Outward trip--Going out without a passport--Sail in company with the
_Mary Elizabeth_--Passing close to a gunboat--The strictest silence
enjoined--A cock crowing nearly betrays us--Singular superstition
arising from the incident--Overtaken by a hurricane--More danger from
the seas than the enemies this trip--The _Mary Elizabeth_ never heard
of--Dangerous crossing of the bar at Tampico.
About the 12th of September a good, steady breeze was blowing from
the eastward, which freshened up towards evening. And the chance had
come.
We were well to windward, as we intended to run out by the
south-west, or Swash Channel, as it was called. At the place where
we lay we could see plainly all the blockading fleet and note their
position.
Beyond the shoal which separated this channel from the sea, and very
near to the outer mouth of the channel, lay a gunboat in what we
considered a very bad position for us.
In passing out by this channel the first difficulty was to find it,
where it branched off the main channel. On entering it, it led in a
south-westerly direction, with from eight to nine feet of water, with
the land on the right, and on the left the shoal, which considerably
broke the sea and kept the channel tolerably smooth.
At the western extremity of the shoal the channel opened pretty
suddenly into deep water, and very close to this mouth lay the
gunboat. On the inside, between the gunboat and the shore, there
seemed to be very little room to pass without getting dangerously
close to the breakers, but on the outside of her there was a good
wide space between her and the next vessel, and through which we
might pass; but that tempting opening--which was the widest space in
the whole fleet--might only be a trap shown during the day, while
some of the cruisers which kept steam up and cruised about during the
day might take their place there after dark and be ready to pounce
upon any craft that might have been lured into an attempt to pass
through this wide gate. We, therefore, determined to try the narrow
path.
Everything was got ready, the large boat was hoisted on board and
lodged in a place reserved for it forward of the main-hatchway.
Inside of the boat was placed a large coop or arrangement made for
the poultry to roost upon, among which was a fine cock, to which some
of the men had taken a great fancy, but which was soon afterwards
sentenced to death as a traitor. Into the dingey was stowed some
small packages of cotton, made up for the purpose, to shield the
steersman in case of shots from boats astern. Double reefs were put
in the mainsail and foresail, so that under low canvas we would be
shadowed by the dark loom of the land to leeward.
The wind kept increasing, and in the evening there was a fine, steady
breeze, and the night was dark.
About eight o'clock we raised anchor and proceeded down the bay. We
passed well to the eastward of the wreck of the _Westfield_ and the
guard-boat, keeping the lead going, and taking care to avoid
observation from the Forts. After a little difficulty we found the
entrance to the Swash Channel, and got into nine feet of water, with
the land on the starboard side. All well so far.
Along this channel we steered cautiously. No lights could be used at
the compass; but on entering the channel the course was taken from a
star and regulated by the lead.
With my night-glass I looked out for the gunboat, and I soon
discovered her on the port bow, close on, and well in shore she was,
and there was very little room to pass between her and the breakers.
The wind, however, was a little north of east, and there was not a
great sea on, and the breakers did not sound loud.
As we got towards the end of the shoal the swell from seaward caused
us to keep in the deepest water, and it was evident that we must pass
the gunboat very close. The night was dark, and by the dark loom of
the land beyond there was not so much danger of us being observed;
but the strictest silence was demanded, and orders were passed in an
undertone; and I was uneasy at the noise made by the breaking of the
water from the bow of the vessel, which had now got past the lee of
the reef and into the swell of the open sea, which was causing her to
heave considerably.
We were just coming abreast of the gunboat, and every breath was
hushed, when "Cock-a-leery-lou!" rang out in a loud and clear note
from the hen-coop in the boat amidship.
"Confound that brute," I hissed out, in a rage; "twist its neck."
The order was quickly executed; there was a momentary flutter of
wings, and poor chanticleer had given his last crow.
In a few minutes we had brought the gunboat on our weather-quarter,
and as there was considerable swell, and the breakers close under our
lee, we luffed up and stood off the land a little.
We had not proceeded far when, looking with my night-glass, I
discovered another cruiser on the port bow much larger than the one
we had passed, evidently with steam up and not at anchor, as she was
not riding to the wind like the others.
Hard up and ease off sheets, and we were off before the wind heading
towards the shore, expecting every moment to be fired upon; but we
soon lost her in the darkness, and had just time to luff up and get
sheets hauled in before we reached the breakers, and we now stood a
good distance to the westward before we stood off the land again.
This latter vessel had, no doubt, come up after dark to watch the
wide gap we had observed before sunset between the first and second
vessels on the left wing of the blockading fleet, and had we passed
out through that gap she would most likely have picked us up.
Since we had passed the Confederate guard-boat we had seen nothing of
the _Mary Elizabeth_, though she raised anchor at the same time, and
followed us down the bay; but as we had heard no firing we concluded
that she had got out all right.
The object now was to get as far out to sea as possible before
daylight, and this was the all-important object of a sailing vessel
running the blockade on the outward trip. A steamer could always
depend upon making her distance, but if the wind died away a sailing
vessel was left helpless in the very jaws of the enemy.
