Showing posts with label Pensacola. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pensacola. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 25, 2020

Major-General Braxton Bragg to Elisa Ellis Bragg, March 11, 1861

[Pensacola, Florida, March 11, 1861.]

My dear Wife: We left New Orleans on Friday. Saturday night at 12 o'clock we reached here, after a stage ride of 48 miles from this side of Mobile Bay over a very bad road.

According to my notions things here are in a most deplorable condition, and that was the reason for sending me; you know it has been my fate all through life to build up for somebody else. Our troops are raw volunteers, without officers, and without discipline, each man with an idea that he can whip the world, and believing that nothing is necessary but to go it and take Fort Pickens and all the navy. All this will give way, I hope, to good counsel, and good sense, but it will require great firmness and management. Some of the privates are men of large means and high position; two of them are just from Washington—Members of Congress. Unless the United States troops attack us, no fighting can occur here for a long time, as we are totally unprepared for anything of the sort, and if they are sensible they will keep us so. Fort Pickens cannot be taken without a regular siege, and we have no means to carry that on, and cannot get any without their Navy will allow it to pass it.

You will be surprised to hear of the very cordial messages I hare received from our old friend President Davis. He says with such men as Beauregard and Bragg at Charleston and Pensacola he feels easy. I hope he may have no cause to change his mind. 

BRAXTON BRAGG.

SOURCE:  Don Carlos Seitz, Braxton Bragg, General of the Confederacy, p. 31-2

Thursday, December 13, 2018

George S. Denison to Salmon P. Chase, October 16, 1862

(Private and Unofficial)

New Orleans, October 16th, 1862.

Dear Sir: My last letter was in reference to trade with the enemy.

After Gen. Butler's return from Pensacola — for the purpose of discussing the matter, Gen. B. asked me to his house, where I met also Gov. Shepley. In a long conversation, I stated to them fully my own views, and it was understood that there should be no more trade with the enemy — that no supplies of any kind or in any quantity, should pass into insurrectionary districts not even supplies for loyal residents of such locality, because Guerillas would in most cases, take away such supplies for their own use.

Gen. Butler and Gen. Shepley each said, however, that he had given one permit to cross the Lake, not yet carried into effect. The goods were bought and vessels loaded, but that I had stopped them. It was insisted that these vessels should be allowed to proceed. I said that the permission of the Secretary of Treasury ought first to be obtained.

The next morning Gen. Butler sent me the list of cargo for the vessel, on the second leaf of which was endorsed his request that she be allowed to proceed. Gen. Shepley sent me a note to the same effect in regard to the other. A copy of the list of cargo, with Gen. Butler's original endorsement on second leaf, is herewith enclosed, marked A. A copy of the list of cargo of second vessel, with Gen. Shepley's note, is herewith enclosed, marked B.

It is inexpedient that I should have a controversy with the military authorities, and I let these two vessels go, with the distinct understanding however, that nothing more was to go out.

Gen. Butler's permit was to Judge Morgan, a good Union man, who has lost much by the Rebellion.

Gen. Shepley's was to one Montgomery, who has previously taken over, among other things, 1,200 sacks salt. Gen. S. says he granted this permit at the earnest solicitation of Mr. Bouligny — formerly in Congress from this state, but now in Washington — and that Montgomery told him Bouligny was part owner of the cargo with him (Montgomery).

I think there will be no more of this trade. Gen. B. has always carried out (so far as I know) the wishes of the Gov't. when distinctly made known, and I believe he will fully carry out (in future) your views respecting this matter.

Gen. B. has more brains and energy than any other three men in New Orleans. He does an immense amount of work, and does it well. He knows and controls everything in this Department. I regret that it was necessary to write my last letter — or rather, that the statements therein made were facts. Besides, no other officer appreciates, like Gen. Butler, the importance of freeing and arming the colored people — and he is not afraid to do it. All the pro-slavery influence in this State cannot change him in this matter.

When Weitzel's expedition (spoken of in a late letter) goes out, Gen. B will send the 1st. Colored Regiment right into the heart of the section of the country to be taken. They will move nearly west from here, on the line of the Opelousas Railroad. I think they will do a great work. The expedition is expected to start in about two weeks. Late New York papers indicate the adoption of some plan for getting out cotton from Rebeldom. I hope it will not be done by means of trade with the enemy, which is objectionable for many reasons.

It will benefit the enemy ten times as much as the Government — it demoralizes the army, who imagine themselves fighting for speculators — officers will be interested, directly or indirectly, in the trade, and they and other speculators, will wish the war prolonged for the sake of great profits — the Rebels will not keep their engagements nine cases out of ten — the rebels are terribly in want, and now is the time to deprive them of supplies. There are other objections besides those enumerated.

The greatest distress prevails in insurrectionary districts all around us. The Guerilla system injures Rebels more than the Government, and the people are becoming heartily tired of it.

SOURCE: Diary and correspondence of Salmon P. ChaseAnnual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1902, Vol. 2, p. 326-7

Wednesday, August 1, 2018

Gustavus V. Fox to Virginia Woodbury Fox, May 2, 1861

Washington, May 2d 61
Dr V—

I have delayed for a few days writing you in hopes to be able to give you all particulars about the Powhatan and other matters. Mr. Seward got up this Pensacola expedition and the Prest signed the orders in ignorance and unknown to the dept. The Prest offers every apology possible and will do so in writing. So do the depts. I shall get it all straight in justification of myself and to place the blow on the head of that timid [Word erased. — Eds.] W. H. Seward. He who paralizes every movement from abject fear.

Maryland's repentance renders Washington secure, for the present at least. There are no troops hovering about Washington, but they are collecting at Richmond. The excitement in the city has died away in a great measure and notwithstanding the large number of soldiers here it is orderly and sober.

Nell and I went up and saw Major Watson drill his command at the capital and afterwards visited his quarters, the room of the committee of finance.

I shall probably take off Nell next week. Mrs. B. will not leave at present. I will write you to-morrow again when I shall be able to give you more news.

Love to all and to my dear little Ginny Bread.

Aff
GUS

SOURCE: Robert Means Thompson & Richard Wainwright, Editors, Publications of the Naval Historical Society, Volume 9: Confidential Correspondence of Gustavus Vasa Fox, Assistant Secretary of the Navy, 1861-1865, Volume 1, p. 42-3

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Diary of Gideon Welles: Saturday, January 23, 1864

Hiram Barney, Collector at New York, called on me. Is feeling depressed. The late frauds, or lately discovered frauds, annoy him. . . .

Chase sends me a letter in relation to Pensacola and the suggestions I made to open Trans-Mississippi to trade and commerce. In each case he fails to respond to my propositions favorably. Although late, I am for means that will bring peace and kindly feeling. Commerce and intercourse will help.

The trial of Stover, a contractor, by court martial at Philadelphia has come to a close. He is found guilty on three charges and is fined $5000, and is to suffer one year's imprisonment in such prison as the Secretary of the Navy may select. It is, in my opinion, a proper punishment for a dishonest man, but the law is in some of its features of a questionable character. Likely it will be tested, for Stover has money, obtained by fraudulent means from the government. I have deliberated over the subject and come to the conclusion to approve the proceedings, and send Stover to Fort Lafayette instead of a penitentiary. Captain Latimer writes that Stover has left Philadelphia and gone to New York. I have therefore written to Admiral Paulding to arrest and send him to Fort L. The President concurs.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 514-5

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Gustavus V. Fox to Dr. Lowery, April 3, 1861

Washington D.C.
Ap. 3d 61
Dr Lowery—

My expedition is ordered to be got ready, but I doubt if we shall get off. Delay, indecision, obstacles.

War will commence at Pensacola. There the Govt is making a stand and if they fire upon reinforcements, already ordered to land, Fort Pickens and the ships will open upon the whole party.

Shall leave here tomorrow afternoon. Love to all.

