HAVANA AND GALVESTON
The most expensive city in the world—An adventurous trip—A
furious gale in the gulf-stream—A run to Galveston—A worthless
pilot—A "Norther"—Drifting in the middle of a blockading
squadron—An old friend again—The _Banshee_ nearly
lost—Uncomfortably close quarters—A choice of alternatives—A
reckless undertaking—Galveston—A scarcity of cotton—A trip
to Houston—A sporting conductor and engine-driver—The execution
of a deserter—Return to Nassau—Ending of the war—A disastrous
liquidation—Home.
Havana was a great blockade-running centre to and from the Gulf ports,
but until Wilmington was closed I did not attempt to utilise it, for
many reasons preferring Nassau and the last named port. I went over
there, however, several times, partly on business, and partly on
pleasure, and a lovely city it was. Cuba was then in the heyday of
success, and no one who had not visited its capital could have imagined
that such a gay and beautiful city existed in the West Indies. Money
seemed no object. And fortunately there was plenty, for everything was
extravagantly dear, and I should think that at that time it was one of
the most if not the most expensive city in the world to live in.
To us blockade-runners, accustomed to the hard life in the South and the
contracted surroundings of Nassau, Havana appeared like Paradise; good
hotels and casinos, a capital theatre, magnificent equipages, military
bands, handsome women, and, last but not least, the lavish and genial
hospitality dispensed by our Consul-General, Mr. Crawford, and his
charming daughters at their house, "Buenos Ayres," made a residence in
Havana like a rest in an oasis to the weary traveller of the desert. But
it was not all pleasure, as far as I was concerned. I had my business
with its anxieties to attend to, and on one of my visits I had a rather
adventurous trip to Nassau in a small schooner which I had chartered to
convey some boiler tubes there. Being very anxious to reach Nassau
quickly, I decided to go in her instead of waiting for the mail steamer
which left a few days later.
I made a start in the small craft (her size can be imagined when I state
that she was a man-of-war's pinnace raised upon) manned by nine niggers.
The first day out we encountered a furious gale in the Gulf-stream, and
it is a marvel our little craft lived through it, for a fearful sea was
running. However, she proved an excellent sea-boat, and when the gale
subsided we found ourselves on the Bahama banks becalmed; for nine days
we drifted helplessly over them, suffering agonies from the heat,
hunger, and thirst, as we had only laid in provisions for about four
days, and to make matters worse the bung had been left out of our
freshwater cask and in the gale the water was rendered undrinkable by
the salt water washing over it. Fortunately I had laid in a supply of a
dozen of claret and a dozen of beer, and this was all we had to divide
between us; however, everything has an end, and on the ninth day we had
a spanking breeze which carried us in to Nassau, but not until we had
been passed about twenty miles outside by the mail steamer in which I
could have come, and whose captain, recognising me on board the
schooner, jeered at me from his bridge.
When Wilmington was on the point of falling there was nothing for it but
to transfer our operations to Galveston, and to accomplish this I took
the _Banshee_ No. 2 over to Havana with a valuable cargo, accompanied by
Frank Hurst, in order to make an attempt to run into Galveston: this
proved to be my last trip, but it was far from being the least exciting.
When all was ready we experienced the greatest difficulty in finding a
Galveston pilot. Though, owing to the high rate of pay, numbers of men
were to be found ready to offer their services, it was extremely hard to
obtain competent men. After considerable delay we had to content
ourselves at last with a man who _said_ he knew all about the port, but
who turned out to be absolutely worthless. We then made a start, and
with the exception of meeting with the most violent thunderstorm, in
which the lightning was something awful, nothing extraordinary occurred
on our passage across the Gulf of Mexico, and we scarcely saw a
sail—very different from our experiences between Nassau and Wilmington,
when it was generally a case of "sail on the port bow" or "steamer right
ahead" at all hours of the day.
The third evening after leaving Havana we had run our distance, and, on
heaving the lead and finding that we were within a few miles of the
shore, we steamed cautiously on in order to try and make out the
blockading squadron or the land. It was a comparatively calm and very
dark night, just the one for the purpose, but within an hour all had
changed and it commenced to blow a regular "Norther," a wind which is
very prevalent on that coast. Until then I had no idea what a "Norther"
meant; first rain came down in torrents, then out of the inky blackness
of clouds and rain came furious gusts, until a hurricane was blowing
against which, notwithstanding that we were steaming at full speed, we
made little or no way, and although the sea was smooth our decks were
swept by white foam and spray. Suddenly we made out some dark objects
all round us, and found ourselves drifting helplessly among the ships of
the blockading squadron, which were steaming hard to their anchors, and
at one moment we were almost jostling two of them; whether they knew
what we were, or mistook us for one of themselves matters not; they were
too much occupied about their own safety to attempt to interfere.
