BLOCKADE RUNNING
Tales of Adventure in Eluding Watchful Blockaders
THE Great War of 1914-15 showed what the command of the sea really meant. It showed that even although the greatest navy in the world had little opportunity in the early stages to meet its foes in a decisive battle—through the latter lurking in their harbours—yet there was much work to be done: the guarding of the ocean routes, the exertion of silent pressure upon the enemy, who found his shipping held up in harbour, and was unable to import food by the coast even before a blockade had been declared. On the other hand, in another chapter we have shown how German raiding cruisers also played havoc with the Allies’ shipping, and pounced upon outlying places—only at last to be brought to book. Here we are concerned only with ships that have run blockades, slipping through the cordon drawn around coasts, running the risk of being sunk or captured.
“There was a whoosh! whoosh! of a rocket heavenwards—the warning to the blockading fleet”
To go back to an earlier date, and a war which was as nothing compared with the world war, we find that during the American Civil War the Federals imposed a strict blockade of the southern ports whence the much-needed cotton was shipped. As a result cotton soared in price, and men found a means to make fortunes by slipping into blockaded ports with cargoes of stuff wanted by the Confederates and taking cargoes of cotton in their place, and then running the gauntlet of the watchful ships. Blockade running attracted hardy adventurers of all nationalities—men to whom adventure was the spice of life, and who, incidentally, found the spice pretty hot!
One of the most daring of these runners was Captain Hobart, an Englishman who joined the Royal Navy in 1836, worked hard and well in the suppression of the slave trade in South America, served later in the Crimean War, retiring in 1860. When the Civil War broke out he took service as a blockade-runner, and many were the daring trips he made. Wilmington was his favourite port, although at the mouth of the river the Federal fleet were in strong force, bombarding Fort Fisher and keeping up the blockade, holding up ships that were not fortunate enough to slip by in the night, and chasing those which did not stop on command.
Hobart didn’t stop, although on one occasion he was chased for many miles by a Federal cruiser. In his cotton-laden ship he had slipped out of the river and passed Fort Fisher at eleven o’clock one night, knowing full well that lying off the mouth of the river were twenty-five ships waiting to catch such as he.
It was pitch dark, and the blockade-runner, with no lights showing, went at full steam ahead through the channel over the bar, guided only by the faint lights the Confederates had cunningly placed to enable ships to enter the river safely. Hobart navigated his vessel by these, and crossed the bar; and then saw that a large barge had been placed by the Federals at the entrance for the purpose of signalling if any ship tried to slip out. The cotton ship almost ran the barge down, but by quick manœuvring avoided doing so, and steamed on. Next instant there was the whoosh! whoosh! and a rocket sped heavenwards—the warning to the blockading fleet. Then there was the boom of a gun; but Hobart pushed forward, turned eastward, steaming a mile or so from the coast. Now and then there came the sound of guns being fired, sometimes quite close at hand; but they saw no ship, neither were they seen by any apparently, for nothing untoward happened until about nine o’clock the next morning, when through the rising mist they saw a large cruiser bearing down upon them.
It was a case of running for it, and the cotton ship sped on with her engines pounding out every ounce of power there was in them. After her came the cruiser, gaining at every yard, for the cargo of the runner was very heavy, and she was unable to show a clean pair of heels to the pursuer.
Some of the bales of cotton were shifted aft in order to sink the screws as deep as possible, and so increase the speed; but even this did not help them much, and the cruiser was still gaining. Then Hobart had a stroke of luck. About a mile in front of him he saw peculiar ripples which he knew betokened the proximity of the Gulf Stream. If he could only get his ship into the stream quickly he might stand a chance of escape, for the Gulf Stream, going at the rate of three miles an hour, would help them on their way considerably. The course was altered at once, and the cotton ship sped on towards the stream, into which she entered; and immediately her speed was accelerated. Meanwhile, the cruiser had also changed course, but had not got into the bosom of the stream, with the result that after a time Hobart found he had gained some seven miles on her.
Then about twelve o’clock the cruiser entered the stream, and again the distance between the two ships lessened, till by five o’clock only about three miles separated them; and shortly after the cruiser opened fire without result. Seven o’clock, and she was still nearer, for her shots went over the cotton ship, and Hobart began to think it was a case of giving up. Then night fell, and the sky was overcast; fortunately the cotton ship was in shadow cast by the moon shining over edge of clouds. This made a huge difference to their chance of escape, for when it came out from behind the clouds it showed the chasing cruiser quite plainly, but did not reveal her quarry, although she was barely a mile away. Luck was certainly on Hobart’s side!
Changing his course, in order to confuse his pursuer, who was still firing guns in rapid succession, although she could not see her aim, Hobart presently gave the order to “Stop!” and the cotton ship came to rest, steam was blown off under water, and the still and silent ship remained there till presently the men on board saw the cruiser go racing past them, firing madly at nothing!
Hobart got that cargo of cotton through all right!
Another Confederate blockade-runner was Captain William Watson, of the Rob Roy schooner. He was also a dispatch-carrier on the occasion we are about to narrate, Major-General Magruder having entrusted him with important documents which he was to deliver to the Confederate States consul at Havana.
