iniiiBiiffi Memoirs of C APT. 8. 5. OSBON !* : 't be r t B i g e low P ai n e OF THE U N I VERS ITY OF ILLINOIS E> oei3oi 1907 remote storage A Sailor of Fortune P III lyi |;' 1 1 ' A Sailor of Fortune Personal Memoirs of Captain B. S. Osbon by ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE NEW YORK THE McCLURE COMPANY MCMVII Copyright , i But not all the commanders at Southern military points submitted or became party to the secession move- ment. Some of them strengthened their positions in preparation for the conflict which they saw coming. Colonel Gardiner, who was in command of the de- fences at Charleston Harbour, attempted to increase his supply of ammunition, and as early as October, i860, i°5 106 A Sailor of Fortune was removed by the Secretary of War, John Buchanan Floyd, who for more than a year had been quietly arming the South in preparation for the coming struggle.* Major Robert Anderson was appointed to succeed Gardiner, but being a man of staunch loyalty he im- mediately reported the condition of affairs, and urged that Fort Sumter and Castle Pinckney be strongly garrisoned, if the Government meant to command the harbour. General Scott, then Commander in Chief of the United States Army, also urged the matter, but Secretary Floyd had excellent reasons for giving no attention to these pleas. On his own responsibility, therefore, Major Anderson began to strengthen the defences of the harbour, and when the South Caro- lina Ordinance of Secession had passed, and he knew that commissioners had been appointed to proceed to Washington and demand the surrender of the Charles- ton forts, he realised that with his little body of loyal men he must at once take up the strongest position for defence. This was Fort Sumter, which he entered, without instructions, on the evening of December 26th, i860. Secretary Floyd immediately ordered An- derson to explain his conduct, and the gallant Major’s reply was that it was to save the government works. He likewise asked for reinforcements and supplies, and the retiring administration was placed in the em- * “ During the past year 135,430 muskets have been quietly transferred from the Northern arsenal at Springfield alone to those of the Southern States. We are much obliged to Secretary Floyd for the foresight he has thus displayed in disarming the North and equipping the South for this emergency .” — Mobile Advertiser. Beginning of Civil War 107 barrassing position either of complying with a proper and loyal request or of openly abetting the secession movement. Days were allowed to pass without ac- tion, during which the insurgents were busy obstruct- ing the harbour, enfilading all its approaches and re- moving the lights and buoys essential to the safe en- trance of relieving vessels. It was only after these preparations were fairly complete that a vessel, the Star of the West, was chartered by the Government to carry supplies and reinforcements to Sumter. It is probable that President Buchanan was sincere enough in this attempt at succour for Major Ander- son, but the President was surrounded by disloyal men, and Jacob Thompson, Secretary of the Interior, by his own confession afterward acknowledged that he sent word to the Charleston authorities “ that the Star of the West was coming wit|j reinforcements.” She sailed on January 5th, with great and ostenta- tious secrecy, commanded by my old friend John Mc- Gowan, under whom, it will be remembered, I had risen to the position of chief mate on the steamship Moses Taylor. As reporter for the World I was to have gone with the Star of the West, holding nominally the position of second officer, but in the eager and very manifest anxiety to get her off secretly she sailed in broad day- light, several hours ahead of time, and before I could get my luggage to the wharf at the foot of Warren Street. I do not wish it understood that Captain Mc- Gowan was ever for a single instant insincere in his purpose. He was simply master of the ship, acting under orders from Washington. The vessel that io8 A Sailor of Fortune night, down the bay, took on two hundred and fifty artillerists and marines, with arms and ammunition, and proceeded on her way, reaching Charleston Bar before daylight, January 9th. But she never reached Fort Sumter. Two miles from that point the first cannon shot of the South against the North came ricochetting across her bows from a masked battery on Morris Island, three-quar- ters of a mile away. The national flag was flying at her gaff, and Captain McGowan immediately flung out a large American ensign at her fore. This only increased the firing. Morris Island thundered away, and now and then a shot came from Fort Moultrie. Two steam tugs and an armed schooner put out to intercept her. Being an ordinary paddle-wheel ocean steamer, without armament, she was in no position to defend herself, and Captain McGowan, finding him- self hemmed in and in imminent danger, put about, after seventeen shots had been fired at him, and re- turned to New York, where he arrived January 12th. It became known later that a very small quantity of powder was in the Charleston forts at this time, and had Major Anderson been properly advised he would have opened with his powerful guns under cover of which the Star of the West might have come safely to port. It was never intended that she should do so. The expedition ended precisely as had been planned by those who cajoled the President and abetted seces- sion at Washington. The great Civil War had begun, though it was not until the fall of Sumter, three months later, that the Federal Government was will- ing to acknowledge it. XXII My First Meeting with Abraham Lincoln W ITH the return of the Star of the West, excitement in the North ran high. The outlook was dark and people’s hearts were full of foreboding. In the South preparations for war went on at a lively pace. Soldiers were drilling, tugs were being converted into gunboats, and every- body expected to fight within a few days. Heavy guns and mortars were conveyed to Charleston, and quantities of powder. The Times correspondent at that place reported that 487,000 pounds had arrived within a few weeks after the Star of the West inci- dent. The “ Southern Congress,” which was con- vened at Montgomery, was said to be “ tinkering with the tariff,” and passing an unnecessary law that “ bread-stuffs and munitions of war were to be ad- mitted free.” One going over the old files of dailies to-day can but faintly imagine the excitement and intensity of feeling with which these reports were first read, now more than forty-five years ago. Still the Administra- tion at the North did nothing, and would do nothing until the inauguration of Lincoln, an event which cer- tain fire-eating and fire-breathing politicians had de- clared would never take place. It was on February 19th, 1861, that Lincoln 109 no A Sailor of Fortune reached New York on his inaugural journey from his home in Springfield to Washington. He came by the way of Albany, Troy, and Poughkeepsie, making short speeches at each stop, and was hailed by thou- sands of shouting people as the Moses who was to lead them from the wilderness of obscure paths and impending perils. At each place he assured them quietly and gently that he would do what he believed to be right and for the best, and the impression that he made was deep and lasting. At Thirtieth Street between Ninth and Tenth Ave- nues, New York City, the new Hudson River Railway Station was thrown open for the first time that day. The engine of the presidential train was decked as gaily as a bride, and at three o’clock, p. m., it slowly drew its precious freight through the cheering multi- tude to the platform. From here the grand procession to the Astor House equalled even that of the Prince of Wales, every street being a mass of banners and bunt- ing and cheering throngs. Whatever of disloyalty there was in New York, and there was plenty of it, did not manifest itself on that day. I saw Mr. Lincoln in person at the Astor House that night. I was not detailed to interview him for the World, but went over of my own accord. I was ushered into his presence and introduced my- self, stating that I was an old traveller. I shall never forget his appearance or his position. He leaned his right elbow on the mantelpiece, and his face wore a sad, care-worn look, as if he would be glad to be let alone. He straightened himself up and asked me where I had travelled. I replied, “ All over the world Meeting with Lincoln 1 1 1 — came near getting to both poles in one voyage,” adding that I had spent most of my life on the ocean, and had now drifted into journalism for the reason that I liked an “ all night in ” once in a while. Tired as he evidently was, he seemed interested in my chat, which perhaps was a change from the political and personal questions which had been put to him throughout his travels. I was still telling him my ad- ventures when the newspaper men appeared. Then he talked to them. I saw Mr. Lincoln many times after that, the first being just after the battle of Bull Run. He remem- bered me instantly, and asked some particulars about an incident I had previously narrated. From that time I counted him as one of my friends, and such he proved. He was always ready with an amusing tale, some anecdote to illustrate his point. Later in the war I often supplied him with news before it came in the official way, but that is looking too far ahead. It was my first talk with him at the Astor House that I re- member most vividly. There before me stood the man upon whom the fate of >a nation rested. There in his face was written all the sad forecast and resolution of the coming struggle. In a little speech made next day, I think, he said : “ When the time comes, I shall take the ground that I think is right — right for the North, for the South, for the East, for the West, for the whole coun- try.” That was what I saw written in his face — the resolve that, come what would, misunderstanding, bitterness, and tragedy, he would take the ground he considered right, and he would maintain it to the end. XXIII I Engage in a Second Attempt to Relieve Sumter T HE successful inauguration of Lincoln only made more bitter the feeling of the South. The inaugural address was denounced as a declaration of war by men who had never seen a sin- gle word of it in print. The war element did not want to read the message. They wanted only war. On the day of his inauguration a message came to the President from Major Anderson in which he stated that a force of 20,000 men would now be needed to relieve the fortress within the time when such relief would avail the survivors, whose stores and ammunition were limited. Lincoln gave the mat- ter immediate consideration, being at first inclined to abandon the fort, thereby removing what South Caro- lina seemed to regard as her chief excuse for rebel- lion. This policy did, in fact, greatly disturb men like Senators Wigfall and Pryor, who were for war at all hazards, and advocated a baptism of fire and blood. But the policy of withdrawal would not do. The question was deeper than that, and no temporary re- lief, however soothingly applied, would result in any permanent good. In his inaugural, the President had pledged himself to use the force at his command to 112 Attempt to Relieve Sumter 113 hold, occupy and possess the forts and other property belonging to the United States, and the only question in his mind became the proper method of fulfilling this pledge. Major Anderson now regarded it as nearly impos- sible for any vessel to reach the gates of Fort Sumter. The gunners of the opposing forts had the range, as was demonstrated by an “ accidental shot ” striking the threshold of the Sumter gate during blank car- tridge practice from Morris Island. Any ship could certainly be destroyed, either before reaching the fort, or while disembarking. Nevertheless, Lincoln was determined to do what he could. In January, Gus- tavus V. Fox, formerly lieutenant in the navy, had presented to President Buchanan a plan for the relief of Sumter. Fox was now summoned to detail his plan to the new President, which, in brief, was to have supplies put up in portable packages, loaded on a ves- sel, to be convoyed by several men-of-war and three fast tugboats, which under cover of darkness were to run the supplies through to the forts. Launches were also to be used for this purpose. The plan with its possibilities of success appealed to the President, and Mr. Fox was sent to Charleston to visit Sumter. He was accorded special permission to visit the fort by Governor Pickens, and on his re- turn reported that Major Anderson had supplies to last until April 15th, and that any relief to be of value must arrive by that date. The President then ver- bally authorised him to prepare his expedition, which he did with energy and skill, having all ready for departure by the 9th of April. 1 14 A Sailor of Fortune The Collins liner, the Baltic, was selected as the troop and store ship of the expedition, which further consisted of the United States ships Powhatan, Pawnee, Pocahontas, and the little revenue cutter Harriet Lane (Captain John Faunce) whom we have met before in these chapters, rendering special service to the Prince of Wales. Besides these, there were the three swift tugs already mentioned. I may say here that the expedition, being a secret affair, did not sail as a fleet, but each craft separately — at different hours and, I believe, from various points. It was not to as- semble until it reached Charleston Bar. My recollec- tion is that the Pawnee and the Pocahontas came out of the Chesapeake. The Powhatan, selected as the flagship, left from some New York anchorage and dropping down the bay, took on Lieutenant (after- wards Admiral) Porter and proceeded directly to Fort Pickens, another point threatened by the Confeder- ates. The Baltic also left from New York, as did the Harriet Lane, though from different docks. Concern- ing the tugs I do not know, for I never saw them, and knew nothing of them at the time. It was to my old friend, Captain Faunce, that I applied for permission to go in the Harriet Lane. Being merely a World reporter, it was necessary that I should conform to the regulations in the matter of carrying civilians on the cutter, so Captain Faunce obligingly appointed me as his clerk and signal officer, and I became the only newspaper man in the fleet. There had been no announcement that our destina- tion was Fort Sumter, but I believe the fact was pretty generally understood by the officers — the crew Attempt to Relieve Sumter 115 remaining in entire ignorance of the nature of the cruise, or of the duties expected of them. Those on the Harriet Lane had enlisted only for cutter service, usually easy work, seldom involving deep-sea cruising or being away from anchorage at night. Certainly the idea of fighting was furthest from their thoughts. I may add that the Lane took on no extra stores or did anything to excite the suspicion that the vessel was bound on an adventurous voyage, except perhaps that she loaded an unusual amount of coal. When we left New York Harbour, on the morning of the 9th of April, 1861, not a soul on board knew positively whither she was bound, for she was despatched with “ sealed orders,” not to be opened until twelve hours had elapsed. The only sailing orders given were to steer south until the twelve hours had passed, after which we should learn our destination. We saw none of our fleet at the time of sailing, nor until we were off Charleston, for that matter, though of this later. We steered south, according to orders, heading straight for a storm then gathering off Hat- teras, that point where the brave little Monitor and so many other good ships lie buried. Toward evening, when the twelve hours were up, the official envelope was opened, and all hands then learned that we were on our way to a rendezvous off Charleston Bar, where we would meet other vessels and “ report to the senior naval officer present ” for further instructions. Fur- thermore, we were to haul down the revenue cutter ensign and pennant, and hoist in their stead the na*- tional ensign and navy pennant, and Captain Faunce was to announce to officers and men that the vessel had u6 A Sailor of Fortune been transferred from the Treasury to the Navy De- partment, and would hereafter be subject to the laws and regulations governing the same. Captain Faunce called all hands aft and read to them his orders from the Secretary of the Treasury. The men listened attentively, but so far as I could see, their faces did not bear evidence that they were glad of the change. They had not been hired to fight, and patriotism in the North had not then reached a very exalted pitch. Besides, it was by no means certain that all of these men had made up their minds as to the rights or wrongs of the Southern Cause. Captain Faunce, noting the lack of enthusiasm among the men, explained to them that in war time the laws specifically provided that all public armed vessels were held to be under the control of the Navy Department, and that the orders, therefore, were just, and must be obeyed without question or murmur. At this, some of the foremost spirits spoke up, de- claring that they had not entered the Revenue Cutter Service with the intention or expectation of going to war, and vigorously protested being put under fire against their will. They had set out on this cruise under false pretences, supposing they were simply shifting stations, and with no thought of going to battle. The talk of these spokesmen had the effect of in- citing a number of the crew to the verge of downright mutiny, and for a moment or two the situation looked alarming. Captain Faunce, however, was very cool. He reasoned with the men a little, and then he said: Attempt to Relieve Sumter n 7 “ Boys, this is a serious business. I want you to understand that you are placing yourselves in a very dangerous position. I appreciate your surprise and point of view. Still, as your commanding officer, I will say right here and now that every man must do his duty and obey orders implicitly, or, by God, he will never have a chance to see a gun fired in action! My orders are to take the ship to Charleston and to report to the senior officer, and I’m going to do so if I have to bury half of this ship’s company on the way. Go forward, now, and do your duty like good Amer- icans.” Then, turning to the boatswain, “ Pipe down! ” he said. A good deal of talk was indulged in by the crew when they reached their own end of the vessel, but by midnight all hands were about their work cheerfully, and obeyed as promptly as if the revenue pennant were still at the masthead. We now plunged full into the storm off Hatteras. The sea became very heavy and, loaded with coal as we were, we wallowed through the billows that broke over us continually, threatening to end our part of the expedition right there. At one time it was thought that to ease the vessel we should be obliged to throw some of our guns overboard. But the Harriet Lane proved to be an excellent sea boat, and on the nth of April we were off Charleston Bar, with all hands eager to learn what our real duties were to be. If I remember rightly, the Pawnee was already there, and perhaps the Baltic and Pocahontas. At all events, we arrived about the same time — all but the three tugs, of which we had been deprived in the heavy storm off 1 1 8 A Sailor of Fortune Hatteras. We anchored a little closer to the Bar than the others, and Captain Faunce went aboard the Pawnee, the senior ship, to report our arrival, and to arrange for a code of signals which would be unintel- ligible to the enemy. The sea was still heavy, the sky dark and stormy, and all buoys had been removed from the channels. It was impossible for vessels of any size to go inside the Bar, and as our tugs still failed to appear we were at a loss what to do. As we lay there waiting and undetermined, an incident oc- curred which I have never seen recorded, but which seems to me worthy of note. A vessel suddenly ap- peared through the mist from behind the Bar, a pas- senger steamer, which was made out to be the Nash- ville. She had no colours set, and as she approached the fleet she refused to show them. Captain Faunce ordered one of the guns manned, and as she came still nearer turned to the gunner. “ Stop her ! ” he said, and a shot went skipping across her bows. Immediately the United States ensign went to her gaff end, and she was allowed to proceed. The Har- riet Lane had fired the first shotted gun of the war from the Union side. I may here note that the Nash- ville was subsequently converted into a Confederate privateer, to which we shall have cause to refer again in these papers, and it seems a strange coincidence that I should thus have seen the first shot fired upon her, and was to see the last, which ten months later would send her to the bottom of the sea. Still at dusk on the evening of the nth our ill- fated tugs had not arrived, and without them our Attempt to Relieve Sumter 1 1 9 launches were of no avail.* Captain Faunce looked out over the gloomy, unmarked channel. “ For God’s sake,” he said, “ I hope they don’t ex- pect us to take these big vessels over the Bar.” We knew that we had been located by the enemy, for small craft had been scouting around during the evening, returning to the Confederate forts. As for Anderson, it was unlikely that he knew anything of our arrival, or that the enemy would give him either time or opportunity to acquire this knowledge. Night came down, dark, stormy, and ominous. There was no very sound sleep on any of the ves- sels. I turned in about midnight, but I was restless and wakeful. At length I was suddenly startled from a doze by a sound that not only wakened me, but brought me to my feet. It was the boom of a gun. From Fort Johnson a fiery shell had described an arc in the night and dropped close to the ill-fated Sumter. A moment later when I reached the deck, Morris Is- land had opened with a perfect roar of artillery. It was now half-past four in the morning, April 12th, 1861, and the Civil War, which was to continue through four years of the bitterest, bloodiest strife this nation has ever seen, had begun in earnest, at last. I shall never forget the scene on board the Harriet Lane that memorable morning. The first shot had brought every man to the deck, and, standing on the wheelhouse or any high point for a better view, the men who but a day or two before had been ready to * There were no steam launches in those days. The heavily laden boats would have been towed to the fort by the tugs. i2o A Sailor of Fortune mutiny rather than go into action, now screamed and swore and raved and demanded that they be led against these assailants of the old flag. Not one of them but would have laid down his life then, and it seemed for a time that our patriotism would get the better of our judgment and spur us to a useless sacri- fice. We knew that we could do no good — that with the heavy sea and unmarked channels, and with the accuracy of the Confederate gun fire, vessels such as ours could never reach Sumter. We could only look on, and give vent to our feelings in violent language, and this we did in a manner that I have never seen equalled. Yet we did formulate a plan of relief when it grew lighter. We found two small ice schooners lying near us off the bar. Our plan was to seize these vessels and use them to tow in our launches, with supplies and reinforcements. It was argued that as the ves- sels were loaded with ice they would not sink, even if their hulls were riddled with shot from the Con- federate batteries. But with daylight the bombard- ment became so destructive that even this last resort was reluctantly abandoned. I have never been able either with word or pen to express my feelings during that long, terrible bom- bardment. The morning was dark and lowering. Across the harbour the belching cannons told that the nation was rent asunder. It seemed to me that the end of the world was about due. When a little after seven o’clock we saw that Major Anderson was an- swering his assailants, gun for gun, we broke at last into cheers, though we could not hope for victory, for Attempt to Relieve Sumter 121 we knew that his stores were about exhausted and that his ammunition was low. All day the cannons thundered through the gloom. Night once more fell thick and stormy, and still the pounding did not cease. I think few on any of our vessels slept, and when morning came clear and bright, it only brought still heavier and fiercer cannonade, with red-hot shot from Fort Moultrie, followed by smoke and flames, and we knew that Fort Sumter was on fire. We expected Anderson to surrender then. But the firing went on and the Stars and Stripes still waved above the doomed fort. Then, in the early afternoon, the old flag suddenly disappeared, and we knew that it had been shot away. But as suddenly it reappeared, a little lower down, but still waving above the ram- parts, and we broke again and again into wild cheers.* Once more our would-be mutineers raved and swore and vowed that the day would come when they would avenge that striking down of the flag. But not long after a silence fell upon the vessels of our fleet, for there was a white flag waving above the walls of Sumter. We know, now, that Major Anderson never raised that flag; that it was hoisted at the request of General Wigfall, who had come across to the fort, pretending authority from General Beauregard, and that he in- duced one of Major Anderson’s officers to display the truce signal for the purpose of conference. We know that Wigfall at first waved the flag himself to try to • *It was hoisted by Sergeant Peter Hart, Major Anderson’s old and faithful body-servant. 