Chapter 16

THE LAND BLOCKADE.

I have now come to the end of my blockade-running yarns. I have endeavoured to avoid giving offence to anyone: to the American officers and men who manned the cruisers I can, as a nautical man, truly and honestly give the credit of having most zealously performed their hard and wearisome duty. It was not their fault that I did not visit New York at the Government's expense; but the old story that 'blockades, to be legal, must be efficient,' is a tale for bygone days. So long as batteries at the entrance of the port blockaded keep ships at a respectable distance, the blockade will be broken.

A practical suggestion that my experience during the time I was a witness of the war in America would lead me to make is, that, both for the purposes of war and of blockade, speed is the most important object to attain. Towards the end of that contest, blockade-running became much more difficult, in fact, was very nearly put a stop to, not by the ports becoming more effectually closed to traffic, but by the sea being literally covered with very fast vessels, who picked up many blockade-runners at sea during the daytime, especially when they had their heavy cargoes of cotton on board. The Americans are also perfectly alive to the fact that, for purposes of war, speed is all important. An American officer of rank once remarked to me: 'Give me a fifteen-knot wooden vessel armed with four heavy guns of long range, and I'll laugh at your lumbering iron-clads.' Perhaps he had prize-money in view when he said so; or, what is still more important, he may have felt how easily such vessels as those he proposed would sweep the seas of foreign privateers. In these views I can but think he was right and far-seeing. Time will show.

It may have struck my readers as strange that, in a country with so large an inland boundary, the necessaries of life and munitions of war could not have been introduced into the Southern States by their extensive frontiers: but it is only a just tribute to the wonderful energy shown by the Northern Americans during the civil war, to state that the blockade by land was as rigid as that enforced by their fleets; and almost as much risk was run by persons who broke the land blockade as by those who evaded the vigilance of the cruisers at sea. The courses of the large inland rivers were protected by gun-boats, and on account of the rapids and other impediments, such as snags, with which they were filled, the fords or passes for boats were few and far between, and thus easily guarded; besides which, it was always a difficult matter to avoid the pickets belonging to either party, who were very apt to suspect a man they found creeping about without any ostensible object, and anyone suspected of being a spy in those days had a short shrift and a long rope applied before he knew where he was. More from a spirit of enterprise than from any other reason, I determined to see what the land blockade was like, and while at Richmond, happening to meet another adventurous individual also so inclined, we commenced our plan of campaign.

First of all (by the way, I ought to mention that we were both nautical parties) we engaged a pilot, thereby meaning a man who had a canoe or two stowed away in different parts of the woods, and who was well acquainted with the passes on the river. Our amiable friend, the correspondent of the 'Times.' showed so much confidence in our success that he entrusted to our care a packet of despatches, which were intended, if we got through successfully, to delight the eyes of the readers of the 'Thunderer' some weeks afterwards.

We had to buy a horse and buggy, as naturally enough no one would let them out on hire for such an enterprise; besides, those were not days when men let out anything on hire that they could not keep in sight. However, we sent a man on before us, in company with the pilot, to a station some miles from the frontier, whose business it was to bring the trap back when we had done with it. We stowed in our haversacks a pair of dry stockings, a good stock of tobacco, and a couple of bottles of brandy, against the road; we also had passes to produce in the event of questions being asked by the patrols on the Southern side of the frontier.

All being ready, we started, leaving Richmond at four o'clock in the morning. We travelled on a long, dreary, dusty road all day, stopping about noon for two hours at a free nigger's hut, where we got some yams and milk, and about sunset arrived at the station above mentioned, at which we were to dismiss our conveyance; and right glad we were to get rid of it, for we were bumped to death by its dreadful oscillations.

At this station our pilot was waiting for us. There were also bivouacking here a picket of cavalry, who told us they had seen some of the enemy's patrols that morning, scouring about on the opposite bank of the river just where we proposed to land. Somehow or other, people always seem to take a pleasure in telling you disagreeable things at a time when you rather want encouragement than fear instilled into you. We had some supper, consisting of eggs and bacon; and at nine o'clock, it being then pitch dark, the pilot informed us it was time to start. I must say I should have been more comfortable if I had been on the bridge of my little craft, just starting over the bar at Wilmington, with the probability of a broadside from a gun-boat saluting us in a very short time, than where I was. But it would never do to think of going back, so we crawled into the wood.

Our land pilot informed us that the bank of the river, from whence we should find a clear passage across, was about two miles distant. I never remember seeing or feeling anything to be compared with the darkness of that pine wood, but our guide seemed to have the eyes of a basilisk. We formed Indian file, our guide leading, and crept along as best we could. At last, after stealthily progressing for half an hour, a glimmer of starlight through the trees showed us that we were getting to the borders of the wood.

A few minutes afterwards we were desired to lie down. Feeling helpless as babes, we passively obeyed, and watched our guide as he moved about like a spectre in the long grass on the banks of the Potomac, looking for his canoe. At last he returned and whispered that the boat was all right, and we all crept like serpents to where it was concealed. Nothing could be heard but the wind blowing through the trees, and the discordant noises of frogs and other denizens of the swamp. So dark was the night that we could hardly see fifty yards across the river. I suppose this was all in our favour; but how our guide knew the marks by which to steer was a puzzle to me, and as I never meant to profit by this experience I asked no questions.

