Scenes on board an American steamer--The “Merrimac”--Irish
sailors in America--Norfolk--A telegram on Sunday; news from the
seat of war--American “chaff” and our Jack Tars.
_Sunday, April 14._--A night of disturbed sleep, owing to the
ponderous thumping of the walking-beam close to my head, the
whizzing of steam, and the roaring of the steam-trumpet to warn
vessels out of the way--musquitoes, too, had a good deal to say to
me in spite of my dirty gauze curtains. Soon after dawn the vessel
ran alongside the jetty at Fortress Monroe, and I saw indistinctly
the waterface of the work which is in some danger of being
attacked, it is said, by the Virginians. There was no flag on the
staff above the walls, and the place looked dreary and desolate.
It has a fine bastioned profile, with moat and armed lunettes--the
casemates were bricked up or occupied by glass windows, and all the
guns I could make out were on the parapets. A few soldiers were
lounging on the jetty, and after we had discharged a tipsy old
officer, a few negroes, and some parcels, the steam-pipe brayed--it
does not whistle--again, and we proceeded across the mouth of the
channel and James’ River towards Elizabeth River, on which stand
Portsmouth and Gosport.
Just as I was dressing, the door opened, and a tall, neatly
dressed negress came in and asked me for my ticket. She told me she
was ticket-collector for the boat, and that she was a slave. The
latter intelligence was given without any reluctance or hesitation.
On my way to the upper deck I observed the bar was crowded by
gentlemen engaged in consuming, or waiting for, cocktails or
mint-juleps. The latter, however, could not be had just now in
such perfection as usual, owing to the inferior condition of the
mint. In the matter of drinks, how hospitable the Americans are! I
was asked to take as many as would have rendered me incapable of
drinking again; my excuse on the plea of inability to grapple with
cocktails and the like before breakfast, was heard with surprise,
and I was urgently entreated to abandon so bad a habit.
A clear, fine sun rose from the waters of the bay up into the
purest of pure blue skies. On our right lay a low coast fringed
with trees, and wooded densely with stunted forest, through
which creeks could be seen glinting far through the foliage.
Anxious-looking little wooden lighthouses, hard set to preserve
their equilibrium in the muddy waters, and bent at various angles,
marked the narrow channels to the towns and hamlets on the banks,
the principal trade and occupation of which are oyster selling and
oyster eating. We are sailing over wondrous deposits and submarine
crops of the much-loved bivalve. Wooden houses painted white appear
on the shores, and one large building with wings and a central
portico surmounted by a belvedere, destined for the reception of
the United States’ sailors in sickness, is a striking object in the
landscape.
The steamer in a few minutes came alongside a dirty, broken-down,
wooden quay, lined with open booths, on which a small crowd, mostly
of negroes, had gathered. Behind the shed there rose tiled and
shingled roofs of mean dingy houses, and we could catch glimpses of
the line of poor streets, narrow, crooked, ill-paved, surmounted by
a few church-steeples, and the large sprawling advertisement-boards
of the tobacco-stores and oyster-sellers, which was all we could
see of Portsmouth or Gosport. Our vessel was in a narrow creek;
at one side was the town--in the centre of the stream the old
“Pennsylvania,” intended to be of 120 guns, but never commissioned,
and used as receiving-ship, was anchored--alongside the wall of the
Navy Yard below us, lay the “Merrimac,” apparently in ordinary. The
only man-of-war fit for sea was a curiosity--a stumpy bluff-bowed,
Dutch-built-looking sloop, called the “Cumberland.” Two or three
smaller vessels, dismasted, were below the “Merrimac,” and we could
just see the building-sheds in which were one or two others, I
believe, on the stocks. A fleet of oyster-boats anchored, or in
sail-less observance of the Sunday, dotted the waters. There was an
ancient and fish-like smell about the town worthy of its appearance
and of its functions as a seaport. As the vessel came close
alongside, there was the usual greeting between friends, and many a
cry, “Well, you’ve heard the news? The Yankees out of Sumter! Isn’t
it fine!” There were few who did not participate in that sentiment,
but there were some who looked black as night and said nothing.
Whilst we were waiting for the steam ferry-boat, which plies
to Norfolk at the other side of the creek to take us over, a
man-of-war boat pulled alongside, and the coxswain, a handsome,
fine-looking sailor, came on deck, and, as I happened to be next
him, asked me if Captain Blank had come down with us? I replied,
that I did not know, but that the captain could tell him no doubt.
