The River Alabama--Voyage by steamer--Selma--Our captain and
his slaves--“Running” slaves--Negro views of happiness--
Mobile--Hotel--The city--Mr. Forsyth.
The vessel was nothing more than a vast wooden house, of three
separate storeys, floating on a pontoon which upheld the engine,
with a dining-hall or saloon on the second storey surrounded by
sleeping-berths, and a nest of smaller rooms up-stairs; on the
metal roof was a “musical” instrument called a “calliope,” played
like a piano by keys, which acted on levers and valves, admitting
steam into metal cups, where it produced the requisite notes--high,
resonant, and not unpleasing at a moderate distance. It is 417
miles to Mobile, but at this season the steamer can maintain a good
rate of speed as there is very little cotton or cargo to be taken
on board at the landings, and the stream is full.
The river is about 200 yards broad, and of the colour of chocolate
and milk, with high, steep, wooded banks, rising so much above
the surface of the stream, that a person on the upper deck of the
towering Southern Republic, cannot get a glimpse of the fields
and country beyond. High banks and bluffs spring up to the height
of 150 or even 200 feet above the river, the breadth of which
is so uniform as give the Alabama the appearance of a canal,
only relieved by sudden bends and rapid curves. The surface is
covered with masses of drift-wood, whole trees, and small islands
of branches. Now and then a sharp, black, fang-like projection
standing stiffly in the current gives warning of a snag, but the
helmsman, who commands the whole course of the river, from an
elevated house amidships on the upper deck, can see these in time;
and at night pine boughs are lighted in iron cressets at the bows
to illuminate the water.
The captain, who was not particular whether his name was spelt
Maher, or Meaher, or Meagher (_les trois se disent_), was evidently
a character--perhaps a good one. One with a grey eye full of
cunning and of some humour, strongly-marked features, and a very
Celtic mouth of the Kerry type. He soon attached himself to me,
and favoured me with some wonderful yarns, which I hope he was not
foolish enough to think I believed. One relating to a wholesale
destruction and massacre of Indians, he narrated with evident
gusto. Pointing to one of the bluffs, he said that some thirty
years ago the whole of the Indians in the district being surrounded
by the whites, betook themselves to that spot and remained there
without any means of escape, till they were quite starved out. So
they sent down to know if the whites would let them go, and it
was agreed that they should be permitted to move down the river
in boats. When the day came, and they were all afloat, the whites
anticipated the boat-massacre of Nana Sahib at Cawnpore, and
destroyed the helpless red skins. Many hundreds thus perished, and
the whole affair was very much approved of.
The value of land on the sides of this river is great, as it
yields nine to eleven bales of cotton to the acre--worth 10_l._ a
bale at present prices. The only evidences of this wealth to be
seen by us consisted of the cotton sheds on the top of the banks,
and slides of timber, with steps at each side down to the landings,
so constructed that the cotton bales could be shot down on board
the vessel. These shoots and staircases are generally protected by
a roof of planks, and lead to unknown regions inhabited by niggers
and their masters, the latter all talking politics. They never
will, never can be conquered--nothing on earth could induce them
to go back into the Union. They will burn every bale of cotton,
and fire every house, and lay waste every field and homestead
before they will yield to the Yankees. And so they talk through the
glimmering of bad cigars for hours.
The management of the boat is dexterous,--as she approaches a
landing place, the helm is put hard over, to the screaming of the
steam-pipe and the wild strains of “Dixie” floating out of the
throats of the calliope, and as the engines are detached, one wheel
is worked forward, and the other backs water, so she soon turns
head up stream, and is then gently paddled up to the river bank, to
which she is just kept up by steam--the plank is run ashore, and
the few passengers who are coming in or out are lighted on their
way by the flames of pine in an iron basket, swinging above the
bow by a long pole. Then we see them vanishing into black darkness
up the steps, or coming down clearer and clearer till they stand
in the full blaze of the beacon which casts dark shadows on the
yellow water. The air is glistening with fire-flies, which dot
the darkness with specks and points of flame, just as sparks fly
through the embers of tinder or half-burnt paper.
