Dyer and the Sailing Captain.--First Voyage to Nassau.--Major
Ficklen and the Two Young Lieutenants.--Our Old Skipper "Captain
Dick."--Bermuda.--The Races there and elsewhere.--Description of
Bermuda.--Moore, the Poet, and his Rival Mr. Tucker.--Tame
Fish.--The Naval Station.--Col. B.'s Accident.
Before sailing with our cargo of cotton for Nassau, a signal officer was
detailed for the ship, (signal stations having been established along
the coast for the benefit of the blockade-runners;) and I was compelled
to discharge my pilot Dyer. He and the sailing captain, who was to take
passage with us, his engagement having terminated with the transfer of
the vessel to the Confederate flag, had been quarreling incessantly
during my absence from Wilmington, and had finally become mortal foes.
An hour or more after my return to the ship, while sitting in the cabin,
I heard loud and angry altercation overhead; and going on deck, I saw
Dyer pacing up and down the wharf, along side which the "Lee" was lying;
while the sailing captain was bidding him defiance from the steamer's
deck; Dyer with a drawn knife in his hand, and the captain armed with a
handspike. They had exhausted their vocabulary of abuse, but neither was
disposed to invade the enemy's territory. At last Dyer cried out "Come
ashore you d----d English hog, and I'll make mince meat of you!" I shall
never forget the expression of the captain's face at this cruel taunt.
He was literally struck speechless for a moment; then turning to me and
drawing himself up with a thumb in his arm-hole, and the handspike over
his shoulder, he exclaimed, "Now, sir, isn't that _too_ bad! Do I _look_
like a Henglish og?" To this pathetic appeal, I could but answer "no,"
but the fact was they bore a ludicrous resemblance to two boars about to
engage in mortal combat; the captain, with his jolly, rosy face and
portly figure, not at all unlike a sleek, well fed "White Chester," and
Dyer quite as much resembling a lean, lank, wiry "razor-back" native of
his own pine woods. I discharged Dyer. The poor fellow's subsequent fate
was a sad one. While acting as pilot of a blockade-runner, inward bound,
he committed the folly one day of saying that he would put a steamer
under his charge ashore, before he would be captured. The remark was
overheard and treasured up by some of the crew; and a night or two
afterwards the steamer ran aground on the bar in the attempt to enter
Cape Fear River, and was deserted. As she was under the shelter of the
guns of Fort Caswell, a boat from shore was sent off to her next
morning, and poor Dyer was found in a dying condition on the deck with
his skull fractured. He had paid for his folly with his life.
Our first voyage to Nassau was made without any unusual incident. The
Major took passage with us by permission of the Secretary of War, and
his practical jokes amused every one except the butt of them; even the
aggrieved party, himself, being frequently obliged to laugh at his own
expense. There were two very young lieutenants of the Confederate Navy
then in Nassau, on their way to Europe; the senior of whom _ranking_ the
other by one or two days, assumed much authority over him. One day the
Major with the help of an accomplice, who was supposed to be able to
imitate my handwriting, addressed an official letter to the senior in my
name, informing him that both of them had been reported to me for
unofficer-like and unbecoming conduct, and requiring them to repair
immediately on board the Lee with their luggage, as I felt it to be an
imperative duty to take them back to the Confederacy for trial by
court-martial. The junior demurred, believing it to be a hoax, but the
senior peremptorily ordered him to accompany him on board. They were
caught in a drenching shower on their way to the Lee; and they made
their appearance in the cabin in a sorry plight, reporting themselves
"in obedience to orders," handing me the written document. As I
pronounced it a forgery, the junior turned to the senior and exclaimed,
"What did I tell you? didn't I say it was a hoax of that d----d Major
Ficklen?" They started to the shore, vowing vengeance; but the Major had
posted his sentinels at every street corner near the landing, and
successfully eluded them. They were to sail that afternoon at four
o'clock; and after a fruitless chase, went to the hotel to get dinner.
While sitting at the table, and some time after soup was served, a
waiter came to them "with Major Ficklen's compliments and the pleasure
of a glass of champagne with them." After a hurried consultation, they
decided to bury the hatchet; and bowed over their wine to the Major, who
had just slipped into a seat reserved for him at the other end of the
long and crowded table, and was smiling graciously in their direction.
As Ficklen bade them "good-bye," he said "Don't forget me, my sons!"
"No, indeed," they replied, "you may swear we never will!"