There was no doubt but the sleepy hours of the morning was the best
time to pass through the fleet, and were generally taken advantage of
on the inward trip when it could be managed; but on the outward trip
it was necessary to pass out in the fore-part of the night, so as to
get a good offing before daylight.
The danger of capture was not so great from the vessels which
actually blocked the harbour as from those which cruised round in the
immediate vicinity; and a much greater number of vessels were
captured by the cruisers which cruised off the coast and round about
the blockaded ports than by the blockading fleet. Therefore, the
greater distance which could be run from the port during the night,
the greater the expanse of the circle to police and the less chance
of capture.
We were now favoured with a fine, strong breeze, and as soon as we
were satisfied that we were well clear of the patrols, we luffed up
and stood off the coast, took reefs out of the mainsail and foresail,
and set staysail and gaff-topsail.
This was the real cream of blockade running--the first night on the
outward trip, with a good cargo of the valuable cotton; a rattling
breeze, and every stitch of canvas the vessel could stagger under,
neither lights, look-out, or any other precaution thought of, but
dash recklessly on,[1] getting further and further from the
cruiser-infested coast and out to the wide range of the open ocean,
where the wide expanse made cruisers few and far between.
The breeze kept steady, but I did not leave the deck till 4 a.m.,
when I calculated that we would be at least seventy miles from the
coast. I then turned in for a short nap, telling the mate to scan
the horizon well at daybreak, and call me if anything was to be seen.
At daylight the mate called me in something like alarm, saying that a
large sailing vessel was on the weather-quarter, bearing down upon us.
I jumped on deck and examined her with the glass, then, laughing at
the mate, asked him if he did not know the _Mary Elizabeth_.
He said she had got very small in appearance from the time he first
saw her; but when first seen she looked as large as a barque, and
Fred had declared it to be the _John Anderson_, which had chased us
so hard on our last voyage.
I said the _John Anderson_ was long off the station. The reason she
looked so large was the phenomenon of him having seen her at daybreak
directly between him and the rising sun. She was about seven miles'
distant, and as it got lighter it left no doubt that it was the _Mary
Elizabeth_, and I remembered that she was exactly in the same
position when we sailed together last voyage.
I now remembered that Captain Shaeffer would know nothing of the
understanding made at Havana among blockade-running captains; that if
they sighted each other at sea they should stand away from each
other, so as to lessen the danger of both being captured should one
be sighted by a cruiser; and I had forgotten to tell him of it.
The breeze still continued, but it had gone round a little to the
south of east. We had been steering throughout the night about south
to get away from the coast, but our course was about south by west.
So I changed our course to S.S.W., so as to separate us from the
_Mary Elizabeth_, but she followed us on the same course. I then
luffed up to south so that the two vessels would meet, and signalled
to speak. He either did not see or understand the signal, or perhaps
thought that I had seen some danger to the westward and was steering
away from it, for he luffed up also. As I saw I could not make him
understand I kept away on our course, S. by W.
About this time Father Ryan, who I had not seen or noticed since we
left our anchorage, put his head out of the cabin-door.
Father Ryan, who was of Irish birth, proved to be of an exceedingly
good-natured and kind-hearted man. Since he came on board he seemed
to have ingratiated himself with the crew. While in Galveston Bay he
had gone in the boat with them, fishing and gathering oysters--a kind
of food of which he was particularly fond. He was also very wishful
to make himself useful in assisting the men in any work they might be
doing, and was very desirous of learning how to splice or make knots.
"Good morning, Father Ryan," said I, as he looked out. "How have you
passed the night? Have you been sea-sick?"
"Not a bit of it," said he; "I have been very comfortable, thanks to
you."
"When did you turn in?" said I. "I never saw you from the time we
raised anchor."
"I daresay not," said he; "you was too much engaged; but I was on
deck until you hoisted all the sails, and I heard the vessel making
the water fly; but you got out nicely. How far will we be from
Galveston now?"
"Well on to a hundred miles, I should say."
"Oh, that is surely good! What vessel is yon?"
"That is the _Mary Elizabeth_, that sailed along with us."
"Oh, indeed!" said he. "You are beating her."
"Not much; the two vessels are much on a par as to sailing."
"Well," said he, looking around, contemplatively, "is not this
wonderful! grand! beautiful! Captain, when you look around on that
great expanse of ocean, with these large, blue waves with their white
crests dazzling so beautifully in the morning sun, does it not remind
you of the grandeur and purity of God's works?"
"It does, most truly, Father Ryan," said I, sympathetically, for I
had got so disgusted with the deceitful actions of mankind that I
felt happy at being again on the bosom of the honest ocean.
"Great ocean!" he went on, moralizing, "man can change the face of
the land, he can build cities, harbours, railroads, clear away
forests, and make the desert blossom as the rose; but the sea he
cannot change; it remains the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever."
I had just taken an altitude of the sun, and went below with the
sextant and slate, while Father Ryan made his way forward to where
the men were at breakfast, crawling over the cotton bales on his
hands and knees.
When I came on deck again, Hagan, who was at the wheel, said to me--
"Captain, what do you think old George would have done if he had been
with us this trip? I swear he would never have left Galveston with
us."
"How so?"
