Chapter IV

No prospect of business--Reduced to straits--Resolve to try a bolder venture--A new captain and crew shipped--Captain J.--A word of warning as to him--Departure for the blockaded coast--Arrival in Texas, but not unscathed.

My mind was now set upon making the attempt, but there were many obstacles in the way.

My present captain and crew I could not expect to engage with me in this business; they would therefore have to be paid off, and the amount of their passage to New Orleans paid to them, and a new captain and crew for the purpose would have to be engaged, and they would have to get an advance as customary in blockade running.

I may here say, that the wages paid to seamen and officers when running the blockade was at the highest rate of ordinary wages, and, besides this, there was a bonus for the trip, varying from 100 dollars to 500 dollars, according to position and the nature of the trip. One half of this bonus was paid in advance, the other half when the voyage was successfully terminated.

Besides this advance to the crew, there would be export duties on the cargo to pay, and a good outfit for the vessel, in the way of provisions and other stores, such as cordage to make everything sufficiently strong to stand crowding of sail, or to replace anything if carried away or cut by a shot.

As this would require more money than I could command without selling the cargo, and, as there was no possibility of obtaining a loan on any terms, I concluded to accept an offer which had been made to me by a gentleman at Brownsville.

This offer was by no means an advantageous one, but it was the best that had been made, and about the best I could do under the circumstances.

It was that I should sell to him one half of the vessel and cargo for a certain sum. He to pay me one fourth of this sum in cash, and the balance in four months or after the first voyage was made, he of course paying half of the disbursements of the voyage.

The first voyage was to be through the blockade into Texas, and the cargo consigned to a merchant in Houston, who would furnish in exchange a cargo of cotton, and he would appoint a man to go in the vessel as a supercargo to represent him and his interests.

In this agreement it will be seen, that the risk fell almost entirely upon me, but the vessel and cargo were put at a pretty high value.

The principal object now was to get a suitable captain and crew, and this was a matter of much difficulty. I would have undertaken to navigate the vessel myself, if I could have got a crew, but no crew would engage to serve under me in such a dangerous service, from the notion that I was not an experienced seaman.

Several of the masters of the vessels alongside had expressed to me their desire and ambition to become master of a blockade runner, but somehow when it came to the point there was hesitation, and something always came in the way.

When I paid off my old captain and crew, one of the latter, named Ned, the most intelligent and best seaman among them, offered to go with me as mate, if I would take the command myself. This I would have done, but I found it impossible to get a crew.

In the meantime a captain of a barque which lay outside of the bar waiting for cargo called upon me. He said that his mate, whom he had engaged at New Orleans, had a great desire to become master of a blockade runner, and, that situated as his vessel was, he had no wish to stand in his way if a chance offered. He also said that for several reasons he gave me, he wished to reduce the expenses of the ship. He could, therefore, spare the mate if he wished to go, and even one or two of the hands.

I asked him about the mate's character. He said that he had not been very long with him, and could not say very much about him, but had nothing against him, and thought he would be suitable for my purpose. I was very wishful to get away from the place, and had few men to choose from, and I desired to see the man.

On the following day the mate came to see me. He was a stout, powerful built man, a native of Cork in Ireland, but had been some years in New Orleans. He looked like a sober man, and had rather a gentlemanly address. On entering into the subject with him, he gave me very good reasons for his desire to engage in the business, and seemed to understand what would be required of him.

I engaged him, and he promised to join the vessel on the following day, and to bring one or two hands with him.

My new captain, whom I will call Captain J., joined the vessel as arranged, and brought with him two men; but very shortly after he joined, my former mate, Ned, declined to proceed in the vessel, and asked as a favour for his discharge. He did not ask for his passage to New Orleans but only wages, which I paid him. I pressed him for his reasons for leaving the vessel, but he would give no other reply than that he would have gone if I had taken the command myself.

Captain J. then said there was a young man on board of the barque who had a great desire to get on. He was a most active and able seaman, and understood most thoroughly all the practical parts in the management of a vessel. Although he did not know anything of navigation, but he would make an excellent mate if I would engage him.

