It was in the autumn of 1861 that I made up my mind to go to the Southern States of America, and enter the Confederate Army. Looking back more than twenty years, I find it difficult, as the man of forty-two, to recall the exact feelings of the boy of twenty. I can say, however, that I had no expectation whatever of any gain, or advantage to myself. I had a sincere sympathy with the Southern people in their struggle for independence, and felt that it would be a pleasant thing to help them to secure their freedom. It was not expected, at that time, that the war would last many months, and my idea simply was to go to the South, do my duty there as well as I might, and return home to England. I expected no reward and wanted none, and had no intention whatever of remaining permanently in the Southern States.
There was much difficulty, of course, in obtaining accurate information as to the best way of reaching the seat of war in the South. I found that I could probably go by way of Nassau, N. P., but the expense would have been greater than I cared to incur, and the other mode of entering the Confederacy—by going to a Northern port and slipping through the lines—was exceedingly troublesome, and was, besides, uncertain in its result. However, I determined to go in some fashion, and just about this time the Confederate States steamer Nashville arrived at Southampton. This vessel had been one of the regular steamers on the line between Charleston and New York, and was seized, I believe, by the Confederate authorities after hostilities began. It had been determined to send the Hon. James M. Mason and the Hon. John Slidell to represent the Confederate States in England and France respectively, and the Nashville was fitted out for the purpose of taking them to England. They changed their plan, unfortunately for them, and went in a small vessel to Havana, where they took the mail steamer Trent for St. Thomas. The trip of the Nashville was not, however, abandoned, and, under command of Captain Robert B. Pegram, she ran the blockade at Charleston and reached Southampton in safety, capturing and destroying during the voyage a fine American ship named the Harvey Birch.
The arrival of the Nashville at Southampton caused considerable stir. By those who were friendly to the North she was spoken of as a pirate, and her officers and crew were dubbed buccaneers. While some of the newspapers were disposed to order out Captain Pegram and his crew for instant execution, there were others which were quite friendly in tone. I remember that it became necessary for Captain Pegram to write a letter to “The Times,” in which he explained that, far from being “a pirate,” he was a regularly commissioned officer of the Confederate States Navy, and that the Nashville was a vessel of war of the Confederate States, entitled to the consideration that would be shewn to the war vessel of any other Government. This view was taken by the English authorities, although, under the proclamation of neutrality which the Queen had issued, the Nashville was not allowed to obtain any sort of equipment which could, by any stretch of the imagination, be conceived to be capable of use in war. The authorities at Southampton were so strict in their construction of the neutrality proclamation that they objected to our strengthening the forward deck, lest it might increase the efficiency of the vessel for fighting purposes. No repairs were allowed to be made except such as would place the Nashville in the precise condition in which she was when she left Charleston. The passage had been rough, or no repairs of the kind allowed would have been necessary. Punch, of course, made fun of the whole business, and had some rhyming verses on the subject, in which the name of Captain Pegram, the commander of the Nashville, was made to rhyme with “megrim.”
It occurred to me that if I could in any way secure a passage to the South on the Nashville, it would be much better than trying to get there by way of Nassau or the Potomac. A man named Smith, to whom I was introduced in London by a friend, and who told me that a near kinsman of his was at that time, or had been, Governor of Arkansas, gave me a letter of introduction to Mr. North, who was one of the Confederate agents in London. I saw Mr. North and told him what I wanted, but I do not think that I made a very favorable impression. It seemed to him so extravagant a project that he evidently doubted my sincerity and honesty of purpose. The most that I could accomplish was to obtain from him a note introducing me to Captain Pegram. This was something gained, and a few days afterwards I went to Southampton.
As I neared my destination, I was surprised to find how large a share of public attention was given to the Confederate vessel. The appearance of the Nashville, her size, her speed, and the probable plans of her commander were diligently canvassed by those traveling with me, and I was gratified to find that every one had a good opinion of the conduct and character of the officers and crew of the vessel. Upon my arrival I went at once to the docks, and far in the distance saw a flag which was entirely new and strange. As I drew nearer I found that it was flying from the peak of a large paddle-wheel steamer, painted black, and with more upper-works than I had been accustomed to see on sea-going vessels. The flag that I had seen was the Stars and Bars of the Confederacy, and the vessel was the Nashville. I went aboard and to my great annoyance was told that Captain Pegram was in London. The officer on duty was very courteous and disposed to be communicative, and I had a long talk with him. This officer was Lieutenant John J. Ingraham, of Charleston, S. C. I learned that he was a graduate of the Naval Academy at Annapolis, and it rather daunted me to be told that one could not expect to attain the rank of officer in the Navy unless one had had the thorough training of a naval school, or practical education at sea.