“He?” said the sailor, pointing with great disgust to the skipper
of the steamer, “Why he knows nothin’ of his passengers, except
how many dollars they come to,” and started off to prosecute his
inquiries among the other passengers. The boat alongside was clean,
and was manned by six as stout fellows as ever handled an oar. Two
I made sure of were Englishmen, and when the coxswain was retiring
from his fruitless search, I asked him where he hailed from. “The
Cove of Cork. I was in the navy nine years, but when I got on the
West Ingy Station, I heerd how Uncle Sam treated his fellows, and
so I joined him.” “Cut and run, I suppose?” “Well, not exactly. I
got away, sir. Emigrated, you know!” “Are there any other Irishmen
or Englishmen on board?” “I should think there was. That man in the
bow there is a mate of mine, from the sweet Cove of Cork; Driscoll
by name, and there’s a Belfast man pulls number two; and the
stroke, and the chap that pulls next to him is Englishmen, and fine
sailors they are, Bates and Rookey. They were in men-of-war too.”
“What! five out of seven, British subjects!” “Oh, aye, that is--we
onst was--most of us now are ’Mericans, I think. There’s plenty
more of us aboard the ship.”
The steam ferry was a ricketty affair, and combined with the
tumble-down sheds and quays to give a poor idea of Norfolk. The
infliction of tobacco juice on board was remarkable. Although it
was but seven o’clock every one had his quid in working order,
and the air was filled with yellowish-brown rainbows and liquid
parabolas, which tumbled in spray or in little flocks of the
weed on the foul decks. As it was Sunday, some of the numerous
flagstaffs which adorn the houses in both cities displayed the
United States’ bunting; but nothing could relieve the decayed air
of Norfolk. The omnibus which was waiting to receive us must have
been the earliest specimen of carriage building in that style on
the Continent; and as it lunged and flopped over the prodigious
bad pavement, the severe nature of which was aggravated by a
street-railway, it opened the seams as if it were going to fall
into firewood. The shops were all closed, of course; but the
houses, wooden and brick, were covered with signs and placards
indicative of large trade in tobacco and oysters.
Poor G. P. R. James, who spent many years here, could have scarce
caught a novel from such a place, spite of great oysters, famous
wild fowl, and the lauded poultry and vegetables which are produced
in the surrounding districts. There is not a hill for the traveller
to ascend towards the close of a summer’s day, nor a moated castle
for a thousand miles around. An execrable, tooth-cracking drive
ended at last in front of the Atlantic Hotel, where I was doomed
to take up my quarters. It is a dilapidated, uncleanly place, with
tobacco-stained floor, full of flies and strong odours. The waiters
were all slaves: untidy, slip-shod, and careless creatures. I was
shut up in a small room, with the usual notice on the door, that
the proprietor would not be responsible for anything, and that you
were to lock your doors for fear of robbers, and that you must take
your meals at certain hours, and other matters of the kind. My
_umbra_ went over to Gosport to take some sketches, he said; and
after a poor meal, in a long room filled with “citizens,” all of
them discussing Sumter, I went out into the street.
The people, I observe, are of a new and marked type,--very tall,
loosely yet powerfully made, with dark complexions, strongly-marked
features, prominent noses, large angular mouths in square jaws,
deep-seated bright eyes, low, narrow foreheads,--and are all of
them much given to ruminate tobacco. The bells of the churches were
tolling, and I turned into one; but the heat, great enough outside,
soon became nearly intolerable; nor was it rendered more bearable
by my proximity to some blacks, who were, I presume, servants or
slaves of the great people in the forward pews. The clergyman
or minister had got to the Psalms, when a bustle arose near the
door which attracted his attention, and caused all to turn round.
Several persons were standing up and whispering, whilst others were
stealing on tiptoe out of the church. The influence extended itself
gradually and all the men near the doors were leaving rapidly. The
minister, obviously interested, continued to read, raising his eyes
towards the door. At last the persons near him rose up and walked
boldly forth, and I at length followed the example, and getting
into the street, saw men running towards the hotel. “What is it?”
exclaimed I to one. “Come along, the telegraph’s in at the Day
Book. The Yankees are whipped!” and so continued. I came at last to
a crowd of men, struggling, with their faces toward the wall of a
shabby house, increased by fresh arrivals, and diminished by those
who, having satisfied their curiosity, came elbowing forth in a
state of much excitement, exultation, and perspiration. “It’s all
right enough!” “Didn’t I tell you so?” “Bully for Beauregard and
the Palmetto State!” I shoved on, and read at last the programme
of the cannonade and bombardment, and of the effects upon the
fort, on a dirty piece of yellowish paper on the wall. It was a
terrible writing. At all the street corners men were discussing the
news with every symptom of joy and gratification. Now I confess I
could not share in the excitement at all. The act seemed to me the
prelude to certain war.
