hail, the skipper asked for a boat to put off for us. “Come off in your
own boat.” Skiff of Charon! But there was no choice. With all the bathos
of that remarkable structure it could not go down in such a short row.
And if it did? Well, “there’s not a more terrible place for sharks along
this coast,” the captain had told us incidentally _en route_. Our own
boat was inclined to impartiality in its relations with the water, and
took quite as much inside as it could hold, but we soused into it, and
the men pulled like Doggett’s Badgers, and soon we were out of shark
depth and alongside the jetty, where were standing to receive us Mr.
Brown, our friend of yesterday, Captain Vodges, and Captain Berry,
commanding a United States battery inside the fort. The soldiers of the
guard were United States regular troops of the artillery, wore blue
uniforms with brass buttons, and remarkably ugly slouched felt hats,
with an ornament in the shape of two crossed cannon. Captain Vodges
informed me that Colonel Moore had sent off a reply to my letter to the
fleet, stating that he would gladly permit me to go over the fort, but
that he could not allow any one else, under any circumstances whatever,
to visit it. My friends were therefore constrained to stay outside, but
one of them picked up a friend on the beach and got up an impromptu ride
along the island. The way from the jetty to the entrance of the fort is
in the universal deep sand of this part of the world; the distance from
the landing-place to the gateway is not much more than two hundred
yards, and the approach to the portal is quite unprotected. There is a
high ramp and glacis on the land side, but the face and part of the
curtain in which the gate is situate are open, as it was not considered
likely that it would ever be attacked by Americans. The sharp angle of
the bastion on this face is so weak that men are now engaged in throwing
up an extempore glacis to cover the base of the wall and the casemates
from fire. The ditch is very broad, and the scarp and counterscarp are
riveted with brickwork. The curvette has been cleared out, and in doing
so, as a proof of the agreeable character of the locality, I may observe
upwards of sixty rattlesnakes were killed by the workmen. An abattis has
been made along the edge of this part of the ditch--a rough inclined
fence of stakes and boughs of trees. “Yes, sir; at one time when those
terrible fire-eating gentlemen at the other side were full of threats,
and coming to take the place every day, there were only seventy men in
this fort, and Lieutenant Slemmer threw up this abattis to delay his
assailants, if it were only for a few minutes, and to give his men
breathing time to use their small arms.” The casemates here are all
blinded, and the hospital is situate in the bomb-proofs inside. The gate
was closed; at a talismanic knock it was opened, and from the external
silence we passed into a scene full of activity and life, through the
dark gallery which served at first as a framework to the picture. The
parade of the fort was full of men, and as a _coup d’œil_, it was
obvious that great efforts had been made to prepare Fort Pickens for a
desperate defence. In the parade were several tents of what is called
Sibley’s pattern, like our bell tents, but without the lower side-wall,
and provided with a ventilating top, which can be elevated or depressed
at pleasure. The parade-ground has been judiciously filled with deep
holes, like inverted cones, in which shells will be comparatively
innocuous; and warned by Sumter, every thing has been removed which
could prove in the least degree combustible. The officer on duty led me
straight across to the opposite angle of the fort. As the rear of the
casemates and bomb-proofs along this side will be exposed to a plunging
fire from the opposite side, a very ingenious screen has been
constructed, by placing useless gun-platforms and parts of carriages at
an angle against the wall, and piling them up with sand and earth for
several feet in thickness. A passage is thus left between the base of
the wall and that of the screen, through which a man can walk with ease.
Turning into this passage, we entered a lofty bomb-proof, which was the
bedroom of the commanding officer, and passed through into the casemate
which serves as his head-quarters. Colonel Harvey Brown received me with
every expression of politeness and courtesy. He is a tall, spare,
soldierly-looking man, with a face indicative of great resolution and
energy, as well as of sagacity and kindness; and his attachment to the
Union was probably one of the reasons of his removal from the command of
Fort Hamilton, New York, to the charge of this very important fort. He
has been long in the service, and he belonged to the first class of
graduates who passed at West Point after its establishment in 1818.
