Chapter XX

Outward trip--Waiting for a favourable night to run out--Take the first that offers--Not very favourable--Observed by the blockading fleet, and brought to--The enemy's boat comes alongside--Singular accident--Perilous position of the enemy's boat and crew--A scene of confusion--We escape in the flurry--A cruiser in the distance at daylight--Southerly winds--A norther--A false alarm--Arrival at Vera Cruz--Landing and disposal of the cargo--Departure from Vera Cruz--Arrival at Havana.

We lay for several days waiting for a good breeze and a dark night to run out, but the wind continued light and southerly. We expected we should have had a norther about the change of the moon, but the new moon came in without bringing any change in the weather.

As the nights would now be getting light, it was evident that if we did not get out soon we would have to lay over till the dark nights came again in the last quarter of the moon. This was what I by no means wished to do.

The blockading fleet lay in about the same position, but there were more vessels, and the one stationed near the mouth of the Swash Channel seemed to be even closer in than when we went out last trip.

A few days after the new moon it blew one day a strong gale from the south, and the weather was thick and rainy. Towards evening the wind changed to about E.S.E., but still blew hard, and the night was dark and cloudy, and I resolved to venture. Having put reefs in the main and foresails, we raised anchor about 7 p.m., and stood down the bay, keeping well on the eastward side of the main inlet, to enable us to reach the entrance to the west or Swash Channel. After carefully feeling our way by soundings, we found the entrance, and stood down the channel.

The tide was rising. The vessel was drawing just a little over four feet of water, and as there was about eight feet in the channel, we gave her a little of the centre-board. She was in good sailing trim, but taking a little weather helm.

The wind having been upon the land for some time there was a heavy sea outside, and--although in the channel, between the reef and the beach, it was smooth--the breakers were heavy on the beach beyond the reef, at the outer end of the channel.

It being flood-tide a strong current was coming from seaward over the reef, so that we kept well up to the windward and seaward side of the channel. Owing to the noise of the breakers we were in no danger from being heard this time; but, unfortunately, just as we were approaching the outer end of the channel some black clouds in the west suddenly lifted, and the moon shone out clear, showing us plain to the gunboat, which was close by on the port bow.

"The devil's in the moon for mischief," said Byron. Whether his words have, or have not, been generally approved of, I do not know, but I am certain that at this time I made use of a similar expression.

We were within fifty yards of the mouth of the channel, when there was a flash and a report, and a ball whizzed across our bows, which was immediately followed by a second.

Whether our steersman, when the shots were fired, had by some nervous movement relaxed his hold and allowed the vessel to come up, or not, I do not know, but just as the second shot was fired the schooner took the ground on the outer and windward side of the channel, and stuck fast. The jib was hauled to windward. This suited a double purpose--a response to the summons from the gunboat for us to heave to, and also to bring the vessel off the bank. This last would only have been a matter of a few minutes, as the tide was rising, and a strong wind and current both tending to bring her off. But what did it matter now we were captured? No getting out of it this time.

We looked at each other, the expression was general-- Captured at last, we must just submit to it.

The gunboat, seeing us brought to, stopped firing, and we saw a boat approaching. It was a very large boat, and must have contained at least twelve men. When they got near to the mouth of the channel they hailed us:

"Schooner, ahoy! is your jib to windward?"

"Yes."

"Then come on ahead a little."

"We can't," I answered; "we are hard and fast aground."

They then pulled towards us, keeping to windward, as if they would come along upon our windward side.

Knowing that we were prisoners, I thought that civility was a cheap article, and as they approached I cried out: "I think you had better come on the lee side. You will scarcely have water on our windward side."

They seemed to hesitate. The breakers were sounding alarmingly close under our lee.

"How much water do you draw?" they cried.

"Four feet," I answered; "and we are aground on the windward side of the channel."

