MOBILE, THE GULF CITY.
Mobile was in a state of perfect ferment when we arrived. The news from
Maryland had made profound sensation and had dissipated the delusive
hopes--indulged there as well as in Montgomery--like mists before the
sun.
All now agreed that war must come. Many thought it already upon them.
Groups, anxious and steadfast, filled the hotels, the clubs and the
post-office; and the sense of all was that Maryland had spoken not one
hour too soon; having spoken, the simple duty of the South was to
prevent harm to a hair of her head for words said in its defense.
Those who had been the hottest in branding the action of Virginia as
laggard, looked to her for the steadiest and most efficient aid, now
that the crisis faced them; while all felt she would meet the calls of
the hour with never a pause for the result. The sanguine counted on
Maryland, bound by every community of interest, every tie of
sympathy--as already one of the Confederate States. She was no longer
neutral, they said. She had put her lance in rest and rallied to the
charge, in the avowed quarrel that the troops attacked were on their
way to oppress her next sister. And nothing could follow but Virginia's
bright falchion must flash out, and the states must lock shields and
press between her and the giant she had roused.
The Gulf City had not been idle. The echo of the first gun at
Charleston had roused her people; and with a wonderful accord they had
sprung to arms. Law books were thrown aside, merchants locked up their
ledgers, even students of theology forgot that they were men of
peace--and all enrolled themselves in the "crack" companies. No wonder,
when the very best blood of the state ran in the veins of the humblest
private; when men of letters and culture and wealth refused any but
"the post of honor," with musket on shoulder; when the most delicate
fingers of their fairest worked the flags that floated over them, and
the softest voices urged them to their _devoir_; no wonder, then, that
high on the roll of fame are now written the names of the Mobile
Cadets--of the Gulf City Guards--of the Rifles--and enough others to
make the list as long as Leporello's. Not one in ten of the best born
youth of Mobile remained at home; the mechanics, the stevedores and
men of every class flocked to follow their example, so that the city
alone gave two full regiments and helped to fill up others. The news
from Virginia and Maryland had given but a fresh impetus to these
preparations; and, before my return to Montgomery, these regiments had
passed through, on their way to the new battle ground on the Potomac
frontier.
On the night of our arrival in the Gulf City, that escape valve for all
excitement, a dense crowd, collected in front of the Battle House and
Colonel John Forsyth addressed them from the balcony. He had just
returned from Washington with the southern commissioners and gave, he
said, a true narrative of the manner and results of their mission. At
this lapse of time it is needless to detail even the substance of his
speech; but it made a marked impression on the crowd, as the surging
sea of upturned faces plainly told. John Forsyth, already acknowledged
one of the ablest of southern leaders, was a veritable Harry Hotspur.
His views brooked no delay or temporizing; and, as he spoke, in vein of
fiery elegance, shouts and yells of defiant approval rose in full swell
of a thousand voices. Once he named a noted Alabamian, whom he
seemingly believed to have played a double part in these negotiations;
and the excited auditory greeted his name with hisses and execrations.
That they did their fellow-citizen injustice the most trying councils
of the war proved; for he soon after came South and wrought, with all
the grand power in him, during the whole enduring struggle.
Staple was tired of politics, and hated a crowd; so he soon lounged
off to the club, an institution gotten up with a delightful regard to
the most comfortable arrangement and the most accomplished _chef_ in
the South. There one met the most cordial hospitality, the neatest
entertainment and the very best wines in the Gulf section. The cook was
an artist, as our first supper declared; and play could be found, too,
as needed; for young Mobile was not slow, and money, in those days, was
plenty.
Altogether, the tone of Mobile society was more cosmopolitan than that
of any city of the South, save, perhaps, New Orleans. It may be that
its commercial connections, reaching largely abroad, produced the
effect; or that propinquity to and constant intercourse with its sister
city induced freer mode of thought and action. Located at the head of
her beautiful bay, with a wide sweep of blue water before her, the
cleanly-built, unpaved streets gave Mobile a fresh, cool aspect. The
houses were fine and their appointments in good, and sometimes
luxurious, taste. The society was a very pleasure-loving organization,
enjoying the gifts of situation, of climate and of fortune to their
full. _On dit_, it sometimes forgot the Spartan code; but the
stranger was never made aware of that, for it ever sedulously
remembered good taste.
Between the drives, dinners and other time-killers, one week slipped
around with great rapidity; and we could hardly realize it when the
colonel looked over his newspaper at breakfast and said:
"Last day, boys! Egad! the cooking here _is_ a little different from
Montgomery--but we must take the 'Cuba' this evening."
