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
