No prospect of business--Reduced to straits--Resolve to try a bolder
venture--A new captain and crew shipped--Captain J.--A word of
warning as to him--Departure for the blockaded coast--Arrival in
Texas, but not unscathed.
My mind was now set upon making the attempt, but there were many
obstacles in the way.
My present captain and crew I could not expect to engage with me in
this business; they would therefore have to be paid off, and the
amount of their passage to New Orleans paid to them, and a new
captain and crew for the purpose would have to be engaged, and they
would have to get an advance as customary in blockade running.
I may here say, that the wages paid to seamen and officers when
running the blockade was at the highest rate of ordinary wages, and,
besides this, there was a bonus for the trip, varying from 100
dollars to 500 dollars, according to position and the nature of the
trip. One half of this bonus was paid in advance, the other half
when the voyage was successfully terminated.
Besides this advance to the crew, there would be export duties on the
cargo to pay, and a good outfit for the vessel, in the way of
provisions and other stores, such as cordage to make everything
sufficiently strong to stand crowding of sail, or to replace anything
if carried away or cut by a shot.
As this would require more money than I could command without selling
the cargo, and, as there was no possibility of obtaining a loan on
any terms, I concluded to accept an offer which had been made to me
by a gentleman at Brownsville.
This offer was by no means an advantageous one, but it was the best
that had been made, and about the best I could do under the
circumstances.
It was that I should sell to him one half of the vessel and cargo for
a certain sum. He to pay me one fourth of this sum in cash, and the
balance in four months or after the first voyage was made, he of
course paying half of the disbursements of the voyage.
The first voyage was to be through the blockade into Texas, and the
cargo consigned to a merchant in Houston, who would furnish in
exchange a cargo of cotton, and he would appoint a man to go in the
vessel as a supercargo to represent him and his interests.
In this agreement it will be seen, that the risk fell almost entirely
upon me, but the vessel and cargo were put at a pretty high value.
The principal object now was to get a suitable captain and crew, and
this was a matter of much difficulty. I would have undertaken to
navigate the vessel myself, if I could have got a crew, but no crew
would engage to serve under me in such a dangerous service, from the
notion that I was not an experienced seaman.
Several of the masters of the vessels alongside had expressed to me
their desire and ambition to become master of a blockade runner, but
somehow when it came to the point there was hesitation, and something
always came in the way.
When I paid off my old captain and crew, one of the latter, named
Ned, the most intelligent and best seaman among them, offered to go
with me as mate, if I would take the command myself. This I would
have done, but I found it impossible to get a crew.
In the meantime a captain of a barque which lay outside of the bar
waiting for cargo called upon me. He said that his mate, whom he had
engaged at New Orleans, had a great desire to become master of a
blockade runner, and, that situated as his vessel was, he had no wish
to stand in his way if a chance offered. He also said that for
several reasons he gave me, he wished to reduce the expenses of the
ship. He could, therefore, spare the mate if he wished to go, and
even one or two of the hands.
I asked him about the mate's character. He said that he had not been
very long with him, and could not say very much about him, but had
nothing against him, and thought he would be suitable for my purpose.
I was very wishful to get away from the place, and had few men to
choose from, and I desired to see the man.
On the following day the mate came to see me. He was a stout,
powerful built man, a native of Cork in Ireland, but had been some
years in New Orleans. He looked like a sober man, and had rather a
gentlemanly address. On entering into the subject with him, he gave
me very good reasons for his desire to engage in the business, and
seemed to understand what would be required of him.
I engaged him, and he promised to join the vessel on the following
day, and to bring one or two hands with him.
My new captain, whom I will call Captain J., joined the vessel as
arranged, and brought with him two men; but very shortly after he
joined, my former mate, Ned, declined to proceed in the vessel, and
asked as a favour for his discharge. He did not ask for his passage
to New Orleans but only wages, which I paid him. I pressed him for
his reasons for leaving the vessel, but he would give no other reply
than that he would have gone if I had taken the command myself.
Captain J. then said there was a young man on board of the barque who
had a great desire to get on. He was a most active and able seaman,
and understood most thoroughly all the practical parts in the
management of a vessel. Although he did not know anything of
navigation, but he would make an excellent mate if I would engage him.
