One of the most prominent personalities of the blockade era was Thomas
E. Taylor, a young Englishman, aged twenty-one, who was sent by a
wealthy Liverpool firm to direct in person the movements of steamers
which they had bought or builded for this dangerous traffic. He began
with the old steamer _Dispatch_, which was found to be too slow and
after one or more voyages was sent back to England. His employers then
began building lighter, faster boats specially adapted to the purpose,
until they owned and operated a fleet of fifteen steamers. One of them,
the _Banshee_, was the first steel vessel that crossed the Atlantic,
and Mr. Taylor came in her to Wilmington. His agreeable manners and
courteous deportment attracted the favorable recognition of General
Whiting and of Colonel Lamb, whose personal and official regard was of
great value to Mr. Taylor. He wrote an interesting book after the war
from which I take the following incidents in his eventful career.
"As soon as the nights were sufficiently dark we made a start for
Wilmington, unfortunately meeting very bad weather and strong head
winds, which delayed us; the result was that instead of making out
the blockading fleet about midnight, as we had intended, when dawn
was breaking there were still no signs of it. Captain Capper, the
chief engineer, and I then held a hurried consultation as to what we
had better do. Capper was for going to sea again, and if necessary
returning to Nassau; the weather was still threatening, our coal supply
running short, and, with a leaky ship beneath us, the engineer and
I decided that the lesser risk would be to make a dash for it. 'All
right,' said Capper, 'we'll go on, but you'll get d----d well peppered!'
"We steamed cautiously on, making as little smoke as possible, whilst
I went to the mast-head to take a look around; no land was in sight,
but I could make out in the dull morning light the heavy spars of the
blockading flagship right ahead of us, and soon after several other
masts became visible on each side of her. Picking out what appeared to
me to be the widest space between these, I signaled to the deck how
to steer, and we went steadily on, determined when we found we were
perceived to make a rush for it. No doubt our very audacity helped us
through, as for some time they took no notice, evidently thinking we
were one of their own chasers returning from sea to take up her station
for the day.
"At last, to my great relief, I saw Fort Fisher just appearing above
the horizon, although we knew that the perilous passage between these
blockaders must be made before we could come under the friendly
protection of its guns. Suddenly, we became aware that our enemy had
found us out; we saw two cruisers steaming toward one another from
either side of us, so as to intercept us at a given point before we
could get on the land side of them. It now became simply a question of
speed and immunity from being sunk by shot. Our little vessel quivered
under the tremendous pressure with which she was being driven through
the water.
"An exciting time followed, as we and our two enemies rapidly converged
upon one point, others in the distance also hurrying up to assist
them. We were now near enough to be within range, and the cruiser on
our port side opened fire; his first shot carried away our flagstaff
aft on which our ensign had just been hoisted; his second tore through
our forehold, bulging out a plate on the opposite side. Bedding and
blankets to stop the leak were at once requisitioned, and we steamed
on full speed under a heavy fire from both quarters. Suddenly, puffs
of smoke from the fort showed us that Colonel Lamb, the commandant,
was aware of what was going on and was firing to protect us; a welcome
proof that we were drawing within range of his guns and on the landward
side of our pursuers, who, after giving us a few more parting shots,
hauled off and steamed away from within reach of the shells which we
were rejoiced to see falling thickly around them.
"We had passed through a most thrilling experience; at one time the
cruiser on our port side was only a hundred yards away from us with
her consort a hundred and fifty on the starboard, and it seemed a
miracle that their double fire had not completely sunk us. It certainly
required all one's nerve to stand upon the paddle box, looking without
flinching almost into the muzzles of the guns which were firing at us;
and proud we were of our crew, not a man of whom showed the white
feather. Our pilot, who showed no lack of courage at the time, became,
however, terribly excited as we neared the bar, and whether it was that
the ship steered badly, owing to being submerged forward, or from some
mistake, he ran her ashore whilst going at full speed."
On the following voyage Mr. Taylor says: "It was a critical time when
daylight broke, dull and threatening. The captain was at the wheel and
I at the mast-head (all other hands being employed at the pumps, and
even baling), when, not four miles off, I sighted a cruiser broadside
on. She turned round as if preparing to give chase, and I thought we
were done for, as we could not have got more than three or four knots
an hour out of our crippled boat. To my great joy, however, I found our
alarm was needless, for she evidently had not seen us, and instead of
heading turned her stern toward us and disappeared into a thick bank of
clouds.
