OUR FLEET
First introduction to the _Will-o'-the-Wisp_—Making a dash for
it—A question of speed—Under heavy fire from both quarters—Run
ashore at full speed—An awkward predicament—All hands to the
pumps—Resort to desperate remedies—A struggle for sixty
hours—Sale of the _Will-o'-the-Wisp_—Her end—The _Wild Dayrell_—A
record performance—Loss of the _Wild Dayrell_—An incapable
Captain—The _Stormy Petrel_ and the _Wild Rover_.
The reason for my leaving the _Banshee_ was the arrival at Nassau of a
new steamer which my firm had sent out to me. This was the
_Will-o'-the-Wisp_, and great things were expected from her. She was
built on the Clyde, was a much larger and faster boat than the
_Banshee_, but shamefully put together, and most fragile. My first
introduction to her was seeing her appear off Nassau, and receiving a
message by the pilot boat, from Capper, the captain, to say that the
vessel was leaking badly and he dare not stop his engines, as they had
to be kept going in order to work the pumps. We brought her into the
harbour, and having beached her and afterwards made all necessary
repairs on the slipway, I decided to take a trip in her.
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 them. 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 masthead to take a look round: 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 signalled 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 towards 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
again 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 with her consort a
hundred and fifty away from us 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. The result was a most
frightful shaking, which of course materially increased the leaks, and
we feared she would become a total wreck; fortunately the tide was
rising, and, through lightening her by throwing some of the cargo
overboard, we succeeded in getting her off and steamed up the river to
Wilmington, where we placed her on the mud.
After repairing the shot holes and other damage, we were under the
impression that no further harm from running ashore had come to her, as
all leaks were apparently stopped and the ship was quite tight. The
result proved us to be sadly wrong on this point. After loading our
usual cargo we started down the river all right, and waited for
nightfall in order to cross the bar and run through the fleet. No sooner
had we crossed it and found ourselves surrounded by cruisers than the
chief engineer rushed on to the bridge, saying the water was already
over the stoke-hole plates, and he feared that the ship was sinking. At
the same moment a quantity of firewood which was stowed round one of the
funnels (and which was intended to eke out our somewhat scanty coal
supply) caught fire, and flames burst out.
[Illustration: _WILL-O'-THE-WISP'S_ DASH FOR WILMINGTON. _To face page
106._]
This placed us in a pretty predicament, as it showed our whereabouts to
two cruisers which were following us, one on each quarter. They at once
opened a furious cannonade upon us; however, although shells were
bursting all around and shot flying over us, all hands worked with a
will, and we soon extinguished the flames, which were acting as a
treacherous beacon to our foes. Fortunately the night was intensely
dark, and nothing could be seen beyond a radius of thirty or forty
yards, so, thanks to this, we were soon enabled, by altering our helm,
to give our pursuers the slip, whilst they probably kept on their
course.
We had still the other enemy to deal with; but our chief engineer and
his staff had meanwhile been hard at work and had turned on the
"bilge-injection" and "donkey-pumps." Still, the leak was gaining upon
us, and it became evident that the severe shaking which the ship got
when run aground had started the plates in her bottom. The mud had been
sucked up when she lay in the river at Wilmington, thus temporarily
repairing the damage; but when she got into the sea-way the action of
the water opened them again. Even the steam pumps now could not prevent
the water from gradually increasing; four of our eight furnaces were
extinguished, and the firemen were working up to their middles in water.
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 towards 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 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 exclaimed. "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,—although
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 harbour 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.
I had the _Will-o'-the-Wisp_ raised, hauled up on the slip, and repaired
at an enormous expense before she was fit again for sea. Subsequently
she made several trips, but as I found her a constant source of delay
and expenditure I decided to sell her. After having her cobbled up with
plenty of putty and paint, I was fortunate enough to open negotiations
with some Jews with a view to her purchase. Having settled all
preliminaries we arranged for a trial trip, and after a very sumptuous
lunch I proceeded to run her over a measured mile for the benefit of the
would-be purchasers. I need scarcely mention that we subjected her
machinery to the utmost strain, bottling up steam to a pressure of which
our present Board of Trade, with its motherly care for our lives, would
express strong disapproval. The log line was whisked merrily over the
stern of the _Will-o'-the-Wisp_, with the satisfactory result that she
logged 17-1/2 knots. The Jews were delighted, so was I; and the bargain
was clinched. I fear, however, that their joy was short-lived; a few
weeks afterwards when attempting to steam into Galveston she was run
ashore and destroyed by the Federals. When we ran into that port a few
months afterwards in the second _Banshee_ we saw her old bones on the
beach.
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 the Fort Caswell entrance (not Fort Fisher),
we were sighted by a Federal cruiser, who 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 friend 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 and while enjoying the usual
cocktail 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 a very indifferent calibre, 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 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 with, and he was a particular protégé of my chiefs. 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.
About this time I had two other new boats sent out, the _Stormy Petrel_
and the _Wild Rover_, both good boats, very fast, and distinct
improvements on the _Banshee_ No. 1 and _Will-o'-the-Wisp_. The _Stormy
Petrel_ had, however, very bad luck, as after getting safely in and
anchoring behind Fort Fisher she settled as the tide went down on a
submerged anchor, the fluke of which went through her bottom, and
despite all efforts she became a total wreck: this was one of the most
serious and unlucky losses I had. The _Wild Rover_ was more successful,
as she made five round trips, on one of which I went in her. She
survived the war, and I eventually sent her to South America, where she
was sold for a good sum.