122 A Sailor of Fortune put a stop to the shots that were falling about him, much too close for comfort, and that, when the forts did not at once cease firing, he hopped down, terribly frightened, and begged one of Anderson’s men to wave the white banner, and that this was done. But we did not know the facts then, or that Anderson, when he learned the trick of it, indignantly ordered the white flag down. To us it meant the end, and we were a sad company, especially as we saw small boats evidently bearing officers of rank leave the Confed- erate batteries for the battered fort. We had no means of communicating with the garrison, and for a long time we were left in suspense as to the number of lives lost and the terms of surrender. But it was all over that evening. Everything was silent and we had learned the news. The fort had sur- rendered, though without loss of life, and the gallant little band had marched out with colours flying and drums beating, saluting the Stars and Stripes with fifty guns. On the next day, Sunday, April 14th, Anderson and his men were taken on board the Baltic, and we set out on the return voyage to New York. As the expedition was to all intents and purposes at an end, it was now my duty, as a reporter for the World, to be on the ship with Major Anderson. Cap- tain Faunce kindly gave permission for my transfer to the Baltic, where I began at once to write the story of the fight from Major Anderson’s own lips, continu- ing as he could tell it to me, for he was ill, exhausted, and sick at heart. Being the only newspaper man with the expedition, I had a valuable news “beat,” Attempt to Relieve Sumter 123 and I wanted to make the most of it, you may be sure. Yet I do not think I would have been able to get on such terms of confidence with Major Anderson but for a lucky accident. One of his officers, Lieuten- ant Truman Seymour, came to me just after leaving the Bar and said: “ I understand your name is Osbon.” “ Yes, sir,” I said, “ that is correct.” “ I wonder if you could be related to Dominie Os- bon,” was his next remark. I replied, “ I am his eldest son.” “ Then you ought to know me,” he said, “ for my name is Truman Seymour.” “ Yes,” I answered, “ your father was presiding elder of the Troy Conference. He was one of my father’s best friends.” Seymour was very close to Major Anderson and introduced me in a manner which made the sick officer warm to me at once. I was with him almost con- stantly during the homeward trip, looking to his com- fort, often reading to him from the New York papers, which he had not seen for a long time. In turn he told me the whole story of the fight, which is now common history and need not be set down here. He told me how the white flag had been raised without his knowl- edge, how when he came up and found it flying by Wigfall’s request he had ordered it down, and had been begged by emissaries then arriving from Beaure- gard to let it remain until terms could be arranged. Major Anderson was a gentle, brave, God-fearing man, then but fifty-six years old, but his spirit and his 124 A Sailor of Fortune heart were broken. That he had been first to let the Stars and Stripes be hauled down was a heavy blow. He had brought away the torn and shattered banner, which ten years later was to become his winding sheet, and from across the tattered end he gave me a strip of the historic flag, a piece of which I still preserve. XXIV The Arrival in New York O F course our expedition had been a failure, and there was a feeling among officers and men that our return would not be a matter of much honour and celebration. Mr. Fox realised this, and, learning that I was the only newspaper man on board, came to me before we reached New York and said: “ Mr. Osbon, I have a favour to ask of you. You are probably aware that I planned this expedition and urged upon Mr. Lincoln the importance of relieving Major Anderson. It has proven a failure from a va- riety of reasons over which I could have no control, and through no fault of mine. Nevertheless, I shall be singled out for adverse criticism, which will be un- deserved. I desire to avoid this as much as possible, and I shall esteem it a special favour if you will make no mention of my name in connection with the affair, or that I was on board the Baltic. The matter has ended unfortunately, and I do not wish to be asso- ciated with it any more than necessary.” I was anxious to oblige Mr. Fox and I felt the truth of what he said. Indeed we were all more or less in the same boat, so in preparing my article I sang the praises of Anderson, Doubleday, Seymour and the others who had made the gallant fight for the flag, 125 126 A Sailor of Fortune with as little reference to the expedition as possible, omitting the name of Fox altogether. We all realised later that this was a mistake, a very annoying one for me, in after years; but it seemed the proper thing to do at the time. We were now nearing Sandy Hook, and Major Anderson had prepared a report of the Sumter en- gagement, which was to be given to the telegraph boat as we passed the Hook. Besides being his reader, I had acted as his amanuensis, writing letters to his va- rious friends in New York. He now handed the notes of his report to me, with the request that I read them and suggest any additions that might occur to me as necessary. He was ill and very weak at the time. As I looked through the matter my only thought was brevity for the sake of telegraphic economy. The report as he had written it was very full and ac- curate, but contained about three hundred words. My suggestion therefore was that it might be con- densed. “ Yes,” admitted Anderson, “ but I’m too sick to do it. You do it for me.” I sat there by him and worked it down, sentence by sentence and word by word. When I had finished I read it to him, and he signed it with full approval. It contained less than a hundred and fifty words, and when the telegraph boat came alongside it was thrown to the news messengers in a hermetically sealed tin box, and was soon on the way to Washington. The message as sent, and as it stands in history to-day is as follows: Arrival in New York 127 Y-S - . Baltic, off Sandy Hook, Apr. Eighteenth, ten-thirty, a. m., via New York. Hon. S. Cameron, Sec’y War, Washn. Having defended Fort Sumter for thirty-four hours, until the quarters were entirely burned, the main gates destroyed by fire, the gorge walls seriously injured, the magazine surrounded by flames, and its door closed from the effects of heat, four barrels and three cartridges of powder only being available and no provisions remaining but pork, I accepted terms of evacuation offered by Gen- eral Beauregard, being the same offered by him on the nth inst., prior to the commencement of hostilities, and marched out of the fort Sunday afternoon the 14th inst., with colours flying and drums beating, bring- ing away company and private property, and saluting my flag with fifty guns. Robert Anderson, Major First Artillery, Commanding. I consider it one of the greatest honours of my life to have been the companion of Major Anderson during those few days of our return voyage, and to have been permitted to assist him in the preparation of this now historic message. I have known many great and noble men, but never a more lovable, unpre- tentious soul than that of Major Robert Anderson, the hero of Fort Sumter. Arriving at New York, we found to our surprise that we were all heroes. Instead of being under a cloud because of our failure, the members of the ex- pedition, next to those of Sumter itself, were covered with glory, simply because they had been witnesses of that first brave struggle. The nation was fairly 128 A Sailor of Fortune ablaze with patriotism, and ready to welcome and cele- brate anyone from the front, especially when, as was the case with us, such messengers brought news. At the office of the World, which, as you may readily imagine, was triumphant in its great beat, I was the one object worthy of consideration. When the crowd poured in, Mr. Bangs made me get up on the counter and tell the story of Sumter to the assembled throng. I think I have never seen a wilder fever of excitement than throbbed and billowed among those listening men. Everywhere were boys, running and crying war news. Everywhere were knots and groups of men discussing the great event. But there was one disagreeable feature of our re- turn. Gustavus Fox realised now that he had made a mistake by having his name withheld, and in his chagrin went so far as to declare that I had omitted the mention on my own account. Naturally I resented this charge, and told 'the truth. As a matter of fact, neither the withholding of his name nor the subse- quent controversy did him any real harm, for his skill in preparing the expedition and his effort in doing the best he could were recognised in his appointment as Assistant Secretary of the Navy under Gideon Welles. But Mr. Fox always bore me ill-will, and in his posi- tion of brief authority the time was to come when he could wipe out what he perhaps considered an old and bitter score. But that is a story for another time. XXV I Join the “Herald” Staff and a Great Naval Expedition E VEN after Sumter, the nation at large did not realise the magnitude of the struggle then be- ginning. President Lincoln issued a call for seventy-five thousand men, and volunteers came in as gaily as if the invitation were for a festival parade. The bloodless affair at Charleston had somehow cre- ated an impression that subsequent engagements would be of a like nature, and there was a general feeling on both sides that within a few brief weeks the little “ unpleasantness ” would be arranged, with perhaps just enough excitement to stir young blood without spilling it, and just enough explosion of powder to clear the air, once the smoke had blown away. But then, in July, came the first battle of Bull Run, and when on the afternoon of that fatal day the car- riage loads of spectators who had driven out from Washington in gala attire to witness a fine military spectacle came tearing back, pellmell, in a wild stam- pede; when the Union forces flung away arms and accoutrements as they fled in a mad panic of defeat; when men by the thousand lay bleeding upon the field, then at last the nation realised that it was plunged into a great and terrible conflict, the end of which 129 £ i3° A Sailor of Fortune no man could foresee. Armies were mustered, ships were gathered, and men with graver faces enlisted for the serious business of war. I may say here that I did not get to Bull Run in time for the battle; but I met the crowds coming back, and I know they were in a hurry. I could tell by their appearance and the number of valuable things they threw away. I remained with the World for several weeks after the Sumter expedition, but the financial status of that paper was then unusually precarious, and we reporters were frequently suspended because of a lack of funds with which to pay our salaries. Perhaps I ought to add that I was at the time receiving nine dollars a week, for work which in these days of more liberal newspaper methods would warrant the payment of anywhere from five to ten times that amount. It was during one of my periodical retirements that I remembered how, after the “ Stevens Battery ” beat, Mr. Frederick Hudson, managing editor of the Her- ald, had sent for me through Mr. Hervey C. Calkins * of the same paper. Calkins was now more than ever of the opinion that a man who had been under fire and had a practical knowledge of the sea would be useful on the Herald staff. I was received most cordially by Mr. Hudson, who promptly offered me the position of naval editor at a salary of twenty-five dollars a week. As this was nearly three times what I was sup- posed to receive from the World — the actual propor- tion was much larger — I gladly accepted the place. I think I was the first man to fill that particular office * Afterward founder of the Homeopathic Hospital, New York City. Great Naval Expedition 131 on the Herald staff, and I found the employment most congenial. But as the months passed and the war excitment increased, with vaster naval preparations, I began to feel that in some manner I must get into more active service. Old memories of days in Chinese and Argen- tine waters made me very restless to feel once more the deck of a vessel rock to the roar of cannon, and to see the cutlasses flash and the shells burst through the smoke of battle. One with a fondness for move- ment does not find it easy to forget these things, or to remain idle, even in old age. I concluded to apply for a commission in the navy, and went on to Washington for that purpose. I was well acquainted with Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy, and was offered by him the position of acting master’s mate. I thanked him, but suggested that as I had been commander in a Navy and had been in action — something very few of our officers could boast in those days — I thought I was entitled to a better rating. Then I added : “ Mr. Welles, I should like to carry on my journal- istic work. Suppose you give me a letter, so that I can serve in a naval staff capacity and at the same time act as a war correspondent.” The old gentleman thought it over a little, and then dictated to a secretary a letter to this effect : To All Commanding Officers, U. S. Navy: Mr. B. S. Osbon, a correspondent of the New York Herald, asks permission to accompany some of the expeditions going South, and the Department has no 13 2 A Sailor of Fortune objection to his acting in any staff capacity to which the commanding officer may see fit to appoint him, provided it does not interfere with the regulations of the Navy. Respectfully, Gideon Welles, Secretary U. S. Navy. A roving commission of this sort was precisely what I wished, and armed with it I returned to New York and reported to Mr. Hudson, who rejoiced with me that we should have a correspondent right in the front of things, and with sufficient practical knowl- edge to know what was going on. I would like to say, before going further, that Frederick Hudson was one of the noblest gentlemen and one of the ablest news- paper men I have ever known. The North now began to assemble in Hampton Roads an expedition, consisting of a very large fleet and a body of military, the first object being to strike the South a hard blow at some point where the har- bour and surrounding country would make it a valu- able base for operations by land and sea. Port Royal, South Carolina, offered the finest harbour below the Chesapeake, and was a station from which pressure upon Savannah and Charleston could be brought to bear. With the exception of Hatteras Inlet, which was too shallow for large steamers, the North had no coaling station south of Hampton Roads, a very necessary adjunct in those days, when vessels were obliged to coal at frequent intervals. Port Royal was therefore selected as the fleet’s first objective point, though it was a state secret, guarded as well as that Great Naval Expedition 133 of any important movement during the war. There was a general impression, which was perhaps officially encouraged, that Charleston was to be the point of at- tack; but as preparations progressed the mystery be- came daily deeper, and public curiosity rose to a high pitch. Every day the papers printed big headlines about “ The Great Naval Expedition,” with surmises as to its probable destination. Washington corre- spondents were prodded to obtain facts, not for pub- lication but as a basis upon which to arrange for future news. It was all of no avail. Commanding officers knew nothing. The President and the Secre- tary of the Navy were dumb. One morning Mr. Hudson said to me: “ Mr. Osbon, I think you had better run over to Washington yourself. You have a practical idea of such matters, and I should like you to arrange, if possible, to accompany the expedition in some capacity that will give ms an inside position on the news.” I was in Washington that evening, and at the office of Secretary Welles bright and early next morning. While waiting for him in Chief Clerk Faxon’s room, I happened to notice a table covered with charts, and at a glance recognised a Coast Survey chart of Port Royal Harbour as the document uppermost on the pile. “ What is uppermost on the pile is uppermost in their minds,” I thought. “ The squadron is going to Port Royal.” The Secretary entered his office just then, and I sent in my card. I was promptly admitted, and after greetings I said to him, “ Mr. Welles, will 134 A Sailor of Fortune you kindly give me a letter to the commanding officer o£ the expedition that is going to Port Royal ? ” The old gentleman stared at me in amazement. “ How did you know we were sending a fleet to Port Royal? ” he demanded. “ Nobody but the Presi- dent, Captain Dupont, General Sherman, and myself know that.” “ And me,” I said. “Who told you?” “ You did, Mr. Secretary, just now.” He stared at me for a moment, very sharply. “ Well,” he said, “ you are a good guesser, and you can go with the fleet. But you know what the viola- tion of the Fifty-ninth Article of War means. If you publish or say anything concerning our plans, you will be arrested and tried by court-martial. Under the regulations you can be shot,” and he closed the inter- view by giving me a letter to Captain Dupont, who had assembled the fleet and was to be flag officer of the expedition. On my return to New York I told Mr. Hudson that I knew where the squadron was going, but that I was under a solemn obligation not to divulge the secret. He simply said: “ You will need some money, Mr. Osbon. How much do you want ? ” I suggested that I go to Fortress Monroe to await the time of departure. Whereupon he gave me the necessary funds, with orders to draw as I wanted through the Adams Express Company. It was now October (1861) and the fleet and troops were gathering rapidly. The Wabash, a fine steam Great Naval Expedition 135 frigate of 3274 tons register, carrying forty-eight guns, was to be flagship of the expedition and her commander, Samuel Francis Dupont, was an able officer and a fine, good-natured man, a courtly gentle- man of the old school. He received me cordially on my arrival at Hampton Roads, and assigned me quar- ters on his vessel. The South Atlantic Squadron, so-called, consisted of eighteen fighting vessels * (some of them converted merchantmen), carrying a total of one hundred and fifty-five guns, all, I believe, of the old smoothbore patterns. With colliers and transports, the fleet num- bered about fifty vessels, the largest ever assembled by the nation up to that time. Certainly it made a most imposing array, and the North could well be proud of her “ Great Expedition ” as it lay in Hampton Roads, waiting for orders to sail. The military under General Thomas Sherman con- sisted of some twelve thousand troops, divided into three brigades, commanded respectively by Brigadier Generals Egbert L. Viele, Isaac J. Stevens, and H. G. Wright. The soldiers were chiefly from the West, and many of them had never seen a vessel before. They were fine, orderly fellows, and sang any num- ber of Methodist hymns; but the sailors had a poor opinion of them. When the day came for embarka- tion, the landsmen’s manoeuvres in getting aboard the transports made a spectacle for gods and men. The * The Wabash, Susquehanna, Mohican, Seminole, Pawnee, Pocahontas, Unadilla, Ottawa, Pembina, Seneca, Vandalia, Isaac Smith, Bienville, R. B. Forbes, Mercury, Augusta, Penguin, and Curlew. Only the Wabash is now in existence, serving as a militia receiving ship at Boston. 136 A Sailor of Fortune tars viewed them with scorn and derision, and then took pity on them, taking their guns and knapsacks, and helping them to clamber over the sides. When at last they were all aboard they sang another round of hymns, and the expedition was ready to start. But we did not sail immediately. There were de- lays of one kind and another, and a full week went by before we were ready to weigh anchor. Meantime I had been transferred. Captain Leisgang, commander of the troop-ship Matanzas, came aboard the Wabash one morning, announced the fact that one of his of- ficers was very ill, and asked to borrow a substitute from the flagship. Flag Officer Dupont said that he regretted very much that he was unable to grant the request. Then Leisgang saw me sitting at the table. “ Hello, Osbon ! ” he said, “ why can’t you come along with me ? ” “ That,” I replied, “ remains for the\ Flag Officer to say.” “ If Mr. Osbon is willing to go, he has my per- mission,” said Dupont, and I went on board the Ma- tanzas , with the understanding that I was to return to the Wabash as soon as we reached our destination. On the Matanzas I was in the midst of the Methodist contingent, for the troops (48th New York Volun- teers) on that vessel were commanded by one Colonel Perry, himself a Methodist minister, an excellent gen- tleman and a brave man, who had seen service in the Texan and Mexican wars, and who found it possible to fight and pray with equal ardour. It was on the morning of Tuesday, October 29, 1861, that the South Atlantic Squadron left Hamp- Great Naval Expedition 137 ton Roads. A gun fired at daylight was the signal for departure — the big Wabash with her forty-eight guns leading the way, the other vessels following in order, a splendid spectacle. Every paper in the land was filled with the news of the sailing of the great expedition whose destination remained still unknown to the anxious millions of the North. XXVI I Witness the Fall of Port Royal, and am Among the Wounded I T was fair weather when we sailed, but, as was the case with the Sumter expedition, we ran into a heavy gale below Hatteras, which rapidly in- creased in fury, until by dusk on Friday, November i, it was blowing a hurricane. A signal was now made from the flagship to abandon the order of sail- ing, and for every vessel to take care of itself, regard- less of formation. It was a fearful storm, one of the worst known on the coast for years, and it is a won- der we did not lose half our fleet. Our poor lands- men were in a sad plight and not one of them ever expected to see home again, though most of them were too seasick to care. As it was, the Isaac Smith was obliged to throw her guns overboard, and one steamer, the Governor, was lost, though her battalion of six hundred marines, all but seven, were saved by the frigate Sabine, under the command of Captain Ringgold. By Sunday, the 3d, the storm had abated; we now opened our sealed orders and for the first time knew officially that Port Royal was our destination. On the next morning we were off Port Royal Bar with about half the fleet, and by Tuesday morning all but the ill- fated Governor had reported. I now returned to the 138 Among the Wounded 139 Wabash, according to agreement, having been of no service on the Matanzas, as the second mate recovered his health and was on duty all the way down. We now discovered that the Confederates, as well as ourselves, had in some manner learned our destina- tion and were fully prepared. The two forts, Walker and Beauregard, were strongly garrisoned and to- gether mounted forty-one guns, some of them Eng- lish Whitworth rifled cannons, ably manned. Also, Commodore Tatnall’s Mosquito Fleet had hurried down from Savannah to the support of the forts. Al- together it looked as if we were not going to have quite the easy time we had expected. On the evening of the 4th some of the gunboats reconnoitering exchanged a few shots with Bay Point (Fort Walker), and on the morning of the 5th a slight scrimmage with Tatnall occurred, but nothing of any consequence. It was decided now to send in the Mer- cury, a small beam-engine steamer, to draw the fire of the forts, in order that we might calculate the number, class, and calibre of the enemy’s guns. I went aboard the little vessel, as did Generals Sherman, Stevens, and Viele, and some of the other officers. There was no reticence on the part of the enemy as to exposing their strength. They let go at us with a will, the shot falling about us merrily. As each gun was fired I called its class and calibre, and General Sher- man, who stood near me, said: “ How can you be sure of the size of those shot at this distance ? ” “ I am not sure,” I said, “ but I am used to meas- uring objects at sea with my eye, and I judge the i4° A Sailor of Fortune calibre from the ring of smoke that forms the instant the .gun is fired.” It may interest the reader to know that later, when we landed, my tally was found to be correct. We were under fire in the little Mercury for the better part of an hour, and while some of the missiles passed uncomfortably close, we came out unharmed, having acquired full information as to the enemy’s armament ; also, on my part, some notes for my paper and some crude sketches, which I made for Harper’s Weekly. We now reported to the flagship and a gen- eral council of war was held. A chart was spread upon the table and everything was prepared to call the meet- ing to order, when I rose to leave the cabin. The Flag Officer checked me. “Where are you going, Mr. Osbon?” he asked. I said, “ It has occurred to me that this is not the place for a newspaper man.” He replied very courteously, “ Pray be seated. You are my guest. Besides, you have had considerable naval experience, and we may avail ourselves of your opinion.” The conference proceeded, I remaining a silent lis- tener until the order of battle was taken up, when I suggested in an undertone to Captain John Rodgers, who sat beside me, that I thought the order should be reversed. “Why so?” he asked. “ Because,” I said, “ as planned now the principal attack will be made with the ships coming down with the tide, and in event of any machinery being disabled a vessel could not be controlled so readily by the helm Among the Wounded 14 1 as if she were heading the tide. In the latter case with the helm to port the tide itself would swing the vessel out of the angle of danger.” Captain Rodgers, through the Flag Officer, had me explain my suggestion to the council. It was adopted and the battle line was formed accordingly. There was a gale on the 6th of November, which made it impossible to attack on that day as originally intended. But the morning of the 7th dawned fair and lovely, with sky and water wonderfully blue and calm. At nine o’clock the signal was made for the ad- vance. The fleet had been arranged in two divisions, the first comprising the Wabash , Susquehanna , Mo- hican, Seminole, Pawnee, Unadilla, Ottawa, Pembina, and the sloop Vandalia in tow of the Isaac Smith, whose armament had been thrown overboard in the storm. The other division was composed of the Bien- ville, Seneca, Curlew, and Augusta. The Pocahontas, R. B. Forbes, Mercury, and Penguin formed a re- serve division. The army transports, which were an- chored at a safe distance, were covered alow and aloft with the troops, who were enforced non-combatants, though deeply interested as spectators in the grand and novel sight which they were about to witness. The other newspaper correspondents were also there, for it was my fortune to be the only one that day in the line of battle. We had other spectators. As the residents of Wash- ington had driven out to behold the spectacle of Bull Run, so now from Beaufort, Charleston, Savannah, and all the country around, a crowd of excursionists H 2 A Sailor of Fortune had gathered to witness the destruction of the Yankee fleet. Seven large steamers crowded with sightseers appeared around the headlands, one of them flying the English, and another the French flag, showing that consuls of these nations were aboard. They ranged themselves in the wide blue amphitheatre, exactly as if we were giving an exhibition for their benefit, and certainly on that perfect morning the Port Royal en- gagement came as near being a beautiful picture com- bat as can be found in all history. In fine formation, we steamed up the channel at a six-knot gait — the beautiful big Wabash with her forty-eight guns leading the way. At exactly 9.26 an opening gun from Fort Walker was fired, and