"Why! with both a priest and a cat on board."
"Why, what harm is there in either?"
"Oh! none that I know of; but I know George would not have gone with
us."
"We could have given the vessel a list to port," said I, "and that
would have outbalanced priests and cats and everything else with
George; but these are old and foolish superstitions."
"Oh, I know that," said he; "and I am sure I don't believe in them;
and I was going to say, what harm could there be in any kind of man
or beast being on board; but I am not so sure of that now."
"Why so?"
"Why, what did you think of that cock last night trying to give the
alarm just as we were passing close to the Yankee gunboat?"
"What is there supernatural in that?" said I. "It is a very natural
thing for a cock to crow when he is wakened out of his sleep. I
would have considered it more supernatural if he had held his tongue
till we were past the gunboat."
"It would have been better for him, any how; for natural or not, I
made short work of him."
"Was it you that killed him?" said I.
"It was; and just as he was flapping his wings to give another crow."
"It is a pity you killed him," said I. "If you could have thrown a
bag or something of that kind over him it would have stopped him."
"You cried out to twist his neck, and there was no time to think over
it."
Breakfast being ready, the cook had called Father Ryan, and as there
were no supercargoes now on board, only Father Ryan, myself, and the
mate sat down to breakfast.
"Captain," said Father Ryan, "I hear you have been committing murther
last night."
"How is that, Father Ryan?"
"Why, in killing that nice rooster."
"Well, yes; it was a pity; it was done on the spur of the moment; but
they might have heard him on the gunboat, and that would have led to
our capture."
"Oh, that it would!" said he. "It was such a loud crow; but is it
not a very strange thing that he should have given the alarm just as
we were passing the gunboat? Had it been the usual time to crow, it
would have been quite natural, but it was not yet nine o'clock, and
it is something unnatural for a cock to crow at that hour."
"That is what I find strange about it," said the mate. "I am not
superstitious, but it does look strange; and it was a very unusual
time for a cock to crow, and just at the moment he could betray us."
"That is what the crew are all saying," said Father Ryan. "You told
me, Captain, that your crew were not superstitious, but they are all
talking much about it, as ominous of bad luck for the voyage; and
they are a little downcast. Hagan maintains that the devil had got
on board in the form of a cock, but that he had done for him, anyhow.
I told them that they should not indulge in those foolish
superstitions, that all such things just happened by chance in the
ordinary course of things."
"Well," said I, laughing, "it is astonishing to see how people can
manufacture a mysterious affair out of the most commonplace event.
There is nothing more easily accounted for than the cock crowing at
the time it did. That it was not the usual time for cocks to crow is
true enough, but cocks will crow at any time if they are awakened out
of their sleep. Now the fowls had all roosted and gone to sleep
before we left our anchorage, and you will remember when we got past
the reef and got into the open sea the heavy swell coming past the
end of the reef caused the vessel to make several heavy lurches?"
"Oh, I remember that," said Father Ryan. "I was standing in the
companion, and was nearly thrown down the cabin-stair."
"Well," continued I, "I was standing near the fore-rigging, and heard
the fluttering of the fowls in the boat as they were thrown from
their perches by the rolling of the vessel, and as the rolling
subsided a little, and just as we approached the gunboat, the cock
having got on to his perch again, naturally began to crow."
"Oh, well, now that explains the whole matter entirely," said Father
Ryan; "and I am so glad, and I will soon set the men's minds at rest,
for nothing could be more natural."
The mate now laughed, and said that accounted for it exactly; and he
seemed greatly relieved in his mind.
"Well now," continued Father Ryan, "does not that show that many
things which happen, and are thought mysterious and supernatural and
sometimes create superstition in the minds of weak people, might be
easily explained if the real causes were known."
Breakfast being over, Father Ryan hastened to explain to the crew the
cause of the apparent mysterious affair, which he succeeded in doing,
as soon could be seen from their laughing and bantering each other
for having entertained serious misgivings in the matter.
Throughout this day the breeze continued, but got gradually lighter,
and hauled more round to the southward, which caused us to head more
to the westward, but we saw nothing the whole day except the _Mary
Elizabeth_, which still kept in sight, though luffing up and standing
more to the southwards.
On the following day the wind was light, and nearly due south. The
_Mary Elizabeth_ was not in sight, which I was glad of, but we could
only hold a course about S.W. by W., and as we could do no better, I
thought of getting west, near to the coast of Mexico. For although I
knew that the current from the south would be stronger against us
there, yet I knew that if once south of the Rio Grande we would be
more out of the way of cruisers on that coast.
For several days the winds were very light, and from the south, and
we made but slow progress, constantly keeping a look-out from the
mast-head for cruisers; but we only saw one, which, being observed in
time, all sails were taken down, and she passed about ten miles to
the northward without observing us.
At last we got south of latitude 25° and longitude 96°, and we
considered that we were now out of the most frequented track of the
cruisers, but still they might be met anywhere.
The wind was exceedingly light and baffling, varying about a point to
the east or west of south, while the current of the Gulf Stream from
the south was so strong that we could scarcely hold the southing we
had made.
For one or two days it seemed that we could not get out of the spot
we were in.