They, however, did not seem assured, but still continued to pull towards our weather side, a man in the bow of their boat trying the depth of the water with a boat-hook. When they got up near to the schooner the water suddenly shoaled, and they made for the lee side. In doing this they passed close under our bows; the wind and tide carrying the boat along, the men unshipped their oars, and the man in the bow of the boat with his boat-hook caught hold of the leech of our jib, to check her headway and bring her in on our lee side.

The schooner, which had been but lightly aground, was, with the rising tide, working gradually off the bank, under the pressure of the jib, to windward, and when the weight of the boat came upon her lee bow it pulled her afloat, and she came round quickly upon the boat, striking her about midship, nearly tilting her over, and partly filling her with water; and now followed a scene of confusion which I can scarcely describe. It was blowing hard, the fore and main-sheets being eased off, and the jib hauled to windward, the schooner payed off rapidly, heading towards the breakers, pushing the waterlogged boat before her. For a moment I thought the boat would have been crushed under the schooner, and every man in her drowned, as we could not have helped them. And now there was not a moment to lose, as two minutes more and we would all have been in the breakers.

"Draw jib, haul in sheets, and luff up quick," I cried; and this was quickly done, and not a moment too soon.

As soon as the jib was drawn, the helm put hard down, and sheets aboard, the schooner shot ahead on her former course, still pushing the boat before her. There had been a flagstaff in the stern of the boat, and that had got caught in the head-gear of the schooner, and the boat was pushed forward, stern foremost, at an angle, across the bows of the schooner.

The sudden jerk of the jib when cast off caused the man with the boat-hook to lose his hold, but he, in desperation, made a sudden grab, and got a fresh hold, and held on with great determination.

Meanwhile, the confused orders and shouts on board of the boat were loud and furious, some crying to shove off, others to hold on, and the confusion was fearful. I think the officer in command of the boat had been knocked down by the head-gear of the schooner, when she slipped off the bank and came down upon them, for it was some time before I heard him take up the command.

"On board the schooner there!" he cried. "Drop your anchor."

"We can't," I cried. "Anchor is not clear, and there is no room to anchor here, we would all go in the breakers; but, cast off your boat-hook, and I will round to as soon as I get out of this narrow channel."

He did not, however, seem inclined to lose hold of the schooner, but made an effort to get the flagstaff clear of the schooner's head-gear. This they effected after some difficulty, and the stern of the boat swung out; but they still hung on with their boat-hook to our jib sheet.

"Jump on board of her, some of you," cried the officer; but this was easier said than done. The deck-load of cotton bales, standing on their ends, formed a compact wall high above the bulwarks of the schooner, and by this time we had got past the end of the reef, and out of the channel into the open sea, and there was a very heavy swell, and the schooner began to plunge violently, and the boat under her bow, being already half full of water, was in great danger; while we could not shorten sail or slack anything, or we should all have been in the breakers, when not one--at least of those in the boat--would have lived to tell the tale.

It was blowing a stiff gale of wind, and the schooner went ahead with considerable force, but with the weight of the boat hanging on to her lee bow, it took all the lee helm, with centre-board down, to keep her clear of the breakers, while the heavy seas caused her to plunge so violently that the boat could not come close enough to allow any one to jump on board. While she was taking more water in at every plunge of the schooner, I thought every moment she would be stove, and the men were certainly in great danger.

"For God's sake," I cried, "cast off your boat, and I will round to. If you don't we will be all in the breakers."

They paid no heed to this, but cried to us to luff up, when a large sea nearly swamped them.

"You at the wheel," cried the officer, "are you trying to drown us? Luff! d--n you! luff!"

"Luff hell!" cried Hagan, for it was he that was at the wheel. "She won't luff; the helm is hard down. But how can she luff with you hanging to her lee bow."

Nothing could be plainer than that.

"Cast off your boathook," I cried, "and I will give you a line from the quarter."

"Give us your line first," was the reply, "and be quick about it."

