surprise and dismay he heard once more the shouts of his indefatigable
foemen as they rode up at full speed. It seemed as if nothing could stop
the sleuth-hounds on his track. For the succeeding fifteen miles there
was a continual skirmish, and, when Streight halted to rest, the fight
became so sharp that his weary men were forced to take to the road
again. Rest was not for them, with Forrest in their rear. Streight here
tried for the last time his plan of ambuscading his enemy, but the
wide-awake Forrest was not to be taken in as before, and by a flank
movement compelled the weary Federals to resume their march.
All that night they rode despondently on, crossing the Chattanooga River
on a bridge which they burned behind them, and by sunrise reaching Cedar
Bluff, twenty-eight miles from Gadsden. At nine o'clock they stopped to
feed, and the worn-out men had no sooner touched the ground than they
were dead asleep. Forrest had taken the opportunity to give his men a
night's rest, detaching two hundred of them to follow the Federals and
"devil them all night." Streight had also detached two hundred of his
best-mounted men, bidding them to march to Rome and hold the bridge at
that place. But Forrest had shrewdly sent a fast rider to the same
place, and when Russell got up he found the bridge strongly held and his
enterprise hopeless.
When May 3 dawned the hot chase was near its end. Forrest had given his
men ten hours' sleep while Streight's worn-out men were plodding
desperately on. This all-night's ride was a fatal error for the
Federals, and was a main cause of their final defeat. The short distance
they had made was covered by Forrest's men, fresh from their night's
sleep, in a few hours, and at half-past nine, while the Federals were at
breakfast, the old teasing rattle of small-arms called them into line
again. About the same time word came from Russell that he could not
take the bridge at Rome, and news was received that a flanking movement
of Confederates had cut in between Rome and the Yankee troopers.
The affair now looked utterly desperate, but the brave Streight rallied
his men on a ridge in a field and skirmishing began. So utterly
exhausted, however, were the Federals that many of them went to sleep as
they lay in line of battle behind the ridge while looking along their
gun barrels with finger on trigger.
The game was fairly up. Forrest sent in a flag of truce, with a demand
for surrender. Streight asked for an interview, which was readily
granted.
"What terms do you offer?" asked Streight.
"Immediate surrender. Your men to be treated as prisoners of war,
officers to retain their side-arms and personal property."
During the conversation Streight asked, "How many men have you?"
"Enough here to run over you, and a column of fresh troops between you
and Rome."
In reality Forrest had only five hundred men left him, the remainder
having been dropped from point to point as their horses gave out and no
new mounts were to be had. But the five hundred made noise enough for a
brigade, it being Forrest's purpose to conceal the weakness of his
force.
As they talked a section of the artillery of the pursuers came in sight
within a short range. Colonel Streight objected to this, and Forrest
gave orders that the guns must come no nearer. But the artillerymen
moved around a neighboring hill as if putting several small batteries
into position.
"Have you many guns, general?" asked Streight.
"Enough to blow you all to pieces before an hour," was the grandiloquent
reply.
Colonel Streight looked doubtfully at the situation, not knowing how
much to believe of what he saw and heard. After some more words he
said,--
"I cannot decide without consulting my officers."
"As you please," said Forrest, with a sublime air of indifference. "It
will soon be over, one way or the other."
Streight had not all the fight taken out of him yet, but he found all
his officers in favor of a surrender and felt obliged to consent. The
men accordingly were bidden to stack their arms and were marched back
into a field, Forrest managing as soon as he conveniently could to get
his men between them and their guns. The officers were started without
delay and under a strong escort for Rome, twenty miles away. On their
route thither they met Captain Russell returning and told him of what
had taken place. With tears in his eyes he surrendered his two hundred
men.
Thus ended one of the most striking achievements of the Civil War.
Forrest's relentless and indefatigable pursuit, his prompt overcoming of
the difficulties of the way, and his final capture of Streight's men
with less than half their force, have been commended by military critics
as his most brilliant achievement and one of the most remarkable
exploits in the annals of warfare.
The outcome of Colonel Streight's raid to the South was singularly like
that of General Morgan's famous raid to the North. Morgan's capture,
imprisonment, and escape were paralleled in Streight's career. Sent to
Richmond, and immured in Libby Prison, he and four of his officers took
part in the memorable escape by a tunnel route in February, 1864. In his
report, published after his escape, he blames his defeat largely on the
poor mules, and claims that Forrest's force outnumbered him three to
one. It is not unlikely that he believed this, judging from the
incessant trouble they had given him, but the truth seems established
that at the surrender Forrest had less than half the available force of
his foe.
_EXPLOITS OF A BLOCKADE-RUNNER._
There were no more daring adventures and hair-breadth escapes during the
Civil War than those encountered in running the blockade, carrying
sadly-needed supplies into the ports of the Confederacy, and returning
with cargoes of cotton and other valuable products of the South. There
was money in it for the successful, much money; but, on the other hand,
there was danger of loss of vessel and cargo, long imprisonment, perhaps
death, and only men of unusual boldness and dare-devil recklessness were
ready to engage in it. The stories told by blockade-runners are full of
instances of desperate risk and thrilling adventure. As an example of
their more ordinary experience, we shall give, from Thomas E. Taylor's
"Running the Blockade," the interesting account of his first run to
Wilmington harbor.
This town, it must be premised, lies some sixteen miles up Cape Fear
River, at whose principal entrance the formidable Fort Fisher obliged
the blockading fleet to lie out of the range of its guns, and thus gave
some opportunity for alert blockade-runners to slip in. Yet this was far
from safe and easy. Each entrance to the river was surrounded by an
in-shore squadron of Federal vessels, anchored in close order during
the day, and at night weighing anchor and patrolling from shore to
shore. Farther out was a second cordon of cruisers, similarly alert, and
beyond these again gunboats were stationed at intervals, far enough out
to sight by daybreak any vessels that crossed Wilmington bar at high
tide in the night. Then, again, there were free cruisers patrolling the
Gulf Stream, so that to enter the river unseen was about as difficult as
any naval operation could well be. With this preliminary statement of
the situation, let us permit Mr. Taylor to tell his story.
"The 'Banshee's' engines proved so unsatisfactory that, under ordinary
conditions, nine or ten knots was all we could get out of her; she was
therefore not permitted to run any avoidable risks, and to this I
attribute her extraordinary success where better boats failed. As long
as daylight lasted a man was never out of the cross-trees, and the
moment a sail was seen the 'Banshee's' stern was turned to it till it
was dropped below the horizon. The look-out man, to quicken his eyes,
had a dollar for every sail he sighted, and if it were seen from the
deck first he was fined five. This may appear excessive, but the
importance in blockade-running of seeing before you are seen is too
great for any chance to be neglected; and it must be remembered that the
pay of ordinary seamen for each round trip in and out was from L50 to
L60.
"Following these tactics, we crept noiselessly along the shores of the
Bahamas, invisible in the darkness, and ran on unmolested for the first
two days out [from the port of Nassau], though our course was often
interfered with by the necessity of avoiding hostile vessels; then came
the anxious moment on the third, when, her position having been taken at
noon to see if she was near enough to run under the guns of Fort Fisher
before the following daybreak, it was found there was just time, but
none to spare for accidents or delay. Still, the danger of lying out
another day so close to the blockaded port was very great, and rather
than risk it we resolved to keep straight on our course and chance being
overtaken by daylight before we were under the fort.
"Now the real excitement began, and nothing I have ever experienced can
compare with it. Hunting, pig-sticking, steeple-chasing, big-game
shooting, polo--I have done a little of each--all have their thrilling
moments, but none can approach 'running a blockade;' and perhaps my
readers may sympathize with my enthusiasm when they consider the dangers
to be encountered, after three days of constant anxiety and little
sleep, in threading our way through a swarm of blockaders, and the
accuracy required to hit in the nick of time the mouth of a river only
half a mile wide, without lights and with a coast-line so low and
featureless that, as a rule, the first intimation we had of its nearness
was the dim white line of the surf.
"There were, of course, many different plans of getting in, but at this
time the favorite dodge was to run up some fifteen or twenty miles to
the north of Cape Fear, so as to round the northernmost of the
blockaders, instead of dashing right through the inner squadron; then to
creep down close to the surf till the river was reached; and this was
the course the 'Banshee' intended to adopt.
"We steamed cautiously on until nightfall; the night proved dark, but
dangerously clear and calm. No lights were allowed--not even a cigar;
the engine-room hatch-ways were covered with tarpaulins, at the risk of
suffocating the unfortunate engineers and stokers in the almost
insufferable atmosphere below. But it was absolutely imperative that not
a glimmer of light should appear. Even the binnacle was covered, and the
steersman had to see as much of the compass as he could through a
conical aperture carried almost up to his eyes.
"With everything thus in readiness, we steamed on in silence, except for
the stroke of the engines and the beat of the paddle-floats, which in
the calm of the night seemed distressingly loud; all hands were on deck,
crouching behind the bulwarks, and we on the bridge, namely, the
captain, the pilot, and I, were straining our eyes into the darkness.
Presently Burroughs made an uneasy movement.
"'Better get a cast of the lead, captain,' I heard him whisper.
"A muttered order down the engine-room tube was Steele's reply, and the
'Banshee' slowed, and then stopped. It was an anxious moment while a dim
figure stole into the fore-chains,--for there is always a danger of
steam blowing off when engines are unexpectedly stopped, and that would
have been enough to betray our presence for miles around. In a minute or
two came back the report, 'Sixteen fathoms--sandy bottom with black
specks.'
"'We are not in as far as I thought, captain,' said Burroughs, 'and we
are too far to the southward. Port two points and go a little faster.'
"As he explained, we must be well to the north of the speckled bottom
before it was safe to head for the shore, and away we went again. In
about an hour Burroughs quietly asked for another sounding. Again she
was gently stopped, and this time he was satisfied.
"'Starboard, and go ahead easy,' was the order now, and as we crept in
not a sound was heard but that of the regular beat of the paddle-floats,
still dangerously loud in spite of our snail's pace. Suddenly Burroughs
gripped my arm,--
"'There's one of them, Mr. Taylor,' he whispered, 'on the starboard
bow.'
"In vain I strained my eyes to where he pointed, not a thing could I
see; but presently I heard Steele say, beneath his breath, 'All right,
Burroughs, I see her. Starboard a little, steady!' was the order passed
aft.
"A moment afterward I could make out a long, low black object on our
starboard side, lying perfectly still. Would she see us? that was the
question; but no, though we passed within a hundred yards of her we were
not discovered, and I breathed again. Not very long after we had
dropped her, Burroughs whispered,--
"'Steamer on the port bow.'
"And another cruiser was made out close to us.
"'Hard-a-port,' said Steele, and round she swung, bringing our friend
upon our beam. Still unobserved, we crept quietly on, when all at once a
third cruiser shaped itself out of the gloom right ahead, and steaming
slowly across our bows.
"'Stop her,' said Steele, in a moment; and as we lay like dead our enemy
went on and disappeared in the darkness. It was clear there was a false
reckoning somewhere, and that instead of rounding the head of the
blockading line we were passing through the very centre of it. However,
Burroughs was now of opinion that we must be inside the squadron, and
advocated making the land. So 'slow ahead' we went again, until the
low-lying coast and the surf-line became dimly visible. Still we could
not tell where we were, and, as time was getting on alarmingly near
dawn, the only thing to do was to creep down along the surf as close in
and as fast as we dared. It was a great relief when we suddenly heard
Burroughs say, 'It's all right. I see the Big Hill.'
"The 'Big Hill' was a hillock about as high as a full-grown oak, but it
was the most prominent feature for miles on that dreary coast, and
served to tell us exactly how far we were from Fort Fisher. And
fortunate it was for us we were so near. Daylight was already breaking,
and before we were opposite the fort we could make out six or seven
gunboats, which steamed rapidly towards us and angrily opened fire.
Their shots were soon dropping close around us, an unpleasant sensation
when you know you have several tons of gunpowder under your feet.
"To make matters worse, the North Breaker Shoal now compelled us to haul
off the shore and steam farther out. It began to look ugly for us, when
all at once there was a flash from the shore followed by a sound that
came like music to our ears,--that of a shell whirring over our heads.
It was Fort Fisher, wide awake and warning the gunboats to keep their
distance. With a parting broadside they steamed sulkily out of range,
and in half an hour we were safely over the bar.
"A boat put off from the fort, and then--well, it was the days of
champagne cocktails, not whiskeys and sodas, and one did not run a
blockade every day. For my part I was mightily proud of my first attempt
and my baptism of fire. Blockade-running seemed the pleasantest and most
exhilarating of pastimes. I did not know then what a very serious
business it could be."
On the return trip the "Banshee" was ballasted with tobacco and laden
with cotton, three tiers of it even on deck. She ran impudently straight
through the centre of the cordon, close by the flag-ship, and got
through the second cordon in safety, though chased by a gunboat. When
Nassau was reached and profits summed up, they proved to amount to L50
a ton on the war material carried in, while the tobacco carried out
netted L70 a ton for a hundred tons and the cotton L50 a bale for five
hundred bales. It may be seen that successful blockade-running paid.
It may be of interest to our readers to give some other adventures in
which the "Banshee" figured. On one of her trips, when she was creeping
down the land about twelve miles above Fort Fisher, a cruiser appeared
moving along about two hundred yards from shore. An effort was made to
pass her inside, hoping to be hidden by the dark background of the land.
But there were eyes open on the cruiser, and there came the ominous
hail, "Stop that steamer or I will sink you!"
"We haven't time to stop," growled Steele, and shouted down the
engine-room tube to "pile on the coals." There was nothing now but to
run and hope for luck. The cruiser at once opened fire, and as the
"Banshee" began to draw ahead a shot carried away her foremast and a
shell exploded in her bunkers. Grape and canister followed, the crew
escaping death by flinging themselves flat on the deck. Even the
steersman, stricken by panic, did the same, and the boat swerved round
and headed straight for the surf. A close shave it was as Taylor rushed
aft, clutched the wheel, and just in time got her head off the land.
Before they got in two other cruisers brought them under fire, but they
ran under Fort Fisher in safety.
One more adventure of the "Banshee" and we shall close. It was on her
sixth trip out. She had got safely through the fleet and day had dawned.
All was joy and relaxation when Erskine, the engineer, suddenly
exclaimed: "Mr. Taylor, look astern!" and there, not four miles away,
and coming down under sail and steam, was a large side-wheel steamer,
left unseen by gross carelessness on the part of the look-out.
Erskine rushed below, and soon volumes of smoke were pouring from the
funnels, but it was almost too late, for the chaser was coming up so
fast that the uniformed officers on her bridge could be distinctly seen.
"This will never do," said Steele, and ordered the helm to be altered so
as to bring the ship up to the wind. It took them off the course to
Nassau, but it forced their pursuer to take in her sails, and an
exciting chase under steam right into the wind's eye began. Matters at
length became so critical that no hope remained but to lighten the boat
by throwing overboard her deck-load of cotton--a sore necessity in view
of the fact that the bales which went bobbing about on the waves were
worth to them L50 or L60 apiece.
In clearing out the bales they cleared out something more, a runaway
slave, who had been standing wedged between two bales for at least
forty-eight hours. He received an ovation on landing at Nassau, but they
were obliged to pay four thousand dollars to his owner on their return
to Wilmington.
The loss of the cotton lightened the boat and it began to gain in the
race, both craft plunging into the great seas that had arisen, yet
neither slackening speed. A fresh danger arose when the bearings of the
engine became overheated from the enormous strain put upon them. It was
necessary to stop, despite the imminence of the chase, and to loosen the
bearings and feed them liberally with salad oil mixed with gunpowder
before they were in working order again. Thus, fifteen weary hours
passed away, and nightfall was at hand when the chaser, then only five
miles astern, turned and gave up the pursuit. It was learned afterward
that her stokers were dead beat.
But port was still far away, they having been chased one hundred and
fifty miles out of their course, and fuel was getting perilously low. At
the end of the third day the last coal was used, and then everything
that would burn was shoved into the furnaces,--main-mast, bulwarks, deck
cabin, with cotton and turpentine to aid,--and these only sufficed to
carry them into a Bahama Island, still sixty miles from Nassau. They
were not there two hours before they saw a Federal steamer glide slowly
past, eying them as the fox eyed the grapes.
The adventure was still not at its end. Mr. Taylor hired a schooner in
the harbor to go to Nassau and bring back a cargo of coal, he and Murray
Aynsely, a passenger, going in it. But the night proved a terrible one,
a hurricane rising, and the crew growing so terrified by the fury of the
gale and the vividness of the lightning that they nearly wrecked the
schooner on the rocks. When the weather moderated the men refused to
proceed, and it was only by dint of a show of revolvers and promise of
reward that Taylor and his passenger induced them to go on. On reaching
Nassau they were utterly worn out, having been almost without sleep for
a week, while Taylor's feet were so swollen that his boots had to be cut
off.
Thus ended one of the most notable chases in the history of
blockade-running, it having lasted fifteen hours and covered nearly two
hundred miles. Fortunate was it for the "Banshee" that the "James
Adger," her pursuer, had no bow-chasers, and that the weather was too
ugly for her to venture to yaw and use her broadside guns, or the
"Banshee" might have there and then ended her career.
_FONTAIN, THE SCOUT, AND THE BESIEGERS OF VICKSBURG._
The Civil War was not lacking in its daring and interesting adventures
of scouts, spies, despatch-bearers, and others of that interesting tribe
whose field of operations lies between the armies in the field, and
whose game is played with life as the stake, this being fair prey for
the bullet if pursued, and often for the rope if captured. We have the
story of one these heroes of hazard to tell, a story the more
interesting from the fact that he was a cripple who seemed fit only to
hobble about his home. It is the remarkable feat of Lamar Fontain, a
Confederate despatch-bearer, which the record of the war has nothing to
surpass.
Fontain's disability came from a broken leg, which had left him so
disabled that he could not take a step without a crutch, and in mounting
a horse was obliged to lift the useless leg over the saddle with his
right hand. But once in the saddle he was as good a man as his fellow,
and his dexterity with the pistol rendered him a dangerous fellow to
face when it became a question of life or death.
We must seek him at that period in 1863 when the stronghold of
Vicksburg, on which depended the Confederacy's control of the
Mississippi, was closely invested by the army of General Grant, the
siege lines so continuous, alike in the rear of the town and on the
Mississippi and its opposite shore, that it seemed as if hardly a bird
could enter or leave its streets. General Johnston kept the field in the
rear, but Grant was much too strong for him, and he was obliged to trust
to the chapter of chances for the hope of setting Pemberton free from
the net by which he was surrounded.
Knowing the daring and usual success of Lamar Fontain in very hazardous
enterprises, Johnston engaged him to endeavor to carry a verbal message
to General Pemberton, sending him out on the perilous and seemingly
impossible venture of making his way into the closely beleaguered city.
In addition to his message, he took with him a supply of some forty
pounds of percussion caps for the use of the besieged garrison.
On the 24th of May, 1863, Fontain set out from his father's home, at a
considerable distance in the rear of the Federal lines. He was well
mounted, and armed with an excellent revolver and a good sabre, which he
carried in a wooden scabbard to prevent its rattling. His other burdens
were his packet of percussion caps, his blanket, and his crutches.
That night he crossed Big Black River, and before dawn of the next day
was well within the lines of the enemy. Travel by day was now out of the
question, so he hid his horse in a ravine, and found a place of shelter
for himself in a fallen tree that overlooked the road. From his
hiding-place he saw a confused and hasty movement of the enemy,
seemingly in retreat from too hot a brush with the garrison. Waiting
till their columns had passed and the nightfall made it safe for him to
move, he mounted again and continued his journey in the direction of
Snyder's Bluff on the Yazoo.
Entering the telegraphic road from Yazoo City to Vicksburg, he had not
gone far before he was confronted and hailed by a picket of the enemy.
Spurring his spirited steed, he dashed past at full speed. A volley
followed him, one of the balls striking his horse, though none of them
touched him. The good steed had received a mortal wound, but by a final
and desperate effort it carried its rider to the banks of the Yazoo
River. Here it fell dead, leaving its late rider afoot, and lacking one
of his crutches, which had been caught and jerked away by the limb of a
tree as he dashed headlong past.