Seeing the necessity, while at Nassau, of carrying a Bahama Banks pilot,
I engaged our worthy old skipper, Captain Dick Watkins, who served under
my command for many months, maintaining and deserving the respect of all
on board. His son, and only heir to his name and fortune, Napoleon
Bonaparte, gave him much anxiety. "Ah, Sir," he said on one occasion,
"dat b----y's heddication has cost me a sight of money, as much as ten
dollars a year for two or three years, and he don't know nothing
hardly." During one of our voyages he had left his wife quite sick at
home. My young friend Johnny T---- was endeavoring to console him. "But
the ole 'oman is _mighty_ sick, Master Johnny," said the old fellow,
"and I don't spect to see her no more." Johnny's heart was touched. The
silence was broken by Captain Dick after a long pause, "dere are some
mighty pretty yaller gals in _Nassau_, Master Johnny!" He had the
profoundest respect for the head of the firm of A----y and Co. in
Nassau, the "King Conch" as he was irreverently styled by us outside
barbarians. Speaking of the firm upon one occasion he assured me the
members were as wealthy as the "_Roths children_." My good purser and
the old captain were fast friends, the former fighting the old fellow's
battles in Rebeldom; and once, when the latter was unjustly treated in
Wilmington, the purser "took the daggers," and bore him triumphantly
through the difficulty.
We made two or three trips between Wilmington and Nassau during the
winter of 1862-3 encountering no extraordinary hazards. During one of
them we arrived within ten or twelve miles of the western bar too early
in the night to cross it, as the ebb tide was still running; and it was
always my custom to cross the bar on a rising tide, if possible. All the
usual preparations had been made on board for running through the fleet,
and as no sail was in sight we steamed cautiously in toward the land
until we arrived within a cable's length of the shore, and in the dense
shadow of a comparatively high bluff. Here we dropped a kedge and rode
by the hawser. Although there was no moon, the stars were shining
brightly; and the air was so calm and still, that the silence was
oppressive. While we were lying in the friendly shadow of the bluff,
one of the blockading fleet could be occasionally seen from our deck,
steaming slowly along upon her "beat" a short distance outside of us.
When the time arrived for making the dash at the bar, the kedge was run
up to the bows by willing hands, and the "Lee" started at full speed.
When the land was once fairly got hold of, and our exact position known,
the chances were ten to one in our favor. No blockader could get inshore
of us to cut us off from the bar, and we believed that we could either
go by or go over anything in our course; and in extremity we could beach
the vessel with the probability of being able to save most, if not the
whole of the cargo.
During the month of March, 1863, the Lee's port of destination was St.
George's, Bermuda. This island is easily accessible on the southern
side, and was much resorted to by blockade-runners. Surrounded on all
other sides by dangerous coral reefs, which extend for many miles into
deep water, a vessel of heavy draft can approach from the south within a
cable's length of the shore. A light of the first class at the west end
of the group composing the "Bermudas," is visible for many miles in
clear weather. It may as well be mentioned here, that the
blockade-runners rarely approached _any_ head land during daylight;
"preferring darkness rather than light." The agent of the Confederate
Government, Major Walker, with his staff of assistants, lived at St.
George's; and he and his accomplished wife always welcomed their
compatriots with genuine hospitality. The house of Mr. Black (an
assistant of the Major) was also open to us, and no sick exile from home
will ever forget the tender nursing of Mrs. Black and the kindness of
that whole family. The little graveyard attached to the Episcopal church
at St. George's, contains all that is mortal of several gallant youths
from the south, who died of yellow fever; but they were soothed in the
hours of their last illness by Christian counsel, and by tender hands.
The white natives of the island, too, extended many attentions and
civilities to Confederates, so that St. George's became not only a
harbor of refuge, but a pleasant resting place after the excitement and
fatigue of an outward voyage. The same antagonism which prevails between
the white and the black races, wherever they live together upon equal
terms, exists in Bermuda. People are classed there as "colored and
_plain_" and a fine of one pound sterling is imposed for calling the
former "negroes." There must be a natural antipathy between the two
races; or at least it seems to exist in the heart of the negro, for
wherever he has the power, he shows his dislike and jealousy of the
white man. In Hayti, since the French inhabitants were murdered, the
jealousy and hatred of the negroes have been directed against the
mulattoes, who have been nearly exterminated; and the whites in Jamaica
would have shared the same fate at the hands of a brutal horde of black
savages a few years ago, but for the premature exposure of the plot, and
the vigorous action of the Governor of the island. In the model republic
of Liberia no white man can obtain the right of citizenship, own real
estate, nor sit upon a jury. Nowhere in the world did there exist the
same kindly relation between the two races, as in the South before the
war; and even now, the older negroes seek aid and advice, when in
difficulties, from their former owners, although they have been misled
by unprincipled adventurers, by whom they have been taught to distrust
them in politics. A short time ago Dr. B----, a Virginia gentleman, was
asked by a Northerner his opinion of the negroes' feelings toward the
Southern people. "I will tell you," replied Dr. B. "If you and I were
candidates for the same office, you would get every negro's vote; but,
if one of them wanted advice or assistance he would come to me or some
other southerner."