After a short and very interesting conversation, he proceeded to show me
the works, and we mounted upon the parapet, accompanied by Captain
Berry, and went over all the defences. Fort Pickens has a regular
bastioned trace, in outline an oblique and rather narrow parallelogram,
with the obtuse angles facing the sea at one side and the land at the
other. The acute angle at which the bastion toward the enemy’s batteries
is situate, is the weakest part of the work; but it was built for sea
defence, as I have already observed, and the trace was prolonged to
obtain the greatest amount of fire on the sea approaches. The crest of
the parapet is covered with very solid and well-made merlons of heavy
sand-bags, but one face and the gorge of the bastion are exposed to an
enfilading fire from Fort M’Rae, which the colonel said he intended to
guard against if he got time. All the guns seemed in good order, the
carriages being well constructed, but they are mostly of what are
considered small calibres now-a-days, being 32-pounders, with some
42-pounders and 24-pounders. There are, however, four heavy columbiads,
which command the enemy’s works on several points very completely. It
struck me that the bastion guns were rather crowded. But, even in its
present state, the defensive preparations are most creditable to the
officers, who have had only three weeks to do the immense amount of work
before us. The brick copings have been removed from the parapets, and
strong sand-bag traverses have been constructed to cover the gunners, in
addition to the “rat-holes” at the bastions. More heavy guns are
expected, which, with the aid of a few more mortars, will enable the
garrison to hold their own against every thing but a regular siege on
the land side, and so long as the fleet covers the narrow neck of the
island with its guns, it is not possible for the Confederates to effect
a lodgment. If Fort M’Rae was strong and heavily armed, it could inflict
great damage on Pickens; but it is neither one nor the other, and the
United States officers are confident that they will speedily render it
quite untenable. The _bouches à feu_ of the fort may be put down at
forty, including the available pieces in the casemates, which sweep the
ditch and the faces of the curtains. The walls are of the hardest brick,
of nine feet thickness in many places, and the crest of the parapets on
which the merlons and traverses rest are of turf. From the walls there
is a splendid view of the whole position, and I found my companions were
perfectly well acquainted with the strength and _locus_ of the greater
part of the enemy’s works. Of course I held my peace, but I was amused
at their accuracy. “There are the quarters of our friend, General
Bragg.” “There is one of their best batteries just beside the
lighthouse.” The tall chimney of the Warrington navy-yard was smoking
away lustily. The colonel called my attention to it. “Do you see that,
sir? They are casting shot, there. The sole reason for their
‘forbearance,’ is that navy-yard. They know full well that if they open
a gun upon us, we will lay that yard and all the work in ruins.”
Captain Vodges subsequently expressed some uneasiness on a point as to
which I could have relieved his mind very effectually. He had seen
something which led him to apprehend that the Confederates had a strong
intrenched camp in rear of their works. Thereupon I was enabled to
perceive that in Captain Vodges’ mind, there was a strong intention to
land and carry the enemy’s position. Why, otherwise, did you care about
an intrenched camp, most excellent engineer? But now I may tell you that
there is no intrenched camp at all, and that your vigilant eye, sir,
merely detected certain very absurd little furrows which the
Confederates have in some places thrown up in the soft sand in front of
their camps, which would cover a man up to the knee or stomach, and are
quite useless as a breastwork. If they thought a landing probable, it is
unpardonable in them to neglect such a protection. These furrows are
quite straight, and even if they are deepened the assailants have merely
to march round them, as they extend for only some forty or fifty yards,
and have no flanks. The officers of the garrison are aware the enemy
have mortar batteries, but they think the inside of the fort will not
be easily hit, and they said nothing to show that they were acquainted
with the position of the mortars.
From the parapet we descended by a staircase into the casement. The
Confederates are greatly deceived in their expectation that the United
States soldiers will be much exposed to sun or heat in Pickens. More
airy, well ventilated quarters cannot be imagined, and there is quite
light enough to enable the men to read in most of them. The plague of
flies will infest both armies, and is the curse of every camp in the
summer. As to mosquitos, the Confederates will probably suffer, if not
more, at least as much as the States troops. The effect of other
tormentors, such as yellow fever and dysentery, will be in all
probability impartially felt on both sides; but, unless the position of
the fort is peculiarly unhealthy, the men who are under no control in
respect to their libations, will probably suffer more than those who are
restrained by discipline and restricted to a regular allowance. Water
can always be had by digging, and is fit for use if drunk immediately.