As to attempt to get into Galveston that night would have been madness,
we let the _Banshee_ drift and, when we thought we were clear of the
fleet, we steamed slowly seaward, after a while shaping a course so as
to make the land about thirty miles to the south-west at daylight. We
succeeded in doing this and quietly dropped our anchor in perfectly calm
water, the "Norther" having subsided almost as quickly as it had risen.
Having seen enough of our pilot to realise that he was no good whatever,
we decided after a conference to lie all day where we were, keeping a
sharp look-out and steam handy, and determined as evening came on to
creep slowly up the coast until we made out the blockading fleet, then
to anchor again and make a bold dash at daylight for our port.
All went well; we were unmolested during the day and got under weigh
towards evening, passing close to a wreck which we recognised as our old
friend the _Will-o'-the-Wisp_, which had been driven ashore and lost on
the very first trip she made after I had sold her. Immediately
afterwards we very nearly lost our own ship too. Seeing a post of
Confederate soldiers close by on the beach, we determined to steam close
in and communicate with them in order to learn all about the tactics of
the blockaders and our exact distance from Galveston. We backed her
close in to the breakers in order to speak, but when the order was given
to go ahead she declined to move, and the chief engineer reported that
something had gone wrong with the cylinder valve, and that she must
heave to for repairs. It was an anxious moment; the _Banshee_ had barely
three fathoms beneath her, and her stern was almost in the white water.
We let go the anchor, but in the heavy swell it failed to hold: the
pilot was in a helpless state of flurry when he found that we were
drifting slowly but steadily towards the shore, but Steele's presence of
mind never for one moment deserted him. The comparatively few minutes
which occupied the engineers in temporarily remedying the defect seemed
like hours in the presence of the danger momentarily threatening us.
When, at length, the engineers managed to turn her ahead we on the
bridge were greatly relieved to see her point seawards and clear the
breakers. I have often thought since, if a disaster had happened and we
had lost the ship, how stupid we should have been thought by people at
home.
As soon as we reached deep water the damage was permanently repaired,
and we steamed cautiously up the coast, until about sundown we made out
the topmasts of the blockading squadron right ahead. We promptly
stopped, calculating that, as they were about ten to eleven miles from
us, Galveston must lie a little further on our port bow. We let go our
anchor and prepared for an anxious night; all hands were on deck and the
cable was ready to be unshackled at a moment's notice, with steam as
nearly ready as possible without blowing off, as at any moment a prowler
from the squadron patrolling the coast might have made us out. We had
not been lying thus very long when suddenly on the starboard bow we made
out a cruiser steaming towards us evidently on the prowl. It was a
critical time; all hands were on deck, a man standing by to knock the
shackle out of the chain cable, and the engineers at their stations.
Thanks to the backing of the coast, our friend did not discover us and
to our relief disappeared to the southward.
After this all was quiet during the remainder of the night, which,
fortunately for us, was very dark, and about two hours before daylight
we quietly raised our anchor and steamed slowly on, feeling our way
cautiously by the lead, and hoping, when daylight fairly broke, to find
ourselves inside the fleet opposite Galveston and able to make a short
dash for the bar. We had been under weigh some time, when suddenly we
discovered a launch close to us on the port bow filled with Northern
blue-jackets and marines. "Full speed ahead," shouted Steele, and we
were within an ace of running her down as we almost grazed her with our
port paddle-wheel. Hurst and I looked straight down into the boat,
waving them a parting salute. The crew seemed only too thankful at their
narrow escape to open fire, but they soon regained their senses and
threw up rocket after rocket in our wake as a warning to the blockading
fleet to be on the alert.
Daylight was then slowly breaking, and the first thing we discovered was
that we had not taken sufficient account of the effects of the "Norther"
on the current; instead of being opposite the town with the fleet broad
on to our starboard beam, we found ourselves down three or four miles
from it and the most leeward blockader close to us on our bow. It was a
moment for immediate decision: the alternatives were to turn tail and
stand a chase to seaward by their fastest cruisers with chance of
capture, and in any case a return to Havana as we had not sufficient
coal for another attempt, or to make a dash for it and take the fire of
the squadron. In an instant we decided to go for it, and orders to turn
ahead full speed were given; but the difficulty now to be overcome was
that we could not make for the main channel without going through the
fleet. This would have been certain destruction, so we had to make for a
sort of swash channel along the beach, which, however, was nothing but a
_cul-de-sac_, and to get from it into the main channel. Shoal water and
heavy breakers had to be passed, but there was now no other choice open
to us.
By this time the fleet had opened fire upon us, and shells were bursting
merrily around as we took the fire of each ship which we passed.