So adieux were spoken, and at dusk we went aboard the snug, neat little
Gulf steamer of the New Orleans line. She was a trimmer craft than our
floating card-house of river travel, built for a little outside work in
case of necessity, or the chances of a norther.
We scudded merrily down the bay towards Fort Morgan, the grim sentinel
sitting dark and lonely at the harbor's mouth and showing a row of
teeth that might be a warning. The fort was now put in thorough repair
and readiness by Colonel Hardee, of the regular army of the Confederate
States.
I was following Styles down from the upper deck, when we heard high
voices from the end of the boat, and recognized one exclaiming:
"Curse you! I'll cut your ear off!"
Round the open bar we found an excited crowd, in the center of which
was our worldly-minded middie of river-boat memory and "Spring
Chicken," his colleague; both talking very loud, and the latter
exhibiting a bowie-knife half as long as himself. By considerable talk
and more elbowing, we made our way to the boys; and, with the aid of a
friendly stoker, got them both safely in my state-room.
Once there, the man of the world--who, unlike the needy knife-grinder,
had a story--told it. After getting on the boat, Spring Chicken had
been taking mint with sugar and something; and he took it once too
often. Seeing this, the worldling tried to get him forward to his
state-room; but, as we passed the fort, a jolly passenger, who had also
taken mint, waved his hat at the fortification and cried out:
"Hurrah for Muggins!"
Spring Chicken stopped, balanced himself on his heels and announced
with much dignity--
"Sir, _I_ am Muggins!"
"Didn't know you, Muggins," responded the shouter, who fortunately had
not taken fighting whisky. "Beg pardon, Muggins! Hurrah for Peacock!
_Yah--a-h!_"
"See here, my good fellow, I'm Peacock!" repeated Spring Chicken.
"The thunder you are! You can't be two people!"
"Sir!" responded Spring Chicken, with even greater dignity, "I do
not--_hic_--desire to argue with you. I am Peacock!"
The man laughed. "The Peacock I mean is a northern man----"
"_I'm_ a northern man," yelled the now irate Spring Chicken. "Curse
you, sir! what are my principles to you? I'll cut your ear off!" And it
was this peaceful proposition that attracted our attention, in time to
prevent any trouble with the ugly knife he drew from his back.
Spring Chicken had remained passive during the recital of the more
sober worldling. Sundry muttered oaths had sufficed him until it was
over, when he made the lucid explanation:
"Reas'l didl't--_hic_--dam decoy--bet ol red--ev'ry cent--_hic_!"
This the worldling translated and the murder was out. When we lost
sight of the boys on the Southern Republic, they had ordered wine. At
dinner they had more; and--glowing therewith, as they sat over their
cigars on the gallery--did not "stop their ears," but, on the contrary,
"listed to the voice of the charmer." When the stool pigeon once more
stood in the doorway, rattling his half dollars, they followed him into
the den of the tiger.
"Faro" went against them; "odd-and-even" was worse; _rouge-et-noir_
worst of all; and at night they were sober and dead broke, an
unpleasant but not infrequent phase of boat life.
"Didl't have aly wash to spout," remarked Spring Chicken, with his head
under his arm.
"Yes--we owed our wine bill," continued the middie, whose worldliness
decreased as he got sober, "and our trunk was in pawn to the nigger we
owed a quarter for taking care of it. So as soon as the boat touched, I
ran for'ard and jumped off, while he waited to keep the things in sight
till I came back."
"So he was in pawn, too, egad!" said the colonel.
"Thasso, ol' cock!" hiccoughed Spring Chicken.
"And when I got the money and we went up town, we met the cussed decoy
again, and we were fools enough to go again----"
"Williz molley--damniz--_hic_--eyes!" interpolated the other.
"----And we got broke again--and this fellow that hollowed Muggins
looked like the decoy, but he wasn't. That's the whole truth, Mr.
Styles."
"Mussput--_hic_--fi dollus on-jack?" remarked Spring Chicken. "See
yer, Styse--o'boy, damfattolman--Con'l is!" and he curled from the
lounge to the floor and slept peacefully.
"My young friend," remarked Styles gravely to the middie, as we tucked
the insensible Spring Chicken into his berth--"If you want to gamble,
you'll do it--so I don't advise you. But these amphibious beasts are
dangerous; so in future play with gentlemen and let them alone."
"And, my boy," said the colonel, enunciating _his_ moral lesson--"gambling
is bad enough, egad! but any man is lost--yes, sir, lost!--who will drink
mint--_after dinner!_"
With which great moral axioms we retired and slept until our steamer
reached the "Queen City of the South."