Vegetables and fresh provisions, are not, of course, so easily had as on
shore, but there is a scarcity of them in both camps, and the supplies
from the store-ships are very good and certain. The bread baked by the
garrison is excellent, as I had an opportunity of ascertaining, for I
carried off two loaves from the bakehouse on board the schooner. Our
walk through the casemates was very interesting. They were crowded with
men, most of whom were reading. They were quiet, orderly-looking
soldiers--a mixture of old and young--scarcely equal in stature to their
opponents, but more to be depended upon I should think in a long
struggle. Every thing seemed well arranged. Those men who were in their
beds had mosquito curtains drawn, and were reading or sleeping at their
ease. In the casemate used as an hospital there were only some twelve
men sick out of the whole garrison, and I was much struck by the absence
of any foul smell and by the cleanliness and neatness of all the
arrangements. The colonel spoke to each of the men kindly, and they
appeared glad to see him. The dispensary was as neat as care and
elbow-grease could make it, and next door to it, in strange
juxtaposition, was the laboratory for the manufactory of fuses and
deadly implements, in equally good order. Every thing is ready for
immediate service. I am inclined to think it will be some time before it
is wanted. Assuredly, if the enemy attack Fort Pickens they will meet
with a resistance which will probably end in the entire destruction of
the navy-yard, and of the greater part of their works. A week’s delay
will enable Colonel Brown to make good some grave defects; but delay is
of more advantage to his enemy than it is to him, and if Fort Pickens
were made at once the _point d’appui_ for a vigorous offensive movement
by the fleet and by a land force, I have very little doubt in my mind
that Pensacola must fall, and that General Bragg would be obliged to
retire. In a few weeks the attitude of affairs may be very different.
The railroad is open to General Bragg, and he can place himself in a
very much stronger attitude than he now occupies.
At last the time came for me to leave. The colonel and Captain Berry
came down to the beach with me. Outside we found Captain Vodges kindly
keeping my friends in conversation and in liquid supplies in the shade
of the bakehouse shed, and, after a little more pleasant conversation,
we were afloat once more. Probably no living man was ever permitted to
visit the camps of two enemies within sight of each other before this,
under similar circumstances, for I was neither spy nor herald, and I owe
my best thanks to those who trusted me on both sides so freely and so
honorably. A gentleman who preceded me did not fare quite so well. He
landed on the island and went up to the fort, where he represented
himself to be the correspondent of an American journal. But his account
of himself was not deemed satisfactory. He was sent off to the fleet.
Presently there came over a flag of truce from General Bragg, with a
warrant signed by a justice of the peace, for the correspondent, on a
charge of felony; but the writ did not run in Fort Pickens. The officers
regarded the message as a clever ruse to get back a spy, and the
correspondent is still in durance vile or in safety, as the case may be,
on board the squadron.
All sails filled, the Diana stood up toward the navy-yard once more in
the glare of the setting sun. The sentinels along the battery and beach
glared at us with surprise as the schooner, with her flag of truce still
flying, ran past them. The pier was swept with the glass for the Mobile
gentlemen; they were not visible. “Halloa! Mr. Captain, what’s that
you’re at?” His mate was waving the Confederate flag from the
deck--“It’s only the signal, sir, to the gentlemen on shore.” “Wave some
other flag, then, while there’s a flag of truce flying, and while we are
in these waters.” After backing and filling for some time the party were
descried in the distance. Again, the watery skiff was sent off, and in a
few minutes they were permitted, thanks to their passes, to come off.
Some confidential person had informed them the attack was certainly
coming off in a very short time. They were anxious to stay. They had
seen friends at Pensacola, and were full of praises of “the quaint old
Spanish settlement,” but mine is, unfortunately, not an excursion of
pleasure, and it was imperative that I should not waste time. Every
thing had been seen that was necessary for my purpose. It was beyond my
power to state the reasons which led me to think no fight would take
place, for doing so would have been to betray confidence. And so we
parted company--they to feast their eyes on a bombardment--and if they
only are near enough to see it they will heartily regret their
curiosity, or I am mistaken--and we to return to Mobile.
It was dark before the Diana was well down off Fort Pickens again, and,
as she passed out to sea between it and Fort M’Rae, it was certainly to
have been expected that one side or other would bring her to. Certainly
our friend Mr. Brown in his clipper Oriental would overhaul us outside,
and there lay a friendly bottle in a nest of ice waiting for the gallant
sailor who was to take farewell of us according to promise. Out we
glided into night and into the cool sea breeze, which blew fresh and
strong from the north. In the distance the black form of the Powhatan
could be just distinguished; the rest of the squadron could not be made
out by either eye or glass, nor was the schooner in sight. A lantern was
hoisted by my orders, and was kept aft for some time after the schooner
was clear of the forts. Still no schooner. The wind was not very
favorable for running toward the Powhatan, and it was too late to
approach her with perfect confidence from the enemy’s side. Besides, it
was late; time pressed. The Oriental was surely lying off somewhere to
the westward, and the word was given to make sail, and soon the Diana
was bowling along shore, where the sea melted away in a fiery line of
foam so close to us that a man could, in nautical phrase, “shy a
biscuit” on the sand. The wind was abeam, and the Diana seemed to
breathe it through her sails, and flew along at an astonishing rate
through the phosphorescent waters with a prow of flame and a bubbling
wake of dancing meteor-like streams flowing from her helm, as though it
were a furnace whence boiled a stream of liquid metal. “No sign of the
Oriental on our lee-bow?” “Nothin’ at all in sight, sir.” The sharks and
huge rays flew off from the shore as we passed and darted out seaward,
marking their runs in brilliant trails of light. On sped the Diana, but
no Oriental came in sight.
