WE BOARD A CARTEL SHIP
In a short time I became convinced of two things. First, that we would
have no difficulty in running through the British fleet unnoticed. The
storm was so severe every patrol boat had been withdrawn; the darkness
was so heavy we could not be seen ten feet away; the wind and sea made
so much noise that whatever sounds came from us would pass unheard.
I dismissed therefore all apprehension on this point immediately.
The other matter was more serious, and soon became a struggle for
life. It was the battle with the storm. To pull against it took all
the strength of my men; to keep the yawl true to her course was an
impossibility; to prevent our craft from filling and sinking took the
united efforts of four of the crew.
We gained our way slowly. The lights of the British vessels showed
that. At length we were among the upper craft, and guided by them, I
strove to swing back to the course from which I had seriously deviated.
The combined strength of Boatswain Lewis and myself could not hold our
helm to its place. Twice we swung dangerously near the enemy’s ships.
Once we passed directly under the stern of a frigate but we were unseen
and unheard. At length we were clear of the fleet, and now the Beacon
House Light itself became our guide.
Two hours had been allowed in the arranging of our plans for us to
reach the little cove where we were to make our rendezvous; four had
elapsed before we reached there, only to find ourselves alone.
The agreement between Lieutenant Haines and myself was that whoever
arrived there first was to wait one hour for the coming of the other
party. But that had been on the supposition that two hours were ample
to make the passage to the cove even against the storm.
It was now midnight, an hour later than I would have waited had I
reached the rendezvous on time. Had Lieutenant Haines arrived there,
and, after waiting the allotted time, gone on to the light house? I
looked long and earnestly towards the beacon, but there was nothing in
the shadows behind, or the rays in front, to give me a definite answer.
I confess I was puzzled. I did not know whether to wait my hour there,
or to go on immediately to the tower. I finally decided on the former
course. I would obey my directions to the letter.
Slowly the minutes passed--so slowly that again and again I put
my watch to my ears to make sure it had not stopped. A half-hour;
another quarter had come and gone, and I was overhauling the materials
I had brought for the destruction of the Light in case the sole
responsibility devolved upon me, when my ear caught the faint sound
of oars. I listened, and the sound was more distinct, then the
lieutenant’s yawl came out of the gloom and touched the shore at my
feet.
“Did you reach here, Master Dunn, without capsizing?” were the
officer’s first words.
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
“Then you did better than I,” he responded, and as he stepped ashore
I saw he was as wet as a drowned rat. His men were also in the same
condition.
“Our rudder broke just after we ran through the fleet,” he explained,
“and before we could do anything to prevent it, the yawl broached to,
and shipping a ton or more of water, went over. We lost one man, and
the entire contents of the craft except some extra oars which were
fastened inside. With much difficulty we righted her, bailed her out
with our tarpaulins, and, crawling back into her, finally succeeded in
reaching here, but in a sorry condition to carry out our assigned task.
I am glad you arrived in better shape. How long have you been here?”
“Nearly an hour, sir. I was waiting out the allotted time before I went
on to the Light.”
“That was right,” he said heartily, “for it gives me a chance to share
in the work. Five minutes to one,” he added, glancing at his watch in
the light of my dark lantern; “not so late as I had feared. There is
still time to complete our job and get back to our ships.”
“We shall have the wind and tide with us, and can make our return much
more rapidly,” I suggested.
“Yes, if the enemy does not prevent,” he admitted. “But the moment the
beacon is in flames they will be on the alert for us, and having fresh
men at the oars may run us down. We took that chance, however, when we
decided to come here.”
We now took the powder and oil cans from my boat, and distributed them
among our crews to carry. Then ten of us with our hands free to use our
cutlasses placed ourselves at the head of the squad, and we began our
march across the point to the light house.
This was a huge structure, built partly of stone and partly of hard
pine logs. The door, fortunately for us, was on the rear side of
the building, and towards this we made our way. Reaching it without
discovery, we paused a moment to listen. The lantern at the top of the
tower shone brightly, but all the rest of the building loomed up darkly
above our heads. No sound came from within. The inmates, whatever their
number, were evidently asleep, save perhaps the single watchman to care
for the lantern.