I walked up the main street, and turned up some of the alleys
to have a look at the town, coming out on patches of water and
bridges over the creeks, or sandy lanes shaded by trees, and
lined here and there by pretty wooden villas, painted in bright
colours. Everywhere negroes, male and female, gaudily dressed
or in rags; the door-steps of the narrow lanes swarming with
infant niggerdom--big-stomached, curve-legged, rugged-headed, and
happy--tumbling about dim-eyed toothless hags, or thick-lipped
mothers. Not a word were they talking about Sumter. “Any news
to-day?” said I to a respectable-looking negro in a blue coat
and brass buttons, wonderful hat, and vest of amber silk, check
trowsers, and very broken-down shoes. “Well, sare, I tink nothin’
much occur. Der hem a fire at Squire Nichol’s house last night;
leastway so I hear, sare.” Squire, let me say parenthetically,
is used to designate justices of the peace. Was it a very stupid
_poco-curante_, or a very cunning, subtle Sambo?
In my walk I arrived at a small pier, covered with oyster shells,
which projected into the sea. Around it, on both sides, were hosts
of schooners and pungys, smaller half-decked boats, waiting for
their load of the much-loved fish for Washington, Baltimore, and
Richmond. Some brigs and large vessels lay alongside the wharves
and large warehouses higher up the creek. Observing a small group
at the end of the pier I walked on, and found that they consisted
of fifteen or twenty well-dressed mechanical kind of men, busily
engaged in “chaffing,” as Cockneys would call it, the crew of
the man-of-war boat I had seen in the morning. The sailors were
stretched on the thwarts, some rather amused, others sullen at the
ordeal. “You better just pull down that cussed old rag of yours,
and bring your old ship over to the Southern Confederacy. I guess
we can take your ‘Cumberland’ whenever we like! Why don’t you go,
and touch off your guns at Charleston?” Presently the coxswain came
down with a parcel under his arm, and stepped into the boat. “Give
way, my lads;” and the oars dipped in the water. When the boat
had gone a few yards from the shore, the crowd cried out: “Down
with the Yankees! Hurrah for the Southern Confederacy!” and some
among them threw oyster shells at the boat, one of which struck
the coxswain on the head. “Back water! Back water all. Hard!” he
shouted; and as the boat’s stern neared the land, he stood up and
made a leap in among the crowd like a tiger. “You cowardly d----d
set. Who threw the shells?” No one answered at first, but a little
wizened man at last squeaked out: “I guess you’ll have shells of
another kind if you remain here much longer.” The sailor howled
with rage: “Why, you poor devils, I’d whip any half dozen of
you,--teeth, knives, and all--in five minutes; and my boys there in
the boat would clear your whole town. What do you mean by barking
at the Stars and Stripes? Do you see that ship?” he shouted,
pointing towards the “Cumberland.” “Why the lads aboard of her
would knock every darned seceder in your State into a cocked hat
in a brace of shakes! And now who’s coming on?” The invitation was
not accepted, and the sailor withdrew, with his angry eyes fixed on
the people, who gave him a kind of groan; but there were no oyster
shells this time. “In spite of his blowing, I tell yer,” said one
of them, “there’s some good men from old Virginny abo’rd o’ that
ship that will never fire a shot agin us.” “Oh, we’ll fix her right
enough,” remarked another, “when the time comes.” I returned to
my room, sat down, and wrote for some hours. The dinner in the
Atlantic Hotel was of a description to make one wish the desire for
food had never been invented. My neighbour said he was not “quite
content about this Sumter business. There’s nary one killed nor
wownded.”
Sunday is a very dull day in Norfolk--no mails, no post, no
steamers; and, at the best, Norfolk must be dull exceedingly.
The superintendent of the Seaboard and Roanoke Railway, having
heard that I was about proceeding to Charleston, called upon me
to offer every facility in his power. Sent Moses with letters to
post-office. At night the musquitoes were very aggressive and
successful. This is the first place in which the bedrooms are
unprovided with gas. A mutton dip almost made me regret the fact.