Part 12

"They were compelled to choose whether they would aid in subjugating their State or in defending it against invasion; for it was already evident that coercion would be used by the General Government, and that war was inevitable. In reply to the accusation of perjury in breaking their oath of allegiance, since brought against the officers of the Army and Navy who resigned their commissions to render aid to the South, it need only be stated that, in their belief, the resignation of their commissions absolved them from any special obligation. They then occupied the same position toward the Government as other classes of citizens. But this charge was never brought against them till the war was ended. The resignation of their commissions was accepted when their purpose was well known. As to the charge of ingratitude, they reply, their respective States had contributed their full share toward the expenses of the General Government, acting as their disbursing agent, and when these States withdrew from the Union their citizens belonging to the two branches of the public service did not, and do not, consider themselves amenable to this charge for abandoning their official positions to cast their lot with their kindred and friends. But yielding as they did to necessity, it was, nevertheless, a painful act to separate themselves from companions with whom they had been long and intimately associated, and from the flag under which they had been proud to serve."

With reference to his experience in blockade running at Wilmington Captain Wilkinson continues:

"The natural advantages of Wilmington for blockade running were very great, chiefly owing to the fact that there were two separate and distinct approaches to Cape Fear River; i.e., either by New Inlet, to the north of Smith's Island, or by the Western Bar to the south of it. This island is ten or eleven miles in length; but the Frying Pan Shoals extend ten or twelve miles farther south, making the distance by sea between the two bars thirty miles or more, although the direct distance between them is only six or seven miles. From Smithville (now Southport), a little village nearly equidistant from either bar, both blockading fleets could be distinctly seen, and the outward-bound blockade runners could take their choice through which of them to run the gauntlet. The inward-bound blockade runners, too, were guided by circumstances of wind and weather, selecting that bar over which they could cross after they had passed the Gulf Stream, and shaping their course accordingly. The approaches to both bars were clear of danger with the single exception of the 'Lump,' before mentioned; and so regular are the soundings that the shore can be coasted for miles within a stone's throw of the breakers.

"These facts explain why the United States fleet was unable wholly to stop blockade running. It was, indeed, impossible to do so; the result to the very close of the war proves this assertion, for, in spite of the vigilance of the fleet, many blockade runners were afloat when Fort Fisher was captured. In truth the passage through the fleet was little dreaded; for although the blockade runner might receive a shot or two, she was rarely disabled; and in proportion to the increase of the fleet the greater would be the danger, we knew, of their firing into each other. As the boys before the deluge used to say, they would be very apt to 'miss the cow and kill the calf.' The chief danger was upon the open sea, many of the light cruisers having great speed. As soon as one of them discovered a blockade runner during daylight, she would attract other cruisers in the vicinity by sending up a dense column of smoke, visible for many miles in clear weather. A cordon of fast steamers stationed ten or fifteen miles apart, inside the Gulf Stream, and in the course from Nassau and Bermuda to Wilmington and Charleston, would have been more effectual in stopping blockade running than the whole United States Navy concentrated off those ports; and it was unaccountable to us why such a plan did not occur to good Mr. Welles; but it was not our place to suggest it. I have no doubt, however, that the fraternity to which I then belonged would have unanimously voted thanks and a service of plate to the Honorable Secretary of the United States Navy for this oversight. I say _inside the Gulf Stream_, because every experienced captain of a blockade runner made a point to cross the stream early enough in the afternoon, if possible, to establish the ship's position by chronometer, so as to escape the influence of that current upon his dead reckoning. The lead always gave indication of our distance from the land, but not, of course, of our position; and the numerous salt works along the coast, where evaporation was produced by fire, and which were at work night and day, were visible long before the low coast could be seen. Occasionally the whole inward voyage would be made under adverse conditions. Cloudy, thick weather and heavy gales would prevail so as to prevent any solar or lunar observations, and reduce the dead reckoning to mere guesswork. In these cases the nautical knowledge and judgment of the captain would be taxed to the utmost. The current of the Gulf Stream varies in velocity and (within certain limits) in direction; and the stream itself, almost as well defined as a river within its banks under ordinary circumstances, is impelled by a strong gale toward the direction in which the wind is blowing, overflowing its banks, as it were. The countercurrent, too, inside of the Gulf Stream, is much influenced by the prevailing winds. Upon one occasion while in command of the _R.E. Lee_, formerly the Clyde-built iron steamer _Giraffe_, we had experienced very heavy and thick weather, and had crossed the stream and struck soundings about midday. The weather then clearing, so that we could obtain an altitude near meridian, we found ourselves at least forty miles north of our supposed position, and near the shoals which extend in a southerly direction off Cape Lookout. It would be more perilous to run out to sea than to continue on our course, for we had passed through the offshore line of blockaders, and the sky had become perfectly clear. I determined to personate a transport bound to Beaufort, which was in the possession of the United States forces and the coaling station of the fleet blockading Wilmington. The risk of detection was not very great, for many of the captured blockade runners were used as transports and dispatch vessels. Shaping our course for Beaufort and slowing down as if we were in no haste to get there, we passed several vessels, showing United States colors to them all. Just as we were crossing through the ripple of shallow water off the 'tail' of the shoals, we dipped our colors to a sloop of war which passed three or four miles to the south of us. The courtesy was promptly responded to, but I have no doubt her captain thought me a lubberly and careless seaman to shave the shoals so closely. We stopped the engines when no vessel was in sight, and I was relieved of a heavy burden of anxiety as the sun sank below the horizon, and the course was shaped at full speed for Masonboro Inlet.