This was said in a somewhat imperious tone; rather too much so, I thought, for men in their predicament. They had sworn at our steersman, who was holding the vessel up with all his might, and had he slacked his hand for one moment, the schooner would have crushed the boat under, and every man of them would have perished. Up till the present I had thought of nothing but the saving of their lives, and now for the first time did the thought of escape cross my mind.

We were now past the gunboat and getting further away from her, but I saw another boat coming towards us. The clouds had again obscured the moon and the gunboat was becoming dimmer in the distance. I knew she would not fire on account of her own men, and the second boat could not come up to us unless we rounded to.

I got a rope, which I coiled up slowly; while unseen in the darkness I took the cook's hatchet from the galley door. I then cried to them to look out, and I stood near the man at the helm and threw the line to them. The main-boom, however, was in the way, and the rope fell short. This, I may say, was intended by me, as I wished to gain time and get farther away from the gunboat. An imprecation came from those in the boat as the rope fell short.

"Just have patience," said I, "the main-boom was in the way. Let me get forward of that, and I will bring you alongside in a minute."

I passed forward of the main-boom, and threw the line again, which they caught.

"Let me make this end fast," I said, belaying the end to a belaying-pin under the quarter rail.

The officer then said--

"Pass this line forward, and let the boat drop astern, and be ready to hold on."

Now was the time for the game I meant to play, but I nearly spoilt it by being too precipitate.

The boathook was cast off to let the boat drop astern, and the men began to haul in on the rope. Just then I seized the hatchet and severed the rope.

A volley of oaths came from those in the boat, but I had been rather too quick in cutting the rope; for before the boat fell astern, the man with the boathook made a sudden grab, and caught hold of our quarter rail, but with a heavy blow of the hatchet I knocked away the boathook, and the boat dropped astern, and at the same moment there was a shot from a revolver, and a ball whizzed past my head.

I threw myself quickly down, and crawled aft to where the man at the wheel stood protected by the dingey, which was crammed full of cotton.

They fired several more shots, but it was impossible for them to hit any of us.

The schooner, being freed from the weight of the boat, went off with a bound, and in a minute or two the boat was left out of sight in the darkness astern. The second boat would have to go to the assistance of the first, as she was nearly full of water and close to the breakers.

Shortly afterwards several shots were fired from the gunboat in our direction, but we cared little for that, as we knew that firing to leeward at night was very blind random, as the smoke of the first shot darkens the air in the direction of the object fired at, and we were rapidly increasing our distance from them.

How all this happened we could scarcely tell. The whole thing was so sudden and unexpected that we could scarcely realize that we were off free again. There was, however, still danger to be apprehended. They would certainly make an effort to capture us yet, and woe betide us if they did--at least, so thought the crew.

I did not see, however, that they could blame us in the least. It was through no fault of ours that their boat got into such a dangerous position. The whole thing happened by their bringing the weight of their boat heavily upon the stranded schooner, and pulling her afloat and down upon their own boat. This was an accident, of course, and certainly no fault of ours. It was in an extremely dangerous place near the mouth of a narrow channel, with the breakers under the lee. A false move on our part, whether accidental or intentional--and it would never be known which--would have been fatal to them all, and we did the best we could to save their lives. As to my last action in cutting clear of them and getting away, when this was done they were out of danger, and another boat was near to assist them, and they could not blame me for trying to avoid being captured.

What was best to be done was now considered. There was no doubt but the patrol cruisers, which cruised outside with steam up, would have heard the firing and would be on the look-out to cut us off, and others would be sent in pursuit of us.

We therefore stood along the shore to the westward, keeping just clear of the breakers for about twelve miles. We then hauled up on the wind, shook reefs out of main- and fore-sails, set gaff-topsail and stay-sail, and put her on her best leg, steering about S. by W., to have a good offing before daylight. The wind kept up well throughout the night, but shortly before daylight it began to fall.