My own plan, had I come alone, was to force open the door and seize
the men within before they could recover from their surprise. But
Lieutenant Haines had arranged to obtain by ruse what I should have
gained by force. Raising the hilt of his sword, he pounded loudly on
the door. Twice he was compelled to do this, and then a sleepy voice
asked:
“Who’s there? What do you want?”
“Our boat is ashore. We want shelter for the rest of the night,” the
officer answered as though he belonged to the British patrol.
“Aye! aye! sir,” came the response, “I’ll be there in a moment.”
There was a shuffling of feet and then the door was thrown wide open
for us. Springing in, we seized the attendant before he could make the
slightest resistance. There were six other men, all in their bunks,
and, though roused by our entrance, they had no time to get their
weapons before we had made them prisoners. Then the seven were taken
down to our boats under a strong guard, there to await our coming.
We were now ready for our work of destruction. Tearing out a half
dozen places in the foundation of the building, we placed canisters of
powder within them. From these long strings of oakum, well saturated
with oil, were carried to the center of the house. Here a huge pile of
combustibles was made, oil was spread on walls and floors and stairs,
the front windows were darkened to hide the flames from that side, a
rear window was left open for draft--and all was ready.
Sending the men off to the yawls, the lieutenant and I knelt down,
and with flint and steel started a blaze in the heap of combustibles.
Watching it until sure the fire was really kindled, we slipped out the
door and ran for the cove.
There we halted and fastened our eyes upon the burning building.
Through the rear door and window we could see the flames as they gained
headway. Across the floor, up the walls they ran, and streaming out
through the openings threw a great glare upon the dark curtain of the
night. It was clear our work had been well done, and the structure was
doomed. Then Lieutenant Haines turned to his prisoners, saying:
“Good sirs, we leave you here simply because we have no room for you in
the boats. Possibly the nearest frigate will send a boat for you; if
not, you will be no more exposed to the gale than we are. One word of
warning to you, however. We have placed six kegs of powder in yonder
walls. It will, therefore, be well for you to keep a long distance from
the fire. Good-night,” and with that he gave the order for us to embark.
Our plan for the return was to keep near the shore until opposite
Sullivan Island, then dash quickly to the south to enter the upper bay
through the passage between Morris and Sullivan Islands. This course
would enable us to run before the wind for a large part of the way,
would keep us out of the glare of the burning building, and would also
make it impossible for the enemy to follow us except in small boats.
For a short distance our boats kept together, probably because we were
all more intent on watching the fire than we were in making our escape.
Soon there came an explosion, followed in rapid succession by five
others. Stones and logs were tossed high in the air; the great tower
tottered and then fell with a crash which sounded loud above the storm;
sparks and embers flew in every direction; the flames burst out anew
as though they would devour everything before them.
“She’s destroyed!” I shouted, but if the lieutenant heard me he made
no answer. I glanced in the direction his boat had been but a moment
before, and saw that it had disappeared, lost in the darkness.
“Give way, my lads!” I said to my own men, and they obeyed with a will.
As we went up the bay I could see signs that the enemy were aroused.
Lights flashed to and fro on the decks of the frigates. The one nearest
the Beacon House fired a cannon, and then put out a boat which hastened
to the shore.
“They’ll soon know the fire was not an accident,” I remarked to my
boatswain, “and may attempt to follow us.”
“It will do them no good, sir,” he answered. “We have too long a start
for them to overhaul us. Our fear is yonder as we cross out to the
channel. If I mistake not, one of the ships has hoisted her anchor,
and is coming up this way.”
I looked in the direction he indicated, and saw by her rapidly moving
lights that one of the vessels had certainly cast off her moorings and
was running up the bay.
“We must reach and cross the channel before her,” I declared. “Heave
away, lads!”
“Aye! aye! sir!” they responded, and bent to their oars.