As I knew I could navigate the vessel myself, if anything happened to the captain, I agreed to this, and the young man joined the vessel as mate.

Two other men and a cook were picked up, and new articles drawn out and signed by the men.

In running the blockade it was not the custom--when it could be avoided--to clear for the blockaded port, but for some port beyond, or in the direction of the blockaded port. This was to facilitate the clearance, but it did not make the voyage any safer, as the Yankees took note of every vessel which had run the blockade, and would seize her no matter what port she was cleared for, if she was any way for the direction of a blockaded port.

In this case the _Rob Roy_ had not yet run the blockade, and I cleared for New Orleans, intending that place as a back door and as a last resource, to go there, if we found we could not get into any of the Texas ports, and while we were on the direct course for New Orleans, we would sail past the blockaded Texas ports, and run in if a chance offered.

About the time the crew were got on board, some cases of yellow fever were reported at Bagdad, and as it was always best to get a new shipped crew out of harm's way, a pilot was engaged, and the vessel taken out over the bar and anchored in the open roads. This was near the end of August and there was scarcely a breath of wind.

I went up to Matamoras to get the clearance completed, and whilst I was there I called upon a gentleman--a Mr. B.--whom I had been acquainted with in New Orleans, and whose wife had lately come from that city to join her husband in Matamoras.

Mrs. B. said she had been wanting to see me, and asked me about the man I had engaged as captain. If I knew much about him? I said I did not. She said she had come as passenger from New Orleans on the barque on which he was mate, and she rather thought I had committed an error in employing him; however, she said she might be mistaken, but she would advise me to be on my guard.

This was not very pleasing news to me, knowing as I did, the arbitrary powers which were vested in captains of such vessels in these parts at that time, and it was a very difficult matter to change a captain.

I thanked her, however, and said I would be on my guard, wondering if the captain of the barque had recommended him to me because he wished to get rid of him, and whether this was the cause of Ned's desire to leave the vessel, as it was evident that he knew something of Captain J.

It also turned out that the young man whom Captain J. recommended to me for mate was his own brother-in-law, but this was natural.

When I got back to the vessel, I found all pleasant enough. Mr. P., the person appointed by my partner to act for him, had joined her. The captain had been mostly on shore, but the mate had been very industrious in overhauling the rigging and getting everything in order and ready for sea.

After lying here about a week, during which it was nearly a dead calm, a light, steady breeze sprang up from the south-east, and we set sail.

About two days after leaving the Rio Grande, Captain J. was taken seriously ill with fever, and it was supposed that while on shore the few days before leaving, he had caught the yellow fever at Bagdad.

Myself, Mr. P., and some of the crew, having already had that disease, were in no danger, but those who had not yet had it were warned to keep forward.

After the captain was laid up, having instruments of my own, and knowing the rates of the chronometer, I took charge of the navigation of the vessel myself.

The mate did very well in handling the vessel, but he was a little proud of his position, and somewhat pugnacious and tyrannical with the men, except those which had come with him from the barque.

I soon observed that there was a division among the men; the two which had come from the barque were of one party and were hand and glove with the mate; the other two picked up at Matamoras were by themselves and kept quiet.

The cook--a burly Englishman with a broken nose--who delighted in the sobriquet of "Chesshire Bob," was neutral, delighted in his grog, and when he got that on board he cared neither for the mate nor any one else.

I had learned before leaving the Rio Grande that there was no war vessel constantly anchored off the mouth of the Brazos River, but two very fast sailing vessels cruised off the mouth--the one a barque, and the other a three-masted schooner, both armed with long-range guns. Whilst about eight steam vessels, frigates and gunboats, were anchored off Galveston, one of which took a cruise every day along the Texas coast to the westward.