a moment later Fort Beauregard, on the right, pre- sented compliments. Then the Wabash opened with her ten-inch pivots, and within five minutes we let go with our broadsides and the entire fleet was in action. Our sightseers were beholding as grand a spectacle as the world will ever produce. As was usual in those days, our marksmanship was far superior to that of the artillerists on shore, and while most of our shells landed fairly well, those of the Confederates went whizzing over our heads, and it was not until we had made it pretty uncomfortable for them that they at last secured the range. We had begun firing at a distance of about fifteen hundred yards, and were soon within eight hundred — a range which to-day would be absolutely fatal. Even then it was close work; but we drew still closer with each turn, until we were within six hundred yards and the fire was very hot and dangerous on both sides. Cer- Among the Wounded 143 tainly the enemy stood up in a masterly way, consid- ering that they were novices in the art of war. Poor Tatnall’s little flotilla, however, made but a feeble showing. At the opening of the fight he be- gan popping away at us from his position at the mouth of Skulk Creek; but the range was too long and his marksmanship too poor to cause much annoyance. In fact, I do not think Flag Officer Dupont even remem- bered his existence until I said, “ Flag Officer, that fel- low over there is firing at us ; can’t we do something for him?” But Commodore Tatnall had already de- cided that his Mosquito Fleet did not belong in that battle, and before a vessel could be sent after him he had retired up Skulk Creek to a place of safety. A good deal has been made of the fact that Admiral Dewey at Manila paused long enough in the midst of fighting to withdraw and let his men have breakfast; but this was not altogether a new idea. During the second round at Port Royal a hawser got afoul of our propeller and Flag Officer Dupont, always thoughtful, passed the word to give the men a quick luncheon, which they ate very willingly, though we were then under fire. It was about this time that I was wounded — most strangely, in the fact that while my wound was disas- trous it was wholly painless. The fire of the enemy had become exceedingly accurate and the shells were bursting all around. With the Flag Officer and his staff I was standing on the bridge and our group made a pretty target for the gunners on shore. Dupont in his polite manner said presently, “ Gentlemen, I would suggest that some of you H4 A Sailor of Fortune had better leave the bridge. If our friends over there should drop a shell among us, we might lose some valuable officers.” Being the junior and inferior officer of the crowd, I retired at once to the spar deck, where a shell came through our bulwarks and gave me a severe shake-up. Remembering the old adage that lightning never strikes twice in the same place, I went to the shattered port to look out and to continue my notes of the fight. As I leaned over, one of our own guns was fired, and the gromet — a wadding of rope yarn — blew back into my long whiskers, and in an instant my face was in flames. It took me but a second to extinguish the conflagration; but it was too late to save even a re- spectable remnant of a beard whose glory had excited the envy of even the Prince of Wales. I hurried be- low, took a pair of shears and trimmed my whiskers a la Grant. When I returned to the deck one of the officers said to me: “ Well, sir, where in the devil did you come fromi? ” I saw in a moment that he did not recognise me, and I said: “ I came up from below, sir. My name is Osbon of the Wabash , sir.” The shells were flying about pretty thickly just then and it was a poor time to discuss matters, but he stared at me for several seconds before he could take it in. “ In the name of heaven what is the matter with you ? ” he asked. “ I have been severely wounded,” I replied, “ in the whiskers.” Among the Wounded 145 I now hurried aloft and took up a position on the bunt of the foresail, where above the smoke I had an unobstructed view, and from my lofty perch was en- abled to report the enemy’s movements to the Flag Officer on the bridge. From this point of vantage I witnessed one of the rarest of my experiences afloat — a mighty duel between two brothers, Thomas and Percival Drayton. General Thomas Drayton commanded Fort Walker and Captain Percival Drayton was in command of the Pocahontas of our fleet. The Pocahontas had taken up a position on the flank of the fort, where a thirty-two pounder was making it decidedly uncom- fortable for those on board. The exchange of fire be- tween the vessel and the fort was quick and hot, and it looked for a time as if the Secession brother on shore was going to get the best of it. Then point by point the little Pocahontas worked herself around into posi- tion for an enfilading fire, and with a brilliant display of marksmanship dismounted the annoying gun of the bad brother and drove him and his men helter-skelter from their position. Up there on the foresail where I could see it all, I whooped and cheered for Percival Drayton, whom later with Farragut’s fleet at New Orleans, I was to know as a near and dear friend, and who to-day sleeps in Trinity churchyard. With each circling of the forts we drew in closer and closer until the distance was narrowed down to four hundred yards, and the smaller guns poured in upon the enemy a fire that it was hardly possible for even the oldest veterans to withstand. Just at this juncture I saw the little beam-engine steamer, the 146 A Sailor of Fortune Mercury , slip into a shallow bight within two hundred yards of Fort Walker, and lying there almost un- noticed in the smoke, begin popping away with her thirty-pound Parrot gun at a big Whitworth, which was the enemy’s most dangerous piece. She was so tiny — and her captain had counted on this fact — that either the enemy did not see her, or could not hit her where she lay. Shot after shot she sent at that Whit- worth, then all at once her gunner got the exact aim and over went the big gun, to be of no more service in that action, whereupon the little Mercury steamed away like a victorious bantam rooster, though not be- fore she had observed from her close range that the Confederates were gathering their belongings in wild haste and preparing to desert the fort. The Mercury was the first to note this, but a moment later the Ottawa signalled the flagship that the enemy was evac- uating. I had been so busy watching the brilliant exploit of the Mercury that I had not observed what was happening within the fort, until I was hailed by an officer from below who asked me if I had noticed that the “ Rebs ” were “ skedaddling,” that being a favour- ite term for retreat in those days. I took one look and shouted back, “ Yes, sir, they are taking to the woods as fast as their legs can carry them. The fort is ours ! ” A moment later the signal flags from the Wabash announced the order “ Cease Firing,” and the engage- ment was at an end. It was five minutes of two when the last gun was fired. The battle that gave us Port Royal had lasted three and one-half hours. For miles Among the Wounded H7 around the blue water was dotted with wooden shell- cases, a record of the thousands of shots fired. A whaleboat was now launched from the Wabash, and Commander John Rodgers was sent to Fort Walker to demand the surrender of the works. I ac- companied him, and as the boat touched the gravelly beach the men jumped out, and taking Captain Rod- gers and myself on their shoulders landed us dryshod on the soil of South Carolina. We hurried forward, Rodgers with a Union flag under his arm, the boat’s crew following. When we climbed over the works we found no one there to surrender them. The ground was strewn with belongings of every description, but the place was deserted. In another minute the Stars and Stripes were flying above Fort Walker, and for miles around the air was rent with cheers of the soldiers and sailors of the combined fleets. The boys on the transports were glad they had come, now. I did not see it, for I was not close enough, but I was told they acted like mad. Some clapped their hands and shouted “ Glory ! ” — some danced and kept on dancing as if they would never stop, and nearly all of them broke out into Methodist hymns. As for the excursionists, they had sailed away as fast as possible, perhaps fearing, like our own spectators at Bull Run, that they would all be captured and shot at sunrise. The troop ships now weighed anchor, and coming up the harbour began their work of disembarkation, which continued until the last man was on Carolina soil, all eager for a view of the works, every man anx- ious for some trophy of the victory. There were plenty 148 A Sailor of Fortune of these, for, as our defeated troops had scattered their accoutrements at Bull Run, so those who had fled from Port Royal had strewn their belongings over the meadows, and among them, curiously enough, were some of the same knapsacks that our boys had lost at the Bull Run disaster. Among other things I found an opera glass which had belonged to Thomas Dray- ton, and which I afterwards presented to his brother Percival. Captain Rodgers found a beautiful Damas- cus sword, evidently an heirloom, its hilt studded with diamonds. The officer must have been in a great hurry who left that behind. I suppose it got between his legs and annoyed him as he ran. We took possession of Fort Beauregard next morn- ing (November 8), it having been likewise aban- doned, though somewhat less hastily. I went over with Captain Ammen of the Seneca, and we hoisted a Union flag above a building that had been used as headquarters. We then went over to the camp half a mile from the fort, and returning heard an explosion which proved to be from a mine under the head- quarters building. One of our sailors had stumbled over a wire attached to a primer and fired the gun- powder left for the purpose of blowing us up when we took possession. The unlucky cause of the disaster was blown some distance and considerably stunned, but was otherwise unhurt. We were all of us very careful to look for wires after this incident. The casualties on both sides at Port Royal were very small, considering the amount of ammunition expended and the close ranges. W e lost no vessels and in our entire fleet but eight men were killed and twen- Among the Wounded 149 ty-three wounded. The Confederate losses were eleven killed, forty-eight wounded, four missing. Among other things, the fight demonstrated that the old theory of one gun in a fort is worth five on board ship was a false proposition. To be sure, the sea was smooth and we had more experienced gunners, so per- haps a conclusion drawn entirely from the Port Royal engagement would be equally erroneous. We were also ably commanded. Flag Officer Dupont, one of the old-time, polished naval officers, was a splendid seaman and an up-to-date fighter, admired alike by officers and men. In battle he was as cool and clear- sighted as anyone I ever saw under fire. Yet at Port Royal he was for the first time called upon to direct an engagement of magnitude and importance. And such it was, for, small as had been the loss of life, an action between eighteen vessels and two well-armed forts, not to mention Commodore Tatnall’s Mosquito Fleet, was, in those days at least, a battle of no small proportions, while the result gave us what was prob- ably the most important naval station of the Civil War. To-day our poorest vessel could destroy such works in less time than I have taken to tell this story. It would begin firing at a range of four miles, and by the time it was within hailing distance, forts, enemy, and guns would be out of action. But this is an un- profitable conclusion, for to-day there would also be better fortifications, with better guns. XXVII I Undertake a Secret Mission for Secretary Welles I HAVE now reached an incident which I have never until this time considered it proper to re- late. The story can do no harm now” — the inter- national distrust of those days is dead, as is, I believe, every man in any way concerned in the matter, except myself. I returned from Port Royal on the Bienville. My story of the battle was regarded as a beat by the Her- ald. Set in small solid type it filled two pages. My sketches for Harper’s Weekly also were well received and prominently displayed, covering four pages of the issue of November 30. At Washington I was wel- comed by Secretary Welles, who had not forgotten my discovery of the fleet’s destination, as you will see. There was a good deal of bitterness between Eng- land and the Northern States at this time, and the Government at Washington was deeply interested in the despatches forwarded by the British Minister to his Home Government. It was known that England was friendly to the Confederacy and willing to aid it secretly, if not by open recognition. Under such con- ditions, it became necessary to know as much as possible of what was passing to and fro between Wash- ington and London in the form of cryptograms; and 150 A Secret Mission 151 while most of this matter went by messenger or mail to New York, there were many cipher telegrams sent at the last moment to catch the outgoing steamer, there being no ocean cable at that time. At the tele- graph office all such messages were subjected to ex- amination and copies of them were made. After a brief conversation with Secretary Welles, the old gen- tleman brought out one of these cipher copies and placing it in my hands said : “ Mr. Osbon, you have a way of finding out secrets. Do you think you can solve that? If you can, it will be worth five thousand dollars to you.” I did not know even the nature of the paper at the time, but I saw that it was a cipher made up partly of words and partly of a combination of numerals, usually in groups of four figures. Something about it suggested to me a naval signal book, and the thought occurred that perhaps if we had a copy of that used by the British service we might unravel the mystery. I studied the paper for some time, and the more I con- sidered the matter, the more certain I became that the British naval signal book would furnish the key. I finally informed Mr. Welles that I believed I could work the matter out, but that I would need several days’ leave from my paper; also perfect copies of the ciphers. The former I obtained without difficulty, and the latter were promptly supplied. With them in an inner pocket I left that night for Boston, where a British man-of-war was lying. It was my purpose to secure her signal book at whatever hazard and by whatever means, for in such cases the old adage of “ All is fair in love and war ” holds true. 1 52 A Sailor of Fortune What I had undertaken to do was a risky business. The two nations were at peace, outwardly at least, and if my attempt were detected I could expect neither mercy from one side nor succour from the other. I think, however, I gave this phase of the matter but slight consideration. My chief thought was of the sig- nal book, and how to get it. Arriving at Boston, I promptly used my naval ac- quaintance to get introductions to the officers in Her Majesty’s service, and by a diplomatic course of win- ing and dining presently made myself a welcome vis- itor on Her Majesty’s vessel. Indeed, I soon became a favourite with all on board, especially with the sig- nal officer, to whom I told my best yarns, often in- viting him to a dinner ashore to hear them. Of course, this resulted in return invitations, and sometimes it happened that when I wished to brush my hair or otherwise attend to my toilet I was invited to make use of his room for that purpose. It was but a brief time before I had located the coveted signal book — a tidily bound volume with leaden plates riveted to the corners, so that in event of capture it could be handily dropped overboard and lost. The whole was encased in a canvas bag, sus- pended by a shoulder-strap. During my next visit I had sufficient opportunity to examine the book for a few minutes, and found to my delight that it did, in reality, furnish the key I wanted. I had memorised a few of the cryptographic words, and with the book before me and the signal officer at muster on deck I verified my conclusions. The next thing in order was to secure this priceless volume. I reasoned that as A Secret Mission 153 there were no other English vessels nearby, it might be weeks before the book would be needed, and that if I could remove the contents from the covers, sub- stituting them with leaves of the same bulk and ap- pearance, there would be a good chance not only to get safely clear of the vessel, but for a considerable period to elapse before the loss was discovered, by which time it would be by no means certain when the abstraction had occurred. I therefore took careful measurements, and the next time I boarded the ship my dummy book was with me — a copy of Ray’s Arithmetic, if I remember cor- rectly — picked up on a secondhand stall. That was a foggy night, and I lingered late. When I mentioned going ashore, my friend, the signal officer, protested, and offered me the use of his room. I had hardly dared hope for this stroke of fortune. I had plenty of time that night to do the job in a neat and workmanlike manner. I was really proud of the resemblance the Ray’s Arithmetic bore to the sig- nal book when it was properly in its neat covers and riveted leaden plates. Then, after carefully ^ adjust- ing my prize to its new dress, I lay down and slept the sleep that comes of well-doing and a clear con- science. I did not hurry away next morning — that would not do. I even lingered a little, and finally bade them all good-bye, with a good deal of regret I must own, for they were jolly fellows. Arriving on shore, I lost no time in getting a train for the Capital, and once aboard the strain told on me, for I had been keyed to a pretty high pitch dur- 154 A Sailor of Fortune ing those days in Boston, and I dozed and slept most of the day and all that night without a break. But I was at the Department next morning, bright and early, and when the Secretary had glanced over his mail he sent for me to come to his private office. “ Well, Mr. Osbon,” he said, “ you have made a long stay. Have you been able to read those telegrams yet?” I drew up a chair beside him, and pulling out a cipher of over one hundred and fifty words, read to him a well connected, perfectly intelligible, highly in- teresting and important communication from the Brit- ish Minister to the Home Secretary. I followed this with three or four other messages of a like tenor. Secretary Welles for a moment said nothing at all, but I could see that he was amazed. Presently he seized my hand and said. “ Where in heaven’s name did you get the key ? Tell me all about it.” “ Mr. Welles,” I said, “ I think it is as well for the present that you should not know. Some trouble may come out of it, and it is better that you, as a govern- ment official, should be in a position to know nothing.” The Secretary agreed to this readily enough, and I went away with a bundle of the Minister’s messages, all of which I translated in due season. Somewhat later I placed the signal book itself in the Secretary’s hands. He had promised me five thousand dollars for the solution, to say nothing of the key itself. No word of the payment had been mentioned since my return, and I was to have a little joke at his expense. “ Mr. Secretary,” I said, “ I was to have five thou- A Secret Mission 155 sand dollars to decipher those telegrams — and no men- tion was made of the key in our bargain. I suppose that will be extra.” He laughed and said, “ You are right. Name your price, and we’ll see if it is fair.” “ Mr. Welles,” I said, “ I do not want any compen- sation whatever for a job like that. What I did was for the sake of the nation. Nothing else could justify it. All I ask of this Government is that they stand at my back and save my neck, in case of trouble.” But trouble never came. It is more than likely that the loss of the signal book was not discovered by the English officer for months, and then in some foreign port. I have no idea that I was ever connected with the matter, or that anybody on the vessel, except the signal officer, ever knew that the book had been taken. It is easy to imagine that he would not care to confess his loss, and that he might make it convenient to stumble near the rail, and so by “ accident ” let the little tidily-bound, lead-covered Ray’s Arithmetic slip into the ocean that holds so many secrets in its fathom- less bosom. My conscience has never troubled me for the part I played, for, as I have said, it was not for gain but to outwit a secret enemy, and for a nation which I had been always eager to serve, and was still to serve to the best of my limited ability, as we shall see. XXVIII Some Journalistic Adventures I T was during November, 1861, that I made a journalistic attempt which resulted somewhat less gloriously than those undertaken hitherto. On the 7th, the day of our bombardment of Port Royal, James M. Mason, of Virginia, and John Sli- dell, of Louisiana, Confederate envoys to Great Britain and France, embarked on the English mail steamer Trent, at Havana. On the next day the United States steamship San Jacinto, Captain Wilkes, overhauled the Trent in the Bahama channel and forcibly re- moved Mason and Slidell as prisoners of war. The affair being immediately reported on both sides of the water, great excitement ensued. The feeling between England and America became more bitter. England made many stormy threats, though Captain Wilkes had only followed a British precedent, exactly as laid down. The final result was an adjustment of rights and privileges between the two nations, and a better understanding all around, but as this is everybody’s history I need not continue the general details. My chief interest in the matter was to make news of it for my paper. The San Jacinto, with the pris- oners, was on the way to Fort Warren, in Boston Harbour, and it was Mr. Hudson’s request that I 156 Some Journalistic Adventures 1 57 meet the vessel and interview Captain Wilkes. Also, if possible, Messrs. Mason and Slidell. Now there were strict orders that no correspondent should enter Fort Warren, and I knew the chances were against my success. Nevertheless I proceeded to Boston, and asked Captain William L. Hudson, Com- mandant of the navy yard, to give me a letter of introduction to Captain Wilkes, whom he knew. This he did willingly enough, and armed with the official looking envelope, I boldly proceeded to Fort Warren and announced that I had a letter for Captain Wilkes to be delivered on arrival, leaving them to infer, if they wished to do so, that it was as official as it out- wardly appeared. My mission was harmless enough and I had told no untruth, but I must admit that to some extent I had concealed the truth, and I suppose I was punished accordingly. No one in Fort Warren suspected my errand there, or anything out of the way, and for a few days I was an honoured guest. But then, all of a sudden, there appeared a sergeant of artillery who had met me at Fortress Monroe. He was a pleasant fellow and very kindly remembered me. He said nothing to me of my vocation, but I knew he remembered that, too. I knew that he guessed my errand in Fort Warren, and that he would do his duty in reporting the matter to the commandant, who would likewise do his duty in de- taining me indefinitely when I got ready to go. It was a pleasant place, but I did not wish to remain there permanently. I wanted to go away from it. I had lost interest- in Mason and Slidell and I wanted to go now, immediately, before the San Jacinto arrived. The 158 A Sailor of Fortune officers themselves gave me no hint of coming trou- ble, but one of their servants, a friendly fellow, very quietly told me what would happen. They were in no hurry to take me in charge. Fort Warren being lo- cated on an island, with plenty of guards, it was not thought probable that I could reach the mainland. Yet this was what I decided to do. The morning after my interview with the kindly disposed servant I went for a walk on the beach. It was blowing a living gale of wind, and nobody but a fool or a sailor would attempt to cross the harbour in a small boat on such a day. To me, however, the only difficulty was in being permitted to try. A little dory was lying on the beach, and I asked the sentinel who was parading up and down if he objected to my taking a little pull to stretch my arms. He did not object, but he thought I would soon get my fill of it. I carried an umbrella, as it had been showery, and with this I got into the boat. Then I pulled up and down a few times in the rough water, edging out farther with each tack, until finally, when I thought it the proper moment, I squared away, hoisted my umbrella as a sail, and with an oar for a rudder bade Fort Warren good-bye. The sentinel, seeing this, evidently suspected that something was wrong, and must immediately have passed the word to the officers, who doubtless returned orders to fire, for in a minute or two he levelled his musket, and a bullet struck the water, though some distance away. I decided that he was a poor shot and that I would go on. Besides, I had always been bullet- proof and had faith in my lucky star. The only ques- tion was whether I could pull faster than the umbrella Some Journalistic Adventures 1 59 would propel me. I concluded to stick to the umbrella, for the wind was very strong out there and I was making good headway. Meantime the sentinel had been joined by several companions-in-arms, and they now let loose a volley at me, then another and another. But perhaps they were recruits, for their aim was poor and by this time the range was long. The little dory fairly skimmed the waves, and more than half the time there were great billows between me and the shore, and it may be that these kept some of the balls from hitting me. At all events, the firing presently ceased and I made the passage across without further interference, folded my faithful umbrella, left the dory at the navy yard, and took the first train for New York, where, with a good deal of humiliation, I confessed to Mr. Hudson that Mason and Slidell would have to be re- ceived at Fort Warren without my assistance. I was to have better success with my next adventur- ous attempt. The Confederates, who were still in pos- session of Norfolk, had raised a sunken vessel, the Merrimac, at the Gosport Navy yard, and converted her into the ironclad which later was to become such a terror to our navy at Hampton Roads. Reports of the construction of this vessel had come to the North, and there was a great desire on the part of everybody to know something of her plan and appearance. I was perfectly familiar with all the waters of Hampton Roads, and went down to Fortress Monroe to see what could be done in the matter. Arriving there, I decided I would have a look at the Merrimac on my own ac- count, even at the risk of a punctured skin. i6o A Sailor of Fortune I therefore wrote to Mr. Hudson my plan, asking him to send me down a sixteen-foot Hell Gate pilot- boat, such as was used for boarding vessels in Long Island Sound. Mr. Hudson was a man of prompt ac- tion. The boat came almost immediately, and one night when a light fog lay on the river I made up my mind to undertake the job planned. I prepared for the occasion by covering my thole- pins with sheepskin in order to make no noise with my oars. Then with a compass and a lead line in the boat I pulled softly across past the Sewell Point bat- teries, which would have given me a lively time had they seen me, up around Crainey Island ; — on up the Elizabeth River to the Gosport Yard, where the Mer- rimac lay. I expected to have to get very close to the vessel before I could get a look at her, but the fog had lightened a good deal by the time I was in her neighbourhood and the night was not dark. When within a hundred yards of her I had an excellent view of the monster which was so soon to descend upon our fleet of wooden vessels then lying in Hampton Roads. I fixed her outlines and proportions in my mind and returning undiscovered wrote a description of her for the Herald, and made a sketch for Harper’s Weekly. I also reported the matter to General Wool, com- mander of the troops, at Fortress Monroe — a friend from childhood. I did not report to Commodore Goldsborough, in command of the fleet, for I must say that, in common with a good many others who were on the ground, I could muster no great admira- tion for this officer. I do not presume to question his bravery, but certainly his policy of delay and discre- Some Journalistic Adventures 161 tion was not of a sort to awaken enthusiasm in any quarter.