Some of the landings were by far more important than others. There
were some, for example, where an iron railroad was worked down the
bank by windlasses for hoisting up goods; others where the negroes
half-naked leaped ashore, and rushing at piles of firewood, tossed
them on board to feed the engine, which, all uncovered and open
to the lower deck, lighted up the darkness by the glare from the
stoke-holes, which cried for ever, “Give, give!” as the negroes
ceaselessly thrust the pine-beams into their hungry maws. I could
understand how easily a steamer can “burn up,” and how hopeless
escape would be under such circumstances. The whole framework
of the vessel is of the lightest resinous pine, so raw that the
turpentine oozes out through the paint; the hull is a mere shell.
If the vessel once caught fire, all that could be done would be to
turn her round, and run her to the bank, in the hope of holding
there long enough to enable the people to escape into the trees;
but if she were not near a landing, many must be lost; as the
bank is steep down, the vessel cannot be run aground; and in some
places the trees are in 8 and 10 feet of water. A few minutes
would suffice to set the vessel in a blaze from stem to stern;
and if there were cotton on board, the bales would burn almost
like powder. The scene at each landing was repeated, with few
variations, ten times till we reached Selma, 110 miles distance, at
11·30 at night.
Selma, which is connected with the Tennessee and Mississippi rivers
by railroad, is built upon a steep, lofty bluff, and the lights in
the windows, and the lofty hotels above us, put me in mind of the
old town of Edinburgh, seen from Princes Street. Beside us there
was a huge storied wharf, so that our passengers could step on
shore from any deck they pleased. Here Mr. Deasy, being attacked
by illness, became alarmed at the idea of continuing his journey
without any opportunity of medical assistance, and went on shore.
_May 10th._--The cabin of one of these steamers, in the month of
May, is not favourable to sleep. The wooden beams of the engines
creak and scream “consumedly,” and the great engines themselves
throb as if they would break through their thin, pulse covers of
pine,--and the whistle sounds, and the calliope shrieks out “Dixie”
incessantly. So, when I was up and dressed, breakfast was over,
and I had an opportunity of seeing the slaves on board, male and
female, acting as stewards and stewardesses, at their morning meal,
which they took with much good spirits and decorum. They were
nicely dressed--clean and neat. I was forced to admit to myself
that their Ashantee grandsires and grandmothers, or their Kroo and
Dahomey progenitors were certainly less comfortable and well clad,
and that these slaves had other social advantages, though I could
not recognise the force of the Bishop of Georgia’s assertion, that
from slavery must come the sole hope of, and machinery for, the
evangelisation of Africa. I confess I would not give much for the
influence of the stewards and stewardesses in Christianising the
blacks.
The river, the scenery, and the scenes were just the same as
yesterday’s--high banks, cotton-slides, wooding stations, cane
brakes--and a very miserable negro population, if the specimens
of women and children at the landings fairly represented the mass
of the slaves. They were in strong contrast to the comfortable,
well-dressed domestic slaves on board, and it can well be imagined
there is a wide difference between the classes, and that those
condemned to work in the open fields must suffer exceedingly.
A passenger told us the captain’s story. A number of planters, the
narrator among them, subscribed a thousand dollars each to get
up a vessel for the purpose of running a cargo of slaves, with
the understanding they were to pay so much for the vessel, and
so much per head if she succeeded, and so much if she was taken
or lost. The vessel made her voyage to the coast, was laden with
native Africans, and in due time made her appearance off Mobile.
The collector heard of her, but, oddly enough, the sheriff was
not about at the time, the United States’ Marshal was away, and
as the vessel could not be seen next morning, it was fair to
suppose she had gone up the river, or somewhere or another. But it
so happened that Captain Maher, then commanding a river steamer
called the Czar (a name once very appropriate for the work, but
since the serf emancipation rather out of place), found himself
in the neighbourhood of the brig about nightfall; next morning,
indeed, the Czar was at her moorings in the river; but Captain
Maher, began to grow rich, he had fine negroes fresh run on his
land, and bought fresh acres, and finally built the “Southern
Republic.” The planters asked him for their share of the slaves.