The group composing the "Bermudas" still justifies the reputation given
to it by one of the British admirals of the "olden time." The
"Bermoothees," he records in his quaintly written journal, "is a hellish
place for thunder, lightning, and storms." Shakspeare, too, sends
"Ariel" to "fetch dew" from the "still vexed Bermoothes" for his
exacting master Prospero. But although gales of wind during the winter,
and thunder storms in the summer, are so prevalent, the climate is
delightful. There are upward of three hundred islands in the group, most
of them mere barren coral rocks; and the largest, St. George's, is not
more than three miles long, and about a mile in width. The roads are cut
out of the soft coral, which hardens by exposure to the atmosphere, and
are perfect.
There are several very curious natural caves about five miles distant
from St. George's; and near one of them is still pointed out the
calabash tree under which the Irish poet, Tom Moore, is said to have
composed one of his sonnets to _Nea_, who afterwards became the wife of
Mr. Tucker, and left many descendants on the island. The venerable old
gentleman was living, in his ninetieth year, when I was last in St.
George's; and although the bride of his youth, and his rival the poet,
had been long mouldering in their graves, he was still so jealous of the
latter that he would not allow his great-grandchildren to keep a copy of
the poet's works in the house.
The only indigenous tree upon the islands, I believe, is the cedar; the
oleander, which now grows everywhere, having been introduced by Mr.
Tucker. Nearly all of the tropical fruits grow there, and many
indigenous to the temperate zone; but the staple products are potatoes
and onions, chiefly for the New York market, and arrow root. The waters
teem with fish of the most brilliantly beautiful colors. An ingenious
individual has succeeded in taming a number, by availing himself of a
natural cavity in the coral situated close to the shore and a few miles
distant from St. George's. The sea water, percolating through the coral,
supplies the basin. At a whistle the tame fish swim close to the edge
and feed from one's hand.
There is a naval station at "Ireland Island," and a floating dock
(which was built in England and towed out,) capable of taking in the
largest-sized man of war. The naval officers attached to the dock-yard,
and to the men of war, were always friendly and more than civil to
Confederates; being sometimes, indeed, too profuse in their hospitality.
Upon one occasion, Col. ---- a personal friend of mine, had obtained a
furlough, and permission to make a trip in the Lee, for the sake of his
health, broken by the hardships of a campaign in northern Virginia. The
purser, who was always ready for a "lark," and the Colonel, who was of
an inquiring turn of mind, paid a visit to the dock-yard. After an
inspection of it, they went on board several of the men of war in
harbor, receiving on board each of them refreshments, solid and liquid.
They had crossed over to Ireland Island in a sail-boat, and when about
to return, were escorted to the wharf by a party of officers. Their boat
was lying outside of another, containing a fat old washerwoman; and
Col.----, who had had no experience in boating in his life, except
"paddling his own canoe" upon a mill pond in Amelia county, Va., stopped
to exchange farewell salutations with the party of officers on the
wharf, while he stood with one foot in the "stern sheets" of the
washerwoman's boat, and the other in his own. The boatman forward,
ignorant of the critical state of affairs, hoisted the jib, and the
boat, under the influence of a stiff breeze, began to "pay off" before
the wind. Before Col. ---- could "realize the situation," he was in the
attitude of the Colossus of Rhodes. The purser promptly seized one of
his legs, and the fat washerwoman with equal presence of mind, laid hold
of the other. Each was determined not to let go, and the strain upon the
Colonel must have been terrific; but he was equal to the emergency.
Taking in the whole situation, he deliberately drew his watch out of his
pocket, and holding it high above his head with both hands, he said,
with his usually imperturbable calmness, "Well I reckon you had better
let go!" His endeavors to protect his watch proved to have been
fruitless; the purser indeed always insists that he touched bottom in
three fathoms of water. He returned on board the Lee to be wrung out and
dried.