Now was the great time of anxiety. There was not the least doubt but one or more of the fastest of their cruisers would be despatched in pursuit of us, and as a cotton-loaded schooner was a valuable prize, they would be sharply on the alert at daybreak.

The best way now was to fall back upon the old plan of taking down every bit of sail before the day broke, so that at daybreak, when they looked around for a sail on the horizon, our bare poles would not be observed, unless they were very close on. Every bit of sail was accordingly taken down, and we rolled under bare poles.

As day broke every eye was cast around, and we were soon gratified to find that there was nothing to be seen close by. As it got clear, however, we discovered from the mast-head a cruiser to the south-east, about twelve miles distant. It was some time before we could make out how she was steering, but at last we made her out to be steering in a south-westerly direction, and if she continued on her present course, she would pass about ten or eleven miles to the southward of us. There was rather too much sea for us to use the sweeps to pull away from her, but with our sails down there was very little chance of them seeing us, unless she altered her course and passed nearer to us.

Charlie, the old hand who had served on board of a cruiser, knew something of the general course taken by them when in pursuit of blockade runners.

He said the usual way in following up a schooner which they supposed had run out during the night was to stand after her on the most weatherly course she was likely to take, and overrun her before daylight. At daylight, if she was not in sight, they were sure she must be to leeward. They would then stand to leeward and work back, examining well the ground within the circle.

This seemed to be the plan adopted by this one, and we watched with some anxiety her course to the westward.

About 8 a.m. she was about due south from us, and seemed to be coming round more to the westward, and appeared about ten miles distant. We got out the sweeps, and though there was too much sea to pull, we managed to keep the schooner stern on towards the cruiser, and thus bring her two masts into one and be less easily observed.

We soon saw that she was gradually coming round to the northward, and would make a circle round us, and we hoped she would keep at the same radius or more. When she came about due west from us, she was still about ten miles distant, but fortunately she did not observe us, and soon was out of sight to the northward.

The wind had now freshened up a little, and was about due east and very favourable for us, but we hesitated about making sail, as it was probable there might be other cruisers in the distance, which would soon observe us if we had sail up. We therefore hoisted only the jib and a small part of the fore-sail, and worked away slowly to the southward, keeping a good look out from the mast-head.

By 3 p.m. the wind had freshened into a good breeze, and nothing being in sight, we thought that should anything now appear on the horizon, we should be able to keep clear of her till darkness set in.

We accordingly made sail, setting every stitch of canvas, and stood away on our course. The wind continued steady all night, and we made a good run before morning, and were into waters where cruisers were not so plentiful.

On the third day the wind veered round to about S.S.E., which caused us to alter our course and stand to the westward, and then came two or three days of light, baffling southerly winds, causing the usual fretting and impatience, and longing for a norther which almost invariably follows such weather in this part of the Gulf in winter, although we did not want to have such a blow as we had had on our last trip out near this same place.

We had not long to wait, for, singularly enough, it did come, and near the very spot where it took us last trip in September; but, fortunately, this time it was not near so heavy, and I determined to stand away for Vera Cruz.

I had never been to Vera Cruz, but the mate and several of the men had been there. They said that Vera Cruz, like Tampico, was a dangerous place in a norther for large vessels lying in the open roads, but small vessels like ours could get in behind the castle of San Juan, and anchor quite snug.

There was now not much danger of being overhauled by a cruiser, as during a norther the air is generally dark and thick, and a vessel cannot be seen at any great distance.

We stood on under easy sail, the gale not being very severe, and in about three days it died away, and the weather cleared up, and the wind came out from about S.S.E., and we saw the snow-capped peak of Orisaba bearing about west by south.

There was now some danger from cruisers, as they often hovered off the Mexican ports, with the view of picking up a cotton-loaded prize, and in this they were sometimes successful.

I found by observation that we were about twenty miles from Vera Cruz, and we had set all sail to reach that port as soon as possible, when the man at the mast-head reported a large steamer to the eastward.