As I knew I could navigate the vessel myself, if anything happened to
the captain, I agreed to this, and the young man joined the vessel as
mate.
Two other men and a cook were picked up, and new articles drawn out
and signed by the men.
In running the blockade it was not the custom--when it could be
avoided--to clear for the blockaded port, but for some port beyond,
or in the direction of the blockaded port. This was to facilitate
the clearance, but it did not make the voyage any safer, as the
Yankees took note of every vessel which had run the blockade, and
would seize her no matter what port she was cleared for, if she was
any way for the direction of a blockaded port.
In this case the _Rob Roy_ had not yet run the blockade, and I
cleared for New Orleans, intending that place as a back door and as a
last resource, to go there, if we found we could not get into any of
the Texas ports, and while we were on the direct course for New
Orleans, we would sail past the blockaded Texas ports, and run in if
a chance offered.
About the time the crew were got on board, some cases of yellow fever
were reported at Bagdad, and as it was always best to get a new
shipped crew out of harm's way, a pilot was engaged, and the vessel
taken out over the bar and anchored in the open roads. This was near
the end of August and there was scarcely a breath of wind.
I went up to Matamoras to get the clearance completed, and whilst I
was there I called upon a gentleman--a Mr. B.--whom I had been
acquainted with in New Orleans, and whose wife had lately come from
that city to join her husband in Matamoras.
Mrs. B. said she had been wanting to see me, and asked me about the
man I had engaged as captain. If I knew much about him? I said I
did not. She said she had come as passenger from New Orleans on the
barque on which he was mate, and she rather thought I had committed
an error in employing him; however, she said she might be mistaken,
but she would advise me to be on my guard.
This was not very pleasing news to me, knowing as I did, the
arbitrary powers which were vested in captains of such vessels in
these parts at that time, and it was a very difficult matter to
change a captain.
I thanked her, however, and said I would be on my guard, wondering if
the captain of the barque had recommended him to me because he wished
to get rid of him, and whether this was the cause of Ned's desire to
leave the vessel, as it was evident that he knew something of Captain
J.
It also turned out that the young man whom Captain J. recommended to
me for mate was his own brother-in-law, but this was natural.
When I got back to the vessel, I found all pleasant enough. Mr. P.,
the person appointed by my partner to act for him, had joined her.
The captain had been mostly on shore, but the mate had been very
industrious in overhauling the rigging and getting everything in
order and ready for sea.
After lying here about a week, during which it was nearly a dead
calm, a light, steady breeze sprang up from the south-east, and we
set sail.
About two days after leaving the Rio Grande, Captain J. was taken
seriously ill with fever, and it was supposed that while on shore the
few days before leaving, he had caught the yellow fever at Bagdad.
Myself, Mr. P., and some of the crew, having already had that
disease, were in no danger, but those who had not yet had it were
warned to keep forward.
After the captain was laid up, having instruments of my own, and
knowing the rates of the chronometer, I took charge of the navigation
of the vessel myself.
The mate did very well in handling the vessel, but he was a little
proud of his position, and somewhat pugnacious and tyrannical with
the men, except those which had come with him from the barque.
I soon observed that there was a division among the men; the two
which had come from the barque were of one party and were hand and
glove with the mate; the other two picked up at Matamoras were by
themselves and kept quiet.
The cook--a burly Englishman with a broken nose--who delighted in the
sobriquet of "Chesshire Bob," was neutral, delighted in his grog, and
when he got that on board he cared neither for the mate nor any one
else.
I had learned before leaving the Rio Grande that there was no war
vessel constantly anchored off the mouth of the Brazos River, but two
very fast sailing vessels cruised off the mouth--the one a barque,
and the other a three-masted schooner, both armed with long-range
guns. Whilst about eight steam vessels, frigates and gunboats, were
anchored off Galveston, one of which took a cruise every day along
the Texas coast to the westward.