* Having found the vessel to be comparatively easy of access, I proposed to General Wool that I would lead a boarding party to capture and destroy her. That was the sort of work I knew best, and nothing would have given me greater joy than to have gone up there on a dark night with a band of good fellows for a lively hand-to-hand bout of the old-fashioned kind. I believe we would have been successful, too, but General Wool would not give his consent, for the reason, as he said, that Goldsborough would regard it as a trespass on his special field of action. I had by this time become very tired of the monotonous routine of Fortress Monroe, and was only too glad that an opportunity now presented itself for more congenial service both to my paper and my country. * On March 8, 1862, the Merrimac destroyed the Congress and the Cumberland, and it was expected she would annihilate the rest of the fleet next morning. The little Monitor , commanded by John L. Worden, arrived that night, and March 9, 1862, checked the Merrimac in her work of destruction and drove her back, crippled and defeated, to her lair beyond Crainey Island. Yet even after this, she still remained a menace, and had only to show herself in the channel to cause the direst commotion in the neighbourhood of Commodore Goldsborough’s fleet XXIX An Expedition Against New Orleans I HAVE now reached the beginning' of what is to me the most remarkable portion of my history — indeed, of any story of naval warfare. I refer to the successful passage of the forts below New Orleans by the Federal fleet under Flag Officer David Glasgow Farragut on the 24th of April, 1862. During the latter part of 1861 Commander David D. Porter had urged upon President Lincoln the neces- sity of capturing New Orleans as an important step in weakening the Confederacy by cutting it in half, as it were, and closing one of its chief ports of sup- plies. The original plan was to reduce Forts Jackson and St. Philip, two strongholds built on opposite banks of the Mississippi, about sixty miles below New Orleans, with a fleet of mortar boats, in order that a land force might ascend the river and occupy the city. Commander Porter had full confidence in the effec- tiveness of mortar fire, and a fleet of bomb-vessels — consisting of twenty-two small schooners, each carrying one 13-inch mortar, and from two to four thirty- two pound guns for defence — was eventually organ- ised, with a land force of about fifteen thousand men under command of General Benjamin F. Butler of Massachusetts. There was also to be a small fleet of tugs and armed steamers to tow and protect the mor- 162 Expedition against New Orleans 163 tar fleet, and of these the Harriet Lane , which has already appeared twice in these annals — once in the service of the Prince of Wales, and again in the ex- pedition against Sumter — was to carry the flag.* But as the expedition began to materialise, the original plan was amplified, and a feature was added without which its success would have been extremely doubtful. A powerful fleet of war vessels was or- ganised for the purpose of running by the forts, in event of the mortars failing to accomplish all that Porter had predicted. As had been the case with former expeditions, the plan and purpose of this one were at first kept secret by the Department; but as it had been found that I *The Harriet Lane does not appear in these pages after the New Orleans episode. Her subsequent career was eventful. She assisted in the attack on the Vicksburg batteries, June 28th, 1862, assisted in capturing Galveston, Texas, October 9th, 1862, and was captured by boarding parties in Galveston Harbor, January 1st, 1863, Commander Wainwright and Lieutenant-Commander Lee being killed. She then became a blockade runner, and at the close of the war was converted into a sailing vessel. Her end was unknown to the writer until these papers appeared in magazine form, when the following interesting letter was received. San Francisco, Cal., Feb. 14, 1906. Dear Sir: — Your footnote concerning the Harriet Lane, in your story “A Sailor of Fortune,” now running in Pearson's Magazine, has led me to write you as follows : On or about April 10th, 1884, the British ship Galgate left Liverpool, England, bound for Sidney, N. S. W. While on the voyage, and about fifty miles off the coast of Pernambuco, a vessel was sighted flying signals of distress. The Galgate hove to and put out a boat. On boarding the bark she was discovered to be the George P. Ritchie, lumber laden from Brunswick, Georgia, formerly the gunboat Harriet Lane. She 164 A Sailor of Fortune did not “leak ” information, perhaps, also, because of services rendered, I received an inkling of what was in progress, and one morning in December, 1861, I applied to Commander Porter for an appointment as his secretary and fleet signal officer, with the privi- lege of continuing my newspaper work. My offer was promptly accepted, and I was ordered to report on board the Harriet Lane when the fleet was ready to sail. But with the alteration and enlargement of Por- ter’s idea there appeared a new commander — one whose name shall forever rank with those of the great- est naval heroes in history. Captain David G. Farragut had recently been re- lieved of his command of the Brooklyn , and had re- was barely afloat, the crew having been at the pumps for twenty- nine days and the captain having broken his arm. We took off the crew of six men, including the captain. Then we returned, and having sprinkled kerosene all over her set her afire. That night the Galgate met several steamers, doubtless attracted by the blazing ship, and we put the crew aboard one of them. The water-logged vessel belonged to the United States, and I, being the only American aboard the English ship, was naturally curious, and the information connecting the George P. Ritchie with the Harriet Lane was given me by the captain. The only boat aboard was a little skiff capable of holding not more than two persons, and being lumber laden was the reason they had stuck to her. The only thing outside the crew we rescued was a piano, which we got out by chopping through the deck. The agents of the Galgate are or were Balfour, Williamson & Co., of James Street, Liverpool, England. The writer was a seaman aboard the Galgate . Respectfully, J. A. Simpson. 1705 Baker Street, San Francisco, Cal. Expedition against New Orleans 165 tired to his home at Norfolk, Virginia, only to leave it for the reason that he was told that men of his views could not remain residents of that disloyal city. “ Well, then I can live elsewhere,” was Farragut’s reply, and he removed with his little family to Hast- ings-on-the-Hudson, to await the time when his country should need his services. The time had now come. Farragut had served under Porter’s father, and as a boy of eleven had been with him on the Essex in a terrible fight off Valparaiso. The younger men had always been friends, and Commander Por- ter now suggested to the Department that Farragut be placed in command of the squadron of the expedi- tion as senior or flag officer, himself to retain the mortar flotilla, subject to Farragut’s orders. It was on the morning of January 9th, 1862, that Farragut was ordered to report to Commodore Pen- dergast at Philadelphia and to hoist his flag on the fine sloop of war Hartford. Eleven days later he re- ceived from Secretary Welles explicit instructions as to his movements,* and it was on the same day, Janu- * Navy Department, January 20th, 1862. Sir: When the Hartford is in all respects ready for sea, you will proceed to the Gulf of Mexico, with all possible despatch, and communicate with Flag Officer W. W. McKean, who is directed by the enclosed despatch to transfer to you the command of the Western Gulf Blockading Squadron. . . . There will be attached to your squadron a fleet of bomb- vessels, and armed steamers enough to manage them, all under command of Commander David D. Porter, who will be directed to report to you. As fast as these vessels are got ready they will be sent to Key West to await the arrival of all, and the commanding officers, who will be permitted to organise and prac- tise them at that port. 1 66 A Sailor of Fortune ary 20th, that I learned details of these things from Commander Porter himself, then at the Brooklyn Navy yard, on board the Harriet Lane. As Porter unfolded the new plan I began to fear that my hope of being in the front of activity was not likely to be realised. A mortar flotilla, however noisy, would be a comparatively quiet place when real battle with broad- sides at close range, and ramming and boarding par- ties, might be going on not far away. I suppose he saw my rueful look, for he said : “ Look here, you’d better go with David. You’ll have more fun and get more news with him. I’ll give you a letter, and if he doesn’t want you, come with me, anyhow.” When these formidable mortars arrive, and you are completely ready, you will collect such vessels as can be spared from the blockade and proceed up the Mississippi River, and reduce the defences which guard the approaches to New Orleans, when you will appear off that city and take possession of it under the guns of your squadron, and hoist the American Flag therein, keeping possession until troops can be sent to you. ... As you have expressed yourself perfectly satisfied with the force given to you, and as many more powerful vessels will be added before you can commence operations, the Department and the country will require of you success. . . . There are other operations of minor importance which will commend themselves to your judgment and skill, but which must not be allowed to interfere with the great object in view — the certain capture of the city of New Orleans. Destroy the armed barriers which these deluded people have raised up against the power of the United States Government, and shoot down those who war against the Union; but cultivate with cordiality the first returning reason, which is sure to follow your success. Respectfully, etc., Gideon Welles. To Flag Officer D. G. Farragut, Appointed to command Western Gulf Blockading Squadron . Expedition against New Orleans 167 He wrote the letter at once, and with it in my pocket I caught the first train for Philadelphia. I found Farragut at the Continental Hotel, where he had just finished dinner, and as he read my letter I mentally took his measure, and felt at once I would accept any position that such a man might offer me. The letter was of considerable length and he read it carefully. When he had finished he turned to me and said: “ Mr. Osbon, I am glad to meet you and should be pleased to have you in the flagship. But I can tender you only the position of clerk, as I have already ap- pointed my secretary. The clerkship pays a salary of fifty dollars per month.” I did not hesitate. “ Thank you,” I said, “ I shall be only too happy to accept, and I shall do my best to fill the place.” Without further ado he called his secretary and or- dered him to make out my appointment, which read as follows: Philadelphia, Jan. 20th, 1862. Sir: You are hereby appointed Clerk to Flag Officer of the Western Gulf Blockading Squadron, and will report to Com- mander Wainwright, who will assign you quarters. Yours very respectfully, D. G. Farragut, Flag Officer. To Mr. B. S. Osbon, New York City. Our entire interview did not last twenty minutes. My appointment in my pocket, I hurried to New York for my dunnage, and caught a train back to Philadelphia the following morning. But our flag- 1 68 A Sailor of Fortune ship, the Hartford , had dropped down to Newcastle, for the ice was then very heavy in the Delaware, and there was danger of being frozen in. It required sev- eral days to fill our magazines from Fort Mifflin, but on the 2d of February we finally left Hampton Roads for the South, touching at Port Royal, where, three months before, with Dupont, on the Wabash, I had witnessed the reduction of Forts Walker and Beaure- gard, as already recorded. The squadron was ordered to assemble off Key West, and we saw none of our vessels on the way down. Some were to come from Boston, others from New York, one from the West Indies, and whatever could be spared from' the fleet already doing duty off the mouth of the Mississippi. Though a good portion of them were little gunboats, most of them were serv- iceable vessels, and with Commander Porter’s bomb flotilla would constitute a formidable array. Our flag- ship, the Hartford, was one of the finest vessels of her class — a screw ship of nineteen hundred and ninety tons register, two hundred and twenty-five feet long, with a complement of twenty-two nine-inch Dahlgren and two twenty-pound Parrot guns, with a Sawyer rifle on the forecastle. She also had howitzers mounted in the fore- and maintops, protected by boiler-iron, this be- ing Farragut’s invention and, I believe, the first form of fighting top. It was the 6th of February when we left Port Royal, and the nth when we reached Key West, where a number of our vessels were already assembled and a portion of the mortar flotilla, the latter being towed by powerful tugs to our final rendezvous off Ship Expedition against New Orleans 169 Island. I had seen very little of Farragut on the way down. He was suffering from a cold, and there had been no clerical work to do. In fact, my acquaintance was chiefly confined to the engineers’ mess, of which I was a member, for the wardroom officers were in- clined to avoid a correspondent, fearing, as they after- ward confessed, that I would make copy of their every word and act. But one afternoon Fleet Surgeon J. M. Foltz came to where I was leaning over the rail and said : “ Mr. Osbon, your face is very familiar to me. Were you not in the Argentine navy under Commo- dore Coe, and did you not command the V einte-Cinco de Mayo?” I confessed that this was true. “ Well, then,” he went on, “ don’t you remember me as the surgeon of the United States sloop of war Jamestown? ” I recalled him immediately, and we reviewed the brisk days at Buenos Ayres of five or six years before. Later in the afternoon a messenger brought word that the Flag Officer desired to see me in his cabin. It was the first time he had summoned me, and I responded without delay. I found him alone in his cabin, and as I entered he extended his hand in a cordial greeting. “ Mr. Osbon,” he said, “ I suppose you think I have forgotten that you are my clerk, but as a mat- ter of fact I have not needed to call on you. I under- stood that you were comfortable, considering the crowded condition of the vessel, and I have not been well, as you know.” 1 7 ° A Sailor of Fortune I thanked the Flag Officer and assured him that I was perfectly comfortable. “ By the way,” he added, “ you never told me that you had seen active naval service, and Porter did not mention it in his letter. Now, Dr. Foltz tells me that he knew you in the Argentine Navy, and that you commanded a famous little vessel. You should have told me of this, as I need to know every man’s quali- fications and experience, especially when it concerns my personal staff. Sit down, please, and tell me all about your naval service. Dr. Foltz has told me a good deal, but I want to hear it from your own lips.” For nearly two hours we talked there in the cabin, and I told him the whole story, beginning with the Anglo-Chinese warfare, and ending with the Port Royal engagement, three months before. I have never had a more attentive or appreciative listener. When I left him that evening he had become more than ever my ideal of a commanding officer. From that day I breathed a new atmosphere. I was one of the very few men on the vessel who had smelled powder in action, and the wardroom cultivated my acquaintance. I may add that my admiration for Far- ragut grew with each passing day, and when one day I saw him handle the vessel under canvas my respect for him as a sailor was unbounded. Not long after he said to me, “ Mr. Osbon, I understand you are a signal officer, and as Mr. Watson * has his hands full, I would like * Lieutenant John Crittenden Watson — at this writing, rear admiral, retired, United States Navy. Expedition against New Orleans 171 you to take charge of the signals as signal officer of the fleet.” No duty could have been more congenial to my tastes or more suited to my position as correspondent. It brought me into the closest touch with the Flag Officer, and gave me the most intimate knowledge of every movement of the fleet. I thankfully accepted the task, and from that day until we were safely at New Orleans, made every signal that controlled the Western Gulf Blockading Squadron, as Flag Officer Farragut’s command was called. XXX With Farragut under Trying Conditions TER filling her coal bunkers at Key West, the Hartford crossed over to Havana, where lay the allied fleets of England, France, and Spain, assembled for the purpose of compelling the payment of Mexican obligations, and with the ulterior design on the part of France of placing the Austrian prince, Maximilian, on the Mexican throne. There were also in the harbour a number of Confederate vessels, wait- ing for a chance to run the blockade, and it was to observe conditions there, and to consult with our Con- sul General, that we put in at this port. Owing to the general unfriendliness of the place, our Flag Officer had very little respect for the Span- ish authorities and small regard for their customs. It was after dark when we arrived off Morro Castle, and though the regulations of those days did not per- mit vessels to enter the harbour between sunset and sunrise, we steamed boldly in. When hailed, “ Who are you? ” Farragut raised his speaking trumpet to his lips and answered: “ United States flagship Hartford, from Key West, bound for Havana Harbour. “ Louder ! Louder ! ” cried the voice, as before, in Spanish. 172 With Farragut *73 Farragut again raised his speaking trumpet, but im- mediately lowered it with an impatient gesture. “ Here, Mr. Osbon,” he said, extending the trum- pet, “ take this. Tell that fellow we are the United States flag ship Hartford. Tell him we’re from Key West, bound for Havana Harbour, and that we’re go- ing in to-night.” “ Give her four bells, Captain Wainwright,” he added grimly, and this meant full speed ahead. He told me afterward that if fired on he intended to run in, despite the Spanish guns, to show our contempt for a nation that would shelter an enemy’s vessels. Still, he was courteous enough next day, and we burnt a good deal of powder in salutes for the Governor General, and for various Commanders of the allied fleets. But it was only a formal cordiality, for there was not a ship in that assemblage that would not gladly have sent us to the bottom of the sea, and, what was still worse, there were those other vessels about us flying the Stars and Bars. I wondered how Farra- gut could remain so calm under such irritating con- ditions, and respond courteously to compliments so evidently insincere that they were little short of insult. When at last we were happily at sea again, he turned to Fleet Captain H. H. Bell and drew a long breath. “Well, thank God!” he said. “I’m more than pleased to be out of that infernal hole. I’ve been mad clear through all day, and if it were not for the work ahead, nothing would suit me better than to go in 174 A Sailor of Fortune among those fellows and give them a dose of nine- inch shells. We may have to do it yet before this war is over.” We shaped our course now for Ship Island, arriv- ing there on the evening of February 20th, and on the following morning Farragut assumed entire control of the assembled fleets, relieving Flag Officer W. W. McKean, who had previously been in command of the blockading squadron. We had bad weather at Ship Island and were delayed there until the 7th of March. But on the evening of that day the Hartford was off Pass l’Outre of the Mississippi delta, and then began the tedious attempt to get the larger vessels over the bar. Finally, on the nth of March, we steamed around to Southwest Pass, and on the 13th crossed the bar and anchored of Pilot Town. Next morning Lieu- tenant (now Rear-Admiral) Albert Kautz, Lieuten- ant John L. Broome of the Marine Corps, with myself and thirty marines landed and hoisted over the look- out tower the first Union flag planted to stay on the soil of Louisiana. The Confederate pilots had fled up the river, and only a few loyal men and women re- mained at the place. On the 15th of March the Hartford steamed up to the head of the Passes, where the Brooklyn (which had been worked across the bar with great difficulty) and three gunboats were already lying. Now came nearly a month of tedious delay incident to getting the larger ships over the bar at Southwest Pass. The Pensacola and Mississippi were dragged over with great effort, the latter cutting through two With Farragut 175 feet of soft mud. Finally, on April 8th, Farragut was able to report with great satisfaction that all were over but the Colorado , it having been found impossible to lighten this vessel sufficiently to make the passage. This was a great disappointment, for the Colorado was a splendid ship, and her commander, Captain Theodoras Bailey, second in rank to Farragut him- self, was one of the bravest men and ablest fighters that ever set foot on a man-of-war. Captain Bailey did not abandon the expedition, however, but came up with a number of his crew and eventually was given a place of great honour, as we shall see. Com- mander Porter’s mortar flotilla had arrived safely and the little vessels were moving up in readiness to take their positions. General Butler and his troops were at Ship Island, and matters were rapidly shaping them- selves for the first attack upon the forts. In the meantime I had been given an opportunity to observe something of our enemy’s preparations, as well as of their target practice. On March 28th Flag Officer Farragut asked me to accompany Fleet Cap- tain Bell on a reconnaissance of the forts, and with the gunboats Kennebec and Wissahickon we went up the river to “ draw the fire,” in order that we might make some estimate of the enemy’s armament and re- sources. Captain Bell and I were on board the Kenne- bec, and I must say that we succeeded in getting the warmest kind of a reception. Fort Jackson on the left was nearer to us, but Fort St. Philip, on the east shore, being just on the bend, had a clear range down the river. The shots from both fell all around us and we realised that to pass between 176 A Sailor of Fortune those two well armed and ably manned works at a perfectly point-blank range was going to be a task to try men’s souls. In 1815 Fort Jackson alone had held the entire British fleet in check for nine days, though they had thrown into it more than one thousand shells. Now, there were two forts instead of one, and each of them far stronger and better armed than the old works. Just below Fort Jackson there was a barrier in the shape of a chain supported by a log raft and eight schooner hulks, anchored abreast. This, also, must be overcome before our vessels could even attempt a pas- sage, and to sever it would be a work requiring not only skill blit bravery, for it would have to be done directly under the fire of both forts. Fort Jackson, be- ing on the lower side of the bend, had a better com- mand of the river above, but the woods just below the fort had been cleared away so that she could sweep downstream, too. Altogether there was rough work ahead, and when a French and an English gunboat, which had been per- mitted to go to New Orleans in the interest of their countrymen, came down and reported that it was abso- lutely impossible for a fleet of wooden vessels to with- stand the fire of forts, water-batteries, gunboats, and ironclads that awaited us — that to undertake the pas- sage meant certain annihilation of our fleet — I fear there were one or two wavering hearts among the men who heard the tale. But if so, they made no sign, and as for Farragut he quietly regarded the foreign commanders who so eagerly made this discouraging report, and said very gravely : With Farragut 177 “ Well, gentlemen, my orders are to pass the forts and capture the city of New Orleans. It is my inten- tion to obey those orders, and with the help of God I have no doubt I shall be able to reach the city. I shall lose some men and possibly some ships, but I do not anticipate a great loss of either. My prayer is they will be few.” His tone was very gentle, but solemn, and made a profound impression on everyone present. It seemed to breathe at once absolute self-reliance, confidence in his commanding officers and crews, knowledge of the weak points of his enemy, an unfaltering faith in a Divine Providence, and a full determination to obey his orders from the Department.