Some days later I went down to Southampton again, and this time saw Captain Pegram. The sweetness and dignity of his manner impressed me at once, and I unbosomed myself to him without reserve. I may mention here that he had been twenty-five or thirty years in the Navy when Virginia seceded from the Union, and instantly resigned his commission to share the fortunes of his native State. In his profession he had already gained distinction, and I have seen the sword of honor presented to him by the State of Virginia in recognition of his gallantry in an engagement with pirates in the Chinese Seas. On the golden scabbard of this sword his name and rank are engraved, with this simple but eloquent inscription:
“The State of Virginia to a devoted son.”
It need not be said that Captain Pegram was exceedingly kind and patient, but he told me frankly that it was impossible for him to do what I wished. He said: “I have no office which I can give you, and this being a Government vessel, I cannot take you as a passenger.” Afterwards, I learned that some of the officers suggested that I might be a “Yankee spy” endeavoring to get into a position where I should be able to report the movements of the Nashville to her anxious friends on the other side. Amongst other things, Captain Pegram told me that there would be plenty of opportunities of reaching the South, as the United States would certainly refuse to surrender Messrs. Mason and Slidell [who had been taken from the English mail steamer Trent by Captain Wilkes of the San Jacinto, on November 8th, 1861], and that England’s first act after declaring war would be to raise the blockade of the Southern ports. In spite of Captain Pegram’s refusal, I persisted in urging him to take me, and at last he said: “There is only one thing that can be done; if you like to go as a sailor before the mast I will take you, but of course you will not dream of doing that.” My answer was “I will do it; and I hope that you will let me know when you are about to sail, in order that I may be here in time.” Captain Pegram told me that he would do this, but either forgot it or supposed that my intentions must have changed when I realized what I had undertaken. But I did not realize it, and I did not change my mind. I ought to say here that, although I was twenty-one years old at this time, I did not look more than seventeen or eighteen, which will account for the habit that Captain Pegram has had of saying that I was a mere boy at the time that he made my acquaintance.
I returned to London, and began at once to make arrangements for my departure. My friend from Arkansas told me that the one indispensable thing was a bowie-knife, and he explained the divers uses to which this weapon could be put, assuring me that I would have no difficulty in seizing the gun of a Yankee soldier by the muzzle and, with one dexterous blow, severing the barrel in twain. Another way of using it was to attach a cord to the handle of this bowie-knife and, with a skillful throw, to drive the blade into the heart of the advancing foeman, and, when he should have fallen, to haul it back by the string, and repeat the operation on another of the enemy. I had not much faith in my ability to use the bowie-knife in this fashion, but I ordered one to be made by a surgical instrument maker, according to a pattern given me by my Arkansas friend. A sanguinary looking weapon it was. The blade was fifteen inches long and about three inches wide, at the broadest part, and a third of an inch thick at the back. I provided myself with a sea-chest, which, according to Marryatt’s novels, was indispensable to a sea-faring man, caused my name to be painted on it in big white letters, and held myself in readiness to start. But no summons came. The papers would occasionally say that the Nashville was to sail in a day or two, and I had many a false alarm. Tired of waiting, I bade good-bye to my people at home, and went down to Southampton, determined to remain there until the time for going aboard should come.
At Southampton I purchased a sailor’s outfit, and, when I had rigged myself out in what I considered the proper style, I went down to the vessel. I wore a blue woolen shirt open at the neck; a black silk handkerchief, with ample flowing ends, tied loosely around the neck; blue trousers, made very tight at the knee and twenty-two inches in circumference at the bottom, and on my head a flat cloth cap ornamented with long black ribbons. I had besides, in the famous sea-chest, a pea jacket, sea boots, and the necessary under-clothing. As a reminder of my former estate, I retained a suit of dress clothes, and a black Inverness cape which I had been in the habit of wearing.
As well as I can remember, it was on New Year’s Day, 1862, that I went aboard the Nashville.
I reported to the officer of the deck, and told him that I had been ordered by Captain Pegram to come aboard for duty. I was turned over to the boatswain, who told me to go down into the “foksle.” Up to this time I was supposed to be, what I appeared to be, a sailor. As a matter of fact my experience in nautical affairs had been confined to sailing miniature yachts on the Serpentine in Hyde Park, but I thought I had considerable theoretical knowledge obtained from the romances of Marryatt and Chamier, and Dana’s excellent book: “Two Years Before the Mast.”