We had been out five days tacking against the light head winds, and I found our longitude to be about ten miles west of the mouth of Brazos River. We had just tacked off shore and were standing out to sea again, the weather was a little thick and there had been a light squall and a shower of rain. When that cleared off there suddenly appeared a sail to the eastward and from the quickness of her motions it was easy to see that she was a man-of-war. To think of keeping out of her way was useless, I accordingly ordered the vessel to be kept on her course, hoisted the colours and luffed up a little, to meet the war vessel as if desirous to speak.

She was a three-masted schooner and bore quickly down upon us, and ordered us to heave to.

We luffed up and hauled the jib to windward. She passed under our lee, and rounded to with her guns bearing upon us. She hailed us.

"Where are you from?"

"From the Rio Bravo," answered the mate.

I told the mate to stand aside, that I would speak to them.

"How can you be from that river and it blockaded"; but before I had time to reply another voice cried out--

"How much cotton have you got?"

"We have no cotton," I replied.

"You have come out from Brazos River and have no cotton. How is that?"

"You have mistaken the name," said I. "We are from the Rio Bravo in Mexico, better known as the Rio Grande, and bound for New Orleans with part return cargo."

"I must board you," said the officer.

They were soon alongside; the whole boat's crew jumped on deck, and the officer came aft.

"You will want to see our papers," said I.

"Yes," said he, "and your cargo too."

The hatches were taken off, and the men went down and inspected the hold, and reported to the officer what cargo was there.

The officer put some questions to me about the cargo. I said I had bought it at New Orleans about three months previous, and had been on a trading voyage to British Honduras and Mexico, and had sold part of it and was returning to New Orleans with the remainder.

"Are you the captain," said he, quickly.

"No, I am the owner. The captain has been taken seriously ill about three days ago, and as there were several cases of yellow fever at the Rio Grande, I fear it may be that he has got; therefore I am in no hurry to get to New Orleans until he has fairly recovered lest we might be put in quarantine."

"But you can't have a clean bill of health from the Rio Grande if there is yellow fever there."

"We have," said I, "from the town of Matamoras, but it was after we got our clean bill of health that it broke out, at Bagdad, at the mouth of the river; we lay seven days' outside of the bar waiting for a wind, and the captain was on shore during that time; but if you will come down to the cabin I will show you our papers."

He came down to the cabin and saw the captain sick in his bunk. He glanced hurriedly over the papers, and said he would not detain us longer, ordered the men into the boat and took his leave, and the vessels soon parted.

What they might have done had all been well with us I do not know; but I could see plainly that they did not care to have much to do with a vessel which had a case of yellow fever on board.

The same evening it came on a heavy gale from the south-east, which caused us to heave to, and we were hove to for about thirty-six hours.

When the gale moderated, and it became clear, I found that we had been driven to the southward and westward about thirty miles.

From the strong current setting to westward caused by the gale, and the very light south-easterly winds, the beating up to eastward again made but slow progress, and we had got to about ten miles west of the Brazos River, and about twenty-five miles off the coast, when daylight broke upon us in a dead calm; and there, about four miles to the south-westwards, lay our friend the three-masted schooner, which our men had learned from the boat's crew was named the _Kittitinie_.

She lay becalmed and helpless like ourselves, but it was not long before a boat was seen making towards us, and in a short time the boat was alongside with an armed crew.

"What! is this the _Rob Roy_ again?" cried the officer.

"It is," said I.

"Why are you still hanging about here?"

"We were driven back about thirty miles in that gale and we are now working our way up again, and I wish to make the fleet at Galveston, to get some medicines, that is, if you can't supply us. It looks like a clear case of the yellow fever that our captain has got, and if I had the right medicine I could cure him."

"What kind of medicine do you want?"

"Lobelia," said I.

"I am afraid we can't supply you," said he, "but I have no doubt you will get it at the supply ship at Galveston."

The men had had a long pull in the boat and the morning was hot. They seemed inclined to rest a little before they started on their way back. I asked them to come on board, but they declined, and after a friendly chat they started back to their vessel.

