ACTING ENSIGN IN THE UNITED STATES NAVY
General Canby, who commanded the troops in New York city, had chartered
six tug-boats for patrolling the river fronts, and each one had a
howitzer and guns, in charge of an ensign. I was sent to take charge of
the boat Rapid, and my instructions were to remain at Castle Garden dock
and await orders. As there was no more rioting, my chance for killing a
few rebel sympathizers was lost. One day a young man approached me and
inquired for the tug-boat Rapid, as he wished to see Ensign Thompson.
"You are speaking to him now," I answered.
He looked at me rather quizzically for a few seconds, and said his name
was John Murray.
"The fact is, you are living with my wife."
"The devil I am!" I replied.
"Such is the case," he stated. "I was arrested and compelled to marry
her, and, after living together for a year, she ran away from me in
Canada and came to New York. Now I wish to get a divorce so that I can
marry a girl to whom I am at present engaged."
At first he talked of having her arrested for bigamy. I told him that
even if he did that, he would still have to get a divorce, and that a
man who would ruin a girl and then contemplate sending her to prison was
a contemptible cur. Finally it was arranged that the divorce notice
should be served on her, and a decree asked for. My interview with Annie
was rather stormy. I told her that I would not marry her again, but I
would take care of her and would treat her as a wife as long as she
behaved herself. That was my last matrimonial venture; and I was a man
married to two women and yet legally a bachelor.
About the 1st of September, General Canby gave me orders to return the
howitzer and sailors to the navy yard, also for me to report to the St.
Lawrence. In a few days I was ordered to Boston, to join the United
States brig Perry. On my arrival, the captain indorsed my orders as
having reported. Next, I went to the navy agent, and received two
hundred dollars as advance pay and my mileage expenses from New
York---twenty-one dollars and ten cents. All naval officers are allowed
ten cents a mile when ordered to the different naval stations. The next
day I reported as ready for duty. Being next in rank to the captain,
made me executive officer. The Perry was the vessel I admired so much
when in Rio de Janeiro. Now the circumstances were altogether different.
It was a most undesirable vessel to be attached to in war times. There
would be no chance of active service or prize money. The Perry's day had
passed with the advent of fast steamers for blockade-running. In the
early part of the war she captured the rebel privateer Dixie after a
short engagement, and that was the end of her victories. And not one
cent of prize money was ever credited to her account.
The Perry was a man-of-war of the fourth rate, carrying ten broadside
guns and one howitzer. She was a very fast sailer, but very cranky or
top-heavy, on account of the heavy battery on deck and her lofty spars.
An acting master was in command. Under him were five acting ensigns and
three active master's mates. Captain (by courtesy) William D. Urann was
a thorough seaman, but a mighty mean person. He was a close-fisted
down-East Yankee. I was the only ensign on the brig for about a month,
the master's mates acting as watch officers. At last we got four other
ensigns, and every one of them was my senior, so that fact dropped me to
navigating officer. The commandant of the navy yard reported to the
naval department that the United States brig Perry was ready for sea.
Then the trouble began. Both officers and sailors were trying all kinds
of plans to get transferred to some of the steam gunboats. Some of the
crew complained about the foremast being rotten. The boss carpenter was
sent on board to examine it. After boring a few augur holes in it he
pronounced it sound. Then the crew had other complaints about the
vessel. Now, when a sailor gets to growling he can do it to perfection,
and the result was that the commandant sent a number of the growlers to
the receiving ship, very much to their joy. They were all good seamen.
In their place we received some very useless negroes to fill our
complement of men. The officers complained of being sick, and everything
else they could think of, so an extra ensign was sent on board to assist
us. As that gentleman was my junior by a few days, he had to be the
navigator and I became a watch officer. We were to pass many a day of
misery together in Southern prisons.
Very much to the commandant's relief and our own disgust, the anchor was
weighed, and we set sail for Charleston, S. C. All went nicely until we
got near Cape Hatteras, when, during a storm, some of the fore-rigging
carried away. We all examined the parted stays, and pronounced them
rotten, and the officers had quite a consultation as to what should be
done under the circumstances. Finally, the captain said that if the six
ensigns would go aloft and examine the rigging, and then make an
individual report that the vessel was unseaworthy, he would put back for
New York. We gave our report in very quickly, and the brig was headed
for Sandy Hook, N. Y. On our arrival at the navy yard, when the reasons
for our coming into port were made known, there was a big rumpus, sure
enough. The presumption on our captain's part was simply enormous! Had
not the commandant of the Boston navy yard reported the Perry as ready
for sea? All the officers on the vessel got on their dignity, and we
pointed to the rotten rigging to corroborate our opinions. The Navy
Department ordered a court of inquiry, and all the ensigns were called
before the court and individually questioned in regard to seamanship,
their experience on the ocean, and their reasons for stating the rigging
to be unfit for sea. It happened, for a wonder, that we six ensigns were
all experienced seamen, and much above the average. The questions were
promptly answered, and rather plainly, too. The court was composed of
regular officers, and something must be done to exonerate the
commandant at Boston. Volunteer officers were considered as interlopers,
and tolerated only as a necessity. The result was that Acting-Master
William D. Urann was deemed unfit to command a vessel, and was detached
from the brig Perry and ordered to report for duty to the commandant of
the Mississippi flotilla. He was there but a few weeks when his merits
as an experienced officer were recognised, and he was promoted to acting
lieutenant, ranking with a captain in the army.