I went to the mast-head with the glass and examined her. She bore about east by south, and was steering towards us, but was still a long distance off.

The object was now to reach Vera Cruz before she could overhaul us. The wind was blowing a good steady breeze, and if it continued we thought we could manage it.

We trimmed everything to the best advantage, and kept the sails wet by throwing water upon them, and the vessel went along at a good speed, and soon afterwards we could make out the vessels at anchor off Vera Cruz.

We were now in a fair way of getting up near to the shipping before we could be overhauled. But the question was, how far did the jurisdiction of a neutral port extend? This, like many other questions which in times of peace are little thought of, was now of some importance, and was very undecided.

The Yankees had on several occasions followed vessels up, and captured them right off the entrance to a neutral port.

Mexico was a weak power; and there was no land-locked harbour at Vera Cruz, and the ships had to lay in the open roads, except such small vessels as could get into the shallow water inside of the castle of San Juan.

We, of course, could get in there, but we would require a pilot to take us in; and they might bring us to with their guns and make a prize of us before we could get within the range of the guns of the castle of San Juan or get a pilot.

I therefore thought the best way would be to keep, if possible, in a straight line between the cruiser and the shipping, so that they could not fire upon us on account of the ships beyond us; and when we reached the shipping, if we did not get a pilot at once, to run the chance of going in without one. The mate, having been several times to Vera Cruz in small vessels, said he knew the passage to the back of the castle, and could take the vessel in.

I went to take a look astern to see how much our pursuer was gaining upon us. She was now a good deal closer, and was sending up a column of black smoke. This, some of the men remarked to me, was something unusual for a cruiser to do, as they generally burned hard anthracite coal, which sent out very little smoke.

After taking a steady look at her with the glass, I turned round relieved, and with a hearty laugh said--

"What had we been all frightened about? It was no cruiser at all, but the Spanish mail steamer _Barcelona_, from Havana to Vera Cruz."

This, however, instead of being a relief to the crew, was rather a disappointment. They were now so certain that we would get in before the steamer could overhaul us, that they would rather it had been a cruiser, so that they would have had another victory to talk about. I told them that they ought to be satisfied with the victory they had gained already on this trip, in nearly swamping the man-of-war's boat at Galveston, and getting away out of the hands of the Philistines, and that might serve them to blow about for a while.

It was, however, such incidents that gave life and excitement to blockade-running crews. They liked, after a trip, while spending their money, to have some adventure or escape to talk about, and it was considered a dull trip which had not been attended with some exciting incident.

We got up to the outer anchorage, and a pilot came on board, who took us to an anchorage among the smaller vessels under the lee of the castle of San Juan de Ulloa.

The pilot spoke English well, and I asked him a few questions about the port, and he readily gave me the information I desired. He was, however, a little inclined to be amusing; for when I asked him where the office of the British Consul was, he directed to near the place, and said---

"When you get there any one will tell you."

"But," said I, "how can I inquire? I can't speak Spanish."

"Oh," said he, "you will find plenty who can speak English."

"But how am I to know them? I don't wish to stop people on the street and ask if they can speak English."

He gave rather a humorous smile, and said--

"Near to the place there are several grog-shops, and you may chance to see some tipsy men, and if you see a tipsy man you may be sure he speaks English."

"Well, that is certainly a compliment to the English language," said I, as the fellow, with a mischievous laugh, jumped into his boat.

The castle of San Juan de Ulloa is a fortress of considerable strength, of a rectangular shape, built upon a reef in front of the town of Vera Cruz, about half a mile off, and lying nearly parallel with the coast. The water inside, between it and the shore, is shallow, so that only small vessels can get there, and being partly open to the north and south, it affords but indifferent shelter. Seeing this, I determined to make our stay here as short as possible.

The crew agreed to take their bonuses here, and an advance on their wages, but continue on the vessel, and be paid off at Havana.