* It was during our reconnaissance of the 28th that I made a sketch of a water-battery which I had observed lying below Fort Jackson. On our return Captain Bell made his report, and later I was summoned for mine. I told the Flag Officer what I had seen and showed my sketches. When he noticed my drawing of the water- battery he at once sent for Captain Bell. “ Mr. Osbon has here a sketch of a water-battery which you failed to report,” he said. “ How is that ? ” Bell was puzzled and a little nettled. “ I believe I have as good eyes as Mr. Osbon,” he insisted, “ and I saw nothing of the kind.” * “ I have now attained what I have been looking for all my life,” wrote Farragut in a letter home, “ a flag — and having at- tained it, all that is necessary to complete the scene, is victory. If I die in the attempt, it will only be what every officer has to expect. He who dies in doing his duty to his country, and at peace with his God, has played out the drama of life to the best advantage.” 1 78 A Sailor of Fortune “ Well,” said Farragut, “ we’ll take another look to-morrow morning and I’ll see what I can see.” We were off next morning at nine o’clock on the Iroquois, whose commander, gallant John De Camp, soon put her where we could get a full view of the works. The Flag Officer and Captain Bell seated them- selves on the fore yard for observation, and in the shower of iron that dropped around us came very near being struck by a shell from the very water- battery that Captain Bell had failed to see the day before. The Iroquois was a bigger target than the Kennebec, but once more we came out untouched, though a number of the shots came very close indeed. Nothing disturbed Farragut. He was as calm and placid as an onlooker at a mimic battle. The shell that nearly ended his life was scarcely noticed. He would have remained longer on observation, but for the sug- gestion from Captain Bell that the situation was need- lessly dangerous. No precaution of any sort was taken because of the Flag Officer’s presence, except that the vessel did not hoist his blue flag. It was the first time I had seen Farragut under fire. He was my idol as a man, an officer and a hero from that hour. There came a period now that was hard on the nerves of officers and crew. Commander Porter got his mortar fleet in position, and on April 18 opened fire with his thirteen-inch shells. His vessels were small and made a pretty show as they filed by, for he had their masts and rigging covered with tree branches, so that it was almost impossible for the enemy to see them when they were ranged along the shore. All day and night the air was rent with the deafening roar of With Farragut 179 those mortars and the reply of the enemy’s guns. Neither side appeared to be able to do much damage, though the Fort Jackson citadel was set on fire the first day and one of the enemy’s heavy guns dis- mounted. On the mortar fleet a man was killed by a shot and later a vessel was sunk, the latter without loss of life. At times the gunboats went up to create a diversion, and their hot fire drove the enemy from the parapets, though this only caused a redoubled fire from the heavy casemate guns. It was rather slow work for the rest of us, lying as we did some three thousand yards below the forts, out of range except for an occasional accelerating shell which dropped here and there, once causing the Hartford to shift position. Yet we were by no means idle. Daily in the cabin of the Hartford there was a council of all the com- manding officers, where the situation was discussed from every possible point of view, and where every suggestion was carefully considered, and if found worthy was put into effect. Through the inspiration of Engineer Moore of the Richmond, our chain-cables ' were arranged on the outside of the vessels immedi- ately over the engines and boilers, and made an ex- cellent protection. Another idea was to whitewash the decks, so that in the dark — for it had been decided that we would run the forts in the night — rammers and other dark objects could be more easily distin- guished. A third plan was to paint the outside of the vessels with a mixture of oil and mud, so they would be harder to see. Still another good idea was to pack the boilers with bags of ashes, clothing, sand and what- i Bo A Sailor of Fortune ever was obtainable for the purpose. Many of the ships arranged rope nettings about the bulwarks to protect the men from flying splinters, and there were many such ingenious devices for safety and comfort of offi- cers and crews. There was also other employment. From the en- emy’s fleet, which lay above the forts, fire-rafts began to come down — great scows, from fifty to a hundred feet long — loaded with pine knots and well saturated with tar, the whole burning fiercely like a prairie fire and making a rare show in the night on the water. The current was very swift, and it was believed by the enemy that these rafts would get among our vessels and set us afire. But stout crews were kept out in boats, armed with grapplings, and as fast as the rafts came down they were towed ashore and allowed to burn, or were sent drifting down the river below the fleet. Farragut watched this mode of warfare with some disgust. “ If those fellows knew their business they could make it warm for us,” he said ; “ as it is, all they do is to deprive our boys of their rest.” We also were harassed by about two hundred sharp- shooters, who ranged up and down the shore to carry information and to pick off our men. Farragut became impatient on the 20th and declared he would run the forts that night, but repairs to two vessels and the pleadings of Porter for more time with the mortars induced him to wait. On that night, how- ever, an expedition was organised to cut the chain which spanned the river below the forts. The Itasca and the Pinola, dismasted that they might be less conspic- With Farragut 181 uous, undertook this desperate job. Fleet Captain Bell with Commanders Crosby and Calwell, and an ex- pert with petards, had the mission in hand, and with anxious interest we saw them sail away into the dark- ness. The plan was to blow up one of the supporting hulks with a petard and sever the chain, permitting the rest of the hulks and the raft to swing down against the river banks. We knew, of course, they would be discovered, the only question being how much they could accomplish before they were sunk or driven away. The moments passed and seemed like hours. Suddenly the whole mortar fleet let loose a tremendous volley, with three to eight shells constantly in the air, falling like meteors in and around Fort Jackson. This was to divert at- tention from the chain expedition, but it failed to do so. A rocket went up from Fort Jackson, and then both forts opened a fire with heavy guns. Neither of our vessels replied and we had no means of knowing what was taking place. Over an hour of anxiety passed, during which we strained our eyes into the night for the first sight of the returning ships. Then at last a single small boat came out of the darkness. It was from the Pinola and brought the news that the chain was broken, and that the Itasca was hard and fast aground. The fire from the forts had slackened, but unless we got her off before moonrise she was cer- tain to be captured. Orders were sent to tow her off immediately, even at the sacrifice of her guns. But this was not necessary. By midnight both the Itasca and Pinola were safe at their anchorage, and while the barrier, which was held in place by anchors, was not 1 82 A Sailor of Fortune completely destroyed, a passage had been made through it. The petard had failed to work owing to the swift- ness of the current, which had broken the connecting wires, so that the cutting had been accomplished by other means. No one had been killed, and we all drew a great breath of relief. By April 21st, though nearly five thousand shells had been thrown, the forts appeared to be as powerful as ever. It was blowing a fierce norther and the weather was really very cold. Fire-rafts kept annoying us, and every day the enemy’s gunboats came down to have a look at us or to land provisions and ammunition at Fort Jackson. On the night of the 21st a bright light in the vicinity of the chain, which we first took for a fire-raft, proved to be a party of the enemy trying to repair the broken barrier. On the same day the Oneida, while engaging Fort Jackson, lost almost an entire gun’s crew by one shell. All of these things wore on Farragut’s small store of patience, and I could see that he was getting rest- less. By the morning of the 22 d, when the bombard- ment had continued four days and nights, our Flag Officer could no longer control his expression of its uselessness. “ We are wasting ammunition,” he said to Com- mander Porter, “ and time. We will fool around down here until we have nothing left to fight with. I’m ready to run those forts now, to-night.” But Porter still pleaded for time. “ Wait one more day, Flag Officer,” he said, “ and I will cripple them so you can pass up with little or no loss of life.” With Farragut 183 This was a strong appeal to Farragut’s tender nature. “ All right, David,” he replied. “ Go at ’em again and we’ll see what happens by to-morrow.” But to-morrow brought no change. Fort Jackson was as lively as ever, and Fort St. Philip, which had not been made a point of special attack, was almost untouched. Commander Porter came on board the Hartford to report, downcast but still anxious to con- tinue the bombardment. The discussion waxed pretty warm, and finally Farragut said : “ Look here, David, we’ll demonstrate the practical value of mortar work. Mr. Osbon,” he added, turning to me, “ get two small flags, a white one and a red one, and go to the* mizzen topmasthead and watch where the mortar shells fall. If inside the fort, wave the red flag. If outside, wave the white one.” Then to Porter, “ You recommended Mr. Osbon to me, so you will have confidence in his count. Now go aboard your vessel, select a tallyman, and when all is ready, Mr. Osbon will wave his flags and the count will begin.” The little flags were quickly made ready, the tally- man was selected, and the mortar flotilla presently opened up with renewed vigour. Up there at the mast- head where I could see, it kept me busy waving the little flags, and I had to watch very closely not to make mistakes. On the deck, ’way aft, Farragut sat, watch- ing the waving flags and occasionally asking for the score. The roar became perfectly deafening, and the ship trembled like an aspen. Still I kept the flags go- ing, while every man in the fleet was watching and 184 A Sailor of Fortune trying to keep count. At last I was ordered from aloft and the tally sheet was footed up, showing that the “ outs ” had it, by a large majority. “ There, David,” said Farragut when Commander Porter came aboard, “ there’s the score. I guess we’ll go up the river to-night.” I remember that day as if it were yesterday. Every detail of the order of advance was gone over for the last time. As originally planned the ships were to ad- vance double-column abreast, with Farragut at the head of one column and Captain Bailey, on the Oneida, to lead the other. But Captain Lee, of the Oneida, had asked that he might be allowed to command his own vessel, and Commander Harrison, of the little gunboat Cayuga, had immediately asked Bailey to hoist his flag on that vessel. It was further decided that, as the opening in the barrier would not safely let a double column pass through, especially in the dark, the vessels should advance single file, and Cap- tain Bailey, with Commander Harrison in the little Cayuga, was assigned the post of honour at the head of the column. Farragut himself selected the second division, and Fleet Captain Bell was to lead the third. In all, there were to be seventeen vessels in this great naval parade, and the order of march and action had been gone over and over until every man knew his place in the line, just what was expected of him, and what he was to do under all conditions. In closing his orders for that great undertaking Farragut said : I wish you to understand that the day is at hand when you will be called upon to meet the enemy in the worst With Farragut 185 form for our profession. You must be prepared to exe- cute those duties to which you have been so long trained without having the opportunity of practising. . . . Hot and cold shot will, no doubt, be dealt freely to us, and there must be stout hearts and quick hands to extinguish the one and to stop the holes of the other. There were plenty of stout hearts and quick hands in that fleet, but on one or two of the vessels there were some sad hearts, also. There were men among them with families at home, and though they were will- ing enough to go into that terrible gateway, they were convinced that the shot intended for them had been cast. “ Mr. Osbon,” said Farragut that afternoon, point- ing to a vessel that lay near us, “ I hear that they are as blue as indigo in that wardroom over there. Go over and cheer them up. Tell them some stories of the fights you’ve been in and come out of alive. It will stir their blood and do them good.” I obeyed orders, and it may be I did no good ; but I think the boys enjoyed the stories and certainly the vessel made as good a record as any in the fleet. Yet Farragut himself was not without his misgivings as to our probable losses. “ What do you estimate our casualties will be, Mr. Osbon ? ” he said, near evening, as we stood on the quarter-deck. “ Flag Officer,” I said, “ I have been thinking of that, and I believe we will lose a hundred.” That was a small percentage considering that we had four thousand in the fleet, and he looked at me 1 86 A Sailor of Fortune with a good deal of surprise. “ No more than that? ” he said. “ How do you calculate on so small a number? ” “ Well,” I answered, “ most of us are pretty low in the water, and, being near, the enemy will shoot high. Then, too, we will be moving and it will be dark, with dense smoke. Another thing, gunners ashore are never as accurate as gunners aboard a vessel. I believe a hun- dred men will cover our loss.” He looked at me steadily a moment, and then, a little sadly, said, “ I wish I could think so. I wish I could be as sure of it as you are.” He took a few turns up and down the deck, while I looked up at the sky to see what were the prospects for the eventful night. As I did so, I noticed a great bird — a bald eagle it proved — circling above the fleet. “ Look there, Flag Officer,” I called, pointing up- ward. “ That is ouf national emblem. It is a sign of victory.” He came and stood beside me and we watched it for some time together. Somewhat later — it was just be- fore sunset — a Confederate steamer came down and took a good look at us across the broken chain. As soon as she was gone we began to form in line of battle. We were already stripped for action, and each man knew his position. Vessels dropped into place and the different divisions formed, ready to swing into line at the given hour and signal. As the sun slipped below the horizon men watched With Farragut 187 it with the thought of what we would pass through before it again appeared. Ahead of us lay two power- ful forts, mounting some two hundred pieces of ar- tillery — a chain barrier in which there was but a narrow opening — a lot of dangerous hulks — a dozen or more Confederate gunboats, well armed — one or more rams — fire-rafts without number — a swift oppos- ing current and a desperate foe. Certainly there were those among us who would never see the sun again in the world ; and orders were given and ships took their appointed anchorage without much bustle or display. g XXXI The Passing of the Forts 4 T the usual hour the crews turned in, but I think L\ there was little sleep. The men were cheerful JL JL and determined, but wakeful. Most of them had been green hands when we started, and scarcely one of them had been under fire. With a night attack just ahead it was but natural that they should be anxious. At about eleven o’clock the Itasca went up to see if the opening made in the chain was still unobstructed, and a little later signalled that the way was clear. Over on the river bank the mortars were pounding away, the bright globes circling in the air. With us all was quiet except for the hiss of escaping steam. It was a pleas- ant night — clear and no longer cold. The moon would rise at three o’clock. We were to start an hour earlier. At one, precisely, all hands were called, hammocks stowed, and everything made ready to weigh anchors at two. It was a solemn time. Men went about their duties, thinking of many things. The hour seemed but a few moments. On the stroke of two, with my own hands I hoisted to the mizzen peak a pair of red lan- terns, which was the signal to get under way. Now, this is the order and manner of the fighting that night below New Orleans, April 24, 1862: The 188 The Passing of the Forts 189 little Cayuga, with Captain Theodoras Bailey and Commander Napoleon B. Harrison, headed the first division, with orders to receive, but not to return, the fire of Fort Jackson. “ I will attend to Fort Jackson,” Farragut had said, “ you fellows make straight for St. Philip, and give it to them as you go by.” Behind the Cayuga was to follow the sloop of war Pensacola, with Captain Morris, who was always a deliberate man and sometimes annoyed Farragut with his delays. And the old frigate Mississippi was to fol- low the Pensacola, with Melancthon Smith in com- mand, and a young executive named George Dewey on her spar deck; while behind the Mississippi was ranged Commander Lee with the Oneida, another sloop of war. Then came the Varuna, a converted merchantman, which with Commander Boggs was to make a glorious record on this her last day, and be- hind the Varuna, the Katahdin, the Kineo, and the Wissahickon, all little gunboats like the Cayuga, with officers Preble, Ransom and Smith in command. Farragut himself chose to lead the second division, which was made up of our flagship, the Hartford, with Commander Wainwright, and of the Brooklyn with Commander Craven, and the Richmond with Com- mander Alden — our three finest vessels — all sloops of war and the pride of the fleet. The third division was assigned to Fleet Captain Bell, who hoisted his flag on the little Sciota, com- manded by Lieutenant Donaldson, while the Iroquois with John De Camp, came next, and the Kennebec with Johnnie Russell, and the Pinola with Lieutenant i9° A Sailor of Fortune Crosby, and the Itasca, with Caldwell, and the Winona with Nichols, all little gunboats, small and noisy, like the tail of a rattler, trailing out behind. Seventeen there were of us altogether when I hoisted the two red lanterns, and almost immediately the Cayuga had her anchors up and was away into the darkness. It seemed that she had scarcely gone — she was just at the chain, in fact — when a blaze of light and a roar from Fort Jackson told that she had been discovered and, according to orders, was receiving, though not returning, their fire. Then a second roar told that St. Philip had opened, and then at last we recognised the Cayuga’s eleven-inch forward gun in reply, and knew she had so far lived, and that the fiery passage of the forts had begun at last. The Pensacola, meantime, always deliberate, had been slow getting her anchors, and the Varuna with Boggs, and the Oneida with Lee, and the old frigate Mississippi with Melancthon Smith, and with young George Dewey on the spar deck, had pushed in ahead ; and the Katahdin, and the Kineo, and the Wissahickon all eager for battle had followed, until presently the river before us had become a sheet of sulphurous flame, while smoke, thick and black, came drifting about us and stirred fiercely our fighting blood as only the smell of burning powder can. Still the Pensacola fumbled with her tangled an- chors, and our Flag Officer, who had been thus far calm and cheerful, responding “ All right,” or “ Thank you, sir,” as I reported the sailing of each vessel, now began to chafe at the delay to our division. “ Damn that fellow ! I don’t believe he wants to The Passing of the Forts 19 1 start!” he exclaimed at last, but just then old slow- going Morris did get his anchors and steered away into the black drift ahead. Then a little later we heard the Pensacola’s big broadside guns roar, and roar, and keep roaring, with a regularity and deliberation which convinced us that Morris, as usual, was taking his time, and perhaps preferred to be at the end of his division, so that he need not be hurried in his fighting and could pass leisurely along the fiery way. But it was now our turn to move, and without fur- ther delay we pushed into the black folds ahead, through which the flash and thunder came back inces- santly. It was just half-past-three, and meantime the moon had risen. Such light as came from it aided very little in that dense battle smoke. Carefully we felt our way through the opening in the chain, and then all at once the enemy’s guns had found us, too, and solid shot was screaming overhead and fiery shells were bursting around us. At that moment, as by in- spiration, I hoisted our largest Star Spangled Banner at the peak, and hastening forward decked the fore and mainmasts each in the same way. “ Why do you do that? ” called Farragut, for it was unusual to have the colours flying at night. “ Flag Officer,” I shouted back, “ I thought if we are to go down, it would look well to have our colours flying above the water! ” “ All right,” he returned, and presently behind us the Brooklyn and the Richmond, and the others had seen our flags above the smoke, and had their colours flying, too. A little way ahead the old Pensacola had calmly 19 2 A Sailor of Fortune stopped her engines abreast of St. Philip, and slowly and with great precision was letting go broadside after broadside, as if upon her alone rested the sole responsi- bility of demolishing that fort. We could not see her, but we knew her guns, and her deliberate method of firing. We were now at the very teeth of destruction, but as yet had not fired a shot. It was our orders to waste no ammunition. Farragut had ascended to the port mizzen rigging, where he could see above the smoke and watch all that transpired. With his feet on the rat- lines and his back against the shrouds, he stood there as cool and undisturbed as if leaning against a mantel in his own home. All of Porter’s mortars were going, and the crash and roar of the guns just ahead was something tremendous, but he seemed to heed it not at all. Twice he sent me to see that all the gun divi- sions were ready; then he called: “ Go forward and see if the bow guns will bear.” A moment later I had returned with the information that we could reach them with one gun. “ Tell Captain Wainwright to begin firing,” he said quietly, and a shot from the bow gun began our share of the battle. “ Load and fire at will,” was the next order, and immediately after we were “ attending to Fort Jackson,” according to promise. It had taken us just twenty-five minutes against that heavy current to arrive at a position opposite the fort, and we were now given their fiercest fire. To sink the flagship would be a great achievement, even if they were conquered in the end. Behind those Confederate guns were brave men, and they did their best. Passing of the Forts 193 Shot, shell, grape, and canister filled the air with deadly missiles. It was like the breaking up of the universe, with the moon and all the stars bursting in our midst. As for seeing what the other vessels were doing, or what was going on about us, that was im- possible. In that blinding smoke, and night, with everything flying in all directions, the only thing we could see was the flash of guns in our faces and the havoc on our own ship.* Ropes were swinging, splin- ters were flying. I dimly remember that once the Brooklyn swung in too near us and her jibboom car- ried away my “ harp of a thousand strings ” as the Flag Officer had called it — an arrangement of signal halyards in which I took great pride. I remember that I used violent language when I saw it go, and shook my fist at our gallant but clumsy consort through the flash and gloom. At first the enemy’s aim had been high, but now they lowered it until their fire began to cut us through. Suddenly a rifle shell pierced the mainmast about on a line with where Farragut stood in the mizzen rig- ging. Without further delay I hurried up to him and begged him to come down, but he refused to do so. “We can’t afford to lose you, Flag Officer,” I said. “ They’ll get you, up here, sure.” I had a pair of small opera glasses and I had lent them to him, for they were handier than his large binoculars. * “ Such a fire I imagine the world has rarely seen,” s^ys Far- ragut in his report. “ . . . It was as if the artillery of heaven were playing upon the earth.” 194 A Sailor of Fortune “ Flag Officer,” I insisted, “ they’ll break my opera glasses, if you stay up here.” He held them out to me quite seriously. “ Oh, damn the glasses ! ” I said, “ it’s you we want. Come down ! ” He did so presently, and he had barely left his place when a shell exploded there and cut away a lot of rig- ging, just where he had stood. Steadily we steamed on, and at ten minutes past four were just between the forts, where the action became still more general, and terrible. Less than three-quar- ters of a mile apart — from both forts at once, and from water-batteries above and below — thicker and faster came shot and shell, while we sent back grape, canister and shrapnel, sweeping their parapets of gun- ners again and again. And throughout this melee and carnage the business of navigating the vessel went steadily on. The sonor- ous cry of the leadsmen and the deep-voiced orders of Captain Wainwright to the man at the helm came as calmly through the roar of guns and riot of flame as if we were threading the uncertain channel on a night of peace. “ Quarter-less-five — Half-five — Quarter-less-four — ” The leadsmen’s intonations came steadily through the smoke and crash, and then, deeply, from Captain Wainright, “ Starboard — ” and the vessel would slip over into safer water. That men never before under fire should maintain the calm presence of mind displayed on that occasion I count simply amazing. It is quite out of the question to give any idea of the Passing of the Forts 195 fierceness of the fire at this time, or of the night pic- ture we made there in the midst of flame and smoke and iron hail. A shell burst on our deck, the concussion stunning Lieutenant George Heisler of our marine corps. I ran forward to see what damage had been done, when the wind of another shell carried away my cap. For some reason it made me wildly furious. I swung my arms and vented futile rage into the battle smoke at the men over there behind the guns. We were struck now on all sides. A shell entered our starboard beam, cut our cable, wrecked our ar- mory and exploded at the main hatch, killing one man instantly, and wounding several others. Another en- tered the muzzle of a gun, breaking the lip and killing the sponger who was in the act of “ ramming home.” A third entered the boatswain’s room, destroying everything in its path and, exploding, killed a coloured servant who was passing powder. Death and destruction seemed everywhere. Men’s faces were covered with powder-black and daubed with blood. They had become like a lot of demons in a wild inferno, working fiercely at the business of death. Suddenly out of the gloom ahead appeared a Con- federate steamer, her deck loaded with troops, who opened on us with a volley of musketry. There was no time to be lost. Our howitzers instantly replied, and Lieutenant John Broome of the marine corps trained two nine-inch guns on her and let go. We saw the shells strike. Then followed an explosion, horri- fied yells, a sudden careen, and the waters of the Mississippi had covered her and all on board. 