We had been out five days tacking against the light head winds, and I
found our longitude to be about ten miles west of the mouth of Brazos
River. We had just tacked off shore and were standing out to sea
again, the weather was a little thick and there had been a light
squall and a shower of rain. When that cleared off there suddenly
appeared a sail to the eastward and from the quickness of her motions
it was easy to see that she was a man-of-war. To think of keeping
out of her way was useless, I accordingly ordered the vessel to be
kept on her course, hoisted the colours and luffed up a little, to
meet the war vessel as if desirous to speak.
She was a three-masted schooner and bore quickly down upon us, and
ordered us to heave to.
We luffed up and hauled the jib to windward. She passed under our
lee, and rounded to with her guns bearing upon us. She hailed us.
"Where are you from?"
"From the Rio Bravo," answered the mate.
I told the mate to stand aside, that I would speak to them.
"How can you be from that river and it blockaded"; but before I had
time to reply another voice cried out--
"How much cotton have you got?"
"We have no cotton," I replied.
"You have come out from Brazos River and have no cotton. How is
that?"
"You have mistaken the name," said I. "We are from the Rio Bravo in
Mexico, better known as the Rio Grande, and bound for New Orleans
with part return cargo."
"I must board you," said the officer.
They were soon alongside; the whole boat's crew jumped on deck, and
the officer came aft.
"You will want to see our papers," said I.
"Yes," said he, "and your cargo too."
The hatches were taken off, and the men went down and inspected the
hold, and reported to the officer what cargo was there.
The officer put some questions to me about the cargo. I said I had
bought it at New Orleans about three months previous, and had been on
a trading voyage to British Honduras and Mexico, and had sold part of
it and was returning to New Orleans with the remainder.
"Are you the captain," said he, quickly.
"No, I am the owner. The captain has been taken seriously ill about
three days ago, and as there were several cases of yellow fever at
the Rio Grande, I fear it may be that he has got; therefore I am in
no hurry to get to New Orleans until he has fairly recovered lest we
might be put in quarantine."
"But you can't have a clean bill of health from the Rio Grande if
there is yellow fever there."
"We have," said I, "from the town of Matamoras, but it was after we
got our clean bill of health that it broke out, at Bagdad, at the
mouth of the river; we lay seven days' outside of the bar waiting for
a wind, and the captain was on shore during that time; but if you
will come down to the cabin I will show you our papers."
He came down to the cabin and saw the captain sick in his bunk. He
glanced hurriedly over the papers, and said he would not detain us
longer, ordered the men into the boat and took his leave, and the
vessels soon parted.
What they might have done had all been well with us I do not know;
but I could see plainly that they did not care to have much to do
with a vessel which had a case of yellow fever on board.
The same evening it came on a heavy gale from the south-east, which
caused us to heave to, and we were hove to for about thirty-six hours.
When the gale moderated, and it became clear, I found that we had
been driven to the southward and westward about thirty miles.
From the strong current setting to westward caused by the gale, and
the very light south-easterly winds, the beating up to eastward again
made but slow progress, and we had got to about ten miles west of the
Brazos River, and about twenty-five miles off the coast, when
daylight broke upon us in a dead calm; and there, about four miles to
the south-westwards, lay our friend the three-masted schooner, which
our men had learned from the boat's crew was named the _Kittitinie_.
She lay becalmed and helpless like ourselves, but it was not long
before a boat was seen making towards us, and in a short time the
boat was alongside with an armed crew.
"What! is this the _Rob Roy_ again?" cried the officer.
"It is," said I.
"Why are you still hanging about here?"
"We were driven back about thirty miles in that gale and we are now
working our way up again, and I wish to make the fleet at Galveston,
to get some medicines, that is, if you can't supply us. It looks
like a clear case of the yellow fever that our captain has got, and
if I had the right medicine I could cure him."
"What kind of medicine do you want?"
"Lobelia," said I.
"I am afraid we can't supply you," said he, "but I have no doubt you
will get it at the supply ship at Galveston."
The men had had a long pull in the boat and the morning was hot.
They seemed inclined to rest a little before they started on their
way back. I asked them to come on board, but they declined, and
after a friendly chat they started back to their vessel.
The officer seemed a very good fellow, and somehow I felt half
ashamed of myself to think that I was playing rather a deceitful part
with him, and it was scarcely up to the ideal of blockade running
which I had pictured to myself, and I had a strong inclination to go
straight on to New Orleans.