About the eighth day out we again sighted the _Mary Elizabeth_. She
was just in about her old position from us--about eight miles to the
eastward--and she seemed to be pursuing the same tactics as ourselves.
The same day it fell dead calm, and about noon a large circle was
observed round the sun of a purple colour, which some of the men
declared indicated the approach of a heavy gale, and that we might in
a short time look out for a violent norther. Anything would be a
relief to this suspense, and a norther would be welcomed if it did
not come too severe.
As it was about dead calm, sails were taken down, and every strop,
hook, and cringle examined and made as secure as possible. Flying
jib and small sails stowed, and everything about deck firmly lashed
and made snug. Double reefs put in mainsail and foresail, and single
reef in jib, and sails hoisted again, and we looked for the change in
the weather.
We did not have long to wait. About 3 p.m. the sky darkened all
round, and by 4 p.m. it was fearfully dark, the sky to the northward
being black as ink. There was now no mistake but that we were going
to have a heavy gale, but whether it was going to be a West India
hurricane or a Texas norther we did not know.
It was not just yet the season for the regular northers, but there
were often in those latitudes heavy gales about the equinox which
sometimes took the form of northers, and blew with great violence,
but they were generally of short duration, and might be said to be
something between the Texas norther and the West India hurricane.
There could now be seen under the black cloud to the northward what
appeared to be snow hillocks on the horizon, which soon spread out,
and was coming towards us. This of course was the sea lashed into a
foam by the fury of the wind, but still not a breath of wind had
reached us, and the vessel still rolled in a dead calm.
It soon came on, however, direct from the north, and first a few
drops of rain struck the vessel, and then the cold wind which
indicated, to all appearance at least, it was a norther. It struck
the vessel with such violence that I thought it would have torn the
masts out of her before she gathered headway.
I was not sure how the _Rob Roy_ would lay to under a close-reefed
foresail, and I determined, as the wind was fair for us, to make the
best of it, and scud before it.
The vessel was now rushing through the water at a great rate, but
when the full force of the gale came up it struck her with such
violence that it seemed as it would tumble her stern overhead.
"Get the mainsail off her," I cried.
This was easier said than done. The sheet had been eased off to run
before the wind, and the belly of the sail was pressing against the
shrouds, and with the awful force of the wind it was impossible to
move it. To ease her in the meantime the peak purchase was cast off,
and the peak dropped. This did ease her a little, but the gale kept
increasing in violence, and the mainsail must come off her.
To handle such a large sail in such a tempest was no easy task, and
as the boom was eased off it must be got aboard. No strength could
haul it in against the force of such wind; the vessel must be rounded
to.
"Hard down your helm!" was the word. The helm was put hard down, but
the peak having been dropped she would not come up, but rushed along
in the trough of the sea with the full force of the hurricane on her
beam. That she did not lose her masts or capsize showed great
strength and stability.
"Let go the jib halliards." This was done and the jib hauled down.
This had the desired effect, and she came up into the wind. The fore
sheet was hauled in, and she was held up till the main sheet could be
hauled in, the sail lowered and stowed securely.
[Illustration: MIDNIGHT IN A HURRICANE.]
The gale had now become terrific, and the wind being directly against
the current of the Gulf Stream, the waves rose very fast and to a
great height. While we had the vessel thus rounded to, we thought to
try if she would lay to in the gale, but the seas having got to a
great height, and coming with great force, and the vessel having such
a light hold on the water, she was thrown back stern on with every
wave, causing her to fall heavily on her rudder, which I feared might
be carried away; we thought it best to scud before the wind under a
close reefed foresail.
The last reef was then put in the foresail, the jib tack hauled to
windward, and part of the jib run up. She payed off quickly, and
bounded off before the wind. The jib was then taken down and cleared
so as to be run up quickly in case of necessity.
She now scudded along beautifully, but the wind increased far beyond
our imagination, and was something appalling, but it did not vary a
point in its direction. We steered about due south; everything
depended upon the steersman; to have broached to would have been
destruction.
The night was very dark, and the terrible roaring of the wind and the
hissing of the spray off the tops of the waves seemed at times high
over our heads. No one sought to sleep that night; the men were
gathered aft, where they stood in silence with their eyes alternately
upon the foresail and the man at the helm. Sometimes the silence
would be broken by the expression--"Well, that is blowing pretty
stiff."
Up till midnight all went well enough, but there was no abatement of
the gale; it was rather increasing, and the seas were breaking more.
Our only fears were for the foresail splitting.
About 1 a.m. a tremendous sea caused the vessel to yaw a little, and
the foreboom jibed from starboard to port like the shot of a cannon,
and as she recovered herself it jibed back again with the same force.
This was dangerous work, as each time it struck against the
fore-shrouds, and might have carried them away. I went with the mate
to examine, but found no harm done. The fore-sheet, which worked in
a traveller on deck, was taut as a bar, although the boom was
pressing hard against the shrouds. Thinking to ease the boom off the
shrouds a little, we got all hands to try a pull on the fore-sheet,
but such was the pressure of the wind on the sail that we could not
gain an inch. To have put a back tackle on the boom to prevent it
jibing would have been madness. So the hauling part of the sheet was
made fast to the block at the traveller, and the boom allowed to have
its play, and every one warned to keep out from the sweep of the
boom, as one blow from it would have sent them beyond hail.