"The staid old town of Wilmington was turned 'topsy turvey' during the war. Here resorted the speculators from all parts of the South to attend the weekly auctions of imported cargoes; and the town was infested with rogues and desperadoes, who made a livelihood by robbery and murder. It was unsafe to venture into the suburbs at night, and even in daylight there were frequent conflicts in the public streets between the crews of the steamers in port and the soldiers stationed in the town, in which knives and pistols would be freely used; and not unfrequently a dead body would rise to the surface of the water in one of the docks with marks of violence upon it. The civil authorities were powerless to prevent crime. '_Inter arma silent leges!_' The agents and employees of different blockade-running companies lived in magnificent style, paying a king's ransom (in Confederate money) for their household expenses, and nearly monopolizing the supplies in the country market. Toward the end of the war, indeed, fresh provisions were almost beyond the reach of everyone. Our family servant, newly arrived from the country in Virginia, would sometimes return from market with an empty basket, having flatly refused to pay what he called 'such nonsense prices' for a bit of fresh beef, or a handful of vegetables. A quarter of lamb at the time of which I now write, sold for $100, a pound of tea for $500. Confederate money which in September, 1861, was nearly equal to specie in value, had declined in September, 1862, to 225; in the same month, in 1863, to 400, and before September, 1864, to 2,000!

"Many of the permanent residents of the town had gone into the country, letting their houses at enormous prices; those who were compelled to remain kept themselves much secluded, the ladies rarely being seen upon the more public streets. Many of the fast young officers belonging to the Army would get an occasional leave to come to Wilmington, and would live at free quarters on board the blockade runners or at one of the numerous bachelor halls ashore.

"The convalescent soldiers from the Virginia hospitals were sent by the route through Wilmington to their homes in the South. The ladies of the town were organized by Mrs. DeRosset into a society for the purpose of ministering to the wants of these poor sufferers, the trains which carried them stopping an hour or two at the depot, that their wounds might be dressed and food and medicine supplied to them. These self-sacrificing, heroic women patiently and faithfully performed the offices of hospital nurses.

"Liberal contributions were made by companies and individuals to this society, and the long tables at the depot were spread with delicacies for the sick to be found nowhere else in the Confederacy. The remains of the meals were carried by the ladies to a camp of mere boys--home guards outside of the town. Some of these children were scarcely able to carry a musket and were altogether unable to endure the exposure and fatigue of field service; and they suffered fearfully from measles and typhoid fever. General Grant used a strong figure of speech when he asserted that 'the cradle and the grave were robbed to recruit the Confederate armies.' The fact of a fearful drain upon the population was scarcely exaggerated, but with this difference in the metaphor, that those who were verging upon both the cradle and the grave shared the hardships and dangers of war with equal self-devotion to the cause. It is true that a class of heartless speculators infested the country, who profited by the scarcity of all sorts of supplies, but it makes the self-sacrifice of the mass of the Southern people more conspicuous, and no State made more liberal voluntary contributions to the armies or furnished better soldiers than North Carolina.

"On the opposite side of the river from Wilmington, on a low marshy flat, were erected the steam cotton presses, and there the blockade runners took in their cargoes. Sentries were posted on the wharves day and night to prevent deserters from getting aboard and stowing themselves away; and the additional precaution of fumigating outward-bound steamers at Smithville was adopted, but in spite of this vigilance, many persons succeeded in getting a free passage aboard. These deserters, or 'stowaways,' were in most instances sheltered by one or more of the crew, in which event they kept their places of concealment until the steamer had arrived at her port of destination, when they would profit by the first opportunity to leave the vessel undiscovered. A small bribe would tempt the average blockade-running sailor to connive at this means of escape. The impecunious deserter fared more hardly and would usually be forced by hunger or thirst to emerge from his hiding place while the steamer was on the outward voyage. A cruel device employed by one of the captains effectually put a stop, I believe, certainly a check, to the escape of this class of 'stowaways.' He turned three or four of them adrift in the Gulf Stream in an open boat with a pair of oars and a few days' allowance of bread and water."

