own crew, there
were always more or less English man-of-war sailors on shore, on liberty
from the different ships, and upwards of a hundred had been landed from
the _Hatteras_. It was quite remarkable that in these merry-makings, and
debaucheries, the Confederate sailors and the Yankee sailors harmonized
capitally together. They might frequently be seen arm and arm in the
streets, or hob-nobbing together--the Confederate sailor generally paying
the score, as the Yankee sailor's strong box had gone down with his ship,
and his paymaster was rather short of cash. They sailed as amicably
together, up and down the contradance, and hailed each other to "heave
to," when it was time to "freshen the nip," as though the _Alabama_ and
_Hatteras_ had never been yard-arm and yard-arm, throwing broadsides into
each other. In short, my men behaved capitally toward their late enemies.
There was no unmanly exultation over their victory. The most that could be
seen was an air of patronage very delicately put on, as though they would
say, "Well, you know we whipped you, but then you did the best you could,
and there's an end of it."
Among the amusing things that had occurred during my absence in the
Jamaica mountains, was a flare-up, which Captain Blake, my prisoner, had
had with the British Commodore.
The steamer _Greyhound_ had a band of music on board, and as one of the
young lieutenants was an old acquaintance of several of my officers, whom
he had met at Nassau, he ordered the band on the evening after our
arrival, and whilst Captain Blake was still on board the _Alabama_, to
play "Dixie;" which, I may remark, by the way, had become a very popular
air everywhere, as much on account of the air itself, perhaps, as because
of its association with a weak and gallant people struggling for the right
of self-government. Captain Blake chose to construe this little compliment
to the _Alabama_, as an insult to Yankeedom, and made a formal protest to
the British Commodore, in behalf of himself, and the "old flag." Commodore
Dunlap must have smiled, when he read Blake's epistle. He was certainly a
man of humor, for he hit upon the following mode of settling the grave
international dispute. He ordered the offending _Greyhound_, when she
should get up her band, on the following evening, first to play "Dixie,"
and then "Yankee Doodle."
When the evening, which was to salve the Yankee honor, arrived, great was
the expectation of every one in the squadron. The band on board the
_Jason_, flag-ship, led off by playing "God save the Queen," that glorious
national anthem, which electrifies the Englishman, as the Marseilles' hymn
does the Frenchman, the world over. The _Challenger's_ band followed and
played a fine opera air. The evening was still and fine, and the poops of
all the ships were filled with officers. It then came the _Greyhound's_
turn. She first played something unusually solemn, then "Dixie," with
slowness, sweetness, and pathos, and when the chorus
"In Dixie's land, I'll take my stand,
I'll live, and die in Dixie!"
had died away on the soft evening air, such an infernal din, of drums, and
fifes, and cymbals, and wind instruments, each after its fashion, going it
strong upon
"Yankee Doodle Dandy!"
arose, as to defy all description! The effect was electric; the officers
had to hold their sides to preserve their dignity, and--Captain Blake was
avenged. There could be no protest made against this time-honored rogue's
march. It was the favorite tune of the b'hoys, and there the matter had to
end. I have never learned whether Mr. Seward ever called Lord Palmerston
to an account about it, in any one of his "Essays on English
Composition."