THE BLOCKADE RUNNER.
The water on that portion of the coast of Florida to which the Middy
had been ordered is very shallow. The shoals extend out from the land
about sixteen miles; and, six miles from shore, there was not, in
many places, more than a foot of water between the Middy’s keel and
the bottom. Her light draught, and weatherly qualities, had been her
principal recommendations for the service on which she had been sent;
but, for in-shore duty, she was well-nigh useless without a pilot,
which she had, thus far, been unable to obtain.
The Suwanee River has two outlets. In front of these there is a long,
circular reef, outside of which the Middy lay. The blockade-runner had
approached from the direction of Cedar Keys, and entered the river by
the most southern of the two outlets, passing inside of the Middy.
The negro who had boarded the steamer said he had been after oysters.
He had been on the lookout for a Government vessel for weeks; for, as
he had declared, he “wanted to run away very bad.” Hundreds of slaves
had come off to the fleet in various places; and Clem--this was the
negro’s name--said there were thousands more who wanted to escape from
slavery. There was no difficulty in believing all this, and nothing
very strange in Clem’s coming off just when and where he did. His color
was a sufficient guaranty for his loyalty, but not for his skill as a
pilot in those difficult and dangerous waters.
Captain McBride gave him some supper, and supplied him with clothing;
for the poor fellow was not very far from naked. He questioned him
very closely in regard to his knowledge of the navigation of the river
and the contiguous waters. Clem answered that he had been a fireman
on a river-steamer for ten years; had been fishing and oystering for
five more; and, finally, that he had several times piloted a steamer,
drawing three or four feet of water, from the Keys to Clay Landing; and
he wished he “was jes as sartin of gwine to heaben as he was of gwine
frew dem channels.”
The Middy started, in the fog and darkness, to pass the bar; though not
till the captain had carefully consulted all his authorities on board
in regard to the channel, and ascertained that the spring-tides were
then prevailing.
“I’m going to trust you, Clem,” said the captain, as he conducted him
to the wheel-house; “but woe betide you if you get us into trouble!”
“Golly, massa! What’s dis nigger gwine to git you into trouble fur? I
kin take de steamboat up to Clay Landin’; and dat’s fur as five foot
kin go. Git you into trouble, massa cap’n! Golly! I guess dis chile git
hisself into trouble fus. Yah, yah! What you s’pose ole massa say if
he cotch Clem takin’ Yankee gunboat up de riber? I s’peck he broke his
back if he cotch him, jes as shore as you was a white man!”
“Well, never mind that now,” added Captain McBride, who could not
help seeing the force of the black pilot’s argument. “Go into the
wheel-house, now, and tell the quartermaster how to steer.”
“Sar!” exclaimed Clem, opening his mouth from ear to ear.
“Give these men your orders, and they will observe them.”
“Clem gib dese gemmen de orders?”
“Certainly.”
“Cotch Clem doin’ such a t’ing as dat, massa cap’n! Niger gib orders to
de white man! Yah, yah, yah!” and the pilot doubled up and laughed till
the waistbands of his new trousers were in danger of being ruptured.
“Come, Clem, we are losing the tide,” said the captain.
“Yes, sar!” exclaimed he, springing to the wheel. “Whar does you stroke
dem bells?”
“Here,” said Jack, pointing out the bell-pulls.
“If de gemman gib dis chile de wheel, he can steer hisself all alone.”
“Give him the wheel, quartermaster,” added the captain.
The black pilot stuck his head out of the window, as though he was
trying to peer through the fog and gloom of the night. It certainly
looked very hopeless; but the negro snuffed the air half a dozen times,
and then confidently struck the bell to go ahead.
“Have you got your bearings?” demanded the captain nervously; for it
looked like dubious business to go over a bar, with not more than six
feet of water on it, in such a night as that.
“Yes, massa cap’n: I smell um,” replied Clem, gravely.
“You smell them, you black rascal! What do you mean by that?” roared
the captain angrily; for he was disturbed by a strong suspicion that
Clem was making game of him.
“Golly, massa cap’n, you frighten dis nigger out of his wits; and he
won’t know de channel from de reef!”
“What do you mean by saying that you _smell_ your bearings?”
“Yes, massa, dat’s so: I smell de rotten isters ober on de point dar.”
The Middy now went ahead slowly. Clem was as confident as though it had
been broad daylight, with a clear sky above him. Tom Longstone heaved a
lead constantly.
“Quarter, less two!” said he as the steamer began to move.
“Dat’s all right dar,” said the black pilot. “Dis chile kin tell you de
depf hisself, widout no soundin’.”
“And a half, one!” added Tom with emphasis.
“Yes, sar; and, de nex’ time you frow, find jes one fadom.”
“By the mark, one!” roared Tom, who thought it was about time to strike
two bells.
“Rite on de bar, massa,” said Clem, thrusting his head out of the
side-window, and taking three long snuffs. “Dar’s de pint ober dar.”
“By the mark, one!” repeated Tom as he threw the lead again.
“Needn’t sound no more down dar. Dis chile knows all about it hisself,”
cried Clem, who appeared to think that the precaution was an imputation
upon his skill or his loyalty.
But Tom did not suspend the operation; and soon the depth increased to
eight feet.
“All right now, massa cap’n,” said Clem a few minutes later, as he
fixed his eye on the compass.
The binnacle-lamp had been lighted: but it was not to be supposed that
Clem knew anything about the compass; yet great was the astonishment of
the captain when it was observed that now he steered entirely by that
instrument.
“What is your course, Clem?” asked Captain McBride.