Truly
G. V. Fox

SOURCES: Robert Means Thompson & Richard Wainwright, Editors, Publications of the Naval Historical Society, Volume 9: Confidential Correspondence of Gustavus Vasa Fox, Assistant Secretary of the Navy, 1861-1865, Volume 1, p. 19

Saturday, April 7, 2018

Diary of Gideon Welles: Tuesday, January 12, 1864

Only three of us at the Cabinet meeting, and no special business matters were brought forward. I submitted to the President a dispatch from Commander Watson Smith at Pensacola relative to the disturbed condition of the people at Warrington. The port is blockaded, and the Rebels cut off from all shore supplies. In the mean time the Treasury agent has cut off the little communication that had been previously maintained by a few small dealers. The President requested me to consult with Chase, and any conclusion that we should come to he would affirm. Some little conversation followed as to the opening of additional ports. I remarked to the President that in my opinion it would be well to take some decisive and more general ground indicating progress towards peace. New Orleans being an open port, I asked, why might not the whole trans-Mississippi country above that place be thrown open to commerce? I told him my own convictions — and I had given the subject reflection — were favorable to the measure, and against the farther blockade of Red River and the country above that river on the west bank of the Mississippi. The President said the subject was worth considering and we must take it up.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 509-10

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Brevet Lieutenant-General Winfield Scott to Brevet Colonel Harvey Brown, April 1, 1861

HEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY,         
Washington, April 1, 1861.
Bvt.. Col. HARVEY BROWN,
U. S Army, Washington, D. C.:

SIR: You have been designated to take command of an expedition to re-enforce and hold Fort Pickens, in the harbor of Pensacola. You will proceed with the least possible delay to that place, and you will assume command of all the land forces of the United States within the limits of the State of Florida. You will proceed to New York, where steam transportation for four companies will be engaged, and, putting on board such supplies as you can ship, without delay proceed at once to your destination. The engineer company of Suppers and Miners; Brevet Major Hunt's Company M, Second Artillery; Captain Johns' Company C, Third Infantry, Captain Clitz's Company E, Third Infantry, will embark with you in the first steamer. Other troops and full supplies will be sent after you as soon as possible.

Captain Meigs will accompany you as engineer, and will remain with you until you are established in Fort Pickens, when he will return to resume his duties in this city. The other members of your staff will be Asst. Surg. John Campbell, medical staff; Capt. Rufus Ingalls, assistant quartermaster; Capt. Henry F. Clarke, assistant commissary of subsistence; Bvt. Capt. George L. Hartsuff, assistant adjutant-general; and First Lieut. George T. Balch, ordnance officer.

The object and destination of this expedition will be communicated to no one to whom it is not already known. The naval officers in the Gulf will be instructed to co-operate with you, and to afford every facility in their power for the accomplishment of the object of the expedition, which is the security of Fort Pickens against all attacks, foreign and domestic. Should a shot be fired at you, you will defend yourself and your expedition at whatever hazard, and, if needful for such defense, inflict upon the assailants all the damage in your power within the range of your guns.

Lieutenant-Colonel Keyes, military secretary, will be authorized to give all necessary orders, and to call upon the staff department for every requisite material and transportation, and other steamers will follow that on which you embark, to carry re-enforcements, supplies, and provisions for the garrison of Fort Pickens for six months. Captain Barry's battery will follow as soon as a vessel can be fitted for its transportation. Two or three foot companies will embark at the same time with the battery. All the companies will be filled up to the maximum standard, those to embark first from the recruits in the harbor of New York. The other companies will be filled, if practicable, with instructed soldiers.

You will make Fort Jefferson your main depot and base of operations. You will be careful not reduce too much the means of the fortresses in the Florida Reef, as they are deemed of greater importance than even Fort Pickens. The naval officers in the Gulf will be instructed to cooperate with you in every way, in order to insure the safety of Fort Pickens, Fort Jefferson, and Fort Taylor. You will freely communicate with them for this end, and will exhibit to them the authority of the President herewith.

The President directs that you be assigned to duty from this date according to your brevet rank in the Army.

With great confidence in your judgment, zeal, and intelligence, I remain, respectfully,

WINFIELD SCOTT.

APRIL 2, 1861.
Approved:
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.


SOURCES: Robert Means Thompson & Richard Wainwright, Editors, Publications of the Naval Historical Society, Volume 9: Confidential Correspondence of Gustavus Vasa Fox, Assistant Secretary of the Navy, 1861-1865, Volume 1, p. 15; The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 1 (Serial No. 1), p. 365-6;

Monday, January 16, 2017

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan: Saturday, March 18, 1865

Regt on the road at 6. at 7.30 made Bon secure bayou, see great heaps of oyster shells more low ground today. they bay & gulf one place at the neck not more than 3/4 of a mile apart. Hear heavy guns all P. M. supposed to be the fleet at Mobile, move about 10 miles today. We see one happy wench, we were the first yankees she had seen. After dark a squad of 15, belonging to the Div. 2 of whom belong to our Regt get into camp. They were at Ft. Gaines Hosp. crossed to Morgan & finding their Regt gone pushed on & walked all the way from the Cove today. They report Genl. Veaches Div. coming right on & Genl Smiths Corps landing at the Cove & will start Monday The Estimate is 10000 men with us & 20000 more to follow & we expect to form junction with Steele, who started from Pensacola the 17th with between 20000 and 25000 men

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 8, April 1923, p. 578

Monday, December 12, 2016

Diary of Gideon Welles: Tuesday, January 6, 1863

Got off dispatches this morning ordering the ironclads south to strengthen Du Pont in his attack on Charleston, which he intends to take, — then Savannah, if not too long delayed, when the ironclads must go around to Pensacola.

Wilkes is not doing as much as we expected. I fear he has more zeal for and finds it more profitable to capture blockade-runners than to hunt for the Alabama. Lord Lyons is preferring complaints against him for want of courtesy, when he is really flinging on him British insults. There is not much love lost between him and John Bull. If Seward would square up firmly we could make Bull behave better.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 217

Friday, September 23, 2016

Colonel Joseph G. Totten to Simon Cameron, April 3, 1861


WASHINGTON, April 3, 1861.
To the SECRETARY OF WAR:

Under the strongest convictions on some military questions upon which great political events seem about to turn, I feel impelled to state them, since they are of a nature to derive, possibly, a little weight from my official relation to them, and since, moreover, circumstances might cause my failing to make the statement in time to be considered as a grave delinquency. I refer particularly to the question of defending or abandoning Fort Sumter and Fort Pickens.

Fort Sumter. – In addition to what I have heretofore said as to the impracticability of efficiently re-enforcing and supplying this fort, I will now say only that if the fort was filled with men and munitions it could  hold out but a short time. It would be obliged to surrender with much loss of life, for it would be bravely and obstinately defended, and the greater the crowd within the greater the proportionate loss. This issue can be averted only by sending a large army and navy to capture all the surrounding forts and batteries, and to assemble and apply these there is now no time. If we do not evacuate Fort Sumter it will be wrested from us by force.

Fort Pickens.Were this fort provided with a garrison of eight hundred or one thousand good soldiers, fully supplied with everything necessary to the best defense, and ably commanded, its utmost term of resistance would be about three weeks rather less than more. Were the besieging army practiced in the war of sieges, it would hardly be maintained for a fortnight. With a garrison of three hundred to five hundred men only, and in its present destitution of essential means, its siege supplies consisting of guns and ammunition merely, and these scanty and not of the best kind, the siege must be a very short one. But even the making good the deficiencies would, as stated above, only defer the issue for a week or so. In any case a quick surrender would be inevitable.

Regarding the fort independently of co-operation on one side or the other of a naval force, or of other fortifications in the harbor, these conclusions are not to be doubted, without disregarding all military experience. The occupation by the investing forces of the shore opposite, with numerous batteries pouring their showers of shot and shell into the fort, while the regular siege operations upon Santa Rosa Island were going on, would materially abridge the term of resistance. A naval force uniting in the defense, but confined to the waters outside of the harbor, might, to a certain extent, increase the casualties of the besiegers, but would not materially retard the operations. In that case the approaches would be pushed along the inshore face of the island, leaving the breadth of the island, with its sand hills and ridges, between them and the ships; and, moreover, two or three batteries planted on the out-shore face, and sheltered from the fire of the fort by sand hills and traverses, would compel ships to keep an out-of-range offing. Could this naval force act upon the bay side of Santa Rosa Island as well as upon the sea side, the progress of a siege, if practicable at all, might be greatly retarded. Under such circumstances this kind of attack would hardly be undertaken. Were the investing forces numerous and enterprising they might, nevertheless, even then attempt a coup de main; and, provided the garrison were weak in numbers, and worn out by a protracted cannonade and bombardment from the opposite shore, the chances of success would warrant the attempt.

But I consider that the passing of vessels of war into the bay would be a very hazardous proceeding in the face of Fort McRee, Fort Barrancas, its advanced battery, and several other batteries that all accounts agree in stating have been erected and mounted along the shore, from the navy-yard inclusive to and beyond the light-house. It is possible, however, that this channel might be passed at night by swift war steamers without utter destruction, and there might be retained by one or more of them enough efficiency to prevent the hostile occupation of the lower part of Santa Rosa Island, and the prosecution there of siege operations against Fort Pickens. In such event resort would certainly be had to cannonade and bombardment from the batteries on the opposite shore, and these plied with vigor and perseverance would at last reduce the fort to a condition incapable of resisting vigorous assault, since the garrison would be exhausted, and the means of defense on the cannonaded side have little efficiency left to them. The masonry on that part of the fort is exposed to sight, and to battering from top to bottom, and is pierced besides by a gateway and numerous embrasures, greatly weakening it. Every shot fired from the other shore would strike the walls, and every shell fall within them. With a brave and well-supplied garrison there would be an obstinate holding out, no doubt, but a surrender would at last close a scene in which on our side no other military virtues had room for display but fortitude and patience. The response of the fort to shot and shell would be by shot and shell, but with little proportionate chance of injury to the enemy's impassive batteries of sand.