Shortly after this the boom jibed again with a loud report, and as
quickly jibed back again, but in jibing back the jaw rope parted, and
the boom unshipped from the mast, and lay across ship, with one end
pressing against the mast, and the other against the fore-shrouds.
This was a bad state of things, but it was impossible to do anything
with it, as such was the force of the wind, and the boom adrift and
flying about, that it was dangerous to go near it.
It was evident that we were going to lose the foresail, and as our
last resource we must try and get the jib upon her; but just as the
men were trying to get forward to loose the jib a tremendous sea came
rolling up astern, and a large body of water, detached from the top
of it by the fury of the wind, fell on board right amidships, filling
the large boat with water, and causing the vessel to reel over almost
on her beam ends. She quickly recovered herself again, and
singularly and fortunately the sudden jerk started the foreboom from
where it lay pressing against the mast and shrouds, and shipped it
back into its place again. Lucky event!
"Well done, _Rob Roy_!" shouted the mate, as he seized a short piece
of rope used as a stopper and darted forward to secure the boom in
its place. I was quickly with him with more hands, warning them to
keep forward of the mast out of the sweep of the boom. The rope was
quickly passed round the neck of the boom, and brought round the mast
to hold it in its place till a new jaw rope was got ready, when as
many of the purls as could be picked up were strung upon it, and it
was rove in its place, and the boom was all right again.
The vessel was now found to be staggering under the weight of the
large boat full of water on deck. This must be emptied out; to bail
it out would be dangerous work, as the boat was just under the sweep
of the fore-boom. The mate remembered that there was a large plug in
the boat, but the stopper was in. We tried to get the stopper out,
but there were difficulties in the way. It could not be got at from
the outside for the deck-load, and the fowls having been all used up,
the hen coop had been broken up, and an empty water-cask placed in
the boat where it had been. This water-cask was right over the
stopper, and the foreboom was just above the water-cask, so that it
could not be moved.
The water-cask must be sacrificed. A hammer was got, and the cask
knocked to pieces, and the mate, to avoid a stroke of the boom,
sprawled along in the water, dived down and withdrew the stopper, and
the water rushed out, and very soon the vessel was relieved of that
unsteady top weight, and she bounded on all right again.
The gale had now reached its height, but still blew steady from the
same point, and we began to imagine that it was abating a little.
As daylight began to appear we observed a small slit in the foresail,
which, on being examined from the back or lee side of the sail, was
found to be one of the seams which was just beginning to open. A
piece of strong canvas was got, which, with a bent needle, was
stitched strongly over the back of the place to help it a little.
When daylight broke clear the scene was truly grand. The most
experienced man on board had never seen such a sea, but though the
waves were tremendous high it could not be called a dangerous cross
chop of a sea. It was perfectly regular, and if from our position in
it we could not afford to call it sublimely beautiful, we had at
least to admit that it was grand and awful.
It seemed like a succession of mountain ridges perfectly straight and
parallel to each other, rolling furiously in one direction, and
between each a level plain about an eighth of a mile wide covered
with white foam. This, I presume, was caused by the violent gale
blowing steady from one point directly against the Gulf Stream.
About half-past seven the gale had somewhat abated, and soon after
the cook managed to have some breakfast ready. Father Ryan, who had
been on deck the greater part of the night, was now gazing steadily
upon the scene.
"What do you think of that gale, Father Ryan?" said I.
"Awful! truly awful," said he. "What kind of a gale do you call
that? Is that a hurricane?"
"It blows hard enough for one," said I, "although it is too steady
from one point for that. I think it is a sort of equinoctial
norther. What do you think of that sea?"
"Oh, that is terrible," said he. "I would not think it safe for a
small vessel like this."
"Many would think the same, and it is hard enough upon her, but she
is buoyant, and rises finely upon it, and has come through it very
well so far, and the worst is now past, for the gale has about spent
itself."
"Oh, yes," said he, "it is calming down now, but when I looked out
upon that awful sea this morning and thought of the calm sea of
yesterday, I said, 'Surely awful are the works of the Almighty, and
how suddenly He can send on the calmest sea such a storm as will
raise it into angry mountains, and yet with the same hand He can
guide safely through it a small, helpless vessel like this.'"
I agreed with him, and said we ought to be grateful.
By 9 a.m. the gale had much abated, and the morning, which up till
now had been dark and cloudy, began to clear up, and soon after the
sun broke through, and I got an observation, and assuming our
latitude, found our longitude to be about 97° 20', which placed us
about thirty miles from the coast of Mexico.
We now got more sail upon the vessel, and soon after we observed that
the northerly wind of the gale had entirely spent itself, and we were
into a light steady breeze from the eastward, although there was
still a heavy swell from the northward. This indicated that the gale
had not extended much further south, and we were now into the usual
weather again.