I was tired. The sun had been very hot; the ride through the batteries,
the visits to quarters, the excursion to Pickens, had found out my weak
places, and my head was aching and legs fatigued, and so I thought I
would turn in for a short time, and I dived into the shades below, where
my comrades were already sleeping, and kicking off my boots, lapsed into
a state which rendered me indifferent to the attentions no doubt
lavished upon me by the numerous little familiars who recreate in the
well-peopled timbers. It never entered into my head, even in my dreams,
that the captain would break the blockade if he could--particularly as
his papers had not been indorsed, and the penalties would be sharp and
sure if he were caught. But the confidence of coasting captains in the
extraordinary capabilities of their craft is a madness--a hallucination
so strong that no danger or risk will prevent their acting upon it
whenever they can. I was assured once by the “captain” of a _Billyboy_,
that he could run to windward of any frigate in Her Majesty’s service,
and there is not a skipper from Hartlepool to Whitstable who does not
believe his own _Mary Ann_ or _Three Grandmothers_ is, on certain
“pints,” able to bump her fat bows and scuttle-shaped stern faster
through the seas than any clipper which ever flew a pendant. I had been
some two hours and a half asleep, when I was awakened by a whispering in
the little cabin. Charley, the negro cook, ague-stricken with terror,
was leaning over the bed, and in broken French was chattering through
his teeth: “_Monsieur, Monsieur, nous sommes perdus! Le batement de
guerre nous poursuit. Il n’a pas encore tiré. Il va tirer bientot! Oh,
mon Dieu! mon Dieu!_” Through the hatchway I could see the skipper was
at the helm, glancing anxiously from the compass to the quivering
reef-points of his mainsail. “What’s all this we hear, captain?” “Well,
sir, there’s been somethin’ a runnin’ after us these two hours” (very
slowly). “But I don’t think he’ll keech us up no how this time.” “But,
good heavens! you know it may be the Oriental, with Mr. Brown on board.”
“Ah, wall--may bee. But he kept quite close up on me in the dark--it
gave me quite a stark when I seen him. May be, says I, he’s a
privateerin’ chap, and so I draws in on shore close as I cud,--gets mee
centre-board in, and, says I, I’ll see what yer med of, mee boy. He an’t
a gaining much on us.” I looked, and sure enough, about half or
three-quarters of a mile astern, and somewhat to leeward of us, a
vessel, with sails and hull all blended into a black lump, was standing
on in pursuit. I strained my eyes and furbished up the glasses, but
could make out nothing definite. The skipper held grimly on. The shore
was so close we could have almost leaped into the surf, for the Diana,
when her centre-board is up, does not draw much over four feet.