Without waiting to go higher up the bay, I had our helm changed to
carry us out towards Cumming’s Point. But fast as we went, the ship
came faster. It seemed also that she was shaping her course to head us
off.
“Run up under Sullivan’s Island,” I directed Master Lewis. “If
necessary, we’ll beach the boat and seek protection in Fort Moultrie.”
He promptly turned our bow that way, and the coming vessel changed her
own course just enough to follow in our wake.
“She must see us!” I now exclaimed in my surprise.
“It looks so, but I do not see how,” the boatswain admitted in a
puzzled way.
“Change again towards the point,” I ordered.
He did so, and again the ship turned. All the while she had been
gaining rapidly upon us, and now was so near I was anxious lest she run
us down.
“Port! Port your helm!” I cried, hoping in that way to swing clear of
her. But we were too late. I had only time to call to my men to save
themselves by springing upon her deck, as she cut our yawl in two.
Following the advice I had given my men, I leaped for her rail. She was
not so large nor so high out of water as she had seemed when farther
down the bay, and I caught the railing and pulled myself up on her
deck. Rising, I shook the water from my clothing, and then heard a
voice near me say:
“I’m right along with you, sir.” It was Boatswain Lewis.
“So am I,” another and then another voice exclaimed.
The same cry came from the larboard rail, and I was sure that half of
my men at least had escaped the disaster--but escaped into the enemy’s
hands. To my amazement, however, little attention was paid to us. Her
officers and men seemed too busy with the care of their ship for that.
Standing near her foremast with my men, I slowly took all this in, and
came to the conclusion that the craft had broken her anchor chains and
driven up the bay before the gale. All her courses had been due to
attempts to prevent her wreck, and to get back to her anchorage, and
not to her efforts to follow me. In fact, as I learned a little later,
she had not seen us at all, and had no idea we were in that locality
until she ran us down.
Soon an officer passed near us in the discharge of his duties.
“Where is your captain?” I asked.
“On the quarter-deck,” he replied. “Who are you?”
“One of the men you just ran down.”
“A Yankee officer?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know the inner harbor?”
“Yes.”
“Come with me.”
He led me aft to his commander, and in a few words explained who I was
and how I came there.
“He says he knows the upper bay,” the subordinate continued.
“I am Captain Jackson,” the skipper then said. “This is the cartel
ship, and we have lost our anchors, leaving us at the mercy of the
storm. There are a number of refugees on board, including several women
and children. For their sake the vessel must be saved. If you can put
us into the inner bay where we can ride out the storm, or beach the
craft in safety, I will give you charge of her.”
I thought a moment. Then I answered:
“I believe I can bring you near enough to our frigate for them to throw
us a hawser, sir, and you can then ride out the storm.”
“Do you suppose they will allow me to return when the gale is over, or
will consider me a prize?” he inquired.
“I cannot say what our commander will do, sir,” I responded, “but if I
were in command of our fleet the character of your ship would protect
you.”
“I must take the risk,” he concluded, and turned the wheel over to me.
I ran in behind Cumming’s Point for smoother waters, and then took
a straight course up the bay past Fort Johnson. I could now see the
lights of the _Boston_, and headed directly for her.
At my suggestion Boatswain Lewis was sent into our bow to hail the
frigate. In his powerful voice he called out to her as we drew near,
proclaiming our character, and asking for a rope. I had to luff to
under her stern in order to get it, but at length it reached us, and,
making ourselves fast, we held on there until morning.
I now took the opportunity to muster my men, and found that all but
four had succeeded in clambering to the deck of the cartel ship. The
missing four turned up the next day. They had clung to the broken boat
and drifted ashore on Sullivan’s Island. Lieutenant Haines reached the
_Providence_ without further mishap.
After consultation with Commodore Whipple the next day, Captain Tucker
was able to inform Captain Jackson that his vessel would be allowed to
return to the English fleet. He had to wait twenty-four hours before
the storm had abated sufficiently to permit him to sail, but when the
hour came for him to depart, he and his officers and passengers signed
and sent a letter of thanks to our commander for the kindness shown
them while in our lines.