Colonel Scharf, writing of the Confederate States Navy, mentions the shore lights: "At the beginning of the war," he says, "nearly all the lights along the Southern coast had been discontinued, the apparatus being removed to places of safety. In 1864 it was deemed expedient to re-establish the light on Smith's Island, which had been discontinued ever since the beginning of hostilities, and to erect a structure for a light on the 'Mound.' The 'Mound' was an artificial one, erected by Colonel Lamb, who commanded Fort Fisher." Captain Wilkinson says of the "Mound" and the range lights: "Two heavy guns were mounted upon it, and it eventually became a site for a light, and very serviceable for blockade runners; but even at this period it was an excellent landmark. Joined by a long, low isthmus of sand with the higher mainland, its regular conical shape enabled the blockade runners easily to identify it from the offing; and in clear weather, it showed plain and distinct against the sky at night. I believe the military men used to laugh slyly at the colonel for undertaking its erection, predicting that it would not stand; but the result showed the contrary; and whatever difference of opinion may have existed with regard to its value as a military position, there can be but one as to its utility to the blockade runners, for it was not a landmark alone, along this monotonous coast, but one of the range lights for crossing New Inlet Bar was placed on it. Seamen will appreciate at its full value this advantage; but it may be stated for the benefit of the unprofessional reader, that while the compass bearing of an object does not enable a pilot to steer a vessel with sufficient accuracy through a narrow channel, range lights answer the purpose completely. These lights were only set after signals had been exchanged between the blockade runner and the shore station, and were removed immediately after the vessel had entered the river. The range lights were changed as circumstances required; for the New Inlet Channel itself was and is constantly changing, being materially affected both in depth of water and in its course by a heavy gale of wind or a severe freshet in Cape Fear River."

A NORMAL BLOCKADING EXPERIENCE.

Probably one of the quickest and most uneventful voyages made during the war in running the blockade was that made by Capt. C.G. Smith, of Southport. The following story on the blockade was told by Captain Smith, and is published to show the contrast between what some of the blockade runners had to undergo and how easy it was at other times to make the round trip without hindrance or adventure:

"On a delightful day, about the first of May, 1863, I left Nassau as pilot on the fine side-wheel steamer _Margaret and Jessie_, Captain Wilson in command.

"The _Margaret and Jessie_ was at that time regarded as one of the fastest steamers. Of about 800 tons, this steamer when in ballast could make fifteen miles an hour, but of course she was usually loaded down, therefore seldom doing better than ten knots while running the blockade.

"Passing out from Nassau with a general cargo of goods, bound for Wilmington, N.C., the first twenty-four hours were passed without incident, the steamer making a good passage, until a gale from the northeast met us, which lasted till noon of the third day out.

"When the wind had lessened somewhat, Captain Wilson came to me and asked what point of land I wanted to make, to which I replied that I intended to run in at the Western Bar of the Cape Fear. Finding it an impossibility on account of the weather to make the Western Bar before daylight, I made for Masonboro and came in at New Inlet, anchoring abreast of the mound battery which guarded this approach at about 11 o'clock at night, and at daylight, with a fair tide, ran up to Wilmington.

"Nothing in the shape of a blockader disturbed our voyage. At one time a steamer was seen east-southeast of us, but paid no attention to us. When at Masonboro, one of the blockading squadron went to the southeastward of us, but being under the lee of the land she could not make us out.

"After laying up in Wilmington about ten days, discharging our cargo and taking on a load of cotton, we quietly dropped down the river one morning, and, anchoring in five-fathom hole, waited until night, when we passed out of New Inlet, bound for Nassau.

"The return trip was made without incident of any kind, the weather was fine, not a vessel of any description could be seen on the voyage; and in fifty-two hours from the time of leaving the Cape Fear, we were safe at the dock at Nassau, discharging our cargo, making one of the quickest and safest passages ever made by any of the blockade runners."

CAPTAIN JOSEPH FRY.

In the year 1841, a winsome, honest lad who had determined to join the Navy of his country, and who had been thwarted in his purpose by friends at home, made his way alone from Florida to Washington and demanded his right to speak to the President, which was not denied him.

Mr. Tyler was so pleased by the youthful manliness of the little chap, who was only eight years old, that he invited him to dine at the White House on the following day. The young Floridian was the observed of all observers; members of the Cabinet and their wives, members of Congress and officers of the Navy had heard of the little lad's story, and all united in espousing his patriotic cause.

The President, won by his ardor as well as by his gentlemanly and modest behavior, granted the boy's request and immediately signed his warrant as a midshipman in the United States Navy.