This last mode of attack could be prevented, even with the command of the inner waters only, by landing upon the main shore a military force sufficient to capture all these forts and batteries, including the navy-yard. Admitting the supposition (quite unreasonable as I estimate our available army force) that we can before it is too late disperse the 3,000 or 5,000 men now in hostile array there and regain these possessions, what then? The Confederate States can assemble a large additional military force at Montgomery by railroad, and throw it down also by railroad upon Pensacola. Here there would be the struggle between the two armies on land, and not between forts and batteries.

The question that next arises is not whether this great nation is able with time to supply ample means in soldiers and munitions for such conflict, but whether, having expended nearly all its ready strength in reconquering the harbor fortifications and navy-yard, it could send timely and adequate re-enforcements. With our present military establishment and existing military laws I do not see how this would be possible before all that had been gained would be lost.

The seceded States, considering themselves as in a state of quasi warfare, see that if there is to be a struggle the very utmost of their military energies and resources will be called for. They see, besides, that to contend with the greater chance of success they must profit by our present state of military weakness, and under the first glow of a great political change they rush ardently into the requisite preparations. Upon the battle-field of Pensacola or its environs they are now stronger than we can become without the help of Congress, and they can and will augment their strength there if necessary beyond anything we can hope to do for yet many months.

The above and much like reasoning convince me that we cannot retain Fort Pickens, provided the other side is really in earnest, and follows up with like promptitude and energy their early military preparations. If we do not vacate this fort the result predicted as to Fort Sumter will certainly be realized here also it will be taken from us by violence.

Should the above reasoning not meet acceptance, or for political reasons should it be decided to hold and defend this fort to the last; then I have to say that every soldier that can be spared should be sent to its relief with the utmost dispatch, accompanied by military supplies of every kind and in the greatest abundance.

To supply in some sort the want of a naval force within the bay as large a force as can be spared from the immediate protection of the fort should be encamped upon Santa Rosa Island at some distance from the fort, maintaining communication with it and detaching parties to watch the upper part of the island. These will give timely notice of the entrance thereupon of hostile troops, and will prevent the erection of batteries against our ships lying off shore, through which all supplies for the fort must be derived.

While the fort is uninjured many men need not remain within its walls to secure it from surprise or escalade. Of course the detached troops must be kept within reach of quick recall. Such measures may delay somewhat, though neither these nor any others now within our reach will, in my opinion, prevent the loss of Fort Pickens.

I present these thoughts to the consideration of the Secretary of War, and, if he thinks them of sufficient interest, to the perusal of the President, because they force themselves from me by the vehemence of the convictions.

Treating it purely as a professional question, I do not presume to advise as to the policy of the Government in this connection, merely presenting what seem to me to be incontrovertible facts and inevitable consequences of a military nature, that may, perhaps, be allowed to bear upon the political question.

Having no personal ambition or party feeling to lead or mislead me to conclusions, I have maturely studied the subject as a soldier bound to give all his faculties to his country, which may God preserve in peace!

Respectfully submitted.
 JOS. G. TOTTEN,
Chief Engineer.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 1 (Serial No. 1), p. 232-5

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: April 11, 1862

At 10 a. m. Pensacola, Fort Pickins and Santa Rosa Island in sight. Did not communicate with the shore. At 3 p. m. passed blockading fleet off Mobile. During the night a heavy thunder storm, lightning, wind and rain, terrific. In the morning we passed Horn Island, becalmed a few hours, but at 6 p. m. the City of New York anchored off Ship Island.

SOURCE: George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 8

Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Diary of William Howard Russell: May 16, 1861

The reveille of the Zouaves, note for note the same as that which, in the Crimea, so often woke up poor fellows who slept the long sleep ere nightfall, roused us this morning early, and then the clang of trumpets and the roll of drums beating French calls summoned the volunteers to early parade. As there was a heavy dew, and many winged things about last night, I turned in to my berth below, where four human beings were supposed to lie in layers, like mummies beneath a pyramid, and there, after contention with cockroaches, sank to rest. No wonder I was rather puzzled to know where I was now; for in addition to the music and the familiar sounds outside, I was somewhat perturbed in my mental calculations by bringing my head sharply in contact with a beam of the deck which had the best of it; but, at last, facts accomplished themselves and got into place, much aided by the appearance of the negro cook with a cup of coffee in his hand, who asked, “Mosieu! Capitaine vant to ax vedder you take some bitter, sar! Lisbon bitter, sar.” I saw the captain on deck busily engaged in the manufacture of a liquid which I was adjured by all the party on deck to take, if I wished to make a Redan or a Malakoff of my stomach, and accordingly I swallowed a petit verve of a very strong, and intensely bitter preparation of brandy and tonic roots, sweetened with sugar, for which Mobile is famous.

The noise of our arrival had gone abroad; haply the report of the good things with which the men of Mobile had laden the craft, for a few officers came aboard even at that early hour, and we asked two who were known to our friends to stay for breakfast. That meal, to which the negro cook applied his whole mind and all the galley, consisted of an ugly looking but well-flavored fish from the waters outside us, fried ham and onions, biscuit, coffee, iced water and Bordeaux, served with charming simplicity, and no way calculated to move the ire of Horace by a display of Persic apparatus.

A more greasy, oniony meal was never better enjoyed. One of our guests was a jolly Yorkshire farmer-looking man, up to about 16 stone weight, with any hounds, dressed in a tunic of green baize or frieze, with scarlet worsted braid down the front, gold lace on the cuffs and collar, and a felt wide-awake, with a bunch of feathers in it. He wiped the sweat off his brow, and swore that he would never give in, and that the whole of the company of riflemen whom he commanded, if not as heavy, were quite as patriotic. He was evidently a kindly affectionate man, without a trace of malice in his composition, but his sentiments were quite ferocious when he came to speak of the Yankees. He was a large slave-owner, and therefore a man of fortune, and he spoke with all the fervor of a capitalist menaced by a set of Red Republicans.

His companion, who wore a plain blue uniform, spoke sensibly about a matter with which sense has rarely any thing to do — namely uniform. Many of the United States volunteers adopt the same gray colors so much in vogue among the Confederates. The officers of both armies wear similar distinguishing marks of rank, and he was quite right in supposing that in night marches, or in serious actions on a large scale, much confusion and loss would be caused by men of the same army firing on each other, or mistaking enemies for friends.

Whilst we were talking, large shoals of mullet and other fish were flying before the porpoises, red fish, and other enemies, in the tide-way astern of the schooner. Once, as a large white fish came leaping up to the surface, a gleam of something still whiter shot through the waves, and a boiling whirl, tinged with crimson, which gradually melted off in the tide, marked where the fish had been.

“There's a ground sheark as has got his breakfast,” quoth the Skipper. “There's quite a many of them about here.” Now and then a turtle showed his head, exciting desiderium tam cari captis, above the envied flood which he honored with his presence.

Far away toward Pensacola, floated three British ensigns, from as many merchantmen, which as yet had fifteen days to clear out from the blockaded port. Fort Pickens had hoisted the stars and stripes to the wind, and Fort M'Rae, as if to irritate its neighbor, displayed a flag almost identical, but for the “lone star,” which the glass detected instead of the ordinary galaxy — the star of Florida.

Lieutenant Ellis, General Bragg's aide-de-camp, came on board at an early hour in order to take me round the works, and I was soon on the back of the General's charger, safely ensconced between the raised pummel and cantle of a great brass-bound saddle, with emblazoned saddle-cloth and mighty stirrups of brass, fit for the fattest marshal that ever led an army of France to victory; but General Bragg is longer in the leg than the Duke of Malakoff or Marshal Canrobert, and all my efforts to touch with my toe the wonderful supports which, in consonance with the American idea, dangled far beneath, were ineffectual.

As our road lay by head-quarters, the aide-de-camp took me into the court and called out “Orderly;” and at the summons a smart soldier-like young fellow came to the front, took me three holes up, and as I was riding away touched his cap and said, “I beg your pardon, sir, but I often saw you in the Crimea.” He had been in the 11th Hussars, and on the day of Balaklava he was following close to Lord Cardigan and Captain Nolan, when his horse was killed by a round shot. As he was endeavoring to escape on foot the Cossacks took him prisoner, and he remained for eleven months in captivity in Russia, till he was exchanged at Odessa, toward the close of the war; then, being one of two sergeants who were permitted to get their discharge, he left the service. “But here you are again,” said I, “soldiering once more, and merely acting as an orderly!” “Well, that's true enough, but I came over here, thinking to better myself as some of our fellows did, and then the war broke out, and I entered one of what they called their cavalry regiments — Lord bless you, sir, it would just break your heart to see them — and here I am now, and the general has made me an orderly. He is a kind man, sir, and the pay is good, but they are not like the old lot; I do not know what my lord would think of them.” The man's name was Montague, and he told me his father lived “at a place called Windsor,” twenty-one miles from London. Lieutenant Ellis said he was a very clean, smart, well-conducted soldier.