196 A Sailor of Fortune We now realised that Bailey’s division was fiercely engaged with the enemy’s gunboats just ahead, sink- ing and burning them — for, one after another, blazing Confederate craft came drifting down the tide, among them a huge fire-raft, attended by the ram Manassas, which was pushing and butting it toward the Hartford. It was 4.15 by the watch lashed to my sleeve, where I kept my notes — it being my double duty as Flag Officer’s clerk and as correspondent to record the prog- ress of the battle — and we were just abreast of Fort St. Philip, close up — our howitzers in the tops sweep- ing the parapets, our broadsides pounding at her big guns, when at this critical moment, with the fort on one hand and the fire-raft on the other, we went aground. This was indeed a crisis. The ram, seeing our pre- dicament, promptly shoved the blazing raft under our port quarter, and in an instant our rigging and the side of our vessel had caught fire. Another fire at this moment was started by a shell exploding in a locker filled with ditty-boxes * down on the berth deck, and for a time it seemed that our end had come. There was prompt action at the hose, but I realised that some- thing had to be done with the fire-raft instantly. Some twenty-pound rifle shells were lying handy, and I rolled three of them to the waterways just above the blazing scow. It was fiercely hot there, and I threw a heavy coat over my head, and, leaning down, began uncapping the shells. I had two of them ready when F'arragut came over to see what I was at. As I was covered with the coat, he could only see that I was *A receptacle where sailors keep trinkets, needle, thread, etc. The Passing of the Forts 197 upon my knees, and he may have remembered that my father was a minister, for he said : “ Come, Mr. Osbon, this is no time for prayer ! ” I got the cap off of the third shell just then, but I paused long enough to say, “ Flag Officer, if you’ll wait a second you’ll get the quickest answer to prayer ever you heard of,” and I rolled the three shells into the burning raft. Almost instantly they exploded with a great noise, tearing a wide hole in the fire-raft and giving the little ironclad such a scare that she backed off with her sinking charge, delivering a parting shot from her single gun.* The hose was at work by this time and our own flames were quickly extinguished; also the fire from St. Philip had slackened somewhat, for our smudge- faced gunners and those of vessels pushing by us had kept up an unceasing and overwhelming fire.f It was a full twenty minutes that we lay there *This shot embedded itself in our rudder post, and is now preserved in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. fThe late Admiral Boggs used to delight in relating a story told him by Farragut, called “ Osbon’ s Prayer.” Farragut seeing an officer kneeling by the poop-plank shear shouted out, “ Come, sir, this is no time for prayer ! ” The officer addressed was B. S. Osbon, Farragut’ s signal clerk, who, seeing the great peril the ship was in, put an overcoat that lay in the signal locker over his head to prevent the flames from burning him, and rolled three twenty-pound rifle shells up under the curling flames, deftly uncapped them, and just as Farragut chided him for his prayers at such a time, threw them over the side into the fire- raft, and in five seconds they had exploded, tearing out the sides of the raft. After the explosion of the shells water rushed into the raft and she sank. — From “ Records and Battles of Admiral George Dewey,” by M. F. Tobin, Commander of the Associated Veterans of Farragut’s Fleet. 198 A Sailor of Fortune abreast of St. Philip. Then our engineers got us off, and, still followed by the fire of the forts, we pushed on toward the battle with the fleet, which we could hear going on just above. But Bailey’s division had attended to the matter well. The battle was nearly over. Everywhere Confederate vessels were sinking — burning holes in the night. On both shores and in the stream they lay. We knew that wonderful fighting had been going on up there, but we could scarcely be- lieve our eyes. Of a fleet of eighteen, including rams and a powerful ironclad, the Louisiana, but three or four had survived, and these were disabled or retreat- ing — falling out of the fight. The plucky little ram Manassas was still afloat, and made one more attempt to damage the Union fleet, ramming here and there as best she could, though now with little result. “ Signal the Mississippi to sink that damn thing,” commanded Farragut, and a minute later the old craft — with young George Dewey, executive, still on the spar deck — was after her, and coming alongside plunged an entire broadside through her armour. Sink- ing rapidly, the ram made for the shore, where thirty men ran out of her gun port and escaped to the woods. Another volley or two was poured into her, and she drifted down between the forts, sinking lower and lower in the water. That ended the great battle of the 24th of April. We had met the enemy “ in the worst form for our profession,” and still at our mastheads — shot through and ribboned, but radiant with sunrise and victory — our colours bannered to the morning sky. XXXII The March of the Victors ,L our vessels but three had passed above the forts. The brave little Itasca early in the fight had received a shot through her boiler which made it impossible for her to proceed; the Winona and the Kennebec had become entangled in the chain- hulks and had been unable to extricate themselves be- fore daylight, when it would have been almost certain destruction to attempt the passage. The Winona, in fact, lost almost an entire gun’s crew in making the effort, and the Kennebec prudently withdrew.* Of the vessels that had passed the forts, every one had been pierced through and through, and one, the Varuna, Commander Boggs, had been struck by two rams and sunk, though not before she had destroyed or driven ashore three vessels, and had kept her guns going un- til the carriages were covered with water, disabling one of her assailants and destroying the other — five to her credit in all. Then she was run ashore, and her crew, including the wounded, saved. I should like to recount here the exploits of every * The vessels which were unable to pass attached themselves to Commodore Porter’s fleet below the forts, which, besides the mortar flotilla, consisted of the Harriet Lane, Westfield, Owasco, Clifton, and Miami, and the Portsmouth, towed by the Jackson. This division lay on the west bank, just below Fort Jackson, and enfiladed the works with a hot fire. 200 A Sailor of Fortune vessel in our noble fleet, but I can find room for only a few. The Cayuga , which bore the flag of Theodorus Bailey, and led the way, must come first of these : She made no reply to the guns of Fort Jackson, but held her fire until close up with St. Philip, when she let go with grape and canister, still steering on. The little gunboat was struck from stem to stern. Shot after shot went through her, though without reaching a vital spot or checking her progress. Then all at once, just above St. Philip, she was surrounded by the “ Montgomery Flotilla ” — the enemy’s fleet, consist- ing of sixteen gunboats, many of them with iron prows, the ram Manassas, and the floating iron bat- tery Louisiana, of twenty guns. It was an anxious moment, for no supporting vessel was in sight. Yet the little Cayuga did not hesitate. The forts had been found impregnable. Here, at least, was something that would sink. “ This,” says Bailey in his report, “ was hot but more congenial work.” Three large steamers attempted to board him — num- ber one on the starboard bow — number two astern — number three on the starboard beam. That was as many as could get around him, and the fire was pour- ing in. But just here the Cayuga’s eleven-inch Dahl- gren went off in the direction of number three at a point-blank range of thirty yards. The effect was something tremendous. “ He im- mediately steered in shore,” says Bailey, “ ran aground and burnt himself up.” The forecastle gun settled the enemy in that quarter, the remaining vessel being now so close that the Cayuga’s crew prepared to repel boarders. It did not come to this. The guns did the The March of the Victors 201 work, and before the remainder of the Confederate flotilla could close on the Cayuga, Boggs with the swift, ill-fated Varuna and Lee with the Oneida came dashing up, and with the Cayuga quickly made a fin- ish of eleven of the enemy’s fleet, sinking and burning them in all directions. Then the Cayuga discovered a Confederate camp on the right shore, and steering in close, shouted to the colonel to pile up his arms on the river bank and come aboard, which he promptly did. The Cayuga had forty-two holes through her, when all was over, and six wounded men — but not a man was killed.* Though the Pensacola did not take her appointed place in the line of battle, I will add another word of her movements here. Always deliberate, she made not the least haste either in her firing or her progress. Here and there abreast of the forts, where it was hot- test, she stopped her engines and poured in carefully aimed broadsides, which probably did more damage than those of any other vessel in the fleet. Once she was struck by the ram Manassas, which, however, * Commander N. B. Harrison, of the Cayuga, gives it to us in a nut-shell. “ At 2 a . m ., in obedience to the Flag Officer’s signal, weighed anchor, led the column toward the barrier, and stood up stream, close to Fort St. Philip. At 2.45 both forts opened their fire. At 2.50 opened on Fort St. Philip with grape and canister. At 3 passed the line of fire of Fort St. Philip, and encountered some eleven gunboats, no supporting ships in sight. At 3.25 one steamer surrendered, and two more were driven on shore. At this moment discovered the Varuna and Oneida dash gallantly into the fight. At 5 anchored in front of Camp Lovell and received the submission of Colonel Szymanski and his command.” Here, in the space of a little more than a hundred words, we have material for as many historical novels. 202 A Sailor of Fortune sheered off without doing serious hurt — receiving a destructive broadside as it passed. When the Pensa- cola concluded that she had done her duty, thoroughly and professionally, so far as the forts were concerned, she went up into the naval fight and took off part of the crew from the sinking Varuna. The unhurried prog- ress of the Pensacola made her a target for the en- emy’s fire. She had many shot holes and a total of thirty-seven killed and wounded — more than any other vessel of the fleet. The Brooklyn came next in the list of casualties. Her place was behind the Hartford, but in the dark- ness and blinding smoke she lost sight of us and be- came entangled in the chain-hulks. When she was finally rid of these she lost herself once more in the dense clouds which we left behind us, and coming upon us suddenly, carried away my signal halyards. Meantime she had been raked by Fort Jackson, had sunk a venturesome Confederate steamer, and now, blinded by the fire-raft and butted by the ram, came blundering over toward St. Philip, where in thirteen feet of water she engaged and temporarily silenced that fort. She got out at last, only to be attacked by other steamers, into which she poured death-dealing broadsides. Her progress had been eccentric but effec- tive, and her killed and wounded totalled thirty-five men. I should like to speak of more of the vessels — of the Oneida, which ran in so close to St. Philip that she was below the angle of the enemy’s guns, of the Iroquois , which made a gallant record, arriving above the forts in time to sink a number of the enemy’s fleet, The March of the Victors 203 of the old frigate Mississippi, whose course was di- rected by the man who was one day to conquer at Manila — of the sloop of war Richmond; of the Katahdin , the Kineo, and the Wissahickon ; of the Sciota, and the Pinola — that small and noisy division that, like the tail of a rattler, yet stinging and savage like the cracker of a whip, came trailing out behind. All the vessels did brave work — all were struck and torn, nearly all lost men. It was five o’clock when we came to anchor off Quarantine above the forts. “ Make the signal to report casualties, Mr. Osbon,” said the Flag Officer, and one by one as the vessels collected they sent up their flags in reply. Throughout the battle Farragut’s one anxiety had seemed to be for the safety of his men. Now and then, when I re- ported to him how few had fallen on our own vessel he had said fervently, “ Thank God ! ” When he had seen the Varuna sinking, his first exclamation was, “ I pray that Boggs and his people are safe ! ” He stood by me now, as the reports came in, anxiously watch- ing the figures I set down. When they were many, as in the case of the Brooklyn and Pensacola, he sighed deeply. When they were few he breathed thanks. When the list was made up and a total of twenty-four killed and eighty-six wounded were reported he ut- tered a fervent exclamation of gratitude.* I had un- derestimated by ten men. His chief concern now was for the Winona, the Itasca, and the Kennebec, of * The total Union loss, killed and wounded, in all the actions below New Orleans eventually footed up about one hundred and eighty. The Confederate loss was many times that number. 204 A Sailor of Fortune whose fate we knew nothing. Our fear was that they had been sunk, and Farragut immediately dispatched Captain Boggs with one of the gunboats through the Quarantine Bayou to learn what was possible of the missing vessels, as well as to report our success to Commander Porter,* also to notify General Butler that the way was now clear for him to bring up troops through the bayou, as the enemy had nothing left but the forts, and these — their supplies cut off and of no service to their cause — must speedily surrender. They did so, in fact, to Commander Porter, next day. We lay off Quarantine all day on the 24th, resting. Yet it was a busy day. Commanding officers came aboard the flagship to exchange congratulations, and to pay tribute to the brave, capable man who had made the great victory possible. He received them in the most quiet, modest manner, saying to each that it was his officers and men who had won the battle. To us in that moment he seemed the greatest hero of the ages. If permitted, we would have cheered him all day long. That evening we steamed up to the English Turn, not far below New Orleans, and halted there to give the men a night’s rest, for, according to report, there were yet two more strong works — the Chalmette Bat- teries — to pass. I slept on deck that night, to receive or send any emergency signals, and on the only occa- sion I had need to report to Farragut, found him sleep- ing as quietly as a babe. *In his letter to Commander Porter, Farragut said: “We had a rough time of it, as Boggs will tell you, but, thank God, the number of killed and wounded was very small consid- ering. . . . You supported us most nobly.” The March of the Victors 205 Early on the morning of the 25th we had our an- chors up and were away, but once more the little wasp of a Cayuga was on ahead, and, before we could get within a mile of her, was lying bow and stern across the batteries, they raking her, she giving it to them with her eleven-inch and Parrott guns. I have never seen a more daring thing than that little gunboat lying there alone in broad daylight, engaging two forts. Fifteen minutes later we were beside her, but it was not immediately that we could bring our guns to bear. Gradually we worked around until our port broadside could be used, and, taking careful aim, let it go alto- gether, permanently closing the incident so far as the battery on that bank was concerned. The Pensacola, the Brooklyn, and the little Sciota meantime had come up, and had promptly attended to the works on the east shore. On both sides the batteries were being de- serted — men running in all directions. Two on horse- back attracted my attention. They were within easy range, and in the excitement of the moment I picked up a rifle and drew a bead on the forward man. Then, just in time, I remembered what such an action would be, and dropped the gun. Nearly forty years later, at a meeting of veterans of both sides in New York City, I told this incident, and a man ran up and grabbed me by the hand. “ My God ! ” he said, “ I was the front man on that horse! You saved my life.” There was no further interference with our progress toward New Orleans, and we went up as in a parade of triumph. On either side of the river were fine plan- tations, and some of these were owned by loyal people. 206 A Sailor of Fortune Now that they could safely do so, they had the Stars and Stripes floating from their beautiful old mansions, and returned our cheers and wavings. Even where we were regarded with scorn by men and women col- lected on the front verandas to see us pass, there would be a group of negroes in the rear, making silent but joyous gesticulations of welcome. Below the Chal- mette Batteries, when we were close in shore, a very old darkey with a carpet bag and an umbrella had fol- lowed along the levee, shouting praises to the Yankee fleet and to his Maker, until suddenly the guns of the Cayuga opened, when with a wild whoop he dis- appeared as if hit by a shell. I thought Farragut would laugh himself sick. We were now greeted with dense smoke and burn- ing craft of every description. The mob at New Or- leans, in anticipation of our arrival, were destroying whatever fire would consume. Steamers loaded with cotton, blazing and smoking, went drifting by, and vessels of every kind. Large ships had been fired and cut adrift to float down upon us, and as a heavy shower had now begun, the smoke became dense, almost blind- ing. Then we were abreast the city, and I hope I may never live to see another such destruction of property, such a wild, indiscriminate burning, such a futile and useless outburst of invective and denunciation as greeted our eyes and ears when we came to anchor off New Orleans — when the men and women of that city looked across incendiary flames and smoke of their burning stores at the red, white and blue of the Star Spangled Banner once more floating on the breeze. Their fury was beyond bounds. A little party The March of the Victors 207 on shore who waved a white flag and cheered for the Union, was assaulted and several persons killed.* On the twenty-sixth I accompanied a force up the river to Carrollton, where there were two forts of re- ported strength, but panic had gone before us. ,We found the guns deserted and spiked and the gun car- riages in flames. On the same day the city formally surrendered, and the American flag had been hoisted over the custom house. You will . . . proceed up the Mississippi River, and reduce the defences which guard the approaches to New Orleans, when you will appear off that city and take possession of it under the guns of your squadron, and hoist the American flag therein, keeping possession until troops can be sent you. These had been Farragut’s orders. He had obeyed them to the letter. * In Farragut’s reports he says : “ I have never witnessed such vandalism in my life as the destruction of property. . . . Ships, steamers, cotton, coal, were all in one common blaze.” XXXIII Bearing the News Northward I T was decided that Captain Theodoras Bailey, with Commander Boggs (now without a ship) should be the bearer of despatches to Washing- ton, and I was permitted by Flag Officer Farragut to accompany them. The little Cayuga was selected for the trip, and we sailed April 29th. As I left the Hart- ford to go aboard the Cayuga , the sailors of the flag- ship manned the rigging and gave me three cheers.* It was a beautiful and unexpected tribute of good-bye, and this, with the Flag Officer’s mention,! has been always my most precious reward for services which were performed with no idea of compensation, and, in- deed, were no more than would gladly have been ren- dered by every man on that noble ship. There was no monopoly on courage in that fleet. Every man had it and had looked into the fiery face of death without a * At 3 p. m. Mr. Osbon, flag-lieutenant (signal officer), left the ship to go on board the Cayuga; as he was leaving, gave him three cheers. — “ Cruise of the U. S. flag-ship Hartford,” by William C. Holton, ship’s yeoman. f “ And those who were around me — the signat officer, my clerk, Mr. Osbo(r)n, Messrs. Bache and Wardell, captain’s clerks, and Master’s Mate Allen, who had charge of the twenty-pounder gun (an apprentice boy), all did their duty well,” etc. — Report No. 88, Flag Officer Farragut to Secretary Welles. 208 Bearing the News Northward 209 tremor. If my shipmates had an impulse to cheer me, I suspect that it was more for the reason that I had entertained them somewhat and made myself useful among them during the days below the forts, than for anything I may have achieved during the hot and spectacular passage which followed. It was three o’clock when I went aboard the Ca- yuga, and a little later we set off down the river, fol- lowed by the cheers of the entire fleet. General Butler was at the Quarantine station at this time, and it was our orders to notify him that we were going North, and to stop long enough for him to prepare any letters he might wish to send. It was night when we arrived off the hospital buildings, and I was sent ashore to notify Butler, and to wait for the letters. The boat pulled alongside the wharf and I walked toward the buildings, surprised at not being chal- lenged. In a room on the right hand sat two or three officers, who were considerably surprised at seeing a stranger in naval uniform appear suddenly in their midst. They rose hastily, but before they could speak I stated my name and errand. Then one of them merely waved toward the end of the hall. “ You will find the General in that room,” he said. Whatever General Butler’s discipline may have been later, at New Orleans, it certainly was lax enough here. I went to the end of the hall, opened the door, and there, stretched on a hospital cot, was a fat man, sleeping noisily. On a chair at his side was a bottle bearing the legend “ S. T. i860. X.,” and in 210 A Sailor of Fortune the neck a flaring tallow candle, burned almost down to the glass. The sleeper was only partly covered. His head was encased in a red nightcap. I spoke to him, but he did not hear me. Then I called in a loud voice, “ General Butler ! ” He turned over, fixed that peculiar eye of his on me and said : “ Well, who are you? ” “ Mr. Osbon,” I said, “ from the Hartford. The Cayuga is here, going North with despatches. Flag Officer Farragut presents compliments, and has asked me to say that if you have a few letters to write we will wait and carry them North for you.” The General was on his feet in an instant — a pic- ture worthy of canvas. A moment later and the build- ing was in an uproar. He was shouting for clerks and aides, and they came rushing in. He commanded his aides to give out the word that there was an oppor- tunity to write letters. Then with three or four of his clerks seated at different tables he began dictating his own correspondence, walking from one to the other, keeping all the different letters going at once, in a way which to me seemed marvellous. He was in a con- tinuous circle of correspondence, as it were, and how he could keep up the continuity of the various letters, I cannot understand to this day. Ludicrous as he looked, I acquired more respect for him that night than I had known on any previous occasion. At the end of an hour I had an armful of letters, and we pro- ceeded on our way down the river, past the now friendly forts — the way between starlit and peaceful, where all so recently had been flame and battle smoke — down through the passes, and out to sea. Bearing the News Northward 21 1 That was a memorable trip, on the Cayuga . No better or more companionable men than Captains Bailey * and Boggs ever lived, and our passage was a continual round of reminiscence and pleasant recrea- tion. Of course our talk was chiefly of recent events, but, as I remember it now, there was much less refer- ence to recent dangers and deeds of valour than to the humorous incidents of the fight, or at least to what now appeared proper food for mirth. Perhaps what amused us most was an incident which had occurred to the coloured boy of the Cayuga . He had been pass- ing powder when a spent grapeshot had struck a cast- ing near him and shattered, half of it striking him * Such was my admiration for Captain Theodorus Bailey, that somewhat later I made application for service under his com- mand, receiving the following reply: 57 E. 23d St., New York City. Dear Sir : — In answer to your letter, it affords me pleasure to testify to the fact that you served with Flag Officer Farragut in the flagship Hartford as volunteer clerk and signal officer during the expedition and battles in the river ending in the cap- ture of New Orleans. And Flag Officer Farragut told me he found you one of the most useful persons on board, intelligent, and full of resources. A passage home was granted you in the gunboat Cayuga. Your courage, deportment, and efficiency in the Hartford were highly and generally appreciated from the fact that I saw them give you three cheers on leaving (all the ships manned the rig- ging and cheered you as you passed by them). In case I am ordered in command of a squadron it would afford me pleasure to have you join me as secretary, volunteer aide, or in any staff capacity that the regulations or usages of the service will allow. Respectfully your obedient servant, Theodorus Bailey, Captain , U. S. N . To Mr. B. S. Osborn , New York. 212 A Sailor of Fortune plump in the forehead. I suppose his frontal bone was thick there, for the piece of shot had dropped to the deck without doing any special injury beyond a bruise, and the plucky coloured boy had paused long enough to pick up the missile and pocket it for future refer- ence. When the fight had ended, and different ones of the crew had recounted their various accidents and escapes, the little fellow (he was not more than four- teen) stepped