The danger from the seas being for the time past, the old standing
danger again cropped up, which was danger from the enemy, and, as we
were now getting near to Tampico, it was exceedingly probable that
some of their cruisers would be hovering in the neighbourhood with
the view of picking up any blockade runner bound for that port. We,
therefore, stood more to the westward, intending to sight the land,
and then crawl down along the coast as we had done last trip.
We now began to wonder how it had fared with the _Mary Elizabeth_,
which must have caught the gale at the same time with us. I knew
that in point of management she would not lack, as she had a master
and crew well experienced in these seas and in the management of this
class of vessels. She was better provided in that respect than the
_Rob Roy_, but she was a smaller vessel, and I knew that her sails
were not of the same strength. We looked in all directions from the
masthead, but could see nothing of her.
As we stood to the westward, we saw something that looked like
wreckage, but on steering towards it we found it to be large trees
floating, which appeared to have been quite recently brought down
some river, indicating that there had been heavy rain and floods in
the northern parts of Mexico.
I may here anticipate, and say that of the _Mary Elizabeth_ nothing
was ever heard. Captain Shaeffer's brother afterwards called upon me
in Havana to get the last and only information that he could ever
obtain, and that was of her being seen by us on the day before the
gale, and I have no doubt but that she foundered in that gale; and
though she was larger, a better sea-boat, better found, and better
managed than a great many of the craft which engaged in that rough
and reckless trade, it was, strange to say, the only instance I ever
knew of one of them being lost at sea. There was no doubt, however,
that the gale, so far as it extended, was the heaviest which had been
for some years.
We soon sighted the land, and at noon I got the latitude, and found
that we were about fifteen miles to the northward of Tampico River,
and we arrived off the mouth of the river about 3 p.m.
We found anchored there two vessels, both schooners. One of them was
just such a vessel as the _Sylvia_, which we had met here six months
before, and, like her, was from St. John with a cargo of lumber for
Tampico. The other was a larger vessel, but she seemed light, as in
ballast, and was anchored further out.
The former vessel we sailed up to and spoke. I cannot now remember
her name, but will call her the _St. John_, as she was from that
port. She had passed to the south of Cuba, and came in from the
eastward, and had experienced nothing of the gale, but judged from
the swell from the northward that there had been a heavy gale in that
direction. They drew about six feet of water, and they wished to
cross the bar and go up to Tampico Town.
The pilot's boat had been off in the morning, but it was impossible
to take them over the bar at that time owing to the very high sea
caused by the heavy swell from the northward, meeting in the channel
the strong current of the Tampico River, which was then very high
owing to great floods in the interior. The pilots had promised,
however, to come out again in the afternoon, when, if the swell had
gone down a little, they would be able to take them over.
As this bar at Tampico is of shifting quicksand, the channel through
it keeps constantly changing, and it is necessary for the pilots to
take soundings regularly--almost every day. It is sometimes very
crooked and difficult to pass through, and if a vessel gets on to the
shoal it is generally a total loss, and if it should be rough weather
it is often attended with the loss of all hands, as no boat can live
in the breakers. The entrance to this channel from seaward was
supposed at this time to be about half a mile to the southward of
where it was when we were here six months before, but it was very
difficult to define the exact place.
As the pilots had promised to take over in the afternoon the _St.
John_, which drew six feet of water, I conceived they could have no
difficulty with the _Rob Roy_, which drew only four feet nine inches.
We, therefore, dropped anchor and signalled for a pilot. After
waiting about an hour there was no appearance of any pilot-boat
coming off, and the sky had suddenly changed, and towards the
north-east looked black and threatening. This was alarming.
Any one who knows anything of Tampico Roads knows what a dangerous
place it is in a heavy north-easterly wind. A very high sea sets in,
and with such violence that no amount of ground-tackling will hold
the vessel; and I have known large steamers with both anchors down
and working propellors at full speed scarcely able to hold against it
and keep off the breakers, while with a sailing vessel it is
impossible to claw off.
As soon as I saw this appearance of a change in the weather I set
about getting the anchor up to try and get out to sea, and I saw the
other vessels doing the same, but it was too late. We had scarcely
got sails set when it was down upon us. We set every bit of canvas,
and gave full centre-board to see if we could weather the reefs to
the southward, but we soon saw that we could not clear them on that
stretch, and we tacked and stood to the northward as far as we could
reach for the breakers, and then stood back to try again to weather
the reefs to the southward; but to our dismay we found that we had
not gained an inch, and the sea was now getting up and throwing us
more to leeward, and we saw that the other two vessels were not
making any more of it than ourselves.
This was something terrible to realize so suddenly and unexpected.
To leeward and on each side was the shoals which hemmed us in, and on
them the mountainous waves broke with great fury; to windward was the
threatening clouds which betokened a heavy gale, and coming it was
with certainty, and not the slightest chance of a lull or change in
the wind, and night coming on. The gale did not come on with such
violence as on the previous day, but it mattered little in the
position we were in; it was sufficient to bring on our destruction,
and that with certainty and in a very short time, and what would we
not have given for the same sea room we had last night, even with the
gale in all its fury.
What to do I did not know. The men looked at me, but no one spoke.
I pointed to the deck-load of cotton.
"Men," said I, "the charge of every life is mine. Do you think it
would help us any to throw over that deck-load? If you think so, we
will throw it over at once."