From head-quarters we started on our little tour of inspection of the batteries. Certainly, any thing more calculated to shake confidence in American journalism could not be seen; for I had been led to believe that the works were of the most formidable description, mounting hundreds of guns. Where hundreds was written, tens would have been nearer the truth.

I visited ten out of the thirteen batteries which General Bragg has erected against Fort Pickens. I saw but five heavy siege guns in the whole of the works among the fifty or fifty-five pieces with which they were armed. There may be about eighty altogether on the lines, which describe an arc of 135 degrees for about three miles round Pickens, at an average distance of a mile and one third. I was rather interested with Fort Barrancas, built by the Spaniards long ago — an old work on the old plan, weakly armed, but possessing a tolerable command from the face of fire.

In all the batteries there were covered galleries in the rear, connected with the magazines, and called “rat-holes,” intended by the constructors as a refuge for the men whenever a shell from Pickens dropped in. The rush to the rat-hole does not impress one as being very conducive to a sustained and heavy fire, or at all likely to improve the morale of the gunners. The working parties, as they were called — volunteers from Mississippi and Alabama, great long-bearded fellows in flannel shirts and slouched hats, uniformless in all save brightly burnished arms and resolute purpose — were lying about among the works, or contributing languidly to their completion.

Considerable improvements were in the course of execution; but the officers were not always agreed as to the work to be done. Captain A., at the wheelbarrows: “Now then, you men, wheel up these sand-bags, and range them just at this corner.” Major B.: “My good Captain A., what do you want the bags there for? Did I not tell you, these merlons were not to be finished till we had completed the parapet on the front?” Captain A.: “Well, Major, so you did, and your order made me think you knew darned little about your business; and so I am going to do a little engineering of my own.”

Altogether, I was quite satisfied General Bragg was perfectly correct in refusing to open big fire on Fort Pickens and on the fleet, which ought certainly to have knocked his works about his ears, in spite of his advantages of position, and of some well-placed mortar batteries among the brushwood, at distances from Pickens of 2500 and 2800 yards. The magazines of the batteries I visited did not contain ammunition for more than one day's ordinary firing. The shot were badly cast, with projecting flanges from the mould, which would be very injurious to soft metal guns in firing. As to men, as in guns, the Southern papers had lied consumedly. I could not say how many were in Pensacola itself, for I did not visit the camp: at the outside guess of the numbers there was 2000. I saw, however, all the camps here, and I doubt exceedingly if General Bragg — who at this time is represented to have any number from 30,000 to 50,000 men under his command — has 8000 troops to support his batteries, or 10,000, including Pensacola, all told.

If hospitality consists in the most liberal participation of all the owner has with his visitors, here, indeed, Philemon has his type in every tent. As we rode along through every battery, by every officer's quarters some great Mississippian or Alabamian came forward with “Captain Ellis, I am glad to see you.” “Colonel,” to me, “won't you get down and have a drink?” Mr. Ellis duly introduces me. The Colonel with effusion grasps my hand and says, as if he had just gained the particular object of his existence, “Sir, I am very glad indeed to know you. I hope you have been pretty well since you have been in our country, sir. Here, Pompey, take the colonel's horse. “Step in, sir, and have a drink.” Then comes out the great big whiskey bottle, and an immense amount of adhesion to the first law of nature is required to get you off with less than half-a-pint of “Bourbon;” but the most trying thing to a stranger is the fact that when he is going away, the officer, who has been so delighted to see him, does not seem to care a farthing for his guest or his health.

The truth is, these introductions are ceremonial observances, and compliances with the universal curiosity of Americans to know people they meet. The Englishman bows frigidly to his acquaintance on the first introduction, and if he likes him shakes hands with him on leaving — a much more sensible and justifiable proceeding. The American's warmth at the first interview must be artificial, and the indifference at parting is ill-bred and in bad taste. I had already observed this on many occasions, especially at Montgomery, where I noticed it to Colonel Wigfall, but the custom is not incompatible with the most profuse hospitality, nor with the desire to render service.

On my return to head-quarters I found General Bragg in his room, engaged in writing an official letter in reply to my request to be permitted to visit Fort Pickens, in which he gave me full permission to do as I pleased. Not only this, but he had prepared a number of letters of introduction to the military authorities, and to his personal friends at New Orleans, requesting them to give me every facility and friendly assistance in their power. He asked me my opinion about the batteries and their armament, which I freely gave him quantum valeat. “Well,” he said, “I think your conclusions are pretty just; but, nevertheless, some fine day I shall be forced to try the mettle of our friends on the opposite side.” All I could say was, “May God defend the right.” “A good saying, to which I say, Amen. And drink with you to it.”

There was a room outside, full of generals and colonels, to whom I was duly introduced, but the time for departure had come, and I bade good-by to the general and rode down in the wrharf. I had always heard, during my brief sojourn in the North, that the Southern people were exceedingly illiterate and ignorant. It may be so, but I am bound to say that I observed a large proportion of the soldiers, on their way to the navy yard, engaged in reading newspapers, though they did not neglect the various drinking bars and exchanges, which were only too numerous in the vicinity of the camps.

The schooner was all ready for sea, but the Mobile gentleman had gone off to Pensacola, and as I did not desire to invite them to visit Fort Pickens — where, indeed, they would have most likely met with a refusal — I resolved to sail without them and to return to the navy yard in the evening, in order to take them back on our homeward voyage. “Now then, captain, cast loose; we are going to Fort Pickens.” The worthy seaman had by this time become utterly at sea, and did not appear to know whether he belonged to the Confederate States, Abraham Lincoln, or the British navy. But this order roused him a little, and looking at me with all his eyes, he exclaimed, “Why, you don't mean to say you are going to make me bring the Diana alongside that darned Yankee Fort!” Our table-cloth, somewhat maculated with gravy, was hoisted once more to the peak, and, after some formalities between the guardians of the jetty and ourselves, the schooner canted round in the tideway, and with a fine light breeze ran down toward the stars and stripes.

What magical power there is in the colors of a piece of bunting! My companions, I dare say, felt as proud of their flag as if their ancestors had fought under it at Acre or Jerusalem. And yet how fictitious its influence! Death, and dishonor worse than death, to desert it one day! Patriotism and glory to leave it in the dust, and fight under its rival, the next! How indignant would George Washington have been, if the Frenchman at Fort du Quesne had asked him to abandon the old rag which Braddock held aloft in the wilderness, and to serve under the very fieur-de-lys which the same great George hailed with so much joy but a few years afterwards, when it was advanced to the front at Yorktown, to win one of its few victories over the Lions and the Harp. And in this Confederate flag there is a meaning which cannot die — it marks the birthplace of a new nationality, and its place must know it forever. Even the flag of a rebellion leaves indelible colors in the political atmosphere. The hopes that sustained it may vanish in the gloom of night, but the national faith still believes that its sun will rise on some glorious morrow. Hard must it be for this race, so arrogant, so great, to see stripe and star torn from the fair standard with which they would fain have shadowed all the kingdoms of the world; but their great continent is large enough for many nations.

“And now,” said the skipper, “I think we'd best lie to — them cussed Yankees on the beach is shouting to us.” And so they were. A sentry on the end of a wooden jetty sung out, “Hallo you there! Stand off or I'll fire,” and “drew a bead-line on us.” At the same time the skipper hailed, “Please to send a boat off to go ashore.” “No, sir! Come in your own boat!” cried the officer of the guard. Our own boat! A very skiff of Charon! Leaky, rotten, lop-sided. We were a hundred yards from the beach, and it was to be hoped that with all its burden, it could not go down in such a short row. As I stepped in, however, followed by my two companions, the water flew in as if forced by a pump, and when the sailors came after us the skipper said, through a mouthful of juice, “Deevid! pull your hardest, for there an't a more terrible place for shearks along the whole coast.” Deevid and his friend pulled like men, and our hopes rose with the water in the boat and the decreasing distance to shore. They worked like Doggett's badgers, and in five minutes we were out of “sheark” depth and alongside the jetty, where Major Vogdes, Mr. Brown, of the Oriental, and an officer, introduced as Captain Barry of the United States artillery, were waiting to receive us. Major Vogdes said that Colonel Brown would most gladly permit me to go over the fort, but that he could not receive any of the other gentlemen of the party; they were permitted to wander about at their discretion.. Some friends whom they picked up amongst the officers took them on a ride along the island, which is merely a sand-bank covered with coarse vegetation, a few trees, and pools of brackish water.