“No’th-east by no’th, massa,” replied the black pilot.
“Can you box the compass?”
“Yes, sar, no’th, no’th by east, nor’-nor’-east, no’th-east by no’th,
nor’-east by east, east-nor’-east, east by no’th, east,” chattered Clem
without hesitation.
“That will do. Where did you learn that?”
“’Board vessel down t’ de Keys.”
Clem was certainly a prize; and Captain McBride was duly grateful that
this “intelligent contraband” had concluded to run away at the precise
time he did.
“Steamer on the port-bow!” shouted the lookout on the forecastle.
“Dems ’em, massa cap’n; and de fort’s right ober dar,” said Clem,
pointing out of the window.
“We had better not wake up the fort, if we can help it,” said the
captain.
“I think not, sir,” added Mr. Dickey.
The fog was not quite so dense up the river as it had been outside;
and the blockade-runner could be distinctly seen, at anchor. But there
was a great deal of confusion on board of her, as it now appeared from
the noise which reached the Middy. Probably her captain was not a
little surprised to find a United States steamer at his heels on such
a night and in such a place; and it must be acknowledged that Captain
McBride was scarcely less surprised.
“Can you run alongside that steamer?” asked the captain of the pilot.
“No, sar: dat steamer don’t draw no more’n four foot ob water.”
“Clear away the first cutter, Mr. Dickey!” added the captain. “Send Mr.
Brackett to board the steamer.”
In a few moments, the first cutter, as the starboard quarter-boat was
designated, was pulling towards the blockade-runner. It contained,
besides the second-lieutenant, an engineer, a master’s mate, and
fifteen seamen, all armed to the teeth. As the boat approached the
prize, a rocket went up from her forecastle, and she began to move up
the river again. But, before she had got full headway on, Mr. Brackett
boarded her. No resistance was made, though some of the crew jumped
overboard, and swam towards the shore.
The rocket had done its work, and the battery opened fire; but the
aim of the gunners seemed to be half a mile farther up the river,
and no notice was taken of the firing by the Middy. The prize was
brought alongside the steamer, and her crew put in irons to prevent
them from doing mischief. Mr. Brackett was directed to remain on board
of her with his prize-crew; and Jack was ordered to her wheel, with
instructions to follow the Middy. Both vessels reached the bar in
safety; but there was not water enough for the little gunboat to go
over, and she was compelled to anchor. The Olympus--for Clem had been
correct in his supposition--was supplied with provisions and stores,
and ordered to Key West. An engineer and two first-class firemen were
sent on board, who, with her negro firemen, formed a sufficient force
for the engine. The master’s mate and six seamen also went in her.
The Olympus was a river-steamer of light draught. She was loaded with
a valuable cargo of hardware and clothing, which she had just brought
up from Cedar Keys, where it had been landed by a schooner hailing
from Nassau. Captain McBride had some doubts whether she would reach
Key West; but nothing else could be done with her; and he had full
confidence in Mr. Brackett’s skill and prudence. She was fortunately
favored with good weather; and, at the end of three weeks, the
prize-crew returned to the Middy by a vessel bound to Pensacola.
“Now, massa cap’n,” said Clem, when the Olympus had departed, “dar’s
two boats loaded with cotton up de riber, wat’s gwin down to de Keys to
load de schooners dar.”
“Where are they?”
“Up to Clay Landing, massa.”
“Can we go up there?”
“Yes, sar, ’spose de fort let you go.”
“We can take care of the fort.”
“And de gorillas, massa?”
“The what?”
“Dem fellers dat goes about on hoss-back cutting people’s froats,--dem
dat fired on de boats down to de Keys.”
“Oh! the guerillas?”
“Yes, sar.”
“We can take care of them too.”
“Take de gum-boat right up dar, den; but de gorillas done shoot de man
at de wheel!” added Clem with a shudder.
“Well, we have iron screens to protect the helmsman.”
The Middy remained at her anchorage above the bar till forenoon of
the next day, when a southerly wind, which had prevailed for several
days, had raised the water nearly two feet above the ordinary level
of high tide. The fog had disappeared; and, under these favorable
circumstances, the little gunboat sailed on her cruise up the river,
where no armed steamer had gone before. The iron screens had been put
up to protect the gunners and the helmsman, and every preparation made
for a stormy time.
Clem was now as lively as though he had been going to a ball instead
of a battle. He opened his mouth wide enough to shame the alligators,
and seemed to rejoice continually at his good fortune in escaping to
the “gum-boat.” From the paymaster’s stores he had been rigged out in
a complete suit of seaman’s clothes; and the change of dress certainly
wrought a marvellous revolution in his personal appearance. He was
apparently forty years of age, as black as charcoal, and very far from
being a handsome man. He had no knowledge of anything except what
related to his particular sphere of duty. He didn’t know what caused
the war; but he was sure it would free the slaves. He had been down to
Key West several times in a schooner; but his travels did not appear to
have enlarged his understanding. He was always good-natured, docile,
and funny. He could not speak without exciting a laugh; and at once
became a favorite with both officers and crew, all of whom had a high
respect for him on account of his skill as a pilot.
Clem took his place at the wheel; and the Middy ascended the river,
with the American flag flying at the stern, to the intense disgust
of “Secesh” on its banks. In due time, the fort opened upon her very
spitefully; but its guns proved to be miserably inefficient in range,
which suggested to Captain McBride his proper course. Dropping his
anchor with a spring on the cable, out of reach of the enemy’s guns, he
proceeded in a leisurely manner to knock the works to pieces with his
thirty-two-pounder and one quarter-gun.