Following my conductor, Mr. Sawyer, I tumbled down the “companion,” and found myself in as pleasant a place for being uncomfortable, as any one could desire.
The foksle, or forecastle, was about ten feet long, about five feet six inches high, and about ten feet broad aft, and six feet forward. The lack of height was an advantage to me, as when the vessel rolled I could hold on with my head and have my hands at liberty. On each side of the forecastle were the bunks or “rabbit hutches” for the crew. In the centre was a small table supported against the windlass bitt, a heavy piece of timber which passed through the forecastle. Around the bitt were hung a number of one-pronged forks, notched knives, and battered spoons, matching each other in only one thing—dirt. Twelve o’clock or “eight bells” rang, and the crew came down to dinner. There were but eight seamen on the Nashville, and they represented almost as many different nations. There was an Irishman, and a Belgian, a North Carolinian and a Swede, a fat Cockney Englishman and a Frenchman, a Scotchman and a Spaniard. I found them to be mean, treacherous and obscene, and I shall say no more about them than is absolutely necessary. The dinner on the first day will serve as a sample of our usual diet, and of the crew’s habitual behavior. First, there was a scramble for the knives, forks and spoons; then a greasy boy brought down a large dish containing roast beef and potatoes, and dumped it on the deck. The men clustered around the dish. One of them seized the meat with his left hand, hacked off a large piece with the dull knife in his right, clutched a handful of potatoes out of the dish, and then retired to a quiet corner with his prey. Each of the others did the same. When my turn came I had no appetite, and, until I left Southampton, my custom was to make up in town for my enforced abstinence aboard ship. The food was good in itself, and there was plenty of it, but it was wretchedly served, as I have mentioned. A bunk was assigned me, but I did not sleep much that first night. The next morning I went to Mr. Sawyer, the boatswain, and asked him for something to do. He proceeded to question me, found that I knew nothing of a sea-faring life, and told me very frankly that I was not worth my salt. However, he furnished me with a bucket and some soap, and told me to go to work and scour the paint. When I had amused myself with this for some hours, I was given a rag and told to polish up the brass-work. This ended, I occupied myself in sweeping decks and cleaning out spittoons. This was about the daily routine of my life on the Nashville. Usually only one man was on watch at night, and this part of the duty I found reasonably pleasant, as I could ensconce myself in the pilot house and read a novel to pass away the time, when I was not required on deck. The officers, especially the younger ones, were not particularly careful to return aboard at the appointed time, and I suppose that the dignified Solicitor of the Western Union Telegraph Company, Mr. Clarence Cary, has forgotten how I have connived at his slipping aboard, over the rail, when he had stayed in town longer than was good for him. Every day or two I was allowed to go ashore in the evening, and, leaving my sailor garb behind me, I led, for a few hours, a pleasant life in town. Mr. Sawyer, the boatswain, was very indignant one night, because he took off his hat and made me a profound bow, fancying that I was some distinguished visitor.
I think it was early in January, 1862, that a little commotion was caused by the report that the United States sloop-of-war Tuscarora had anchored in Southampton Water, and that Captain Craven, who was in command, had announced his intention to take the Nashville into either New York or Boston. Neither of these ports was our destination. Besides the eight seamen on the Nashville, we had about thirty firemen and coal-heavers, and in officers we were particularly rich, having, besides the Captain and Executive Officer, a Sailing-master, Purser, Doctor and seven Midshipmen. The men went ashore as often as they could obtain leave, or steal off unobserved, and the Tuscarora’s men did the same.
There was a Music Hall at Southampton in those days, known as the “Rainbow” or the “Wheat Sheaf,” which, being cheap and warm, was a favorite resort with us. The entertainment was not of a high order, but it answered the purpose. The sympathies of the Southampton people were unquestionably with the Confederates, and the Tuscarora’s men were thought very little of. They had a hard time of it. When they went to the “Rainbow,” any of the Nashville’s men who happened to be there was sure to call out for the “Bonnie Blue Flag” or “Dixie,” which was instantly played with the full force of the small orchestra, amid the hurrahs of the audience. But if the Tuscarora’s men ventured to suggest “Yankee Doodle” or “Hail Columbia,” they were hooted down incontinently. Consequently, fights were frequent, and, as the newspapers were friendly to us, the “Yankees” were always the aggressors, and were always the unfortunates to be locked up for the night, and lectured and fined by the magistrate in the morning. I must admit that we generally brought on the row ourselves, but, when it was over, and the wrong men had been put in the station house, we had the satisfaction of going down to the Nashville, singing lustily and giving cheer after cheer for the Southern Confederacy and Jeff Davis.