"It will do no good," they cried out together; "it eases her aloft
and gives her a better hold on the water; and if at last we go on the
bar there is a chance of saving our lives by clinging to bales of
cotton."
"Then," said I, "we cannot claw off. The gale is increasing, night
is upon us, and, do our best, we will be in these breakers before an
hour. Now, I propose to make an attempt to run the gauntlet. I have
been observing with the glass, and I fancy I see what I take to be
the opening to the channel, and I propose to make the attempt to
cross the bar. I know it is a desperate and dangerous undertaking,
but it is the only chance for our lives. What do you all say?"
"I say try it," said the mate; "it is our only chance."
The men all acquiesced, and said they were ready to obey.
One man then spoke up, and said: "I am ready to leave it to your own
judgment, Captain; but if you take my advice when crossing you will
steer through where you see the highest seas and the bluest water."
"I believe you are right," I said, "and I intend to do so."
Father Ryan, who stood with an expression something between composure
and anxiety on his countenance, looked at me seriously and said, "Try
it, Captain, and may the hand of God guide you."
For once at least in my life, I implored the aid of a higher hand. I
went to the cabin and took the chronometer and cushioned it in one of
the beds, as is usually done in crossing bars, in case of a sudden
touch on the ground shaking it, and, going on deck, told the men that
everything now depended upon their coolness and prompt action.
The greatest difficulty in crossing a bar through a narrow channel
before a heavy sea was to keep the vessel straight in the channel,
and prevent her stern being swung round by the heavy seas rolling up
astern. In placing the men, the first point to be determined was who
was the best steersman. This was accorded to Hagan. To the cook was
assigned the charge of the centre-board, the bar of which being near
the door of the galley he had been accustomed to work, and lower or
raise as required. The mate would take charge aft, with another man
at the peak purchase, and be ready to drop the peak of the mainsail
if a heavy sea rolling up astern swung her stern round; while two men
would be stationed at the jib-sheet to haul to windward and make her
pay off, and I would take my station on the top of the cotton
amidships, and with my glass look out ahead for the best water, and
direct with my hand to the right or left the course to steer. The
helmsman would keep his eye on me and steer by the direction of my
hand. The mate would also be ready to assist the man at the helm, or
to take the helm in case of the steersman being knocked down by a
heavy sea coming over the stern. Father Ryan wished to know where he
could be of service. I directed him to watch the companion doors,
and keep them shut to prevent a sea going down in the cabin.
The most important part was to find the proper entrance to the
channel; and we were now approaching the place which I supposed to be
the entrance, and as soon as it was under our lee the gaff-topsail
was taken in, but everything else was carried full.
Every man now took his place, and I got upon the top of the cotton
with my glass and directed with my hand. As we approached the place,
it looked awful; the waves toppled up like the walls of a fortress.
Sheets were eased off, and under a full pressure of canvas the vessel
rushed at it. She plunged violently, every spar and timber seemed to
quiver. There was evidently a strong current against her, while the
tremendous seas breaking on each side seemed above our heads.
Sometimes I thought we were completely locked in, but still some
higher and bluer waves gave indication of the deepest water.
Sometimes a tremendous sea would come rolling up astern and throw her
stern forward and bring her almost broadside on across the channel;
but the peak would be quickly dropped and jib hauled to windward, and
she payed off again before another sea came, when the same thing was
repeated. We were nearly to the midst of it, but we were not making
fast progress owing to the strong current of the river against us.
This, however, made her steer better, and convinced me that we were
in the right channel; but I feared that the shallowest and
worst-defined part of it would be the end next the shore, and often
the flying spray blinded me and dimmed the glass in my hand so that I
had to keep wiping it with my handkerchief. I could only see ahead
when lifted on the top of a huge wave, as, when that passed on, the
mountain of water shut off for a time the view forward.
I fancied that the water was getting shallower on each side, the
breakers worse, and the channel less defined. When looking forward
my eye caught the shore in the distance, and I saw a Mexican
flag--the pilot's flag--and I saw they were waving directions. First
inclined to the north, we altered course to the north, then held up
straight--steady; then inclined to the south. We altered course to
the south, then up straight again--steady.
I had now some hopes. We continued on, and soon after all in front
seemed breakers, and I saw no appearance of a channel or deep water;
but the pilot's flag was held up steady to come straight on. It
looked fearful, but on we must go. Several heavy broken waves came
up, two of which came over our stern. Another heavier one came up,
and, nearly burying us, carried us forward some distance, and when it
passed she touched the ground, but it was just lightly and for a
moment. She payed off again. Another heavy and broken wave
followed, and a violent gust of wind at the same time carried us
along through a mass of foam into the deep and smooth water inside of
the bar.
"Bound her to, haul down staysail and jib, and let go anchor," said I.
This was soon done. The men stood round, but said nothing. Father
Ryan, whose hat had blown overboard, came up to me bareheaded,
drenched with salt-water, and with tears in his eyes. He grasped me
warmly by the hand, and said seriously, "Captain, the finger of God
was there."