Still I consoled myself with the reflection that I had told him no
untruth; my plan was to clear for New Orleans and sail for that port,
and if I saw on the way a chance of putting into any of the blockaded
Texas ports to do so; but failing that to continue on to New Orleans,
and it was still undecided which I should do.
He took my word for nothing, but examined everything for himself. It
was certainly a case of yellow fever with the captain, although of a
mild type; but as this often makes fearful ravages among ships'
crews, it was prudent that they should hold aloof from our vessel.
It continued a dead calm all day, and the two vessels lay helpless
with sails flapping in sight of each other.
I would rather they had been a little farther apart, as some of the
men in the boat had said, while in conversation with our men, that
they thought we were worth watching; and I was satisfied that they
were still keeping an eye upon us.
In the Gulf of Mexico, especially near the coast, the currents are
strong and very uncertain. Owing to eddies in the Gulf Stream and
changes of the wind, they are much affected by heavy gales, and
generally continue in the same direction of the gale for several days
afterwards.
When a vessel is lying becalmed it is almost impossible to tell which
way the current is setting, or whether there is any current if there
is no soundings, land marks, or other fixed object, as everything
goes the same way.
In this case I was wishful of knowing whether we were losing ground
and drifting to the westward in the same direction as the late gale
had blown, and there was no difficulty in the way as I saw by the
chart that we were in soundings. We accordingly let down the lead
and found bottom, and on paying out more line I found that we were
drifting rapidly to the westward and of course the war vessel must be
doing the same.
As we dragged the lead along I conceived the idea of slightly
checking our drifting and allow the war vessel to drift away from us,
and thus increase the distance between us without exciting suspicion.
We had on board two sets of old throat halyards, and getting an old
piece of chain about thirty pounds weight, made fast the rope to it
and let it down to the bottom, I knew that this would retard her
drifting considerably, and I soon saw that it did as it brought her
head to the current. She still drifted, but less rapidly, and to
avoid any suspicion of being anchored, we kept shifting the rope to
different parts of the vessel, causing her to swing broadside on or
anyway, as she was doing before and as the war vessel herself was
doing.
By sunset we could plainly see that the distance between the vessels
was considerably increased.
The calm continued, and as soon as it darkened down, we got another
rope and let down another weight, so as to anchor her completely, and
as there was not a breath of wind throughout the night when day broke
the war vessel was out of sight.
Throughout the whole of the following day it continued a dead calm,
and we remained stationary, and getting a good observation I was
enabled to determine our position minutely, and found we were about
thirty miles S.S.W, of the mouth of Brazos River, and with anything
like a good breeze we could make it easily in six hours; and we knew
that the war vessel must be a good long way to the westward, and it
was almost impossible that she could get up in time to intercept us.
We knew that there was another war vessel, a barque, but she
generally kept further out to sea, and it was probable that during
the calm she might have also been carried to the westward by the
current.
Nothing could be more favourable for us now if we had only a breeze,
but it continued calm until sunset, when a breeze sprang up from the
south-east, and the opportunity had come.
The whole coast being level prairie, and the line of beach being
unbroken, there was no conspicuous landmarks to mark the mouth of the
river, and it was a little difficult at sea to make it out, and no
one on board, with the exception of Mr. P., had ever been there. He
had been sea sick nearly all the time, but was now a little better,
and we depended upon him to point out the mouth of the river.
There was a sand-bar as usual off the mouth of the river, the channel
through which was somewhat crooked, and required a pilot. There was
a pilot at the place who could take over at all times vessels drawing
six feet of water or less, but it would be impossible to get him
during the night.
It was, therefore, resolved to run in and get within four or five
miles of the coast about daybreak, and when the mouth of the river
was made out we could make for it.
The great object was to make a good landfall, as a bad landfall often
proved fatal to blockade runners.
We took in the upper sails, put a reef in the mainsail and foresail,
so as to run in under easy sail. This would time us better in making
our landfall, and also make us less easy to be seen from a distance.