Captain Maher laughed pleasantly; he did not understand what they
meant. If he had done anything wrong, they had their legal remedy.
They were completely beaten; for they could not have recourse to
the tribunals in a case which rendered them liable to capital
punishment. And so Captain Maher, as an act of grace, gave them a
few old niggers, and kept the rest of the cargo.
It was worth while to see the leer with which he listened to this
story about himself, “Wall now! You think them niggers I’ve abord
came from Africa! I’ll show you. Jist come up here, Bully!” A boy
of some twelve years of age, stout, fat, nearly naked, came up to
us; his colour was jet black, his wool close as felt, his cheeks
were marked with regular parallel scars, and his teeth very white,
looked as if they had been filed to a point, his belly was slightly
protuberant, and his chest was marked with tracings of tattoo marks.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“My name Bully.”
“Where were you born?”
“Me born Sout Karliner, sar!”
“There, you see he wasn’t taken from Africa,” exclaimed the
Captain, knowingly. “I’ve a lot of these black South Caroliny
niggers abord, haven’t I, Bully?”
“Yas, sar.”
“Are you happy, Bully?”
“Yas, sar.”
“Show how you’re happy.”
Here the boy rubbed his stomach, and grinning with delight, said,
“Yummy! yummy! plenty belly full.”
“That’s what I call a real happy feelosophical chap,” quoth the
Captain. “I guess you’ve got a lot in your country can’t pat
_their_ stomachs and say, ‘yummy, yummy, plenty belly full?’”
“Where did he get those marks on his face?”
“Oh, them? Wall, it’s a way them nigger women has of marking their
children to know them; isn’t it, Bully?”
“Yas, sar! me ’spose so!”
“And on his chest!”
“Wall, r’ally I do b’l’eve them’s marks agin the smallpox.”
“Why are his teeth filed?”
“Ah, there now! You’d never have guessed it; Bully done that
himself, for the greater ease of biting his vittels.”
In fact, the lad, and a good many of the hands, were the results of
Captain Maher’s little sail in the Czar.
“We’re obleeged to let ’em in some times to keep up the balance
agin the niggers you run into Canaydy.”
From 1848 to 1852 there were no slaves run; but since the
migrations to Canada and the personal liberty laws, it has been
found profitable to run them. There is a bucolic ferocity about
these Southern people which will stand them good stead in the
shock of battle. How the Spartans would have fought against any
barbarians who came to emancipate their slaves, or the Romans have
smitten those who would manumit slave and creditor together!
To-night, on the lower deck, amid wood faggots, and barrels, a
dance of negroes was arranged by an enthusiast, who desired to
show how “happy they were.” That is the favourite theme of the
Southerners; the gallant Captain Maher becomes quite eloquent when
he points to Bully’s prominent “yummy,” and descants on the misery
of his condition if he had been left to the precarious chances of
obtaining such developments in his native land; then turns a quid,
and, as if uttering some sacred refrain to the universal hymn of
the South, says, “Yes, sir, they’re the happiest people on the face
of the airth!”
There was a fiddler, and also a banjo-player, who played uncouth
music to the clumsiest of dances, which it would be insulting to
compare to the worst Irish jig, and the men with immense gravity
and great effusion of _sudor_, shuffled, and cut, and heeled and
buckled to each other with an overwhelming solemnity, till the
rum-bottle warmed them up to the lighter graces of the dance, when
they became quite overpowering. “Yes, sir, jist look at them how
they’re enjoying it; they’re the happiest people on the face of the
airth.” When “wooding” and firing up they don’t seem to be in the
possession of the same exquisite felicity.