If I were selecting a summer habitation I should certainly not choose Fort Pickens. It is, like all other American works I have seen, strong on the sea faces and weak toward the land. The outer gate was closed, but at a talismanic knock from Captain Barry, the wicket was thrown open by the guard, and we passed through a vaulted gallery into the parade-ground, which was full of men engaged in strengthening the place, and digging deep pits in the centre as shell traps. The men were United States regulars, not comparable in physique to the Southern volunteers, but infinitely superior in cleanliness and soldierly smartness. The officer on duty led me to one of the angles of the fort and turned in to a covered way, which had been ingeniously contrived by tilting up gun platforms and beams of wood at an angle against the wall, and piling earth and sand banks against them for several feet in thickness. The casemates, which otherwise would have been exposed to a plunging fire in the rear, were thus effectually protected.

Emerging from this dark passage I entered one of the bomb-proofs, fitted up as a bed-room, and thence proceeded to the casemate, in which Colonel Harvey Browne has his head-quarters. After some conversation, he took me out upon the parapet and went all over the defences.

Fort Pickens is an oblique, and somewhat narrow parallelogram, with one obtuse angle facing the sea and the other toward the land. The bastion at the acute angle toward Barrancas is the weakest part of the work, and men were engaged in throwing up an extempore glacis to cover the wall and the casemates from fire. The guns were of what is considered small calibre in these days, 32 and 42 pounders, with four or five heavy columbiads. An immense amount of work has been done within the last three weeks, but as yet the preparations are by no means complete. From the walls, which are made of a hard baked brick, nine feet in thickness, there is a good view of the enemy's position. There is a broad ditch round the work, now dry, and probably not intended for water. The cuvette has lately been cleared out, and in proof of the agreeable nature of the locality, the officers told me that sixty very fine rattle-snakes were killed by the workmen during the operation.

As I was looking at the works from the wall, Captain Yogdes made a sly remark now and then, blinking his eyes and looking closely at my face to see if he could extract any information. “There are the quarters of your friend General Bragg; he pretends, we hear, that it is an hospital, but we will soon have him out when we open fire.” “Oh, indeed.” “That's their best battery beside the light-house; we can't well make out whether there are ten, eleven, or twelve guns in it.” Then Captain Vogdes became quite meditative, and thought aloud, “Well, I'm sure, Colonel, they've got a strong entrenched camp in that wood behind their morter batteries. I'm quite sure of it — we must look to that with our long range guns.” What the engineer saw, must have been certain absurd little furrows in the sand, which the Confederates have thrown up about three feet in front of their tents, but whether to carry off or to hold rain water, or as cover for rattle-snakes, the best judge cannot determine.

The Confederates have been greatly delighted with the idea that Pickens will be almost untenable during the summer for the United States troops, on account of the heat and mosquitos, not to speak of yellow fever; but in fact they are far better off than the troops on shore — the casemates are exceedingly well ventilated, light and airy. Mosquitos, yellow fever, and dysentery, will make no distinction between Trojan and Tyrian. On the whole, I should prefer being inside, to being outside Pickens, in case of a bombardment; and there can be no doubt the entire destruction of the navy yard and station by the Federals can be accomplished whenever they please. Colonel Browne pointed out the tall chimney at Warrenton smoking away, and said, “There, sir, is the whole reason of Bragg's forbearance, as it is called. Do you see ? — they are casting shot and shell there as fast as they can. They know well if they opened a gun on us I could lay that yard and all their works there in ruin;” and Colonel Harvey Browne seems quite the man for the work — a resolute, energetic veteran, animated by the utmost dislike to secession and its leaders, and full of what are called “Union Principles,” which are rapidly becoming the mere expression of a desire to destroy life, liberty, property, any thing in fact which opposes itself to the consolidation of the Federal government.

Probably no person has ever been permitted to visit two hostile camps within sight of each other save myself. I was neither spy, herald, nor ambassador; and both sides trusted to me fully on the understanding that I would not make use of any information here, but that it might be communicated to the world at the other side of the Atlantic.

Apropos of this, Colonel Browne told me an amusing story, which shows that cuteness is not altogether confined to the Yankees. Some days ago a gentleman was found wandering about the island, who stated he was a correspondent of a New York paper. Colonel Browne was not satisfied with the account he gave of himself, and sent him on board one of the ships of the fleet, to be confined as a prisoner. Soon afterwards a flag of truce came over from the Confederates, carrying a letter from General Bragg, requesting Colonel Browne to give up the prisoner, as he had escaped to the island after committing a felony, and enclosing a warrant signed by a justice of the peace for his arrest. Colonel Browne laughed at the ruse, and keeps his prisoner.

As it was approaching evening and I had seen every thing in the fort, the hospital, casemates, magazines, bakehouses, tasted the rations, and drank the whiskey, I set out for the schooner, accompanied by Colonel Browne and Captain Barry and other officers, and picking up my friends at the bakehouse outside.

Having bidden our acquaintances good-by, we got on board the Diana, which steered toward the Warrington navy yard, to take the rest of the party on board. The sentries along the beach and on the batteries grounded arms, and stared with surprise as the Diana, with her tablecloth flying, crossed over from Fort Pickens, and ran slowly along the Confederate works. Whilst we were spying for the Mobile gentlemen, the mate took it into his head to take up the Confederate bunting, and wave it over the quarter. “Hollo, what's that you're doing?” “It's only a signal to the gentlemen on shore.” “Wave some other flag, if you please, when we are in these waters, with a flag of truce flying.”

After standing off and on for some time, the Mobilians at last boarded us in a boat. They were full of excitement, quite eager to stay and see the bombardment which must come off in twenty-four hours. Before we left Mobile harbor I had made a bet for a small sum that neither side would attack within the next few days; but now I could not even shake my head one way or the other, and it required the utmost self-possession and artifice of which I was master to evade the acute inquiries and suggestions of my good friends. I was determined to go — they were equally bent upon remaining; and so we parted after a short but very pleasant cruise together.

We had arranged with Mr. Brown that we would look out for him on leaving the harbor, and a bottle of wine was put in the remnants of our ice to drink farewell; but it was almost dark as the Diana shot out seawards between Pickens and M'Rae; and for some anxious minutes we were doubtful which would be the first to take a shot at us. Our tablecloth still fluttered; but the color might be invisible. A lantern was hoisted astern by my order as soon as the schooner was clear of the forts; and with a cool sea-breeze we glided out into the night, the black form of the Powhattan being just visible, the rest of the squadron lost in the darkness. We strained our eyes for the Oriental, but in vain; and it occurred to us that it would scarcely be a very safe proceeding to stand from the Confederate forts down toward the guard-ship, unless under the convoy of the Oriental. It seemed quite certain she must be cruising some way to the westward, waiting for us.

The wind was from the north, on the best point for our return; and the Diana, heeling over in the smooth water, proceeded on her way toward Mobile, running so close to the shore that I could shy a biscuit on the sand. She seemed to breathe the wind through her sails, and flew with a crest of flame at her bow, and a bubbling wake of meteor-like streams flowing astern, as though liquid metal were flowing from a furnace.

The night was exceedingly lovely, but after the heat of the day the horizon was somewhat hazy. “No sign of the Oriental on our lee-bow?” “Nothing at all in sight, sir, ahead or astern.” Sharks and large fish ran off from the shallows as we passed, and rushed out seawards in runs of brilliant light. The Perdida was left far astern.

On sped the Diana, but no Oriental came in view. I felt exceedingly tired, heated, and fagged; had been up early, ridden in a broiling sun, gone through batteries, examined forts, sailed backwards and forwards, so I was glad to turn in out of the night dew, and, leaving injunctions to the captain to keep a bright look out for the Federal boarding schooner, I went to sleep without the smallest notion that I had seen my last of Mr. Brown.

I had been two or three hours asleep when I was awoke by the negro cook, who was leaning over the berth, and, with teeth chattering, said, “Monsieur! nous sommes perdus! un bâtiment de guerre nous poursuit  — il va tirer bientôt. Nous serons coulé! Oh, Mon Dieu! Oh, Mon Dieu!” I started up and popped my head through the hatchway. The skipper himself was at the helm, glancing from the compass to the quivering reef points of the mainsail. “What's the matter, captain?” “Waal, sir,” said the captain, speaking very slowly, “There has been a something a running after us for nigh the last two hours, but he ain't a gaining on us. I don't think he'll kitch us up nohow this time; if the wind holds this pint a leetle, Diana will beat him.”

The confidence of coasting captains in their own craft is an hallucination which no risk or danger will ever prevent them from cherishing most tenderly. There's not a skipper from Hartlepool to Whitstable who does not believe his Maryanne Smith or the Two Grandmothers is able, “on certain pints,” to bump her fat bows, and drag her coal-scuttle shaped stern faster through the sea than any clipper afloat. I was once told by the captain of a Margate Billy Boy he believed he could run to windward of any frigate in Her Majesty's service.