This done we got in our temporary anchors--which were already
dragging by the breeze--and proceeded, keeping a good luff, to allow
for the leeway made by shortened sail, and also to keep us well to
windward of the mouth of the river.
Just before daybreak we found we were in seven fathoms of water.
This was well, and just as we wanted, and we kept on.
[Illustration: A UNITED STATES GUN-BOAT.]
When daylight broke the forts, which had been recently erected at the
mouth of the river, could be plainly seen about five or six miles
distant, and we were well to windward of them, but the breeze was
light, and there was a slight haze over the water. No vessel was in
sight.
We shook the reefs out of the mainsail and foresail, and was getting
nearer to the forts, with all eyes turned in that direction, when the
haze lifted, and the alarm was given of a steamer to the eastward
close on.
Sure enough, about four miles to the eastward was a gun-boat bearing
down upon us, and before we had gone much farther there was a gun
from her warning us to heave to. The shot, however, fell a long way
short of us.
With the exception of myself no one on board had had any experience
in that sort of thing, and the men looked at me and hesitated.
I told them there was not the least danger. From the distance the
shot had fallen from us, it was impossible they could hit us before
we got out of their reach. We were about the same distance from the
forts as the gunboat was from us, and they would not venture to come
much nearer the forts or into the shallow water, and I suggested to
the mate to set the maintop-mast-staysail and gaff-topsail; and we
would soon be beyond their reach.
Just then another gun was fired from the steamer, which came much
nearer to us, but still fell short. This was followed by several
others, one or two of which came pretty near us, and the crew were
hesitating a little, when I was rejoiced to see the pilot's little
boat dancing on the tops of the waves a short distance ahead. This
reassured them, and we steered straight for her, and soon had the
pilot and his man on board, and their boat towing astern.
The pilot was the very personification of an old, weather-beaten tar.
He was an Englishman, and was exceedingly proud of his nationality.
He wore a sou'wester, and his weather-beaten face was ribbed like the
sea sand, and a grizzled beard curled round his mouth in round tufts
exactly like barnacles, and he might well be called an old man of the
sea.
When he came on board he immediately ordered the gaff-topsail and
main-topmast-staysail to be set, and directed the steersman; then,
addressing all hands, he said: "I am pilot here; all vessels while
crossing this bar, or under these forts, are under my command. My
name is Lyon; I am Lyon by name and lion by nature; the British Lion
they call me here, so now the British lion has got you in charge, and
you are out of all danger."
We were, however, not quite so sure of that, the wind had got very
light, and though the upper sails had increased her speed, her
progress was not very great. The gunboat was still approaching and
continuing to fire, her shot coming pretty close up, the pilot
assuring us that she could come no closer in.
We had just entered the channel of the bar when a recochetting shot,
after striking the water several times, and sending the spray all
over us, struck the vessel under the counter, about the water-line.
Is she making water? was the question. No appearance of water. All
right.
We now saw the gunboat haul off and stand out to sea again, the
breeze freshened a little, and we soon crossed the bar and were into
the Brazos River.
The pilot said that the orders were that no vessels should lie near
the forts, and that he would take us about three miles up the river,
where we would be hid by the woods.
Of course there was a good deal of excitement at getting in; all
hands were of course elated. Some people on the banks of the river
were waving their handkerchiefs by way of congratulation, and the
pilot, who was the hero of the hour, replied to them by setting forth
how that the British lion had brought us in in defiance of the
Yankees and their guns.
I now imagined that the worst of my troubles were over. I little
thought my troubles were just going to begin.
For some distance up from the beach there was no trees, and the river
flowed through an open prairie, but about three miles up from the
mouth the forest began.
As we got near the woods the wind became very light, but it blew
nearly fair up the river, and a bend in the river caused us to change
tack by jibing.
Very shortly after changing tack we found that the vessel was leaking
very badly, and on examination we found that the water was rushing
into her hold.
The shot had struck the vessel on the starboard side, and she being
then on the starboard tack, the list which she had to port, kept the
shot-hole above water, but as soon as she went on the port tack the
list to starboard, small as it was, brought the hole down to the
water-line, and the water rushed in, and as she settled deeper it
came in faster.