The night decided on to make the run was dark, and there was a good strong wind, but an uncertain one; outside the mouth of the Brazos River lurked a number of Federal cruisers and gunboats. Watson had for company two other schooners, the Hind and the Mary Elizabeth. The Rob Roy took the pilot aboard and led the way down the river and over the bar; the Rob Roy and the Mary Elizabeth managed to get away without being seen, but the Hind dropped astern and was captured. Once clear of the mouth of the river the other two schooners sped under all the sail they dare hoist, having to be sparing with it lest the white show against the cliffs and reveal their presence. They had something like ten or eleven hours of darkness before them, and hoped to be well away from the watchful cruisers by that time. A gale sprang up, for which they were thankful, as it carried the ships along at a rattling pace. The Mary Elizabeth, however, was separated from the Rob Roy, which romped through the seas at a speed that delighted Watson, for by noon next day they had come a hundred and thirty miles without anything unforeseen happening. The only unfortunate thing was that the ship was now in the track of Federal cruisers searching for blockade-runners between New Orleans and Point Isabel; and while Watson was thinking seriously of this the wind dropped and the schooner was becalmed. The sails were lowered, so that the ship should not be so noticeable to any passing vessel, and Watson paced his deck eating his head off with impatience, expecting every minute to see a cruiser on the horizon. At two o’clock he saw a ship which he knew spelt danger. Instantly he made up his mind what to do. In the Brazos River they had picked up a couple of sweeps, and these were brought into use, together with boat oars. Then all the men available bent their backs to the task of rowing the schooner! They steered her so that she would go out of the course of the new-comer, and after working like niggers for goodness knows how long they managed to get her three miles, and then saw the other vessel pass them seven miles away. Watson thanked his lucky stars that he had taken in his sails, for the bare poles he knew would be scarcely visible to a steamer at such a distance away.
So far, so good. Towards evening a light breeze came up, sails were set once more, and the schooner went on her way until early next morning, when the wind dropped again, and the sails were lowered as before. She was becalmed for that day and the following night; and in the morning there appeared a large ship which some of the men aboard were sure was a man-o’-war. So it was out sweeps again to get the schooner out of danger. When they were some nine miles away from the man-o’-war the wind came up, which—strange how men get what they want when they would rather be without it!—they regarded as unfortunate, for they dared not hoist sail lest they be discovered.
Eventually, however, it was decided to take the risk, and every inch of canvas was crowded on, and away sped the Rob Roy, Watson hoping to get clear before the man-o’-war had a chance to hoist her sails. They had gone some distance when they noticed that the wind had caught the warship, and that she had hoisted all her canvas and was pelting along after them as fast as she could sail. Watson suddenly tacked, and the large vessel, keeping on her port tack, passed by to leeward some six miles away. Then, when she tacked about to follow them, Watson went back to his old course, and once more gained on her, for every time the warship changed course she had to lose way.
So the queer chase went on; but the warship gained upon the Rob Roy, and Watson’s one hope was that he would be able to keep at a safe distance, out of range of her guns, until night fell, when he would stand a better chance of giving her the slip. The sailors on the man-o’-war, anticipating that the wind would soon drop, worked hard to get their vessel as near to the runaway as possible, so that if that should happen they might be able to tackle her in their boats. Watson knew this, and still kept tacking about to increase the distance, until at last the wind did fall and the two ships were becalmed.
The man-o’-war was some four miles off then, and Watson had his sweeps and oars out again, the men falling to with a will; but as there was a slight sea against them they were not able to propel the ship so far as they had done previously. Soon Watson saw a couple of boats put off from the warship, their men pulling with all their might, hoping to catch the schooner before the breeze came up again. When they were a mile away the wind came, and the Rob Roy, aided by the sweeps, began to make some way, but not sufficient to outpace the boats, one of which came to within a quarter of a mile. The men on board now began to think that all was up, that they might just as well surrender; and Watson got his dispatches ready to throw overboard. He had wrapped them in canvas, weighted with a piece of chain, so that they should sink and not fall into the enemy’s hands.
Just when it seemed that they must be overhauled the wind became stronger, and the men, working hard at their sweeps, the sails bulging out as they caught the breeze, carried the schooner along at a pace that soon left the boats far behind; and the men stood up and waved their hands tauntingly to the sailors who had thought to have them in a few minutes.
A rifle-shot rang out across the waters, then others, and the bullets whistled across the deck, narrowly missing the men. The warship now made after her boats, to pick them up, and this gave the Rob Roy a better chance of escape. Then the wind freshened so much that Watson became nervous; too much wind was not good for the overladen Rob Roy, and the sea was getting very boisterous. To make matters worse, the schooner was leaking very badly, and some of the men had to be told off to work the pumps for all they were worth.
As night fell the warship had gained considerably, and opened fire with her guns, the shots, however, falling short. Then the Rob Roy was hidden by the darkness. Watson at once changed his tack in order to baffle the pursuer, and all through the night the schooner scudded before the wind, and by morning had left the cruiser far behind, reaching Tampico in due course without further adventure.