“But, good heavens, man, it may be the Oriental — no doubt it is Mr. Brown who is looking after us.” “Ah! Waal, may be. Whoever it is, he creeped quite close up on me in the dark. It give me quite a sterk when I seen him. ‘May be,’ says I, ‘he is a privateering — pirating — chap.’ So I runs in shore as close as I could; gets my centre board in, and, says I, ‘I’ll see what you're made of, my boy.’ And so we goes on. He ain't a-gaining on us, I can tell you.”

I looked through the glass, and could just make out, half or three quarters of a mile astern, and to leeward, a vessel looking quite black, which seemed to be standing on in pursuit of us. The shore was so close, we could almost have leaped into the surf, for when the centre board was up the Diana did not draw much more than four feet of water. The skipper held grimly on. “You had better shake your wind, and see who it is; it may be Mr. Brown.” “No, sir, Mr. Brown or no, I can't help carrying on now; there's a bank runs all along outside of us, and if I don't hold my course I'll be on it in one minute.” I confess I was rather annoyed, but the captain was master of the situation. He said, that if it had been the Oriental she would have fired a blank gun to bring us to as soon as she saw us. To my inquiries why he did not awaken me when she was first made out, he innocently replied, “You was in such a beautiful sleep, I thought it would be regular cruelty to disturb you.”

By creeping close in shore the Diana was enabled to keep to windward of the stranger, who was seen once or twice to bump or strike, for her sails shivered. “There, she's struck again.” “She's off once more,” and the chase is renewed. Every moment I expected to have my eyes blinded by the flash of her bow gun, but for some reason or another, possibly because she did not wish to check her way, the Oriental — privateer, or whatever it was — saved her powder.

A stern chase is a long chase. It is two o'clock in the morning — the skipper grinned with delight. “I’ll lead him into a pretty mess if he follows me through the ‘Swash,’ whoever he is.” We were but ten miles from Fort Morgan. Nearer and nearer to the shore creeps the Diana.

“Take a cast of the lead, John;” “Nine feet.” “Good. Again.” “Seven feet.” “Again.” “Five feet.” “Charlie, bring the lantern.” We were now in the “Swash,” with a boiling tideway.

Just at the moment that the negro uncovered the lantern out it went, a fact which elicited the most remarkable amount of imprecations ear ever heard. The captain went dancing mad in intervals of deadly calmness, and gave his commands to the crew, and strange oaths to the cook alternately, as the mate sung out, “Five feet and a half.” “About she goes! Confound you, you black scoundrel, I'll teach you,” &c, &c. “Six feet! Eight feet and a half!” “About she comes again.” “Five feet! Four feet and a half.” (Oh, Lord! Six inches under our keel!) And so we went, with a measurement between us and death of inches, not by any means agreeable, in which the captain showed remarkable coolness and skill in the management of his craft, combined with a most unseemly animosity toward his unfortunate cook.

It was very little short of a miracle that we got past the “Elbow,” as the most narrow part of the channel is called, for it was just at the critical moment the binnacle light was extinguished, and went out with a splutter, and there we hail, nor was gun fired — still we stood on. “Captain, had you not better lie to? They'll be sending a round shot after us presently.” “No, sir. They are all asleep in that fort,” replied the indomitable skipper.

Down went his helm and away ran the Diana into Mobile Bay, and was soon safe in the haze beyond shot or shell, running toward the opposite shore. This was glory enough, for the Diana of Mobile. The wind blew straight from the North into our teeth, and at bright sunrise she was only a few miles inside the bay.

All the livelong day was spent in tacking from one low shore to another low shore, through water which looked like pea soup. We had to be sure the pleasure of seeing Mobile from every point of view, east and west, with all the varieties between northing and southing, and numerous changes in the position of steeples, sandhills, and villas, the sun roasting us all the time and boiling the pitch out of the seams.

The greatest excitement of the day was an encounter with a young alligator, making an involuntary voyage out to sea in the tide-way. The crew said he was drowning, having lost his way or being exhausted by struggling with the current. He was about ten feet long, and appeared to be so utterly done up that he would willingly have come aboard as he passed within two yards of us; but desponding as he was, it would have been positive cruelty to have added him to the number of our party.

The next event of the day was dinner, in which Charlie out-rivalled himself by a tremendous fry of onions and sliced Bologna sausage, and a piece of pig, which had not decided whether it was to be pork or bacon.

Having been fourteen hours beating some twenty-seven miles, I was landed at last at a wharf in the suburbs of the town about five o'clock in the evening. On my way to the Battle House I met seven distinct companies marching through the streets to drill, and the air was filled with sounds of bugling and drumming. In the evening a number of gentlemen called upon me to inquire what I thought of Fort Pickens and Pensacola, and I had some difficulty in carrying their very home questions, but at last adopted a formula which appeared to please them — I assured my friends I thought it would be an exceedingly tough business whenever the bombardment took place.

One of the most important steps which I have yet heard of has excited little attention, namely, the refusal of the officer commanding Fort MacHenry, at Baltimore, to obey a writ of habeas corpus issued by a judge of that city for the person of a soldier of his garrison. This military officer takes upon himself to aver there is a state of civil war in Baltimore, which he considers sufficient legal cause for the suspension of the writ.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 210-24

Sunday, May 1, 2016

Diary of William Howard Russell: May 14, 1861

Down to our yacht, the Diana, which is to be ready this afternoon, and saw her cleared out a little — a broad-beamed, flat-floored schooner, some fifty tons burden, with a centre-board, badly calked, and dirty enough — unfamiliar with paint. The skipper was a long-legged, ungainly young fellow, with long hair and an inexpressive face, just relieved by the twinkle of a very “Yankee” eye; but that was all of the hated creature about him, for a more earnest seceder I never heard.

His crew consisted of three rough, mechanical sort of men and a negro cook. Having freighted the vessel with a small stock of stores, a British flag, kindly lent by the acting Consul, Mr. Magee, and a tablecloth to serve as a flag of truce, our party, consisting of the gentlemen previously named, Mr. Ward, and the young artist, weighed from the quay of Mobile at five o'clock in the evening, with the manifest approbation of the small crowd who had assembled to see us off, the rumor having spread through the town that we were bound to see the great fight. The breeze was favorable and steady; at nine o'clock, P. M., the lights of Fort Morgan were on our port beam, and for some time we were expecting to see the flash of a gun, as the skipper confidently declared they would never allow us to pass unchallenged.

The darkness of the night might possibly have favored us, or the sentries were remiss; at all events, we were soon creeping through the “Swash,” which is a narrow channel over the bar, through which our skipper worked us by means of a sounding pole. The air was delightful, and blew directly off the low shore, in a line parallel to which we were moving. When the evening vapors passed away, the stars shone out brilliantly, and though the wind was strong, and sent us at a good eight knots through the water, there was scarcely a ripple on the sea. Our course lay within a quarter of a mile of the shore, which looked like a white ribbon fringed with fire, from the ceaseless play of the phosphorescent surf. Above this belt of sand rose the black, jagged outlines of a pine forest, through which steal immense lagoons and marshy creeks.

Driftwood and trees strew the beach, and from Fort Morgan, for forty miles, to the entrance of Pensacola, not a human habitation disturbs the domain sacred to alligators, serpents, pelicans, and wild-fowl. Some of the lagoons, like the Perdida, swell into inland seas, deep buried in pine woods, and known only to the wild creatures swarming along its brink and in its waters; once, if report says true, frequented, however, by the filibusters and by the pirates of the Spanish Main.

If the mosquitoes were as numerous and as persecuting in those days as they are at present, the most adventurous youth would have soon repented the infatuation which led him to join the brethren of the Main. The mosquito is a great enemy to romance, and our skipper tells us that there is no such place known in the world for them as this coast.

As the Diana flew along the grim shore, we lay listlessly on the deck admiring the excessive brightness of the stars, or watching the trailing fire of her wake. Now and then great fish flew off from the shallows, cleaving their path in flame; and one shining gleam came up from leeward like a watery comet, till its horrible outline was revealed close to us — a monster shark — which accompanied us with an easy play of the fin, distinctly visible in the wonderful phosphorescence, now shooting on ahead, now dropping astern, till suddenly it dashed off seaward with tremendous rapidity and strength on some errand of destruction, and vanished in the waste of waters. Despite the multitudes of fish on the coast, the Spaniards who colonize this ill-named Florida must have had a trying life of it between the Indians, now hunted to death or exiled by rigorous Uncle Sam, the mosquitoes, and the numberless plagues which abound along these shores.