"It was," I said; and I never said two words with more sincerity in
all my life. Of the many incidents in my somewhat adventurous life I
do not think that any made a greater impression on me than the
fortune of the last twenty-four hours, and especially this last hour.
I now cast a look seaward to see what had become of the other two
vessels. One, the _St. John_, having followed us, was within a
hundred yards of us, and near the place where we had touched the
ground. She was stranded, and the sea was breaking over her, and the
men had taken to the rigging. The other vessel was nowhere to be
seen. I ordered the men to get out the boat to see if we could in
any way render assistance to the crew of the _St. John_. I then went
to the cabin for a few minutes. I found that a good deal of water
had got down into the cabin, and some things were wet; but what was
that considering our providential deliverance.
[Illustration: CROSSING THE BAR AT TAMPICO, IN A GALE.]
When I returned on deck, the pilot's boat and the custom's boat were
alongside. I rated the pilots for not coming off in the afternoon as
they had promised to the _St. John_. They said it was impossible for
a boat to go off during the day. When they went off in the morning
there was some swell on the bar which they thought would go down, but
it increased during the day, so that a boat could not cross the bar,
and they supposed that there must have been a heavy gale to the
northward. I said there had been a heavy gale, but it seemed not to
have reached as far south as Tampico.
I then asked if we could do anything for the crew of the _St. John_.
They said that no boat could get to her just then, but there was a
chance for both the vessel and crew, as she was in past the worst
part of the bar, but the larger schooner was gone with all hands.
She had struck near the outer end of the channel and disappeared
almost immediately. The _St. John_ had a very heavy deck-load of
lumber, and if they could get that off her she would float off as the
tide was making.
They then made signs to the _St. John_ to throw off their deck-load,
but it was dangerous for the men to come down from the rigging. The
seas breaking over the vessel soon washed away the greater part of
the deck-load, and the vessel floated and was driven further in,
where she grounded again, but she was so near to the edge of the
smooth water that with the help of the floating lumber and our boat
and that of the pilots, the men were all saved, although some of them
were badly bruised.
I offered to take them up to Tampico Town, but they preferred to
remain at the pilot station to see about getting their vessel in over
the bar, which they succeeded in doing about two days afterwards. Of
the larger schooner nothing was ever seen, not a vestige of her could
be discovered when the weather moderated. It was supposed she had
been to Vera Cruz, where she had discharged her cargo and had come to
Tampico to load with dyewood.
By the time the crew of the _St. John_ had been picked up it was
getting dark and blowing hard, and to seawards there was every
indication of a heavy gale, and we were certainly very grateful that
we had got safe inside of the bar. We took the advantage of the fair
wind to run up the river to Tampico Town, which we were not long in
accomplishing. The river was very high, and we anchored in front of
the town.
Father Ryan now asked leave to offer a short thanksgiving for our
safe arrival, which was appreciated.
As no one had slept since the previous day, and it had been rather a
trying twenty-four hours, I expected all hands would now be glad to
get a little rest, but for this they were not the least inclined;
there was the usual rejoicing at getting in. They thought of the
dangers now past; the gale howled overhead, but they were now safe
and snug in harbour, the voyage successfully ended. Big pay and
bonus to receive, they sung and danced about, and said they thought
the captain ought to treat them to champagne.
I told them I thought they should have more solemn thoughts, and
express their inward gratitude to Heaven for their safety and
preservation, and remember the fate of the poor men on the other
vessels. They allowed all that, and said they were truly grateful
for their preservation, and now that the danger was past they wished
to drink my health and give me credit for my able management of the
vessel during the trip.
There is a good deal in fair words, and it requires a pretty
strong-minded man to be always proof against them. The men had
certainly done their duty, and I acknowledged it to them, and said I
was willing to show my gratitude in any way that would not be
injurious to them; and, turning to Father Ryan, I said, "What do you
say, Father Ryan?"
The old man said he thought the men had done their duty well, and if
they would only do it as well in keeping within moderation--which he
thought he could answer they would--there would be no harm in my
giving them a small treat.
It was now past seven o'clock and dark, but there was already some
boats alongside--"Bummers"--one of which had done business for us
last voyage. I called the owner of this boat and wrote to a
respectable restaurant which I knew, directing them to send off at
once what would be necessary for a good supper for all hands, with
some good champagne. In the meantime, the crew having got everything
made snug and got their wet clothes shifted, the boat came alongside
with the articles, and the men enjoyed themselves, and they were as
good as their word, and kept within moderation. As I wished every
man to get rest, I employed two men from the shore, who had worked
for us last voyage, and who I could depend upon, to keep anchor
watch, and we all enjoyed a pleasant sleep that night.
Next morning, when the business of discharging and disposing of the
cargo recurred to me, it again brought back to me unpleasant feelings
which I had forgotten during the excitement of the voyage. The
dangers of the seas and enemies were now overcome. Both were honest
and to be respected; but to think of the action of those who should
have been my friends, and for whom I was undergoing such dangers on
this small vessel, was an unpleasant reflection on the top of the
happy thoughts of our providential preservation.
[1] On these seas at that time there was so little traffic that there
was little need of a look-out, and it was not the policy of blockade
runners to carry lights.