The officer seemed a very good fellow, and somehow I felt half ashamed of myself to think that I was playing rather a deceitful part with him, and it was scarcely up to the ideal of blockade running which I had pictured to myself, and I had a strong inclination to go straight on to New Orleans.

Still I consoled myself with the reflection that I had told him no untruth; my plan was to clear for New Orleans and sail for that port, and if I saw on the way a chance of putting into any of the blockaded Texas ports to do so; but failing that to continue on to New Orleans, and it was still undecided which I should do.

He took my word for nothing, but examined everything for himself. It was certainly a case of yellow fever with the captain, although of a mild type; but as this often makes fearful ravages among ships' crews, it was prudent that they should hold aloof from our vessel.

It continued a dead calm all day, and the two vessels lay helpless with sails flapping in sight of each other.

I would rather they had been a little farther apart, as some of the men in the boat had said, while in conversation with our men, that they thought we were worth watching; and I was satisfied that they were still keeping an eye upon us.

In the Gulf of Mexico, especially near the coast, the currents are strong and very uncertain. Owing to eddies in the Gulf Stream and changes of the wind, they are much affected by heavy gales, and generally continue in the same direction of the gale for several days afterwards.

When a vessel is lying becalmed it is almost impossible to tell which way the current is setting, or whether there is any current if there is no soundings, land marks, or other fixed object, as everything goes the same way.

In this case I was wishful of knowing whether we were losing ground and drifting to the westward in the same direction as the late gale had blown, and there was no difficulty in the way as I saw by the chart that we were in soundings. We accordingly let down the lead and found bottom, and on paying out more line I found that we were drifting rapidly to the westward and of course the war vessel must be doing the same.

As we dragged the lead along I conceived the idea of slightly checking our drifting and allow the war vessel to drift away from us, and thus increase the distance between us without exciting suspicion.

We had on board two sets of old throat halyards, and getting an old piece of chain about thirty pounds weight, made fast the rope to it and let it down to the bottom, I knew that this would retard her drifting considerably, and I soon saw that it did as it brought her head to the current. She still drifted, but less rapidly, and to avoid any suspicion of being anchored, we kept shifting the rope to different parts of the vessel, causing her to swing broadside on or anyway, as she was doing before and as the war vessel herself was doing.

By sunset we could plainly see that the distance between the vessels was considerably increased.

The calm continued, and as soon as it darkened down, we got another rope and let down another weight, so as to anchor her completely, and as there was not a breath of wind throughout the night when day broke the war vessel was out of sight.

Throughout the whole of the following day it continued a dead calm, and we remained stationary, and getting a good observation I was enabled to determine our position minutely, and found we were about thirty miles S.S.W, of the mouth of Brazos River, and with anything like a good breeze we could make it easily in six hours; and we knew that the war vessel must be a good long way to the westward, and it was almost impossible that she could get up in time to intercept us.

We knew that there was another war vessel, a barque, but she generally kept further out to sea, and it was probable that during the calm she might have also been carried to the westward by the current.

Nothing could be more favourable for us now if we had only a breeze, but it continued calm until sunset, when a breeze sprang up from the south-east, and the opportunity had come.

The whole coast being level prairie, and the line of beach being unbroken, there was no conspicuous landmarks to mark the mouth of the river, and it was a little difficult at sea to make it out, and no one on board, with the exception of Mr. P., had ever been there. He had been sea sick nearly all the time, but was now a little better, and we depended upon him to point out the mouth of the river.

There was a sand-bar as usual off the mouth of the river, the channel through which was somewhat crooked, and required a pilot. There was a pilot at the place who could take over at all times vessels drawing six feet of water or less, but it would be impossible to get him during the night.

It was, therefore, resolved to run in and get within four or five miles of the coast about daybreak, and when the mouth of the river was made out we could make for it.

The great object was to make a good landfall, as a bad landfall often proved fatal to blockade runners.

We took in the upper sails, put a reef in the mainsail and foresail, so as to run in under easy sail. This would time us better in making our landfall, and also make us less easy to be seen from a distance. This done we got in our temporary anchors--which were already dragging by the breeze--and proceeded, keeping a good luff, to allow for the leeway made by shortened sail, and also to keep us well to windward of the mouth of the river.