Hour after hour passed watching the play of large fish and the surf on the beach; one by one the cigar-lights died out; and muffling ourselves up on deck, or creeping into the little cabin, the party slumbered. I was awoke by the Captain talking to one of his hands close to me, and on looking up saw that he was staring through a wonderful black tube, which he denominated his “tallowscope,” at the shore.

Looking in the direction, I observed the glare of a fire in the wood, which on examination through an opera-glass resolved itself into a steady central light, with some smaller specks around it. “Will,” said the Captain, “I guess it is just some of them d----d Yankees as is landed from their tarnation boats, and is ‘conoitering’ for a road to Mobile.” There was an old iron carronade on board, and it struck me as a curious exemplification of the recklessness of our American cousins, when the skipper said, “Let us put a bag of bullets in the ould gun, and touch it off at them;” which he no doubt would have done, seconded by one of our party, who drew his revolver to contribute to the broadside, but that I represented to them it was just as likely to be a party out from the camp at Pensacola, and that, anyhow, I strongly objected to any belligerent act whilst I was on board. It was very probably, indeed, the watchfire of a Confederate patrol, for the gentry of the country have formed themselves into a body of regular cavalry for such service; but the skipper declared that our chaps knew better than to be showing their lights in that way, when we were within ten miles of the entrance to Pensacola.

The skipper lay-to, as he, very wisely, did not like to run into the centre of the United States squadron at night; but just at the first glimpse of dawn the Diana resumed her course, and bowled along merrily till, with the first rays of the sun, Fort M'Rae, Fort Pickens, and the masts of the squadron were visible ahead, rising above the blended horizon of land and sea. We drew upon them rapidly, and soon could make out the rival flags — the Stars and Bars and Stars and Stripes — flouting defiance at each other.

On the land side on our left is Fort M'Rae, and on the end of the sand-bank, called Santa Rosa Island, directly opposite, rises the outline of the much-talked-of Fort Pickens, which is not unlike Fort Paul on a small scale. Through the glass the blockading squadron is seen to consist of a sailing frigate, a sloop, and three steamers; and as we are scrutinizing them, a small schooner glides from under the shelter of the guardship, and makes towards us like a hawk on a sparrow. Hand over hand she comes, a great swaggering ensign at her peak, and a gun all ready at her bow; and rounding up along-side us a boat manned by four men is lowered, an officer jumps in, and is soon under our counter. The officer, a bluff, sailor-like looking fellow, in a uniform a little the worse for wear, and wearing his beard as officers of the United States navy generally do, fixed his eye upon the skipper — who did not seem quite at his ease, and had, indeed, confessed to us that he had been warned off by the Oriental, as the tender was named, only a short time before — and said, “Hallo, sir, I think I have seen you before: what schooner is this?” “The Diana of Mobile.” “I thought so.” Stepping on deck, he said, “Gentlemen, I am Mr. Brown, Master in the United States navy, in charge of the boarding schooner Oriental.” We each gave our names; whereupon Mr. Brown says, “I have no doubt it will be all right, be good enough to let me have your papers. And now, sir, make sail, and lie-to under the quarter of that steamer there, the Powhattan.” The Captain did not look at all happy when the officer called his attention to the indorsement on his papers; nor did the Mobile party seem very comfortable when he remarked, “I suppose, gentlemen, you are quite well aware there is a strict blockade of this port?”

In half an hour the schooner lay under the guns of the Powhattan, which is a stumpy, thick-set, powerful steamer of the old paddle-wheel kind, something like the Leopard. We proceeded along-side in the cutter's boat, and were ushered into the. cabin, where the officer commanding, Lieutenant David Porter, received us, begged us to be seated, and then inquired into the object of our visit, which he communicated to the flag-ship by signal, in order to get instructions as to our disposal. Nothing could exceed his courtesy; and I was most favorably impressed by himself, his officers, and crew. He took me over the ship, which is armed with ten-inch Dahlgrens and eleven-inch pivot guns, with rifled field-pieces and howitzers on the sponsons. Her boarding nettings were triced up, bows and weak portions padded with dead wood and old sails, and everything ready for action.

Lieutenant Porter has been in and out of the harbor examining the enemy's works at all hours of the night, and he has marked off on the chart, as he showed me, the bearings of the various spots where he can sweep or enfilade their works. The crew, all things considered, were very clean, and their personnel exceedingly fine.

We were not the only prize that was made by the Oriental this morning. A ragged little schooner lay at the other side of the Powhattan, the master of which stood rubbing his knuckles into his eyes, and uttering dolorous expressions in broken English and Italian, for he was a noble Roman of Civita Vecchia. Lieutenant Porter let me into the secret. These small traders at Mobile, pretending great zeal for the Confederate cause, load their vessels with fruit, vegetables, and things of which they know the squadron is much in want, as well as the garrison of the Confederate forts. They set out with the most valiant intention of running the blockade, and are duly captured by the squadron, the officers of which are only too glad to pay fair prices for the cargoes. They return to Mobile, keep their money in their pockets, and declare they have been plundered by the Yankees. If they get in, they demand still higher prices from the Confederates, and lay claim to the most exalted patriotism.

By signal from the flag-ship, Sabine, we were ordered to repair on board to see the senior officer, Captain Adams; and for the first time since I trod the deck of the old Leander in Balaklava harbor, I stood on board a fifty-gun sailing frigate. Captain Adams, a gray-haired veteran of very gentle manners and great urbanity received us in his cabin, and listened to my explanation of the cause of my visit with interest. About myself there was no difficulty; but he very justly observed he did not think it would be right to let the gentlemen from Mobile examine Fort Pickens, and then go among the Confederate camps. I am bound to say these gentlemen scarcely seemed to desire or anticipate such a favor.

Major Vogdes, an engineer officer from the fort, who happened to be on board, volunteered to take a letter from me to Colonel Harvey Browne, requesting permission to visit it; and I finally arranged with Captain Adams that the Diana was to be permitted to pass the blockade into Pensacola harbor, and thence to return to Mobile, my visit to Pickens depending on the pleasure of the Commandant of the place. “I fear, Mr. Russell,” said Captain Adams, “in giving you this permission, I expose myself to misrepresentation and unfounded attacks. Gentlemen of the press in our country care little about private character, and are, I fear, rather unscrupulous in what they say; but I rely upon your character that no improper use shall be made of this permission. You must hoist a flag of truce, as General Bragg, who commands over there, has sent me word he considers our blockade a declaration of war, and will fire upon any vessel which approaches him from our fleet.

In the course of conversation, whilst treating me to such man-of-war luxuries as the friendly officer had at his disposal, he gave me an illustration of the miseries of this cruel conflict — of the unspeakable desolation of homes, of the bitterness of feeling engendered in families. A Pennsylvanian by birth, he married long ago a lady of Louisiana, where he resided on his plantation till his ship was commissioned. He was absent on foreign service when the feud first began, and received orders at sea, on the South American station, to repair direct to blockade Pensacola. He has just heard that one of his sons is enlisted in the Confederate army, and that two others have joined the forces in Virginia; and as he said sadly, “God knows, when I open my broadside, but that I may be killing my own children.” But that was not all. One of the Mobile gentlemen brought him a letter from his daughter, in which she informs him that she has been elected vivandière to a New Orleans regiment, with which she intends to push on to Washington, and get a lock of old Abe Lincoln's hair; and the letter concluded with the charitable wish that her father might starve to death if he persisted in his wicked blockade. But not the less determined was the gallant old sailor to do his duty.

Mr. Ward, one of my companions, had sailed in the Sabine in the Paraguay expedition, and I availed myself of his acquaintance with his old comrades to take a glance round the ship. Wherever they came from, four hundred more sailor-like, strong, handy young fellows could not be seen than the crew; and the officers were as hospitable as their limited resources in whiskey grog, cheese, and junk allowed them to be. With thanks for his kindness and courtesy, I parted from Captain Adams, feeling more than ever the terrible and earnest nature of the impending conflict. May the kindly good old man be shielded on the day of battle!

A ten-oared barge conveyed us to the Oriental, which, with flowing sheet, ran down to the Powhattan. There I saw Captain Porter, and told him that Captain Adams had given me permission to visit the Confederate camp, and that I had written for leave to go on shore at Fort Pickens. An officer was in his cabin, to whom I was introduced as Captain Poore, of the Brooklyn. “You don't mean to say, Mr. Russell,” said he, “that these editors of Southern newspapers who are with you have leave to go on shore?” This was rather a fishing question. “I assure you, Captain Poore, that there is no editor of a Southern newspaper in my company.”

The boat which took us from the Powhattan to the Diana was in charge of a young officer related to Captain Porter, who amused me by the spirit with which he bandied remarks about the war with the Mobile men, who had now recovered their equanimity, and were indulging in what is called chaff about the blockade. “Well,” he said, “you were the first to begin it; let us see whether you won't be the first to leave it off. I guess our Northern ice will pretty soon put out your Southern fire.”