In the meantime, Captain Pegram had been in correspondence with the English Government, with regard to the threatening attitude of the Tuscarora, and it was announced officially that neither vessel would be allowed to leave Southampton within twenty-four hours after the departure of the other. This was kind, for, although there were many rumors concerning our armament, we really had but two guns, (12 pound Blakeley’s) which had been lent to Captain Pegram by Governor Pickens, of South Carolina. Soon rumors came that we were about to sail in real earnest, and popular curiosity was so stimulated that crowds of persons came down from London to take a look at “the pirate.” Many of them were disappointed at our peaceful appearance, but most of them agreed that the vessel was appropriately painted black. The Nashville was now hauled to the outer dock, and the authorities were notified that we were ready to sail. The appointed day was February 3, 1862, and thousands of persons, including many of our warm Southampton friends, thronged the docks. Amid cheers and waving handkerchiefs and cordial Godspeeds, the Nashville, at about half-past 3 o’clock in the afternoon, under a full head of steam, glided out into Southampton Water. Passing rapidly down the channel, the Confederate flag flying at the fore and mainmast, we saw lying off Osborne our old enemy, the Tuscarora, with steam up, but alongside was lying the British frigate Shannon, fully prepared to have a word to say, if Captain Craven should attempt to sail before the appointed time. This was some comfort to us, and we were soon gently rising and falling on the waves of the broad Atlantic.
I will give, at this place, some verses that I wrote at the time, and which used to be sung aboard. The air, as well as I remember, was very much like one that I had heard at the “Rainbow.”
THE NASHVILLE DIXIE.
1.
’Tis long years since our fathers fought,
Our Country dear to free;
Our chartered rights, scaled with their blood,
Were the fruits of victory.
They knew not how to cringe or kneel,
The despot’s train to swell,
The first deep thought in every breast
Was to love old Dixie well.
Chorus—Hurrah! three cheers! so gaily let us sing,
Of all the lands that crown the earth
Old Dixie’s is the king.
2.
Our liberties are threatened now,
Armed hosts invade our soil.
Yet Northern bands, in hurried flight,
From Dixie’s sons recoil.
We scorn their threats, deride their vows,
We know the foeman’s worth,
No Vandal band shall e’er command
The land that gave us birth.
Chorus—Hurrah! three cheers! so gaily let us sing,
Of all the lands that crown the earth
Old Dixie’s is the king.
3.
The free-born rights our fathers won
Will we, their sons, maintain,
The honor of our spotless flag
Untarnished shall remain.
No Northern star shall ever shine
Where the Southern Cross has waved,
Nor while a hand can grasp a sword
Shall Dixie’s be enslaved.
Chorus—Hurrah! three cheers! so gaily let us sing,
Of all the lands that crown the earth,
Old Dixie’s is the king.
The morning after our departure from Southampton, the crew were mustered into the service of the Confederate States and signed the articles. I was rated as a “landsman,” or a “boy.” The crew were divided into two watches, and the regular routine of duty at sea began. I found that I had twelve hours on duty out of every twenty-four, and at no time more than four consecutive hours to call my own. For instance, to-day I would be on duty from 12 to 4 A. M., 8 A. M. to 12 M., 4 to 6 P. M., and 8 to 12 P. M., and so on in uninterrupted succession. This was rather hard work for one who was fond of comfort and late breakfasts, but I speedily learned not to lose any time in going to sleep, and undressing appeared a useless indulgence. This was not the worst of it. The wind was fair, and we had been running under the foresail, foretopsail and spanker, when some evil genius inspired the officer of the deck to order all hands aloft to reef the foretopsail. Now I knew nothing of gymnastics. I had never attempted to climb a greasy pole or a rope in my life, and was unaccustomed to any more difficult mode of reaching a given elevation than by the use of easy stairs, with a strong baluster. The Nashville was rolling handsomely, and I was not eager to respond to the call that had been made, hoping that my assistance would not be needed or expected by my hardy companions. But Sawyer, the boatswain, had no idea of allowing me to escape in that way, and enquired, in his usual polite way, whether I intended to be all day making up my mind. I told him I thought not, and started up the shrouds. Making a desperate effort to be lively, I missed every second or third ratline and scraped most of the skin off my shins. At last I reached the mast-head and got on the topsail yard. My calculation was that the best place for me was close to the mast, which I might hug with one arm while I helped to manipulate the flapping sail with the other; but the men who were up there would not hear of this. With much profanity, they told me that the proper place for me was out at the extreme end of the yard. Suspended under the yards, as customary, and parallel with it, was a foot rope. Planting my feet squarely against this, and resting my chest upon the yard and holding on like grim death with my hands, I got out to the yard-arm, but here the foot rope was so close to the yard that it was of little use to me. Just then one of the men gave the rope a jerk. My heels went up and my head went down, but I saved myself from falling by a violent effort and trusted the foot rope no more. Using both hands in lifting the sail, I balanced my body as well as I could upon the yard, and at this moment I confess I would not have given a sixpence for my chance of seeing the next morning’s sun. I came down safe, however, as you perceive, and more scared than hurt. The men said that I left the marks of my fingers on the stays, and that the wood was indented where I grasped the yard. After a while I became accustomed to going aloft, although I never could make myself believe that it was better to be at the yard-arm than nearest the mast. The men were right, however, in regarding the former as the easiest berth, as the weight of the sail to be lifted is the least there.