I may as well explain the grades of rank now: A captain in the navy has
rank with a colonel in the army; commander, with a lieutenant-colonel;
lieutenant-commander, with a major; lieutenant, with captain; master,
with first lieutenant; ensign, with second lieutenant.
The fact of our captain being relieved did not prevent orders being
issued to have the brig repaired, and the riggers from the yard came on
board and made things lively for a while.
In about a month's time we were ready, and started for Charleston. All
went nicely until after we passed Cape Hatteras. I had an attack of some
light fever, and was on the sick list. On board was a master's mate by
the name of Bridges. He had been recommended for promotion to ensign,
and ordered to Boston for examination, but, failing to pass, he was
attached to the Perry, and every one on our vessel was desirous to
assist him in gaining experience. For that reason he was allowed to
stand my watch while I was sick, and usually some of the ensigns would
be on deck to see that everything was all right. But early one evening
we had just finished supper, and all of us sat in the ward-room having a
social chat. Feeling as if some fresh-air exercise would benefit me, I
went on deck, and, looking to the windward, I saw that a heavy squall
would soon strike us. Mr. Bridges was serenely promenading the deck,
totally oblivious of any impending danger, while the brig was sailing
close to the wind with every stitch of canvas set. I told Bridges to
have the light sails taken in as quickly as possible, at the same time
calling his attention to the squall. No time was lost by me in getting
to the ward-room, and informing the executive that he was needed on deck
to have all hands shorten sail. While I was speaking, the squall struck
us and nearly capsized the brig, and it was hard work for us to get on
deck, on account of the vessel careening over so much. Then there was an
exciting time; the crew had become panic-stricken for a few minutes.
Orders were given to let go everything. The pressure of the wind, the
mast lying at such a great angle, prevented the yards from coming down.
The wheel was in front of the cabin door, the excitement brought the
captain out, and he yelled to put the wheel hard down. Now that was the
first time that he ever gave an order on deck, and it nearly ended the
Perry's career, then and there.
The navigating officer has to stand regular deck watch with the others
while at anchor, and the executive is expected to be on board during the
day and have charge of everything in general. One of the master's
mates---not Mr. Bridges---was also put on watch duty, and, with six
ensigns, our turn on watch was only four hours out of every twenty-four;
in fact, we had so much leisure time that we did not know how to pass it
away. All the work required of the crew was to scrub decks before
breakfast and a half-hour's drilling at the broadside guns. Arrants and
myself would take a boat and crew and go fishing every pleasant day.
Taking the sounding lead with us, we were soon able to find good fishing
grounds. The bottom of the lead has a large hole that is filled with
hard tallow---"arming the lead." When the lead strikes the bottom it
will bring up anything that it comes in contact with, be it sand, mud,
or gravel, and, if rocks, the tallow will bear the impression. By that
means, it can be known to a certainty what the bottom is composed of in
that locality. For fishing, we would sound until we found a bank
composed of shells and gravel, and there we were sure of catching all
the fish we wanted.
Now, for our captain's mistake No. 2. He had gotten the idea into his
head that we were not close enough to the land. The weather had been
quite pleasant and the sea smooth. An experienced seaman has no use for
land unless it is in a secure harbour, and, much to our surprise, the
captain ordered the sails loosened and the anchor weighed, and we stood
in for the shore. The leadsman was continually taking soundings and,
when in three fathoms, the brig was brought head to wind and the anchor
let go. There we were in eighteen feet of water, the brig's draft being
twelve feet. This left just six feet of water between our keel and a
nice hard sandy bottom. The captain was well satisfied with the vessel's
position, as he remarked that no blockade-runner could now pass without
being seen. A few nights afterward his mind underwent a mighty sudden
change, when a heavy gale came on from the eastward about midnight, and
the waves got high and every few minutes the sea would lift us up, then
let us down with a heavy thud on that "nice sandy bottom." The fact was
we were anchored in the breakers. The top-sails were reefed and set,
then the anchor was weighed, the foresail was braced sharp up and back,
so as to bring the vessel's head to the southward, but it was of no use;
the brig would not swing around in the breakers but only drift astern
towards the beach. The anchor was again let go, then a rope was put into
the hawse-hole, the other end outside the port and fastened on the
quarter-deck. The cable was unshackled at the fifteen fathoms shackle,
the rope fastened to it, and the chain let run out of the hawse-hole. As
the brig drifted astern the rope fastened on the quarter gradually
tautened until the strain on the anchor checked us, allowing the vessel
to swing around until her top-sails filled. A buoy was then attached to
the rope and the latter let go. Away we went, leaving the anchor behind,
and then came the hard work in earnest---beating off a lee shore in a
heavy gale of wind. When the gale was over we found our brig to the
south-east of Charleston and a considerable distance from our station,
so back we went as fast as the vessel would sail. While passing the
entrance to Charleston Bay we espied a small schooner stranded on the
shoals. Here was a chance to display our valour and zeal for the
service.
Arrants and I were in charge of the second cutter, with the boat's crew
heavily armed. When we got on the shoals we found the "suspicious" craft
to be a small schooner of about fifteen tons. The sails were neatly
furled and the cabin entrance carefully boarded up. There were neither
cargo nor provisions on board, and on the stern, in freshly painted
letters, was the name Old Abe, which we thought was strange for a rebel
craft. There was not a house nor living being in sight in any direction,
so we set fire to the mysterious craft and returned to the brig.