When we came on board, the skipper heard our orders to up stick and away with an air of pity and incredulity; nor was it till I had repeated it, he kicked up his crew from their sleep on deck, and with a “Wa'll, really, I never did see sich a thing!” made sail towards the entrance to the harbor.

As we got abreast of Fort Pickens, I ordered tablecloth No. 1 to be hoisted to the peak; and through the “glass I saw that our appearance attracted no ordinary attention from the garrison of Pickens close at hand on our right, and the more distant Confederates on Fort M'Rae and the sand-hills on our left. The latter work is weak and badly built, quite under the command of Pickens, but it is supported by the old Spanish fort of Barrancas upon high ground further inland, and by numerous batteries at the water-line and partly concealed amidst the woods which fringe the shore as far as the navy yard of Warrington, near Pensaeola. The wind was light, but the tide bore us onwards towards the Confederate works. Arms glanced in the blazing sun where regiments were engaged at drill, clouds of dust rose from the sandy roads, horsemen riding along the beach, groups of men in uniform, gave a martial appearance to the place in unison with the black muzzles of the guns which peeped from the white sand batteries from the entrance of the harbor to the navy yard now close at hand. As at Sumter Major Anderson permitted the Carolinians to erect the batteries he might have so readily destroyed in the commencement, so the Federal officers here have allowed General Bragg to work away at his leisure, mounting cannon after cannon, throwing up earthworks, and strengthening his batteries, till he has assumed so formidable an attitude, that I doubt very much whether the fort and the fleet combined can silence his fire.

On the low shore close to us were numerous wooden houses and detached villas, surrounded by orange groves. At last the captain let go his anchor off the end of a wooden jetty, which was crowded with ammunition, shot, shell, casks of provisions, and commissariat stores. A small steamer was engaged in adding to the collection, and numerous light craft gave evidence that all trade had not ceased. Indeed, inside Santa Rosa Island, which runs for forty-five miles from Pickens eastward parallel to the shore, there is a considerable coasting traffic carried on for the benefit of the Confederates.

The skipper went ashore with my letters to General Bragg, and speedily returned with an orderly, who brought permission for the Diana to come along-side the wharf. The Mobile gentlemen were soon on shore, eager to seek their friends; and in a few seconds the officer of the quartermaster-general's department on duty came on board to conduct me to the officers' quarters, whilst waiting for my reply from General Bragg.

The navy yard is surrounded by a high wall, the gates closely guarded by sentries; the houses, gardens, workshops, factories, forges, slips, and building sheds are complete of their kind, and cover upwards of three hundred acres; and with the forts which protect the entrance, cost the United States Government not less than six millions sterling. Inside these was the greatest activity and life, — Zouave, Chasseurs, and all kind of military eccentricities — were drilling, parading, exercising, sitting in the shade, loading tumbrils, playing cards, or sleeping on the grass. Tents were pitched under the trees and on the little lawns and grass-covered quadrangles. The houses, each numbered and marked with the name of the functionary to whose use it was assigned, were models of neatness, with gardens in front, filled with glorious tropical flowers. They were painted green and white, provided with porticoes, Venetian blinds, verandas, and colonnades, to protect the inmates as much as possible from the blazing sun, which in the dog-days is worthy of Calcutta. The old Fulton is the only ship on the stocks. From the naval arsenal quantities of shot and shell are constantly pouring to the batteries. Piles of cannon-balls dot the grounds, but the only ordnance I saw were two old mortars placed as ornaments in the main avenue, one dated 1776.

The quartermaster conducted me through shady walks into one of the houses, then into a long room, and presented me en masse to a body of officers, mostly belonging to a Zouave regiment from New Orleans, who were seated at a very comfortable dinner, with abundance of champagne, claret, beer, and ice. They were all young, full of life and spirits, except three or four graver and older men, who were Europeans. One, a Dane, had fought against the Prussians and Schleswig-Holsteiners at Idstedt and Friederichstadt; another, an Italian, seemed to have been engaged indifferently in fighting all over the South American continent; a third, a Pole, had been at Comorn, and had participated in the revolutionary guerrilla of 1848. From these officers I learned that Mr. Jefferson Davis, his wife, Mr. Wigfall, and Mr. Mallory, Secretary of the Navy, had come down from Montgomery, and had been visiting the works all day.

Every one here believes the attack so long threatened is to come off at last and at once.

After dinner an aide-de-camp from General Bragg entered with a request that I would accompany him to the commanding officer's quarters. As the sand outside the navy yard was deep, and rendered walking very disagreeable, the young officer stopped a cart, into which we got, and were proceeding on our way, when a tall, elderly man, in a blue frock-coat with a gold star on the shoulder, trousers with a gold stripe and gilt buttons rode past, followed by an orderly, who looked more like a dragoon than anything I have yet seen in the States. “There's General Bragg,” quoth the aide, and I was duly presented to the General, who reined up by the wagon. He sent his orderly off at once for a light cart drawn by a pair of mules, in which I completed my journey, and was safely departed at the door of a substantial house surrounded by trees of lime, oak, and sycamore.

Led horses and orderlies thronged the front of the portico, and gave it the usual head-quarters-like aspect. General Bragg received me at the steps, and took me to his private room, where we remained for a long time in conversation. He had retired from the United States army after the Mexican war — in which, by the way, he played a distinguished part, his name being generally coupled with the phrase “a little more grape, Captain Bragg,” used in one of the hottest encounters of that campaign — to his plantation in Louisiana; but suddenly the Northern States declared their intention of using force to free and sovereign States, which were exercising their constitutional rights to secede from the Federal Union.

Neither he nor his family were responsible for the system of slavery. His ancestors found it established by law and flourishing, and had left him property, consisting of slaves, which was granted to him by the laws and constitution of the United States. Slaves were necessary for the actual cultivation of the soil in the South; Europeans and Yankees who settled there speedily became convinced of-that; and if a Northern population were settled in Louisiana to-morrow, they would discover that they must till the land by the labor of the black race, and that the only mode of making the black race work, was to hold them in a condition of involuntary servitude. “Only the other day, Colonel Harvey Browne, at Pickens, over the way, carried off a number of negroes from Tortugas, and put them to work at Santa Rosa. Why? Because his white soldiers were not able for it. No. The North was bent on subjugating the South, and as long as he had a drop of blood in his body, he would resist such an infamous attempt.”

Before supper General Bragg opened his maps, and pointed out to me in detail the position of all his works, the line of fire of each gun, and the particular object to be expected from its effects. “I know every inch of Pickens,” he said, “for I happened to be stationed there as soon as I left West Point, and I don't think there is a stone in it that I am not as well acquainted with as Harvey Browne.”

His staff, consisting of four intelligent young men, two of them lately belonging to the United States army, supped with us, and after a very agreeable evening, horses were ordered round to the door, and I returned to the navy yard attended by the General's orderly, and provided with a pass and countersign. As a mark of complete confidence, General Bragg told me, for my private ear, that he had no present intention whatever of opening fire, and that his batteries were far from being in a state, either as regards armament or ammunition, which would justify him in meeting the fire of the forts and the ships.

And so we bade good-by. “To-morrow,” said the General, “I will send down one of my best horses and Mr. Ellis, my aide-de-camp, to take you over all the works and batteries.” As I rode home with my honest orderly beside instead of behind me, for he was of a conversational turn, I was much perplexed in my mind, endeavoring to determine which was right and which was wrong in this quarrel, and at last, as at Montgomery, I was forced to ask myself if right and wrong were geographical expressions depending for extension or limitation on certain conditions of climate and lines of latitude and longitude. Here was the General's orderly beside me, an intelligent middle-aged man, who had come to do battle with as much sincerity — ay, and religious confidence — as ever actuated old John, Brown or any New England puritan to make war against slavery. “I have left my old woman and the children to the care of the niggers; I have turned up all my cotton land and planted it with corn, and I don't intend to go back alive till I've seen the back of the last Yankee in our Southern States.” “And are wife and children alone with the negroes?” “Yes, sir. There's only one white man on the plantation, an overseer sort of chap.” “Are not you afraid of the slaves rising?” “They're ignorant poor creatures, to be sure, but as yet they're faithful. Any way, I put my trust in God, and I know he'll watch over the house while I'm away fighting for this good cause!” This man came from Mississippi, and had twenty-five slaves, which represented a money value of at least £5000. He was beyond the age of enthusiasm, and was actuated, no doubt, by strong principles, to him unquestionable and sacred.

My pass and countersign, which were only once demanded, took me through the sentries, and I got on board the schooner shortly before midnight, and found nearly all the party on deck, enchanted with their reception. More than once we were awoke by the vigilant sentries, who would not let what Americans call “the balance” of our friends on board till they had seen my authority to receive them.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 198-209