up and pulled the half grapeshot from his pocket. “ Look heah,” he said proudly, “ dat shot done hit me on he haid an’ broke in two. Dere’s de shot and dere’s de place it hit me. You can see foh you’se’f.” It was Boggs’s greatest joy now to call this lad and to have him repeat the story, which the young hero did with delight, several times a day. It was the 8th of May when we arrived off Fortress Monroe, just in time, as it happened, to witness another naval battle, though of a feeble sort, compared with what we had seen. Yorktown had been occupied by McClellan a few days before, and with Fortress Monroe already ours, conditions were ripe for the fall of Norfolk. President Lincoln and Secretary Stanton had come down from Washington to witness the spec- tacle. Commodore Goldsborough’s fleet — wherein was the Monitor, which had already demonstrated her su- periority over the Merrimac, and a number of other fine vessels, including several improvised rams — was expected to make short work of the Confederate squadron. Learning of Mr. Lincoln’s presence, we sought out the tug from which he was watching the proceedings, Bearing the News Northward 213 and went aboard. The fleet was then in full play, and we stood ready with the Cayuga to enter the fight, if invited. But President Lincoln was more eager to hear the news from New Orleans than that we should add to our laurels. He made us tell the story of the great fight in detail, meantime keeping his eye on the move- ments of the fleet under Goldsborough, which though fighting with discretion was evidently getting the best of the battle. All at once I saw a signal made from the Minnesota, the flagship, to withdraw from action, and this at the very moment when we all thought that our rams should have improved their opportunity and destroyed the Merrimac, still the terror of the fleet. Naturally my blood began to boil, and I freely expressed my opinion of Goldsborough’s fighting. “ How can you tell what is going to happen ? ” asked Mr. Lincoln. “ Because,” I said, “ I am a signal officer, and can read flags,” and taking a signal book from the officer of the tug, I showed him just what was going on, and did not hesitate to add that if Farragut were only in Plampton Roads the victory would be ours in thirty minutes. Bailey and Boggs fully agreed with me, and Mr. Lincoln looked puzzled and distressed. It was evi- dent to all of us that the Confederates were on the run, and that the Merrimac even then was limping away. That Goldsborough did not press his advantage home disgusted those of us who had so recently seen fighting of another sort, and that the President remon- strated with him that night is shown by the Commo- dore’s letter of explanation, in which he says : “ I 2I 4 A Sailor of Fortune supposed I was carrying out your wishes in substance, if not to the letter.” * Bailey and Boggs as well as myself had now lost in- terest in the operations at Norfolk, and we were all very anxious to get home, Bailey with his despatches and I with the story of the fight below New Orleans, which as yet had not reached the North save in brief fragments, chiefly from Southern sources. We there- fore asked Mr. Lincoln if there was any reason why the mail boat, held by orders of Secretary Stanton, should not proceed to Baltimore. The President declared that so far as he knew there was no reason for further delay, and directed me to tell Mr. Stanton that he desired the boat should pro- ceed with the important despatches carried by Captains Bailey and Boggs. * Many comparisons were drawn between the operations of the fleets at Norfolk and at New Orleans. The New York Times correspondent, May 7th, 1862, said : “ The whole army and navy is paralysed by the Merrimac. Commodore Goldsborough of this station will not stir a vessel or move a gun in any direction so long as the Merrimac threatens this part of the coast. The spectacle presented here is pitiable. We have here the Monitor , which has already shown herself a match for the Merrimac , the Naugatuck and Galena , both iron- clads, the Vanderbilt , Arrago, and Illinois , all prepared for the express purpose of running her down, besides two guns mounted on shore throwing balls and shells weighing over four hundred pounds, and both commanding at point-blank range the channel through which the Merrimac must pass to enter York River, and the entire armament of Fortress Monroe; and yet, with all this force, the naval authorities here do not dare look the Merrimac in the face, but act as if the end of the world had come if she but show her nose off Crainey Island/’ Norfolk surrendered to the combined land forces May 10th. Perhaps Commodore Goldsborough’s policy of delay was inspired by the wish to avoid possible losses of men and vessels. Bearing the News Northward 2t 5 I went up into the Fort, found Mr. Stanton lying on the lounge, saluted him, and delivered Mr. Lin- coln’s message, asking if the mailboat might be al- lowed to proceed to Baltimore. Mr. Stanton raised himself on his elbow and regarded me sternly. “ No, sir,” he said. “ You will tell Mr. Lincoln that the mailboat will go to Baltimore when I say she’ll go.” I returned to the tug and reported Secretary Stan- ton’s exact words. The President regarded me mildly, but with a curious look in his eye. “ Where is the captain of the boat ? ” he asked. “ There,” I replied, pointing to a man on the dock. “ You may tell him to come here,” said Mr. Lincoln, and not many minutes later the captain of the mailboat stood before the President, who was likewise Com- mander in Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States. “ Are you ready to proceed to Baltimore ? ” Mr. Lincoln asked. The captain said he was, that his mails were ready to be put on board. “ Very well. Get your passengers together, put your mails on board and proceed to Baltimore at once. These gentlemen are just from New Orleans, with official reports of the glorious fight, and we are very anxious to get them to Washington.” The captain at once obeyed, got his mails and pas- sengers aboard, cast off lines and we were away. But as we rounded the face of the Fortress there came a puff of smoke and the report of a blank cartridge, a signal to stop. I was in the pilot-house with the cap- tain, and when the gun was fired he said : 216 A Sailor of Fortune “ Look here, that means we must turn around and go back.” “ Captain,” I said, “ the orders from the President of the United States, who is also the Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy, were to proceed at once to Baltimore, and I’m a witness to see that you go.” The words were hardly out of my mouth when — boom ! It was a shotted gun this time, the ball passing across our bows. Once more the captain hesitated. This was getting serious. “ Captain,” I said, “ Farragut obeyed orders and went to New Orleans in the face of hundreds of such guns as that. Don’t you let them scare you ! ” There were no more shots fired. We proceeded to Baltimore without further trouble and I was in New York next day. On the ioth my story of the opera- tions below New Orleans occupied nearly three pages of solid matter in the Herald, and was the only ac- count written by a man who had actually passed the forts. On May 24th my sketches occupied three pages of Harper’s Weekly. XXXIV I Carry News of the Seven Days’ Battle I T may have been due to the excitement and stress of those days below New Orleans — to climatic conditions, or to the food and water — I can- not say, but from whatever cause, I fell ill with a gastric fever shortly after my return from the South, and was unable to resume my post with Flag Officer Farragut, much as I desired to do so. For a time I was unfit for work of any kind, and when I recovered I confined myself to office duties, with an occasional trip to Hampton Roads, or to some other point near the front of action. While the Seven Days’ fight was in progress — June 25th to July 1st, 1862 — I was at Fortress Monroe, in charge of a sort of bureau for our correspondents in the field, looking after their supplies, receiving their despatches, forwarding as best I could the story of the battle, for which all the country was so eagerly wait- ing. But when the last day’s struggle ended at Mal- vern Hill, and the tale of death and bloodshed was complete, the War Department forbade us free use of the wires; so, with a number of correspondents for other Northern journals, I determined to come to New York at once, bringing the copy in person. We em- barked on the Baltimore mailboat, which had a large 217 218 A Sailor of Fortune number of Confederate prisoners on the way to Fort McHenry. There was not much sleep on the boat that night, and when we arrived at Baltimore all made a rush for the New York train. There was only one in those days and we all made it, but it was a discouragingly slow affair, for the road was crowded with troops going to the front and there were many delays. At last about dusk, when we were still several miles out of Philadel- phia, a blinding rainstorm set in and slowed us down still more. Then, as a final disaster, we collided with a cow, which derailed the engine in a lonely place and upset things generally. Some of the correspondents now held a council of war and decided that it was no use to make any fur- ther effort to get through that night, and that it was advisable to get a much needed rest. I did not join this council, but quietly taking my gripsack contain- ing the despatches, I set off in the direction of a light I had seen shining brightly in a window about half a mile away. Reaching the house I knocked, and was presently relating to the family my story of our railway acci- dent, adding that there were very urgent reasons why I should reach New York without further delay. I of course made no mention of the fact that I was a correspondent, or that there were others in a similar plight. A beat was a beat in those days and their oppor- tunities had been the same as mine. I did put in something about a deathbed and a mother anxiously waiting, all of which was true, many times over, for The Seven Days’ Battle 219 my despatches carried the tale of many thousand deathbeds, while anxious mothers in every corner of the land were waiting for the latest word and for the long, long list of names. Even if the thought of an- other great news victory was uppermost in my mind, I think my argument was justified. I ended by offering the man of the house five dollars to hitch up and drive me to West Philadelphia. But it was a bad night — terrible, in fact — and the man of the house did not want to go. The wife pleaded with him in behalf of the anxious mother, and I added another five dollars to the temptation. A few minutes later we were beating our way through the tempest be- hind a fairly swift team. It was a wild, wet experi- ence, but we were at last in West Philadelphia, where I hurried to railroad headquarters. I found that no train was to be had that night, but that I could pro- cure a special engine for a hundred and fifty dollars. I knew that Mr. Hudson would at this hour be at his desk in the Herald office, and I soon made it known to him by wire that I had all the other correspond- ents corralled in a wreck, and that if he thought it worth while I would charter the engine and come on. Frederick Hudson never hesitated in a matter like that. Word came back to close the bargain, and within half an hour after I had reached Philadelphia I was on the way to New York, this time going at head- long speed through the night and rain. I remember that night as a weird race with time. Lights and sta- tions flashed by. Here and there we had to pause briefly for trains to pass, chafing impatiently as we 220 A Sailor of Fortune waited, though for the most part they gave us an open track. At Jersey City were two carriages from the Herald, four men in one and three in the other. I handed out my great bundle of copy, and it was cut into “ takes ” on the way across the ferry, and presently we were going at a gallop up Cortland Street to the corner of Fulton and Nassau, where the Herald building then stood. It was near midnight when we reached the office. A gang of extra compositors had the matter in- stantly in hand, everything made way for the big story, and the most of it was on the street by daylight in the hands of eager thousands. But to the marooned correspondents, it must have made rather a discom- fiting story when they met it in the Herald on their arrival in Philadelphia that morning. Well, those were the days of great opportunities and many beats. The vast network of wires and the perfected system of the Associated Press have made great individual news achievements, to-day, few and far between. As a sequel, or rather a pendant to this episode, I may recall an incident with a certain gruesome humour in it, which occurred upon my return to For- tress Monroe, a few days later. I had with me many copies of the Herald with the lists of killed and wounded — fairly correct, considering the manner of compilation — and in the hospitals, where the thou- sands of wounded lay, the papers were seized with pathetic eagerness, every man anxious to see that his name was there. On one cot that I passed lay a man terribly wounded, his face already whitening with ap- 221 The Seven Days’ Battle proaching death. He told me his name, and I found it for him in the long list. He wanted to see it, and I pointed it out and held the paper in range of his eyes. He regarded it steadily for an instant, and then a tragic look which I shall never forget came into his face as he gasped out, “ My God — after fighting — and dying — for your country — then to have your name — spelled wrong ! ” XXXV I Join a Unique Naval Expedition T HE victory of the little Monitor over the Merrimac — March 9th, 1862 — had marked the beginning of an epoch in the construc- tion of naval fighting machines. Our beautiful old wooden vessels — the splendid frigates, the handsome sloops of war and the swift, effective gunboats — began to be regarded with compassion and distrust, while the revolving turret of Theodore R. Timby, as com- bined by John Ericsson with a low-lying, ironclad hull — the “ cheesebox on a raft ” — became all at once the centre of naval attention throughout the civilised world. That the “ monitor ” type of craft, as against other vessels, whether of wood or iron, was a potential agent of destruction, was certain. Whether such a ves- sel would stand the plunging fire of a land battery with heavy guns — whether her crew could endure the shock and strain of such a pounding, even supposing that the vessel could survive, these were questions much discussed and to be settled only by actual experiment. The test came, when in January, 1863, the monitor Montauk was sent against Fort McAllister, Georgia, in which historic demonstration it became my fortune to take an active part — to convey, as it were, the ver- dict which spelled the final doom of our beloved 222 Join a Naval Expedition 223 “ wooden walls ” and destroyed forever the romance of naval warfare. After the test at Hampton Roads a number of the Ericsson vessels had been rapidly completed, and I had made one trial trip on the Passaic, which had resulted in a rather unsatisfactory test of her guns. I knew Ericsson well, intimately, in fact, and in the double capacity of seaman and reporter had frequently discussed his plans with him, offering here and there a suggestion, which was occasionally adopted. Still, I must confess I was far from enthusiastic concerning the new idea, and my brief experience in the Passaic did not cause me to fill with joy at the thought of being canned up in a box like that, during heavy action. I may add that my sentiments were shared by naval officers and men generally. The Monitor herself had not found it easy to get a crew, while of the available officers only stout-hearted John L. Worden had been willing to take command. His prompt victory over the Merrimac had made him the hero of the hour, though the fact that his head, or more particularly his eyes, had been injured by concussion was discouraging to volunteers for such service, and when the Montauk was ready for sea it was once more Lieutenant-Com- mander Worden who, ddspite his infirmities result- ing from the former experience, nobly accepted the command. The Montauk was put into commission at the Brook- lyn Navy Yard in December, 1862, and, whatever may have been my misgivings, I lost no time in applying to Commander Worden for the position of clerk and 224 A Sailor of Fortune signal officer, and was duly appointed to fill the place. The little fighter left New York the day before Christ- mas, under convoy, touching at Hampton Roads, ar- riving at Port Royal, where Rear Admiral Dupont made his headquarters, coming to anchor, January 19th, off Hilton Head, the scene of that rare naval spectacle of more than a year before. I did not make the trip South in the Montauk, for the reason that a Russian admiral had obtained permission to make the passage and there was no other spare berth in the ves- sel. I came down by the naval transport Circassian, arriving a day later, and January 20th, 1863, precisely a year from the day of my first meeting with Farra- gut, I reported to Rear Admiral Dupont, and received from him special instructions concerning my duties on the Montauk. When I was leaving he said, “ Mr. Osbon, you are aware that Commander Wor- den’s eyesight is defective owing to injuries received on board the Monitor. I shall expect you to be his eyes, and as his clerk to aid him in every possible way. The Montauk will be tested under heavy fire from earthworks, and we desire full information as to re- sults, for it is our purpose to use this type of vessel in reducing the defences of Charleston. Keep your eyes open and note all events, and the details of the working of ship and guns.” I promised that I would faithfully set down every item that came under my personal observation. Then, the Russian admiral having vacated my premises, I reported to Commander Worden, aboard the Montauk. The destination of the expedition headed by the Montauk was the Ogeechee River, one of the several Join a Naval Expedition 225 inlets just below Savannah, and our object was two- fold. As already shown, we were to test the new type of vessel under the fire of Fort McAllister, a heavy land battery located several miles up the Ogeechee ; but the chief purpose of our venture was to destroy or cap- ture the steamer Nashville, which, since that day off Charleston Bar when from the Harriet Lane we had sent across her bows the first shot of the war from the Union side, had become a Confederate blockade runner and commerce destroyer — in fact, a privateer. On November 19th she had captured and burned the ship Harvey Birch, and in February had burned the schooner Robert Gilhllan. Later, she had wormed her way through the blockade into the Ogeechee, and now lay under the protection of the powerful guns of Fort McAllister, loaded with cotton and stores, waiting for a dark night, or a dense fog, to slip by the blockaders, and put to sea. Our wooden vessels could not hope to stand the fire of Fort McAllister nor expect to pass the network of piles, mines, and torpedoes which made a deadly barrier just below the works. It would have been wildly reckless, even had there been a possibility of success, to attempt, as at New Orleans, a passage of the fort, for the reason that only the Nashville lay beyond — game most important, but worth no such risk, and of no value to the enemy so long as she re- mained hemmed in. The Montauk, with her great eleven and fifteen-inch guns, was expected to silence the earthworks, to destroy the obstructions, and to capture or sink the pirate. We shall see how far these hopes were realised. XXXVI The First Encounter of Monitor and Fort I T was Saturday, January 24th, 1863, when we finally entered the mouth of the Ogeechee and came to anchor off Raccoon Island. During the voyage down I had made a careful inspection of the workings of the vessel, her guns and interior arrange- ments, and while my confidence in her fighting quali- ties, and in her ability to stand punishment momentarily increased, I was not favourably impressed with her provisions for the comfort of officers and crew. We were all so very close together and so near to various forms of death. Below the surface of the water, shut up in a metal box, with every sort of explosive packed about us, with no air except what came down through the turret — little enough even when distributed by steam fans — with no handy way to get out if some- thing should suddenly go off, or a valve should let in the ocean, or the steam fans should fail to work, cer- tainly this was unlike any navigation or warfare I had known. Our executive officer, Cushman, was a mathemati- cian. In fact, I have never seen such a fiend for figures. He must have carried off all the prizes at Annapolis, and he now carefully worked out for our edification the exact lung capacity of every man below decks, and to the fraction of a minute just how long each of us 226 Encounter of Monitor and Fort 22 7 would last if the supply of oxygen suddenly ceased. He further demonstrated with startling accuracy pre- cisely how many seconds it would take the vessel to fill with water coming through a hole of a given size, and at a given pressure, according to the depth below the water line. Furthermore, he showed how this hole could be made, calculating with deadly skill the foot- pound energy of shot of every known diameter, with the precise indentation or perforation of an iron plate of any given angle or tensile strength. Cushman’s fig- ures were satisfactory, but not comforting. They fasci- nated for a while, but eventually they lost him friends. We fell away from him when he produced his pencil and paper. Some of us took refuge in the turret or in the little pilot-house which surmounted it. Others risked their lives by going on deck. Anything was better than those figures. On the day after our arrival we took a position higher up the river, off Marsh Island, just out of range of the enemy’s guns. Our fleet now consisted of four vessels besides the Montauk. We had with us two old friends from the Mississippi, the gunboat Wissahickon and the mortar schooner C. P. Williams; also the gunboat Dawn, commanded by “ Johnnie ” Barnes, a fine officer and a loyal friend, and the Seneca , drawn from the squadron at Port Royal, All were stripped for action, and the Montauk’ s decks, except for the turret with the little pilot-house atop, and the smokestack, were entirely clear. On the night of the 25th Commander Davis of the Wissahickon went quietly up into the enemy’s lines, shifted a number of range marks and destroyed a lookout pole. On the 228 A Sailor of Fortune 26th the Daffodil , the despatch boat from Port Royal, joined our fleet. We had by this time looked over the field pretty carefully and knew about what work lay ahead. Fort McAllister, named for the commander, a wealthy planter who lived close by, was a huge earthwork on a sharp bend of the river, and a little way beyond — loaded and ready to put to sea — the Nashville lay. Just below the fort, stretching across the river, with some- where an egress for the Nashville, were the obstruc- tions. The Montauk was to go up ahead and silence the fort. Then the gunboats would come up and we would proceed to clear the obstructions. Passing above, the capture of the Nashville — a rich prize, loaded as she was with cotton — would be easy. The plan was very simple, you see, with but one defect. We failed to estimate the power and durability of that fort. On the afternoon of the 26th the commanders of the gunboats came aboard the Montauk for a final council of war, and at five o’clock on the morning of the 27th we prepared to engage the enemy. It was a dull morning and too early for anybody to feel hungry. Besides, most of the Montauk’s crew had never been under fire — while no man living had ever taken the fire of a shore battery in a craft of that kind, and the new experience just ahead was not cal- culated to improve a man’s appetite. Yet as a whole, we had faith in our craft and we knew that the eyes of the world were upon us. I think Worden had no doubt of the result, and the crew generally were cheer- ful and eager to get at the fighting. We might have Encounter of Monitor and Fort 229 been a trifle less confident had we known the strength and skill of our enemy. We started up the river at five minutes of seven, and by seven were going fast, the Seneca, Dawn, Wis- sahickon, and C. P. Williams following about a mile and a half astern. It was ebb tide and we steamed up grandly. All at once we passed a clump of trees, and the fort was in plain view. With Commander Wor- den in the pilot-house, was Pilot Murphy, a quarter- master to steer, and myself — close quarters for four men. Perhaps I ought to say that the pilot-house of a monitor was the embryo conning tower of to-day. It was solidly constructed of six plates of one-inch lami- nated iron and had slits for observation. Worden and I each had one of these peep holes. It was my duty not only to record the battle, but to give him ranges, and information which, owing to his defective vision, he could not compass with certainty. In fact, as Rear Admiral Dupont had said, I was to become “ his eyes.” No sign of life appeared in the fort as we approached — not even a flag. A small tug lay a little way above the obstructions, a thread of smoke coming from her stack, showing that she was ready to move. Evidently she had the torpedo wires and was waiting to fire them if we got in position. We steamed slower now — still not a soul to be seen on the works, which we began to think might be deserted. At 7.30 we were within fifteen hundred yards of the fort, and let go anchor. Five minutes later, at the word of command, the turret beneath us began slowly to revolve. A few moments and the big eleven-inch gun was at range, elevated for fifteen hundred yards. 