Just before daybreak we found we were in seven fathoms of water. This was well, and just as we wanted, and we kept on.

When daylight broke the forts, which had been recently erected at the mouth of the river, could be plainly seen about five or six miles distant, and we were well to windward of them, but the breeze was light, and there was a slight haze over the water. No vessel was in sight.

We shook the reefs out of the mainsail and foresail, and was getting nearer to the forts, with all eyes turned in that direction, when the haze lifted, and the alarm was given of a steamer to the eastward close on.

Sure enough, about four miles to the eastward was a gun-boat bearing down upon us, and before we had gone much farther there was a gun from her warning us to heave to. The shot, however, fell a long way short of us.

With the exception of myself no one on board had had any experience in that sort of thing, and the men looked at me and hesitated.

I told them there was not the least danger. From the distance the shot had fallen from us, it was impossible they could hit us before we got out of their reach. We were about the same distance from the forts as the gunboat was from us, and they would not venture to come much nearer the forts or into the shallow water, and I suggested to the mate to set the maintop-mast-staysail and gaff-topsail; and we would soon be beyond their reach.

Just then another gun was fired from the steamer, which came much nearer to us, but still fell short. This was followed by several others, one or two of which came pretty near us, and the crew were hesitating a little, when I was rejoiced to see the pilot's little boat dancing on the tops of the waves a short distance ahead. This reassured them, and we steered straight for her, and soon had the pilot and his man on board, and their boat towing astern.

The pilot was the very personification of an old, weather-beaten tar. He was an Englishman, and was exceedingly proud of his nationality. He wore a sou'wester, and his weather-beaten face was ribbed like the sea sand, and a grizzled beard curled round his mouth in round tufts exactly like barnacles, and he might well be called an old man of the sea.

When he came on board he immediately ordered the gaff-topsail and main-topmast-staysail to be set, and directed the steersman; then, addressing all hands, he said: "I am pilot here; all vessels while crossing this bar, or under these forts, are under my command. My name is Lyon; I am Lyon by name and lion by nature; the British Lion they call me here, so now the British lion has got you in charge, and you are out of all danger."

We were, however, not quite so sure of that, the wind had got very light, and though the upper sails had increased her speed, her progress was not very great. The gunboat was still approaching and continuing to fire, her shot coming pretty close up, the pilot assuring us that she could come no closer in.

We had just entered the channel of the bar when a recochetting shot, after striking the water several times, and sending the spray all over us, struck the vessel under the counter, about the water-line.

Is she making water? was the question. No appearance of water. All right.

We now saw the gunboat haul off and stand out to sea again, the breeze freshened a little, and we soon crossed the bar and were into the Brazos River.

The pilot said that the orders were that no vessels should lie near the forts, and that he would take us about three miles up the river, where we would be hid by the woods.

Of course there was a good deal of excitement at getting in; all hands were of course elated. Some people on the banks of the river were waving their handkerchiefs by way of congratulation, and the pilot, who was the hero of the hour, replied to them by setting forth how that the British lion had brought us in in defiance of the Yankees and their guns.

I now imagined that the worst of my troubles were over. I little thought my troubles were just going to begin.

For some distance up from the beach there was no trees, and the river flowed through an open prairie, but about three miles up from the mouth the forest began.

As we got near the woods the wind became very light, but it blew nearly fair up the river, and a bend in the river caused us to change tack by jibing.

Very shortly after changing tack we found that the vessel was leaking very badly, and on examination we found that the water was rushing into her hold.

The shot had struck the vessel on the starboard side, and she being then on the starboard tack, the list which she had to port, kept the shot-hole above water, but as soon as she went on the port tack the list to starboard, small as it was, brought the hole down to the water-line, and the water rushed in, and as she settled deeper it came in faster.