"Still we were far from being out of danger, as the weather became
worse and worse and the wind increased in force until it was blowing
almost a gale. Things began to look as ugly as they could, and even
Captain Capper lost hope; I shall never forget the expression on his
face as he came up to me and said, in his gruff voice, 'I say, Mr.
Taylor, the beggar's going, the beggar's going,' pointing vehemently
downwards. 'What the devil do you mean?' I asked. 'Why, we are going to
lose the ship and our lives, too,' was the answer. It is not possible
for any one unacquainted with Capper to appreciate this scene. Sturdy,
thickset, nearly as broad as he was long, and with the gruffest manner
but kindest heart--a rough diamond and absolutely without fear. With
the exception of Steele he was the best blockade-running captain we had.
"In order to save the steamer and our lives we decided that desperate
remedies must be resorted to, so again the unlucky deck cargo had to be
sacrificed. The good effect of this was soon visible; we began to gain
on the water, and were able, by degrees, to relight our extinguished
fires. But the struggle continued to be a most severe one, for just
when we began to obtain a mastery over the water the donkey engine
broke down, and before we could repair it the water increased sensibly,
nearly putting out our fires again. So the struggle went on for sixty
hours, when we were truly thankful to steam into Nassau Harbor and
beach the ship. It was a very narrow escape, for within twenty minutes
after stopping her engines the vessel had sunk to the level of the
water.
"After this I made a trip in a new boat that had just been sent out to
me, the _Wild Dayrell_. And a beauty she was, very strong, a perfect
sea boat, and remarkably well engined.
"Our voyage in was somewhat exciting, as about three o'clock in the
afternoon, while making for Fort Caswell entrance (not Fort Fisher), we
were sighted by a Federal cruiser that immediately gave chase. We soon
found, however, that we had the heels of our friend, but it left us
the alternative of going out to sea or being chased straight into the
jaws of the blockaders off the bar before darkness came on. Under these
circumstances what course to take was a delicate point to decide, but
we solved the problem by slowing down just sufficiently to keep a few
miles ahead of our chaser, hoping that darkness would come on before
we made the fleet or they discovered us. Just as twilight was drawing
in we made them out; cautiously we crept on, feeling certain that our
enemy astern was rapidly closing up on us. Every moment we expected
to hear shot whistling around us. So plainly could we see the sleepy
blockaders that it seemed almost impossible we should escape their
notice. Whether they did not expect a runner to make an attempt so
early in the evening, or whether it was sheer good luck on our part,
I know not, but we ran through the lot without being seen or without
having a shot fired at us.
"Our anxieties, however, were not yet over, as our pilot (a new hand)
lost his reckoning and put us ashore on the bar. Fortunately, the flood
tide was rising fast, and we refloated, bumping over stern first in a
most inglorious fashion, and anchored off Fort Caswell before 7 p.m.--a
record performance. Soon after anchoring we saw a great commotion among
the blockaders, who were throwing up rockets and flashing lights,
evidently in answer to signals from the cruiser which had so nearly
chased us into their midst.
"When we came out we met with equally good luck, as the night was pitch
dark and the weather very squally. No sooner did we clear the bar
than we put our helm aport, ran down the coast, and then stood boldly
straight out to sea without interference; and it was perhaps as well we
had such good fortune, as before this I had discovered that our pilot
was of very indifferent caliber, and that courage was not our captain's
most prominent characteristic. The poor _Wild Dayrell_ deserved a
better commander, and consequently a better fate than befell her. She
was lost on her second trip, entirely through the want of pluck on the
part of her captain, who ran her ashore some miles to the north of Fort
Fisher; as he said in order to avoid capture--to my mind a fatal excuse
for any blockade-running captain to make. 'Twere far better to be sunk
by shot and escape in the boats if possible. I am quite certain that if
Steele or Capper had commanded her on that trip she would never have
been put ashore, and the chances are that she would have come through
all right.
"I never forgave myself for not unshipping the captain on my return
to Nassau; my only excuse was that there was no good man available to
replace him, and he was a particular protégé of my chief. But such
considerations should not have weighed, and if I had had the courage of
my convictions it is probable the _Wild Dayrell_ would have proved as
successful as any of our steamers."
The rest of the story of the loss of the fine steamer _Wild Dayrell_,
which was accidentally run ashore at Stump Inlet February 1, 1864, is
told in the official report of Lieut. Commander F.A. Roe of the U.S.
cruiser _Sassacus_ to Admiral S.P. Lee, as follows: