THE REST OF THE _BANSHEE_ NO. 1.'s CAREER
Breakdown of the _Banshee's_ machinery—Heavily peppered
by gunboats—The help of signal lights—A change of tactics—An
awkward alternative—Hailed by a cruiser—A slanging match—Grape
and canister—The _Banshee_ on fire—Shipping a fresh cargo—A
careless look-out man—Pursued by the _James Adger_—A
ding-dong race—Cargo thrown overboard—A stowaway comes to
light—A crucial moment—The _James Adger_ relinquishes
her pursuit—Our last coal used—Secure in British
territory—Negotiations for coal—A demoralised crew—Safe in
Nassau—End of the _Banshee's_ career—Profit of blockade-running.
To give in detail every trip of the _Banshee_ would be wearisome. I made
in her seven more in all, each one of which had its peculiar excitement.
Looking back it seems nothing short of a miracle that, ill-constructed
and ill-engined as she was, she so long escaped the numerous dangers to
which she was exposed. I well remember, on our second run in, an
accident which no one could have foreseen, and which came within an ace
of ending her career.
After a busy time discharging our cargo and getting coaled and loaded in
order to save a trip before the moon grew too much, we made another
start, and after a rough passage reached within striking distance of our
port. It was a very dark but calm night; we had made out several
blockaders and safely eluded them, when suddenly a tearing and rending
of wood was heard, and splinters from our port paddle-box fell in all
directions. The engines were stopped at once; it was then discovered
that one of the paddle-floats, which were made of steel, had split,
causing the broken part to come violently in contact with the paddle-box
at each revolution. There was nothing for it but to stop and attempt to
unscrew the damaged float; a sail was placed round the paddle-box and
two of the engineers were lowered down and commenced work: not many
minutes elapsed before a cruiser hove in sight, and we made certain we
had been discovered. Although she came on until she was not more than a
hundred yards away on our beam, curious to state she never saw us, but,
after lying motionless, much to our relief she steamed away, and oh! how
pleasant it was to hear that float drop into the water.
We felt our way towards the bar, and although we were heavily peppered
by two gunboats which were lying close in, we escaped untouched and soon
had our signal lights set for going over the bar. These signal lights
were of course a great assistance, but latterly the Northerners used to
place launches close in, and when those in charge saw the lights
exhibited they signalled to the blockaders, who immediately commenced
shelling the bar, rendering it very unpleasant for us; so much so that
we generally preferred to find our way over it without lights, as the
lesser risk of the two. It was the custom for each steamer to carry a
Confederate signalman, who by means of a code could communicate with the
shore, in the daytime with flags, at night by flashes from lamps. If the
leading lights were required, the pilots in the fort set two lights
which, when in line, led us through deep water over the bar.
This was an average run in, but more exciting ones were to follow. In
the earlier stages of blockade-running, such as those I have mentioned,
we used to go well to the northward and make the coast some fifteen or
twenty miles above Fort Fisher, thus going round the fleet instead of
through it. By this means we were the better enabled to strike the coast
unobserved, steaming quietly down, just outside the surf, until we
arrived close to Fort Fisher, where we had to go somewhat to seaward, in
order to avoid a certain shoal called the North Breaker. Although this
generally brought us into close contact with the blockaders, still we
knew exactly where we were as regards the bar. Subsequently the
Northerners stopped this manœuvre, as we found to our peril.
One very dark night (I think it was either on the fourth or fifth trip
of the _Banshee_) we made the land about twelve miles above Fort Fisher,
and were creeping quietly down as usual, when all at once we made a
cruiser out, lying on our port-bow, and slowly moving about two hundred
yards from the shore. It was a question of going inside or outside her;
if we went outside she was certain to see us, and would chase us into
the very jaws of the fleet. As we had very little steam up we chose the
former alternative, hoping to pass unobserved between the cruiser and
the shore, aided by the dark background of the latter. It was an
exciting moment; we got almost abreast of her, as we thought,
unobserved, and success seemed within our grasp, till we saw her move in
towards us and heard her hail us as we came on, "Stop that steamer or I
will sink you"!
Old Steele growled out that we hadn't time to stop, and shouted down the
engine-room tube to Erskine to pile on the coals, as concealment was no
longer of any use. Our friend, which we afterwards found out was the
_Niphon_, opened fire as fast as she could and sheered close into us, so
close that her boarders were called away twice, and a slanging match
went on between us, like that sometimes to be heard between two penny
steamboat captains on the Thames. She closed the dispute by shooting
away our fore mast, exploding a shell in our bunkers, and, when we began
to leave her astern, by treating us to grape and canister. It was a
miracle that no one was killed, but the crew were all lying flat on the
deck, except the steersman; and at one time I fear he did the same, for
as Pilot Burroughs suddenly cried, "My God, Mr. Taylor, look there"! I
saw our boat heading right into the surf, so, jumping from the bridge, I
ran aft and found the helmsman on his stomach. I rushed at the wheel and
got two or three spokes out of it, which hauled her head off the land,
but it was a close shave.
Two miles farther on we picked up another cruiser, which tried to treat
us in a similar manner, but as we had plenty of steam we soon left her.
A little farther we came across a large side-wheel boat, which tried to
run us down, missing us only by a few yards; after that we were
unmolested and arrived in safe, warmly congratulated by Lamb, who
thought from the violent cannonade that we must certainly have been
sunk.
Not more than one man out of a hundred would have brought a boat through
as Steele did that night,—the other ninety-nine would have run her
ashore.
After this exciting run-in our first business was to repair damages and
ship our cargo on board; but at the last moment, when she was completely
loaded, with steam up and all ready for a start, we nearly lost the
_Banshee_ by fire. Steele and I were busy settling things in the office
on shore, when all at once, on looking out of the window, I saw volumes
of smoke coming from her deck cargo of cotton; we jumped into a boat,
but by the time we got alongside she was one sheet of flame. It looked
like a hopeless case. Steele, however, gave immediate orders to get the
steam hose at work, breast her off from the wharf, and to let go anchor
in mid stream; thus bringing her head to tide, but stern to wind. The
fire, being all forward, made it difficult to reach the forecastle so as
to let go the anchor; but our good friend Halpin (who then commanded a
blockade-runner called the _Eugénie_) gallantly came to our assistance,
at the risk of his life boarded us forward, and knocked out the cutter
which held the chain cable, but not before his clothes were on fire: it
was a sight to see him take a header into the river, causing the water
to hiss again. He undoubtedly saved our ship that day. Poor Halpin—I
have lately read of his death—he was as fine and generous-hearted a man
as ever lived, and was afterwards as successful at cable-laying as
blockade-running.
By dint of hard work we got the fire under, and a tough job it was
fighting with ignited turpentine, of which we had several barrels on
deck, and blazing cotton. We found that, with the exception of having
our turtle back destroyed and our deck, bulwarks, and new foremast
charred, she had not received much serious damage, and after shipping a
fresh deck cargo we went to sea next night and crossed to Nassau, where
they were astonished to see the plight we were in, thinking we had had a
fire at sea.
It was, I think, on our sixth trip out in the little _Banshee_, when
soon after daylight we had got safely through the fleet, and I was lying
on a cotton bale aft, that Erskine, the chief engineer, suddenly
exclaimed, "Mr. Taylor, look astern!" I looked, and not four miles from
us I saw a large side-wheel cruiser, with square sails set, coming down
on us hand over fist. This was an instance of gross carelessness on the
part of the look-out man at the masthead (he turned out to be an
American whom we had shipped in Nassau, on the previous trip, and about
whom both Steele and I had our private suspicions). At such a critical
moment as the approach of daylight the chief officer should have chosen
a picked man for the look-out. After this we were more careful: either
the chief officer or I myself, when on board, making it a point to
occupy this post at that particular hour.
Erskine rushed to the engine-room, and in a few moments volumes of smoke
issuing from our funnels showed that we were getting up all the steam we
could—almost too late, as with the freshening breeze the chaser (which
we afterwards found out to be the well-known _James Adger_, a boat
subsequently sent to cruise in search of the _Alabama_) so rapidly
overhauled us that we could distinctly see the officers in uniform as
they stood on the bridge; each one, doubtless, counting his share of the
prize money to which he would soon become entitled.
[Illustration: THE _BANSHEE_ CHASED BY _JAMES ADGER_. _To face page 78_]
"This will never do," said Steele, who, although it put us off our
course to Nassau, ordered the helm to be altered, so as to bring us up
to the wind. We then soon had the satisfaction of seeing our enemy
obliged to take in sail after sail, and a ding-dong race of the most
exciting nature right in the wind's eye commenced.
The freshening breeze and rising sea now seemed to increase the odds
against our, the smaller, boat, and so critical did matters become, and
so certain did capture appear, that I divided between Murray-Aynsley—who
was a passenger on this trip,—Steele, and myself sixty sovereigns which
I had on board, determined that when captured we wouldn't be penniless.
As the weather grew worse we found ourselves obliged to throw overboard
our deck cargo in order to lighten the boat. This was done as quickly as
possible, heart-breaking though it was to see valuable bales (worth from
£50 to £60 apiece) bobbing about on the waves. To me more especially did
this come home, for my little private venture of ten bales of Sea Island
cotton had to go first, a dead loss of £800 or more!
A fresh cause of excitement now arose; in clearing out these very bales,
which were in a half finished deck cabin, an unfortunate stowaway came
to light, a runaway slave, who must have been standing wedged between
two bales for at least forty-eight hours, and within three feet of whom
I had unconsciously been sleeping on the cotton bales during the last
two nights before putting to sea. He received a great ovation on our
landing him at Nassau, though his freedom cost us $4000 on our return to
Wilmington, this being what he was valued at. His escape was an unusual
one, for, before leaving port the hold and closed up spaces were always
fumigated to such an extent as to have brought out or suffocated any one
in hiding; but this being an open-deck cabin, the precaution was
impossible.
Having got rid of our deck cargo, we slowly but steadily began to gain
in the race. It was an extraordinary sight to see our gallant little
vessel at times almost submerged by green seas sweeping her fore and
aft, and the _James Adger_, a vessel of 2000 tons, taking headers into
the huge waves, yet neither of us for a moment slackening speed, a
course we should have thought madness under ordinary circumstances.
Murray-Aynsley stood with his sextant, taking angles, and reporting now
one now the other vessel getting the best of it.
Suddenly a fresh danger arose from the bearings of the engines becoming
heated, owing to the enormous strain put upon them. Erskine said it was
absolutely imperative to stop for a short time. But by dint of loosening
the bearings and applying all the salad oil procurable mixed with
gunpowder they were gradually got into working order again, all in the
engine-room having assisted in the most energetic manner at this crucial
moment.
The chase went on for fifteen weary hours—the longest hours I think I
ever spent!—until nightfall, when we saw our friend, then only about
five miles astern, turn round and relinquish her pursuit. We heard
afterwards that her stokers were dead beat. For some time we pursued our
course, thinking this might be only a ruse on their part, and then held
a council of war as to our next move. Steele and Erskine were for making
Bermuda, as we had been chased 150 miles in that direction, and both
feared our coal would not hold out for us to reach Nassau. It was,
however, very necessary that I should go to the latter place, as I was
expecting two new steamers out from England, so we decided to make the
attempt. We only succeeded in reaching land at all by a very close
shave. At the end of the third day we saw our last coal used; mainmast,
bulwarks, deck cabin and every available bit of wood, supplemented by
cotton and turpentine as fuel, only just carried us into one of the
north-east keys of the Bahamas, about sixty miles from Nassau, into
which we absolutely crawled, the engines working almost on a vacuum. We
had not anchored there more than two hours when we saw a Northern
cruiser steam slowly past, evidently eyeing us greedily; but we were
safe in British territory, and even the audacious cruiser dare not take
us as a prize.
The difficulty of procuring the necessary fuel, in order to take us to
Nassau, now presented itself; fortunately we spied out a schooner in the
neighbourhood with whom we communicated, and after some negotiations I
arranged that she should take Murray-Aynsley and myself to our
destination, and bring back a cargo of coal.
We started with a fair wind, but before long this had changed to a
regular hurricane—during which it was impossible to keep on any sail,
and the crew became terrified and helpless, thereby very nearly letting
us drift on to the rocks near Abaco lighthouse. It was an awful night,
the lightning vivid, and the coast line not many yards away. The crew
became more and more demoralised, and when the weather moderated refused
to proceed. This new difficulty was only overcome by Murray-Aynsley and
myself producing our revolvers; then, partly by threats, and partly by
promised bribes, we prevailed on them to think better of their resolve.
Utterly wearied out, having had no sleep to speak of for one week, and
having lived in our sea-boots since we made our first start from
Wilmington (my feet were so swollen that the boots had to be cut off,
and sleeping draughts at first were powerless to restore the lost
faculty), we finally arrived in safety. The schooner was despatched back
with coal, and three days later I had the satisfaction of seeing the
_Banshee_ after these hair-breadth escapes steam safely in, though
looking considerably dilapidated; lucky in having lost only our deck
cargo—which represented a good half, or more, of what she started with.
This chase, which lasted fifteen hours, and covered nearly 200 miles,
was considered one of the most notable incidents connected with
blockade-running during the war, and we heard a good deal about it
afterwards. At the time we had been struck by the fact of the _James
Adger_ not opening fire on us, when so close. The explanation was, that
she had no "bow-chasers," and was so certain of capturing us eventually,
that she did not think it worth while to "yaw" and fire her broadside
guns, and as the weather was so bad she did not care to cast them loose.
This is the last trip I made in the _Banshee_ on which anything of note
occurred. She made eight round trips in all, and I then left her. She
was captured on the ninth, after another long chase off Cape Hatteras,
her captain and crew being taken to Fort Lafayette, where they were
detained for about eight months as prisoners in a casemate, badly fed
and clothed, and of course overcrowded. Steele spent some weeks in
Ludlow Street gaol; when he was released he found, to his delight, that
another boat had been built expressly for him, which was christened
_Banshee_ No. 2.
Some idea of the vast profits accruing from blockade-running at this
time can be gathered from the fact that, notwithstanding the total loss
of the _Banshee_ by capture, she earned sufficient on the eight
successful round trips which she made to pay her shareholders 700 per
cent on their investment.
Her captors turned her into a gunboat; and we heard afterwards that she
had proved anything but a success, being much too tender. Moreover her
engines, as we knew, were very hard to manipulate, so much so that on
one occasion it was found impossible to stop her, and she ran right into
the jetty of the naval yard at Washington.