The pilot knew of a shallow part on one side of the river where there was a sandbank, and on to this the vessel was run, not a moment too soon, as her hold was nearly half full of water, and she was settling down fast.

She was now careened over so as to get at the damage.

The ball had not gone through her, but being spent in its force, and coming in a line nearly fore and aft with the vessel, it had struck her in a slanting direction, splintering the plank, denting one of the timbers, and glancing off.

A quantity of tarred oakum was stuffed into the wound, and a piece of strong tarred canvas nailed securely over all, and the leak stopped.

The pumps were now set to work, and in a few hours the water was pumped out and the vessel floated off the bank.

It was now late in the day, and we moved to a suitable part of the river, where we made fast to the bank to lay up for the night, and give the crew some rest, of which they stood in need.

We had to proceed up the river about thirty miles to a place called Columbia, which was the port of the Brazos River, and from which place there was a railroad to Houston.

I now settled with the pilot, paying him his pilotage, and presenting him with a bottle of rum and a little coffee, which greatly pleased the old man, as such things were now great rareties in the Confederate States. He said it would remind him of good old British times. He added that he had served in the British Navy some forty years previous.

He took his leave, telling us to be of good cheer, that the British lion was with us, and we would soon recover, in spite of the Yankees, all the damage done by that shot.

I now began to survey the amount of damage done to the cargo, and found that several large cases of matches were entirely destroyed, several small chests of tea, a good many sacks of coffee--the latter an article highly prized and in great demand. The rest of the cargo, consisting of barrels of salt pork, crates of earthenware, nails, and ironmongery, was not much damaged, but the loss was considerable, straitened as I was in circumstances.

Of course such a thing as insurance on either vessel or cargo was at those times never thought of.

The Brazos River was a larger and finer river than the Rio Grande; it was deeper and clearer, less tortuous, and flowed in more of a valley, with the banks on each side, in most places thickly wooded. There was rather larger tides here than at the Rio Grande, and the rise and fall could be felt up the river for thirty miles.

On the following day we proceeded up the river with the flood tide, and continued to work up with the tides, anchoring or making fast to the bank during the ebb, if the wind was not fair or sufficient to enable us to stem the current.

The captain, who had now recovered, and was up and moving about, and seemed to have been a little uneasy at the active part I had been taking, now began to interfere, and in a somewhat grumbling manner, asked me how many captains there was to be. One, I said, and if he now felt himself sufficiently recovered to take the command, I would have great pleasure in handing over to him the management of the vessel; but he must allow that the part which I had taken was called forth by necessity. He allowed that, and said he was now able to take charge of the vessel.

Although his illness had been no disadvantage to me, but rather opportune, as it gave me the opportunity of bringing in the vessel myself, and perhaps had been instrumental in causing the crew of the cruiser to hold aloof, I was very glad to see him well again, as I had some fears that a report might arise that a vessel had arrived with a case of yellow fever on board; and as it was the season of yellow fever, and it was not in Texas at the time, I did not know what action might be taken by the authorities.

While going up the river we met two schooners coming down, loaded, on their way to sea, and they carried such large deck-loads of cotton that they looked like floating piles of cotton bales. I thought this scarcely safe, but was told afterwards, and found it to be true, that flat vessels of broad beam sailed much easier at sea with a deck-load.

At a place called Brayoria we passed a schooner named the _Catherine_, which had recently been sunk while going up the river by striking against the wreck of a sunken steamer. A party of men were working hard endeavouring to raise her. The captain of this vessel our captain seemed to know, and he inquired for him, but he was not with her.

We at length got to Columbia, and I went by railway to Houston to see the consignee and get the vessel entered.

The distance from Columbia to Houston was something over thirty-five miles by railway, but the trains were irregular and run only about twice or three times a week. The rolling stock was much dilapidated, and the locomotives worn out, and a speed of about fifteen miles per hour was about the utmost attained. The route was across a level prairie, on which were feeding large herds of cattle and horses, and the country in general had the appearance of being very fertile and finely diversified by clumps of wood here and there.