The pilot knew of a shallow part on one side of the river where there
was a sandbank, and on to this the vessel was run, not a moment too
soon, as her hold was nearly half full of water, and she was settling
down fast.
She was now careened over so as to get at the damage.
The ball had not gone through her, but being spent in its force, and
coming in a line nearly fore and aft with the vessel, it had struck
her in a slanting direction, splintering the plank, denting one of
the timbers, and glancing off.
A quantity of tarred oakum was stuffed into the wound, and a piece of
strong tarred canvas nailed securely over all, and the leak stopped.
The pumps were now set to work, and in a few hours the water was
pumped out and the vessel floated off the bank.
It was now late in the day, and we moved to a suitable part of the
river, where we made fast to the bank to lay up for the night, and
give the crew some rest, of which they stood in need.
We had to proceed up the river about thirty miles to a place called
Columbia, which was the port of the Brazos River, and from which
place there was a railroad to Houston.
I now settled with the pilot, paying him his pilotage, and presenting
him with a bottle of rum and a little coffee, which greatly pleased
the old man, as such things were now great rareties in the
Confederate States. He said it would remind him of good old British
times. He added that he had served in the British Navy some forty
years previous.
He took his leave, telling us to be of good cheer, that the British
lion was with us, and we would soon recover, in spite of the Yankees,
all the damage done by that shot.
I now began to survey the amount of damage done to the cargo, and
found that several large cases of matches were entirely destroyed,
several small chests of tea, a good many sacks of coffee--the latter
an article highly prized and in great demand. The rest of the cargo,
consisting of barrels of salt pork, crates of earthenware, nails, and
ironmongery, was not much damaged, but the loss was considerable,
straitened as I was in circumstances.
Of course such a thing as insurance on either vessel or cargo was at
those times never thought of.
The Brazos River was a larger and finer river than the Rio Grande; it
was deeper and clearer, less tortuous, and flowed in more of a
valley, with the banks on each side, in most places thickly wooded.
There was rather larger tides here than at the Rio Grande, and the
rise and fall could be felt up the river for thirty miles.
On the following day we proceeded up the river with the flood tide,
and continued to work up with the tides, anchoring or making fast to
the bank during the ebb, if the wind was not fair or sufficient to
enable us to stem the current.
The captain, who had now recovered, and was up and moving about, and
seemed to have been a little uneasy at the active part I had been
taking, now began to interfere, and in a somewhat grumbling manner,
asked me how many captains there was to be. One, I said, and if he
now felt himself sufficiently recovered to take the command, I would
have great pleasure in handing over to him the management of the
vessel; but he must allow that the part which I had taken was called
forth by necessity. He allowed that, and said he was now able to
take charge of the vessel.
Although his illness had been no disadvantage to me, but rather
opportune, as it gave me the opportunity of bringing in the vessel
myself, and perhaps had been instrumental in causing the crew of the
cruiser to hold aloof, I was very glad to see him well again, as I
had some fears that a report might arise that a vessel had arrived
with a case of yellow fever on board; and as it was the season of
yellow fever, and it was not in Texas at the time, I did not know
what action might be taken by the authorities.
While going up the river we met two schooners coming down, loaded, on
their way to sea, and they carried such large deck-loads of cotton
that they looked like floating piles of cotton bales. I thought this
scarcely safe, but was told afterwards, and found it to be true, that
flat vessels of broad beam sailed much easier at sea with a deck-load.
At a place called Brayoria we passed a schooner named the
_Catherine_, which had recently been sunk while going up the river by
striking against the wreck of a sunken steamer. A party of men were
working hard endeavouring to raise her. The captain of this vessel
our captain seemed to know, and he inquired for him, but he was not
with her.
We at length got to Columbia, and I went by railway to Houston to see
the consignee and get the vessel entered.
The distance from Columbia to Houston was something over thirty-five
miles by railway, but the trains were irregular and run only about
twice or three times a week. The rolling stock was much dilapidated,
and the locomotives worn out, and a speed of about fifteen miles per
hour was about the utmost attained. The route was across a level
prairie, on which were feeding large herds of cattle and horses, and
the country in general had the appearance of being very fertile and
finely diversified by clumps of wood here and there.