I called upon the firm, to whom I had letters from Mr. C., and they were appointed consignees; and the usual formalities of entry being gone through, the cargo of cotton was landed, weighed, and divided into two equal parts, as at Tampico on the former trip, and Mr. R. M.'s half delivered to the consignees in terms of the letter of consignment.

There were two or three small schooners lying here which had run out from Texas with cargoes of cotton. These vessels, like most others of their class in the trade, were commanded by their owners. Men generally possessed of limited means, and who knew better how to handle their vessels at sea than transact business on shore. They were now trying to effect an arrangement with some mercantile firm to go shares with them in another trip, but as usual the terms offered were too one-sided for them to accept, and they did not wish to undergo the danger of the run up to Havana with their small vessels at that season of the year.

One of these masters, Captain E., had landed his cargo of cotton at Tampico, and was unable at that port to arrange for a return cargo, and he had come to Vera Cruz in ballast to see if he could arrange for a cargo there, but so far he had been unsuccessful.

He had been consigned to the same firm in Tampico to whom I had been consigned last trip, and with whom I had left my cotton to be shipped to Liverpool, and he gravely hinted to me that he feared that by the time my cotton was sold in Liverpool there would be but a small balance coming to me.

He seemed a little soured with the mercantile class in general, and I made a little allowance for that; but taking this with what Mr. R. M. in Havana had wrote to Mr. C. in Galveston, I feared there might be some reason for what he said, but I was powerless in the matter so far as regarded that cargo.

From what I had learned, however, I was not inclined to leave our moiety of this cargo in the hands of a consignee at Vera Cruz, and thought of taking the whole of it, which was seventy-three bales, in the schooner to Havana, but the news had just arrived by the Spanish mail steamer that two blockade-running schooners, which had recently sailed from Vera Cruz for Havana with a part of their cargo of cotton on board, had both been captured on the neutral passage.

This caused me to hesitate. I had twice made the run from Tampico to Havana and never saw a cruiser, but perhaps the attention of the cruisers had lately been called to this intermediate passage, and they did not now seem to respect the clearance from a neutral port if the vessel was known to be a blockade runner, and her cargo had been run through the blockade.

Meanwhile the consignees informed me that another mercantile firm was desirous of purchasing some cotton to complete the loading of a vessel which they were despatching for Liverpool. The price they offered was much below the market price at Havana, but when I considered the danger of capture on the passage, and the little better alternative of leaving it in the hands of consignees, to be swallowed up in charges at Vera Cruz and Liverpool, I was induced to accept the offer for a part at least. So that if I lost upon the sale I lessened the risk.

I must, however, retain some for ballast, as that was very difficult to get at Vera Cruz. I therefore agreed to sell forty-five bales, retaining and risking, as on the former trips, twenty-eight bales, which I reshipped on new bills of lading.

The crew being all on board, there was no detention in that respect. I got what additional stores were required, and sailed from Vera Cruz for Havana about the beginning of February.

The usual and shortest course from Vera Cruz to Havana was to cross the Bay of Campeachy, and stand up the coast of Yucatan. Keeping near to the coast to avoid as much as possible the adverse current of the Gulf Stream, but as it was upon this route that the recent captures had been made, I deemed it best to shape my course to the northward, and pass through the middle of the Gulf, standing as far north as latitude 25°; by this route we better evaded the cruisers, and were also well to windward if a norther should happen to blow.

There was nothing exciting or interesting on this run; we had favourable winds all the way, and reached Havana in eight days without seeing a cruiser.

Of course, I now regretted that I had not brought the whole of the cotton in the vessel, as I could have got a much higher price for it in Havana than I sold it for in Vera Cruz, but such were the chances of the times.

Now came the most disagreeable part of the business, which was the business transactions on shore. Difficult and distasteful to me then to perform; disagreeable to me now to relate; and boring and tiresome they must be to my readers. I wish I could have left them altogether out of this narrative.