The Nashville having been originally a passenger steamer, as I have already mentioned, carried only enough coal in the bunkers for six or eight days steaming, so we were soon employed in hoisting coal from the lower hold forward, and running it aft to the bunkers. So long as the work was at the windlass on deck I got along very well, but, when I was sent down into the stifling atmosphere of the lower hold to fill the baskets with coal, I quickly ended the difficulty by fainting. When I revived, I went on deck and told Mr. Sawyer what had taken place. As one of the officers whom I knew was looking at him, he contented himself with saying that “I was no account anyhow, and might as well stay on deck.”
This is as good a place as any to give the names of the officers: The commanding officer, as I said before, was Captain Robert B. Pegram, of Virginia; the First Lieutenant and Executive officer was Mr. Bennett; Lieutenant John J. Ingraham, of South Carolina, was the Sailing-master; the Second Lieutenant was Mr. Whittle, of Norfolk, Virginia; Dr. John L. Ancrum, of Charleston, was the Surgeon; Mr. Richard Taylor, of Norfolk, Virginia, was the Paymaster. The Midshipmen were: Thomas, of Georgia; McClintock, of Mississippi; J. W. Pegram (the Captain’s son), of Virginia; Clarence Cary, of Virginia; Hamilton, of South Carolina; Sinclair, of Virginia; Dalton, of Mississippi. The Master-at-arms was Lewis Hill, of Richmond, Virginia. We had aboard, also, a Charleston pilot, Captain James Evans.
My intercourse with the officers was very pleasant while at Southampton, and I was on excellent terms with Cary, Pegram, Dalton, Hamilton and McClintock while we were at sea. They were careful, of course, not to allow their personal consideration for me to interfere in any way with a proper regard for the discipline of the ship. Cary was anxious to improve himself in French, and I gave him a lesson nearly every day. To one of the other midshipmen I gave some lessons in music. The sailors were very much disgusted that any special kindness should be shown me, and really, until we reached Bermuda, this kindness on the part of the officers was confined necessarily to a friendly nod, or other greeting, excepting when I was giving any of the midshipmen such little assistance in French and music as I have mentioned.
The second day after we left Southampton my trunk was broken open and nearly everything I had in it was stolen by the sailors. I complained to Mr. Bennett, who suggested that I ought to have expected it, and should have been careful to keep my trunk securely locked, or to have had in it nothing that was worth stealing.
Captain Pegram did not appear to know that I was on board until we had been several days at sea. I was engaged one morning in sweeping the deck, or cleaning paint, when he stepped out from the pilot house, and seemed to recognize me. He nodded and said “good morning,” and that was all. My heart sank and I felt forsaken.
In order to baffle the Tuscarora, who was sure to pursue us, Captain Pegram took a more northerly route than was usual; and on the fourth or fifth day after sailing the wind freshened sharply, and in a few hours blew with terrible force. The ship was old, and unprepared for bad weather, and it was not without anxiety that our officers saw the tempest approach. In twenty-four hours the gale had reached its height. The waves were running awfully high to my unaccustomed eyes, and were battering the sides of the ship as though determined to force an entrance. Nobly, however, did the NashvilleNashville