Fortunately there was a narrow shoal between us, which prevented them
from approaching within about half a mile of us; luckily also for us
they were in rough water on the windward side of the shoal and could not
lay their guns with precision. And to this we owed our escape, as,
although our funnels were riddled with shell splinters, we received no
damage and had only one man wounded. But the worst was to come; we saw
the white water already ahead, and we knew our only chance was to bump
through it, being well aware that if she stuck fast we should lose the
ship and all our lives, for no boat, even if it could have been
launched, would have lived in such a surf.
With two leadsmen in the chains we approached our fate, taking no notice
of the bursting shells and round shot to which the blockaders treated us
in their desperation; it was not a question of the fathoms but of the
feet we were drawing: twelve feet, ten, nine, and when we put her at it,
as you do a horse at a jump, and as her nose was entering the white
water, "eight feet" was sung out. A moment afterwards we touched and
hung; and I thought all was over, when a big wave came rolling along and
lifted our stern and the ship bodily with a crack which could be heard a
quarter of a mile off, and which we thought meant that her back was
broken.
[Illustration: _BANSHEE NO. 2_ RUNNING THE GAUNTLET OF THE GALVESTON
BLOCKADING SQUADRON IN DAYLIGHT. _To face page 156._]
She once more went ahead: the worst was over, and, after two or three
minor bumps, we were in the deep channel, helm hard a-starboard and
heading for Galveston Bay, leaving the disappointed blockaders astern.
It was a reckless undertaking and a narrow escape, but we were safe in,
and after an examination by the health officer we steamed gaily up to
the town, the wharves of which were crowded by people, who, gazing to
seaward, had watched our exploit with much interest, and who cheered us
heartily upon its success.
I found Galveston a most forsaken place; its streets covered with sand,
its wharves rotting, its defences in a most deplorable condition, very
different from those at Wilmington, and if the Northerners had taken the
trouble I think that they could easily have possessed themselves of it.
But our welcome was warm, and during the _Banshee's_ long stay we had a
real good time; General Magruder was in command, and many a cheery
entertainment we had on board with him and his staff as guests, who were
all musical. We had a capital French cook, and as plenty of game, fish,
and oysters were procurable, and our good liquor was plentiful, we had
all the necessary ingredients for many most sociable evenings—this was
the bright side of the picture.
The reverse was the difficulty I had in procuring a suitable outward
cargo; the inward one was all right, and I found our assortment would
sell well, but the trouble was to obtain cotton: there was extremely
little of it left near the seaboard, and to get it from further up
country was a long, tedious, and expensive process. Moreover, I found
there would be great difficulty in having it pressed, and to take a
cargo of half-pressed cotton meant very serious loss indeed; however,
having arranged for the sale by auction of the inward cargo, Hurst and I
started for Houston, the capital of Texas, armed with a letter of
introduction to the most influential merchant there, who agreed after
endless negotiations to provide at a high price a full-pressed cargo,
but required a long time for delivery and payment half in Confederate
money (being part of the proceeds of our inward cargo), and the balance
by drafts on home. This meant a further loss in withdrawing my
superfluous proceeds from the country, but as no better bargain could be
made I agreed.
Houston, in those days, was a pretty little town, very dull of course,
but fortunately we made the acquaintance of a charming family, refugees
from Baton Rouge, who were most kind to us, and I shall ever feel
grateful to Mrs. Avery and her fair daughters for the hospitality which
they extended to me.
After concluding these arrangements I returned to Galveston, being
rather amused on the journey by the sudden stoppage of the train, which
had been crawling along at about ten miles an hour, followed by the
leisurely exit of the conductor and engine driver each with a gun on his
shoulder, who calmly disappeared across the prairie on a gunning
expedition. After about an hour's delay the sportsmen returned fairly
successful, and with "all aboard" we resumed our journey.
A few days subsequently I witnessed a sad sight—the execution of a
deserter, a fine fellow, sergeant of artillery, whose only offence was
that he had crossed the Mississippi into the Northern lines in order to
visit his wife and family, intending, it was believed, to return; he was
captured, however, and condemned to death by court-martial, and the
whole of the garrison of Galveston was paraded to witness his execution.
It was an anxious time for the authorities, as it was expected that his
battery would attempt a rescue, so the other two batteries were drawn up
opposite with guns loaded ready to fire on it if it did. The sergeant
was led out, and six men were placed a few paces in front of him; after
refusing to have his eyes bandaged, he dropped his hand as a signal for
them to fire; a report as from one rifle rang out, and he dropped on his
face dead. The saddest part of this incident was, that within an hour of
his execution a pardon arrived from headquarters at Houston on a railway
trolly; no locomotive being available four men had worked the trolly
down, but too late.