“Captain, I think you had better shake your wind, and see who he is. It
may be Mr. Brown.” “Meester Brown or no I can’t help carrine on now. I’d
be on the bank outside in a minit if I didn’t hold my course.” The
captain had his own way; he argued that if it was the Oriental she would
have fired a blank gun long ago to bring us to; and as to not calling us
when the sail was discovered he took up the general line of the cruelty
of disturbing people when they’re asleep. Ah! captain, you knew well it
was Mr. Brown, as you let out when we were off Fort Morgan. By keeping
so close in shore in shoal water the Diana was enabled to creep along to
windward of the stranger, who evidently was deeper than ourselves. See
there! Her sails shiver! so one of the crew says; she’s struck! But
she’s off again, and is after us. We are just within range, and one’s
eyes become quite blinky, watching for the flash from the bow, but,
whether privateer or United States schooner she was too magnanimous to
fire. A stern chase is a long chase. It must now be somewhere about two
in the morning. Nearer and nearer to shore creeps the Diana. “I’ll lead
him into a pretty mess, whoever he is, if he tries to follow me through
the Swash,” grins the skipper. The Swash is a very shallow, narrow, and
dangerous passage into Mobile Bay, between the sand-banks on the east of
the main channel and the shore. The Diana is now only some nine or ten
miles from Fort Morgan, guarding the entrance to Mobile. Soon an uneasy
dancing motion welcomes her approach to the Swash. “Take a cast of the
lead, John!” “Nine feet.” “Good! Again!” “Seven feet.” “Good--Charley,
bring the lantern.” (Oh, Charley, why did that lantern go out just as it
was wanted, and not only expose us to the most remarkable amount of
“cussin’,” imprecation, and strange oaths our ears ever heard, but
expose our lives and your head to more imminent danger?) But so it was,
just at the critical juncture when a turn of the helm port or starboard
made the difference, perhaps, between life and death, light after light
went out, and the captain went dancing mad after intervals of deadly
calmness, as the mate sang out, “Five feet and a half! seven feet--six
feet--eight feet--five feet--four feet and a half--(Oh, Lord!)--six
feet,” and so on, through a measurement of death by inches, not at all
agreeable. And where was Mr. Brown all this time? Really, we were so
much interested in the state of the lead-line, and in the very peculiar
behavior of the lanterns which would not burn, that we scarcely cared
much when we heard from the odd hand and Charley that she had put about,
after running aground once or twice, they thought, as soon as we entered
the Swash, and had vanished rapidly in the darkness. It was little short
of a miracle that we got past the elbow, for just at the critical
moment, in a channel not more than a hundred yards broad, with only six
feet of water, the binnacle light, which had burned steadily for a
minute, sank with a sputter into black night. When the passage was
accomplished, the captain relieved his mind by chasing Charley into a
corner, and with a shark, which he held by the tail, as the first weapon
that came to hand, inflicting on him condign punishment, and then
returning to the helm. Charley, however, knew his master, for he slyly
seized the shark and flung his defunct corpse overboard before another
fit of passion came on, and by the morning the skipper was good friends
with him, after he had relieved himself, by a series of castigations of
the negligent lamplighter with every variety of Rhadamanthine implement.
The Diana had thus distinguished her dirty little person by breaking a
blockade, and giving an excellent friend of ours a great deal of trouble
(if it was, indeed Mr. Brown), as well as giving us a very unenviable
character for want of hospitality and courtesy; and, for both, I beg to
apologize with this account of the transaction. But she had a still
greater triumph. As she approached Fort Morgan, all was silence. The
morning was just showing a gray streak in the east. “Why, they’re all
asleep at the fort,” observed the indomitable captain, and, regardless
of guns or sentries, down went his helm, and away the Diana thumped into
Mobile Bay, and stole off in the darkness toward the opposite shore.
There was, however, a miserable day before us. When the light fairly
broke we had got only a few miles inside, a stiff northerly wind blew
right in our teeth, and the whole of the blessed day we spent in tacking
backward and forward between one low shore and another low shore, in
water the color of pea-soup, so that temper and patience were exhausted,
and we were reduced to such a state that we took intense pleasure in
meeting with a drowning alligator. He was a nice-looking young fellow
about ten feet long, and had evidently lost his way, and was going out
to sea bodily, but it would have been the height of cruelty to take him
on board our ship miserable as he was, though he passed within two yards
of us. There was to be sure the pleasure of seeing Mobile in every
possible view, far and near, east and west, and in a lump and run out,
but it was not relished any more than our dinner, which consisted of a
very gamy Bologna sausage, pig who had not decided whether he would be
pork or bacon, and onions fried in a terrible preparation of Charley the
cook. At five in the evening, however, having been nearly fourteen hours
beating about twenty-seven miles, we were landed at an outlying wharf,
and I started off for the Battle House and rest. The streets are filled
with the usual rub-a-dub-dubbing bands, and parades of companies of the
citizens in grotesque garments and armament, all looking full of fight
and secession. I write my name in the hotel book at the bar as usual.
Instantly young Vigilance Committee, who has been resting his heels high
in air, with one eye on the staircase and the other on the end of his
cigar, stalks forth and reads my style and title, and I have the
satisfaction of slapping the door in his face as he saunters after me to
my room, and looks curiously in to see how a man takes off his boots.
They are all very anxious in the evening to know what I think about
Pickens and Pensacola, and I am pleased to tell the citizens I think it
be a very tough affair on both whenever it comes. I proceed to New
Orleans on Monday.
* * * * *
NEW-ORLEANS, _May_ 25, 1861.