The subsequent record of Capt. Joseph Fry, the Christian gentleman, the gallant sailor, the humane commander, the chivalrous soldier, is known to readers of American history. Of heroic mould and dignified address, he was

"A combination and a form indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal To give the world assurance of a man."

When the Civil War came, it found him among the most beloved and honored officers in the service. The trial of his faith was bitter but brief. He could not fight against his home and loved ones, much as he honored the flag which he had so long and faithfully cherished. He was a Southerner, and with many pangs of sincere regret he went with his native State for weal or woe.

His personal bravery during the war was wonderful; he never performed deeds of valor under temporary excitement, but acted with such coolness and daring as to command the admiration of superiors and inferiors alike. He was severely wounded at the battle of White River, and while on sick leave was ordered, at his own request, to command the Confederate blockade runner _Eugénie_, upon which the writer made a voyage.

On one occasion the _Eugénie_ grounded outside of Fort Fisher while trying to run through the fleet in daylight. The ship was loaded with gunpowder, the Federal fleet was firing upon her, the risk of immediate death and destruction to crew and ship was overwhelming. Fry was ordered by Colonel Lamb to abandon the vessel and save his crew from death by explosion. He accordingly told all who wished to go to do so, but as for himself, he would stand by the ship and try to save the powder, which was greatly needed by the Confederate Government. Several boatloads of his men retreated to the fort; a few remained with Fry, the enemy's shells flying thick and fast around them. In the face of this great danger, Fry lightened his ship, and upon the swelling tide brought vessel and cargo safely in.

Later on he commanded the steamer _Agnes E. Fry_, named in honor of his devoted wife. In this ship he made three successful voyages, after which she was unfortunately run ashore by her pilot and lies not far distant from the _Virginius_. Captain Fry was then placed in active service during the remainder of the war in command of the Confederate gunboat _Morgan_ and was highly complimented by his general, Dabney H. Maury, for conspicuous bravery in action.

After the war his fortunes underwent many changes. Several undertakings met with varying success or failure. At last, he went to New York in July, 1873, where he hoped to secure employment in command of an ocean steamer. There he was introduced to General Quesada, agent of the Cuban Republic, who offered him the command of the steamer _Virginius_, then lying in the harbor of Kingston, Jamaica. He accepted the offer, and received a month's pay in advance, $150, two-thirds of which he sent to his needy family, and reserved the remainder for his personal outfit. The _Virginius_, originally named _Virgin_, was built in Scotland in 1864 and was specially designed for a blockade runner in the Confederate service. She made several successful trips between Havana and Mobile. Being shut up in the latter port, she was used by the Confederates as a dispatch and transport steamer. For a time after the war she was used by the Federal Government in the United States Revenue Service, but proving unsatisfactory, owing to her great consumption of coal, was sold at public auction by the United States Treasury Department to an American firm. The owners in 1870 took out American papers in legal form and cleared her for Venezuela. From that time she was used in carrying volunteers and supplies to Cuba; and while engaged in this business under the American flag, recognized by American consuls as an American vessel, she was overhauled at sea on the 31st of October, 1873, by the Spanish man-of-war _Tornado_ and declared a prize to the Spanish Government. Fry never dreamed of greater danger; he occupied the same position he had assumed while running the Federal blockade and the same as in the recent cases of the _Commodore_ and the _Bermuda_. He was a merchantman, carried no guns, made no armed resistance, and flew the American flag. Notwithstanding all this, a drumhead court martial was held on board the _Tornado_ and on the second day afterwards the unfortunate victims were condemned as pirates and sentenced to immediate execution at Santiago de Cuba, where the Spanish warship had arrived. Even then Captain Fry and his crew, who were nearly all Americans, expected a release through the intervention of the United States authorities. Vain hope! The American consul was absent; the vice-consul did what he could in vain; the Home Government was silent; the British consul protested, but without avail, and the butchery of these brave men began. We read from the newspaper accounts of the dreadful scene as the victims were ranged facing a wall. Captain Fry asked for a glass of water, which was given him by the friendly hand of one of his own race. He then walked with firm, unfaltering steps to the place assigned him, and calmly awaited the volley which ended his noble life.

A touching incident occurred on the march to execution. When the brave man passed the American Consulate, he gravely saluted the bare pole which should have borne the flag, once and again so dear to his heart, but which had failed him in his extremity.

Although the firing party was only ten feet away, says the published account, Fry was the only one killed outright. Then ensued a horrible scene. "The Spanish butchers advanced to where the wounded men lay, writhing and moaning in agony, and placing the muzzles of their guns in the mouths of their victims, shattered their heads into fragments. Others were stabbed to death with knives and swords."