Finding that the accumulation of cargo and consequent loading of the
_Banshee_ would occupy a long time, and owing to the critical state of
affairs in the South rendering it absolutely necessary for me to return
to Nassau as soon as possible, I decided to take a passage in a friend's
blockade-runner then ready to start, leaving my able lieutenant Frank
Hurst to settle up things and come out in the _Banshee_. But I did not
like it at all; it was the first time I was to try the venture in a
strange craft and as a mere passenger, and from what I had seen of the
skipper I had not over much confidence in him.
On a night which was eminently suited for the purpose we made a start,
but no sooner did we get down to the Tripod, which marked the entrance
to the channel, than we made out a couple of the blockaders—a sight
quite enough for the nerves of our captain, who declared we should
certainly be seen and immediately gave orders to turn back. This was not
my idea of blockade-running as I had been accustomed to it, but being a
passenger I had no _locus standi_ on board; we put back to the harbour
and next morning were well chaffed. To make a long story short we made a
second attempt next night with like results, and I was beginning to feel
thoroughly disgusted. Every hour's delay with a growing moon now
increased our risks; on the third night, by dint of goading the skipper,
whose coal was running short, I persuaded him to harden his heart and
make a run for it. When we reached the Tripod we made out several of the
squadron, but we put our helm a-starboard, ran along the land, and
fortunately got clear.
Crossing the Gulf of Mexico we made out nothing; perhaps this was
because no look-out was kept; and mightily glad I was when we made the
coast of Cuba and steamed into Havana. This trip was certainly a
revelation to me as regards blockade-running, and no wonder many a fine
boat, navigated, no doubt, on the same lines as the —— had been thrown
away.
This was my last trip, the twenty-eighth—a record, I think, for any
Englishman during the war, and considering the narrow squeaks that I
had, and that I only came to grief once in the _Night Hawk_, I had a
great deal to be thankful for.
Upon my arrival in Havana I found the mail boat was starting for Nassau
next day, and in her I took my passage. I found Nassau much changed, as
during my absence Wilmington, after an heroic defence of Fort Fisher by
my old friend Lamb, had been captured, and had it not been for the
supineness (not to use a stronger phrase) of General Bragg, who
commanded the Confederate forces outside the fort and who failed to
attack the Northern attacking force in the rear when the assault was
made, Lamb's second defence would have been as successful as the first,
and Fort Fisher and Wilmington would have been saved to the Confederate
Government—a result which might have had a very important bearing upon
the issue of the struggle. Wilmington and Charleston being now closed,
Nassau's days as a blockade-running centre were over, and the only thing
to do was to wind up our affairs as well as we could, and prepare to go
home. Even then it was evident that the game was up as far as the South
was concerned, and very shortly afterwards we heard of Lee's surrender
and the virtual ending of the war.
In the interim the _Banshee_ arrived, having cleared out of Galveston
without trouble and transhipped her cargo at Havana, which, although the
war was over, sold for very high prices in Liverpool. But the
liquidation of our affairs generally was a disastrous one; our steamers
were practically valueless; and as a matter of fact the _Banshee_ and
_Night Hawk_, which I sent home, and which had cost between them some
£70,000, we sold for £6000; two or three other boats which I sent to
South America for sale realised miserable prices, so that this, combined
with the enormous stakes we had imprisoned in the South, and which were
confiscated, took the gilt considerably off our gingerbread.
It had been an exciting and eventful period, however, and had I gone
through it again with the experience I had gained in the trade, I could
have made large fortunes for my employers and myself; but in the early
part of the war, when the Northerners owing to want of ships could only
blockade the Southern ports in a half-hearted way, we let our golden
opportunity slip in trying to work with indifferent tools, _i.e._ slow,
worn-out, heavy-draught steamers, and it was not until almost too late
that my friends at home woke up and sent me out a better class of boat.
By that time the blockade had become most stringent, and to evade it was
an affair involving a tremendous risk, even with the fastest and best
equipped vessels and commanded by the most daring men.
After closing up my affairs in Nassau I returned home for, what I think
I deserved, a well-earned rest; and I am sure I needed it, as the hard
life I had led, combined with the after effects of yellow fever and
fever and ague, had played havoc with my nervous system. This trouble
quiet life in England soon put right, and in a few months I found myself
bound for India as a partner in the house in Bombay, with quite a
different life to look forward to, but very pleasant recollections of
the experience I had gained and the good friends I had made. The death
rate, however, among those friends has lately been heavy, and there are
very few left (I think, sad to relate, Murray-Aynsley and Frank Hurst
now only remain) of the good comrades, who would always have stood by
each other in any difficulty or danger.