_May 11th._--At early dawn the steamer went its way through a broad
bay of snags bordered with drift-wood, and with steam-trumpet
and calliope announced its arrival at the quay of Mobile, which
presented a fringe of tall warehouses, and shops alongside, over
which were names indicating Scotch, Irish, English, many Spanish,
German, Italian, and French owners, Captain Maher at once set off
to his plantation, and we descended the stories of the walled
castle to the beach, and walked on towards the “Battle House,” so
called from the name of its proprietor, for Mobile has not yet had
its fight like New Orleans. The quays which usually, as we were
told, are lined with stately hulls and a forest of masts, were
deserted; although the port was not actually blockaded, there were
squadrons of the United States ships at Pensacola on the east, and
at New Orleans on the west.
The hotel, a fine building of the American stamp, was the seat
of a Vigilance Committee, and as we put down our names in the
book they were minutely inspected by some gentlemen who came out
of the parlour. It was fortunate they did not find traces of
Lincolnism about us, as it appeared by the papers that they were
busy deporting “Abolitionists” after certain preliminary processes
supposed to--
“Give them a rise, and open their eyes
To a sense of their situation.”
The citizens were busy in drilling, marching, and drum-beating, and
the Confederate flag flew from every spire and steeple. The day
was so hot that it was little more inviting to go out in the sun
than it would be in the dog-days at Malaga, to which, by-the-bye,
Mobile bears some “kinder sorter” resemblance, but, nevertheless,
I sallied forth, and had a drive on a shell road by the head of
the bay, where there were pretty villarettes in charming groves
of magnolia, orange-trees, and lime oaks. Wide streets of similar
houses spring out to meet the country through sandy roads;
some worthy of Streatham or Balham, and all surrounded in such
vegetation as Kew might envy.
Many Mobilians called, and among them the mayor, Mr. Forsyth, in
whom I recognised the most remarkable of the Southern Commissioners
I had met at Washington. Mr. Magee, the acting British Consul was
also good enough to wait upon me, with offers of any assistance in
his power. I hear he has most difficult questions to deal with,
arising out of the claims of distressed British subjects, and
disputed nationality. In the evening the Consul and Dr. Nott, a
savant and physician of Mobile, well known to ethnologists for
his work on the “Types of Mankind,” written conjointly with the
late Mr. Gliddon, dined with me, and I learned from them that,
notwithstanding the intimate commercial relations between Mobile
and the great Northern cities, the people here are of the most
ultra-secessionist doctrines. The wealth and manhood of the city
will be devoted to repel the “Lincolnite mercenaries” to the last.
After dinner we walked through the city, which abounds in
oyster saloons, drinking-houses, lager-bier and wine-shops, and
gambling and dancing places. The market was well worthy of a
visit--something like St. John’s at Liverpool on a Saturday night,
crowded with negroes, mulattoes, quadroons, and mestizos of all
sorts, Spanish, Italian, and French, speaking their own tongues,
or a quaint lingua franca, and dressed in very striking and pretty
costumes. The fruit and vegetable stalls displayed very fine
produce, and some staples, remarkable for novelty, ugliness, and
goodness. After our stroll we went into one of the great oyster
saloons, and in a room up-stairs had opportunity of tasting those
great bivalvians in the form of natural fish puddings, fried in
batter, roasted, stewed, devilled, broiled, and in many other ways,
_plus_ raw. I am bound to observe that the Mobile people ate them
as if there was no blockade, and as though oysters were a specific
for political indigestions and civil wars; a fierce Marseillais are
they--living in the most foreign-looking city I have yet seen in
the States. My private room in the hotel was large, well-lighted
with gas, and exceedingly well furnished in the German fashion,
with French pendule and mirrors. The charge for a private room
varies from 1_l._ to 1_l._ 5_s._ a-day; the bed-room and board are
charged separately, from 10_s._ 6_d._ to 12_s._ 6_d._ a-day, but
meals served in the private room are all charged extra, and heavily
too. Exclusiveness is an aristocratic taste which must be paid for.