Not a word was spoken as we (myself and my friend) launched the canoe silently into the water and seated ourselves, or rather obeyed orders and lay down, the pilot sitting in the stern, with his face towards the bows of the boat, having a light paddle in his hand, which he worked wonderfully well and silently. The distance across the river was about three miles.

We shot ahead at a rapid pace for about five minutes, when suddenly, bump went the canoe against something. To lie flat down was to our guide the work of a second, and the canoe was at once transformed into a floating log.

Well it was so, for it seems we had struck a small boat that was fastened astern of the gun-boat guarding the river. That the noise of the collision had been heard on board was evident, for a sentry hailed, 'Boat ahoy!' and fired his musket, and one of those detestable bright lights which the American men-of-war have a nasty habit of showing flashed over the water, making everything visible for a hundred yards round. The current of the river, however, was very strong, and I fancy we had drifted out of the radius covered by the light, as we were fortunately not discovered; or perhaps the diligent watchman on board the man-of-war thought some huge crocodile or other monster had come in contact with their boat. Be that as it may, we were safe, and twenty minutes more paddling brought us to land on the opposite bank of the river; but unfortunately our little adventure had thrown us out of our line, or as we sailors should have called it, out of our course. We hauled the canoe out of the water, and hid her in the long grass. All we could see around us was a dismal swamp, with the dark wood in the background. Our guide honestly told us that having been thrown out of his 'reckoning' in regard to our position, to move from where we were before daybreak would be madness, so we took a pull at the brandy bottle, lighted our pipes and waited patiently, having moved well in under cover of the long grass, so as to be out of sight of any vessel lying in the river near to us.

When the day dawned, our pilot after having reconnoitred told us that we were very well placed for starting for Washington; but that it would be impossible, on account of the patrols that were constantly watching the river's banks, for us to move during the daytime, so we were doomed to remain all day in the damp grass. Luckily we had put in our pockets at last night's supper some black bread and an onion or two; so we made the best of things, and so did the sandflies. How they did pitch into us, especially into me! I suppose the good living I had been accustomed to on board the blockade-runner, or my natural disposition to good condition, made me taste sweet. Several times during that fearful day I was tempted to rush out from my hiding-place, and defying patrols, gun-boat's crew, and all authorities, make my escape from that place of torture.

Anyone who has experienced the necessity of remaining quiet under such an infliction as an attack of millions of sandflies on a hot sunny day will appreciate my feelings. About one o'clock we got as a diversion from our tormentors a great fright. A boat's crew of a gun-boat lying about a mile distant from our retreat landed, and out of sheer idleness set fire to the grass about a hundred yards from where we were lying concealed.

We heard the crackling of the grass and thought of leaving our concealment at the risk of discovery; but our guide wisely remarked that the wind was the wrong way to bring the fire towards our hiding-place, so we felt safe. The feeling of security was more pleasant, because we distinctly heard the men belonging to the gun-boat conversing with others, who clearly were patrols on the river's bank.

The evening at last closed in, and as soon as it was quite dark we moved on, and after struggling through a thick wood for half an hour, got on the high road to Washington. We travelled by night, meeting occasional patrols, whom we dodged by either lying down or getting behind trees till they had passed.

We concealed ourselves carefully during the day, and on the third morning before daylight we were within half a mile of the city. As we got near the bridge close outside Washington, we tried our best to look like the rest of the people who were going on their ordinary business; and though somewhat severely scrutinised by the guard we managed to pass muster, and got safely into Washington, footsore, hungry, and regularly done up.

We went to a small inn that had been recommended to us when we were in Richmond, where probably they had some Southern proclivities. No questions were asked as to where we came from, though, I take it, the people of the house had a shrewd guess. We found ourselves among friends and perfectly safe from meddling inquiries.

Thus the land blockade was run. I do not think much experience was gained by this particularly unpleasant exploit, which after all there was no very great difficulty in performing, and I certainly prefer my own element.

After a short stay we made our way easily to New York, not feeling any anxiety from the fact of our being staunch Southerners in our opinions, inasmuch as there were numbers of sympathising friends wherever we went, more perhaps than the authorities were aware of. I stayed a few days in New York to recruit my strength after the fatigue of the journey, and saw all the sights and enjoyed all the pleasures of the most delightful city in the world, except perhaps Paris and London. I shall not attempt to give my readers any description of New York. This has already been done by abler pens than mine.

While in New York I was greatly struck with the calm confidence of the bulk of the Northerners in the ultimate success of their arms against the South. If I gained nothing else by running the land blockade, I at least got an insight into the enormous resources possessed by the North, and a knowledge of the unflinching determination with which the Federals were prepared to carry on the struggle to the end. I must confess that I left New York with my confidence that the Confederates would achieve their independence very much shaken.

Not being desirous of going through the risk and inconvenience of running the land blockade again, I returned to Nassau by steamer from New York.