23° A Sailor of Fortune “ Stop! ” and the turret came to a standstill. “ Fire! ” and for an instant one’s heart stood still, waiting. Then the floor of the pilot-house lifted and heaved and shook with the mighty roar of the gun a few inches beneath, and a moment later a great shell exploded just short of the enemy’s works. I had never before stood on top of, or rather over, an eleven-inch gun when it was being fired, and the sen- sation was novel, to say the least. Then suddenly the fifteen-inch monster, which the boys had named “ Heenan ” (the other was called “Sayres”), went off, and the explosion of the world could hardly have been more startling. We knew now what to expect, and after that raised on our tiptoes at the word “ Fire.” But just here we discovered that the fortress was not abandoned. At 7.40 precisely there came a flash from up there and a well-aimed ten-inch shot struck us on the gunwale, raising a ruffled edge on one of the plates, but doing no damage. The hit made a great noise below, but its slight effect established confidence among the crew. We now loaded and fired as fast as possible, but did not at once get the ranges, owing to the new sort of gun practice. The wooden vessels, meantime, from some distance in the rear were piling in shell on the fort in excellent style, and the battle was on in ear- nest. It was to us, almost entirely, that the fort de- voted its attention. Above and about us shells exploded, rattling against our armour, making an infernal racket, but doing little or no harm. The smoke got very thick about the pilot-house, blowing in at the peep holes, and annoying Worden so that presently he went Encounter of Monitor and Fort 231 below to inspect the working of the turret and to note the effect of the heavy guns upon the vessel, leaving me to communicate the ranges and length of time fuses to Mr. Cushman in the turret below. Once as I was about to call to him through the grating, a heavy shot from the fort struck the turret a terrible blow, making such a noise as I think none of us had ever heard before in our lives. “ Hey, Cushman,” I called, “ can you calculate the foot-pound energy of that shot? ” He did not reply to the question, but the boys be- low told me afterward that when he recovered his equilibrium he instinctively reached for his pencil and paper. We now realised that we had underestimated our enemy. Our ammunition was running low, and while we had pounded the works severely and made a good deal of sand fly, we had apparently done little harm. Shot and shell came as thickly as ever, fired with un- erring accuracy. For once my rule of gunnery on land and sea was being proven by the exception. At 10.35 we swung into better position, but it was no use. We could accomplish little without more ammunition, and at noon, when our last shells were nearly gone, we weighed anchor and dropped down the stream, fol- lowed by farewell volleys, among which a thirty-two pounder hit the turret fairly. An hour later we were at our anchorage, counting our scars. We had fifteen hits, altogether. The gunboats were untouched. On the whole, everybody was very happy. We had accomplished little in the way of damage to the en- emy, but we had enjoyed a forenoon of fine target 232 A Sailor of Fortune practice, and, more than all, we had demonstrated the fact that the Ericsson monitor would stand the heavy fire of land batteries. We had perfect faith now in our iron vessel. She worked like a charm, and she had come through a fearful pounding, all the better for it, we said, for now her plates were more securely ham- mered on. In fact we were in high spirits, cracking jokes and laughing at the curious spectacle we made with our powder-blackened faces, and were so rejoiced to be once more in the fresh air that I think we hardly realised how fully we had revolutionised the navies of the world. XXXVII Another Trial at Fort McAllister F IVE days elapsed before we were ready for a second attack. The Daffodil went to and fro between Marsh Island and Port Royal, bring- ing down ammunition and necessary supplies. From contrabands we heard various reports, among them a rumour that the Confederate ironclad, Fingal, was expected to take part in the next engagement. We gave little attention to such intelligence, and spent most of our time filling the great shells for “ Heenan ” and “ Sayers,” those of “ Heenan ” weighing three hundred and sixty-five pounds each — the solid shot thirty-five pounds more. Our friends, the enemy, were likewise busy. The little tug was going about all day putting down tor- pedoes, helping with repairs and assisting the Nash- ville, which had come back down the Seven Mile Reach and lay once more just above the fort. We could see her from the mastheads of the gunboats, and knew that she was still piling on cotton, hoping that by some trickery, or assistance, she would be able to get by us in the dark. It was her greediness for cotton that proved her downfall, as we shall see. On the 29th a little bird lingered about our decks all day, very tame and friendly, and the sailors thought it a good omen. In the evening we heard a heavy gun 233 234 A Sailor of Fortune go off from the works, and concluded that the enemy had mounted and was trying a new gun. Later we dis- covered a bright light near where we had anchored. Evidently we were to have a proper reception this time. On the next day the Confederates burned off the rice and brush fields back of the fort, doubtless expect- ing a land attack in that quarter. On the 31st the Daffodil came down with a final load of ammunition and two army officers, who were anxious to see the fight. We were ready now for the second attack, our plans being this time to go much nearer to the works, and by rapid, well-directed fire to silence and destroy the battery. It was 5.30 when all hands were called on the morn- ing of Sunday, February 1st, 1863, and again there was a light breakfast in prospect of, and preparation for, the fight. There was a real Sunday quiet on the river and the land about, and then the old feeling of going into action, as usual, made us a trifle solemn. It was not that there was any distrust of our vessel this time, though to be sure we were to stand a test at much shorter range, but there is always something peculiar in the sensation a man has going into battle aboard ship. He has usually known of the impending engagement for hours, even days, ahead. The situa- tion has been discussed from every conceivable point of view. Every possibility, even that of defeat, has been considered, and, if possible, certain letters have been written home. Then at last it is the mo- ment of starting. A sharp order is given, and the anchor chains click in the windlass. The crew bus- Trial at Fort McAllister 235 ties — a rapid walking goes on about the decks. A bell in the engine room jingles, the vessel moves. There begins a rushing sound of water along her sides. All these are accustomed sounds and movements, but there is always a different note and a special significance in them when the ship is going into battle. Even the lamps below burn with a peculiar glare. A glass of water has a different taste. One finds that he is ner- vously impatient. Why doesn’t the first gun go off and begin it all? Then, suddenly the enemy opens — a shot strikes the vessel, or tears through the rigging. Why don’t we fire ? Why in hell don’t we fire ? Click ! goes a gunlock — Snap! goes a primer, and there is a tre- mendous report which shakes the vessel and wakes it to new and sudden life. There is no more hesitation, no more nervousness, no more cold sweat. One sud- denly becomes a fierce, eager creature with the energy of a demon. The engagement has begun. Our battle of February 1st was a repetition of our former action, much intensified. We went up within six hundred yards of the works this time, where we could look directly into the muzzles of the guns. The gunboats lay considerably lower down. At 7.45 we opened with our fifteen-inch gun, and then for four hours there was such a cannonade between fort and fleet as the world had never seen. Their markmanship was something superb and we were hit continually in every quarter. Shells hit the turret and pilot-house, bursting into showers of fragments. Then presently the smoke became so dense that neither side could see, and both slackened fire until the air cleared. Im- mediately afterward, the fort opened with greater A Sailor of Fortune accuracy than ever, and we were literally peppered with shot and shell. So deafening was the noise of their heavy projectiles at that short, deadly range that I have not recovered my full hearing to this day. At 8.30 I was down on one knee making a note, when a tremendous blow on the pilot-house loosened some of the plate bolts, one of which struck me on the shoulder, while another displaced my kneecap (the same one I had unshipped in the Gautemala several years before) and broke two of my ribs. I was half stunned and my leg was well-nigh useless, but it was not until we had ceased firing that I made my way below decks for surgical examination. The enemy, however, was not through with me. I was standing in the wardroom, by the surgeon’s command, with my head just below the deck, when a shell struck fair and square exactly above me, and over I went. They thought I was done for then, but in a few min- utes I regained consciousness, was patched up, and went on with my notes. I found the noise even louder down there. Shells striking the pilot-house had sounded like the cracking of gigantic nuts. Here, when a shell struck it was more like the cracking of one’s skull. Besides, I sup- pose I wasn’t feeling quite well, which made a dif- ference.* But our boys didn’t seem to mind anything. Black * Frederic Hudson, in his “History of Journalism in the United States,” page 716, speaking of the arduous work of Herald correspondents in the field and afloat, says: “Osbon, of the same paper, the only correspondent on the ironclads in action, calmly watched the effect of each impact, and . . . as signal officer, in the rigging with Farragut, ran the gauntlet Trial at Fort McAllister 23 7 as demons, they laughed and joked and rolled in the big shells, and sent them with a jeer at the powerful earthworks which we were pounding and smashing, though to little purpose for, with the exception of one gun which we had blown into the air and one man killed by a needless and derisive exposure of himself on the parapet, their armament and force would seem to have suffered not at all. Once more, at noon, with our ammunition exhausted, we were drifting down to our old anchorage, where everybody came aboard to see how we had stood the fight. We were as good as new, despite the fact that we had received forty-eight shots this time — nineteen on the turret and pilot-house, seven in the smokestack, which looked like a pepper box, while two of our flagstaffs had been shot away. We had accomplished nothing at all so far as the Nashville was concerned, but we had gained a knowl- edge of our invulnerability which we accounted as worth millions. at New Orleans. ... If the Press had ribbons and orders to confer for gallant conduct on the field of battle, these corre- spondents would have their breasts covered with brilliants on state occasions; but their decorations shine in the columns of the papers, where they are imperishable/’ — A. B. P. XXXVIII We Get the Nashville at Last W E now became simply a blockading fleet, and for four weeks lay off Marsh Island, waiting for something to turn up. We had about given up the idea of reducing the fort without more heavy guns, and a relay of monitors was expected to take part in the next engagement. Twice during the month I went up to Port Royal with the Daffodil, for ammunition, and to carry despatches to Rear Ad- miral Dupont, who was deeply interested in talking over with me the more minute incidents of the two engagements. Dupont, however, prohibited my for- warding any portion of the story to the Herald until the operations on the Ogeechee should be at an end. He explained his reasons to me, which were chiefly that any preliminary report of our experimental work might be of benefit to the enemy as well as ourselves, and he embodied his objections in an official letter to Worden, in which he put a taboo on reporters gener- ally. This, as he explained to me, was done in order that he might show a copy of the letter to the flock of newspaper men who were constantly besieging him for permission to accompany the various expeditions. I was entirely in accord with the admiral’s views, and agreed to send nothing to the paper without his approval. The Nashville, meantime, had kept her position, 238 We Get the Nashville 2 39 just above the fort and, though we did not know it, was held there by lower tides and the fact that she was so deeply laden that it made it difficult for her to cross the bar which separated her from the “ Seven Mile Reach.” She was by no means a welcome guest of the fort. Colonel McAllister, as we learned later, declared that so long as she lay there those “ damned Yankees ” were likely to come up and annoy them, and it was by his orders that the vessel at length essayed to get back into the “ Reach ” — an attempt which became her undoing. At three o’clock on the afternoon of February 27th the Wissahickon signalled “ Strange sail or steamer up the river,” and immediately afterward we saw the dense black smoke of the Nashville behind the forest which shut off Fort McAllister from our view. The smoke got blacker, and we saw that the vessel was moving rapidly toward the Reach. Then suddenly she stopped, dead still. We speculated as to the cause, quickly arriving at the conclusion that she was aground. The Seneca was immediately sent to recon- noitre, and brought back the joyful news that the Nashville was, in truth, hard and fast on the bar, and that she was not likely to get off, having gone on at full speed and at the top of the tide. We were greatly rejoiced. It was too late to do anything that evening, but we felt confident that our prey would be there next morning, and we prepared for early battle. To capture the Nashville would mean the end of our long waiting, and with her cargo of cotton, big prize money was possible. There was anx- ious watching and little sleep in the vessels that night. 24 ° A Sailor of Fortune On the morning of February 28th, at four o’clock sharp, we were called, and at 5.20 were under way. We ate little or no breakfast at all, this time. Like a darkey with a new pair of shoes, we were too much excited for breakfast, and a little coffee and hardtack was the most that anybody took. There was a haze on the river, and we steamed slowly to avoid new obstructions. At 7.05 we let go anchor about twelve hundred yards below the fort, and about the same distance from the Nashville, lying across the bend. There, indeed, she lay, hard and fast aground, the hasty unloading and the sturdy labours of the little tug, which had been going on through the night, having failed to relieve her. She was a fair mark and knew that she was doomed, and when we sent toward her now, an envoy of death in the form of a screaming eleven-inch shell, those who had not al- ready deserted her, fled hastily, leaving her to her fate. The battery on shore replied, but we paid no atten- tion, letting their shells fall where they would. They did not even annoy us now, and when a solid shot hit the pilot-house and broke in two, we scarcely remarked the incident. It was only our prey, the beautiful steamer that two years before I had seen cross the Charleston Bar and fling out the Stars and Stripes at our shot of warning, lying there at last in plain view, that we wanted now. It seems a little sad, to-day, that the beautiful vessel had to go, but we had no pity, then. At first we overshot the mark. I had called the dis- tance at twelve hundred yards, while Cushman, the man of mathematics, had held for fifteen. We had a sharp dispute, which Worden settled by ordering the We Get the Nashville 241 first guns trained at an elevation just between our figures. But it was too far, and the distance was gradually shortened down to my figure. Cushman had perfect mathematics, but his judgment of distance was faulty. At twenty-two minutes after seven we landed a fif- teen-inch shell close to the Nashville, and five and one- half minutes later we sent another — it was our fifth shot — smashing into her hull, just between the fore- mast and paddlebox. Almost immediately followed the explosion. Acting Master Pierre Geraud was working both guns finely, considering that from his position in the turret below only the masts and smokestack of the vessel could be seen. We were proud to show the enemy that we had a gunner, too. They gave us up, presently, and directed their fire at the wooden gun- boats. Smoke settled about us, and after the eighth shot we ceased firing, to let the air clear. Presently a breath of wind swept the drift aside, and we saw to our great joy a dense column of smoke rising from the forward deck of the stranded vessel. Our exploding shell had set her on fire. A few minutes more, and flames were distinctly visible, forcing their way up, gradually creeping aft until they had reached nearly to the base of the smokestack. A fog came drifting down on us, threatening to shut out the glorious sight, but it lifted every other moment like a curtain, and it showed us presently, with each uplifting, a wonderful spectacle of leaping flames that shot higher and higher into a smoky can- opy above them. The masts and smokestack were stand- ing. Then the guys of the latter loosened — it tottered, 242 A Sailor of Fortune fell, striking the port paddlebox, sending up a great shower of glowing embers that rose and mingled with the blackness above the doomed vessel. The rigging caught and became torches and festoons of fire. At in- tervals the flames would rush in a body aft and die out forward, as if the destroyer were racing to and fro in the joy of carnival. Nothing but darkness could have added grandeur to the scene. We fired occasionally, until it became evident that we could not aid materially in the destruction wrought by the flames. At 8.06 we ceased altogether, having fired but fourteen times. We lingered to watch the spectacle, and presently from the shore a mighty white smoke of burning cotton rose to mingle with the darker clouds from the blazing vessel, and thus van- ished all hope of prize money, though little we cared in that moment of triumph, with our enemy perishing before us, no more to give us anxious nights, no more to wreck our commerce on the high seas. We had weighed anchor and were already drifting down the river, when there came from the burning vessel a heavy report, the bursting of a gun, perhaps, and then a little later a terrific explosion, aft, where her magazine lay, and the end had come. Only a few charred fragments remained of the vessel, once lovely in form and of fair and peaceful purpose, to be doomed at last to become a drift of cinders and a heap of tan- gled wires. In the earliest day of her career I had seen the first shot of warning, and I had seen the last that had sent her to her death. Beautiful craft that she was, she deserved a better fate ! We drifted down the river, now, rejoicing greatly We Get the Nashville 243 that our mission was accomplished. Then all at once our enthusiasm received a sudden chill. Just under our hull there was a sound as of a double explosion, and a few minutes later the water rushed in. We had struck a torpedo and sprung a leak. For a few minutes matters looked pretty serious. Then our pilot put us on a sandbar, we plugged up the hole, pumped out the water and went on, little the worse for the damage. Down the river the gunboats cheered wildly as we passed. When we had reached anchor and had enjoyed a real breakfast, everybody came aboard to congratulate us on having completed our mission, and especially on having withstood the heaviest and most accurate land fire known, receiving in the three engagements seventy-two hits, besides that from the torpedo, yet coming off with no damage worth mentioning. By six o’clock that evening we were again in fighting trim, and when three days later the Passaic, Patapsco, and Nahant, three more moni- tors, came down from Port Royal to get their baptism of fire and a day’s target practice with Fort McAl- lister, our boys were aggrieved because we were con- demned to be mere spectators on that occasion. Yet there was a certain comfort in being able to wit- ness a monitor battle without being choked up in a turret or pilot-house, and I think we all enjoyed it. Our decks were covered with men, watching our three sister monitors hammer away to their heart’s content. There were plenty of good hits on both sides, but the fine Confederate earthworks remained unsilenced, and our monitors came out of the fight undamaged, having only demonstrated still more thoroughly that the 244 A Sailor of Fortune Ericsson idea was to transform the navies of the world. We were now through on the Ogeechee, for, with the Nashville destroyed, the fort was no longer worth the ammunition and effort it would take to conquer it, and I hurried to Port Royal with the remainder of my story. . To say that Rear Admiral Dupont was gratified at the reports of our destruction of the Nashville, con- veys a poor idea of his satisfaction. The vessel had been a thorn in his soul for many months. There had been continual rumours that he had allowed her to escape, and to know now with certainty that she had been reduced to ashes and a heap of scrap, at the bot- tom of the Seven Mile Reach, filled him with supreme joy. He greeted me with the greatest warmth, and when he had finished reading my letter and had made a copy of it in full, for his own use, he returned it to me with permission to use it exactly as written. “ There is your letter,” he said, with that courtesy of manner which made all men honour and love him, “ it has been of the utmost value to me. And here is an order to Captain Hoey of the Mary Sanford for your passage North. You have also my thanks for faithful service.” * * Port Royal, S. C., March 7th, 1863. Sir: — You will please give passage to B. S. Osbon, formerly attached to the Montauk to New York. Yours respectfully, S. F. Dupont, . Rear Admiral Commanding South Atlantic Squadron. To Captain Hoey, Steamer Mary Sanford. We Get the Nashville 245 Commander Worden conveyed his acknowledg- ments to me, next day, in the form of a letter: B. S. Osbon. Port Royal, S. C., Mar. 8, 1863. Dear Sir : I take great pleasure in acknowledging the useful services rendered me as acting captain’s clerk and as signal officer, for which latter service you volunteered, and in which you displayed great courage during the recent operations of this vessel in the Ogeechee River. In the two attacks made upon Fort McAllister on Jan- uary 27th and February 1st, your services in observing the ranges of the guns and noting events that occurred, which were of great advantage to me, as my defective eyesight rendered my own observation very unsatisfac- tory.* Wishing you health and prosperity I am, Yours very truly, John L. Worden, Commander U. S. N., Commanding Montauk. Four days later I was in New York City, after pass- ing through a severe storm, and on the next day, March 13th, my Montauk story and map appeared in the Herald, making a full front and the greater por- tion of an inside page. As the report of an epoch- making event it was translated into almost every lan- guage of Europe and, significantly, into one of Asia — Japanese. It was the final death warrant of our wooden navies. We had loved them well, but the old * Commander Worden’s head was troubling him at this time, to which fact was doubtless due the oversight of failing to men- tion my participation in the action of February 28th, when the Nashville was destroyed. 246 A Sailor of Fortune order had changed. The “ wooden walls ” tottered, the iron hull with its revolving turret — the “ cheese box on a raft ” — had battled its way into the world’s con- fidence. Yet to-day, it, too, has passed. The order still changes. From the Ericsson idea have been evolved the great war vessels of to-day, with their mighty guns, their turrets, and their conning towers. Our ships have come back to us, with walls of steel — their pigmy progenitors are no more. The Monitor lies off Cape Hatteras beneath a hun- dred fathoms of water. The Montauk was sold at auc- tion in 1904, and went into the scrap heap. I have always thought the Government should have preserved her. I should have done so myself had I had the means. XXXIX Mr. Fox Catches His Game at Last U PON my return from the Ogeechee I made another brief but profitable venture into the lecture field. I announced that I would give a talk at Niblo’s Garden on “ Fighting with Iron Ves- sels,” and a large crowd gathered to hear me. Captain Ericsson made me a number of chalk drawings on a blackboard — diagrams and the like — all remarkable for their beauty and detail — various shipbuilders con- tributed a number of fine models ; and I told the story of the battles of the Montauk, with a net result of nine hundred dollars for this one lecture. Nor was this the only lecture I gave that day — the first having been delivered to the smallest audience I ever entertained, and at the highest price of admis- sion. Niblo’s Garden was then owned by the great merchant, A. T. Stewart, who with a friend had dropped in during the morning. Noticing the draw- ings and models, he had asked what they were to illustrate. I happened to overhear the question, and replied, “ They are to be used in my lecture on monitors and their fighting value. Having served in one, I am go- ing to give a talk on the subject. If you will sit down for a moment I will give you some idea of what I intend to say.” Mr. Stewart and his friend sat down willingly 247 248 A Sailor of Fortune enough, and I spent about twenty minutes in telling them the story of the Montauk. When I had finished they thanked me and went away. I called next morn- ing at Mr. Stewart’s store to pay for the rent of the hall, the price of which was one hundred dollars. When I had settled this matter with the cashier, I was told that Mr. Stewart desired to see me, and a little later was ushered into his private office. He was very cordial and asked me if I had done well with my lec- ture — once more thanking me for the entertainment of the day before. He then bade me good-morning, and as I passed out the cashier handed me my receipt for the hall rent and with it a sealed envelope. When I was out on the street I opened the envelope with some curiosity, expecting possibly the price of two tickets, certainly not more, for Mr. Stewart had the name of being somewhat parsimonious. What was my surprise and gratification to find nice new bills to the amount of one hundred dollars. Mr. Stewart had re- mitted my fine. I have now arrived at the sequel to the Fort Sumter episode — the unhappy result of having omitted from my report of that expedition, by his own request, the name of Gustavus V. Fox, later Assistant Secretary of the Navy. As we have already seen, the relief ex- pedition had been Fox’s idea, and a failure. He had expected public censure on his return, and as a special favour to him I had omitted his name from my news report. When, therefore, the patriotic public rose up and bestowed honour upon the expedition and all con- nected therewith, the friends of Mr. Fox naturally in- quired why he had received no mention in my article. Mr. Fox Catches His Game 249 He declared that he could not explain my motive, whereupon I promptly stated the facts in full, with the result that Fox became very bitter, using his influence as Assistant Secretary to oppose and handicap me in my work, even seeking to discredit me with Secretary Welles. Eventually his opportunity to punish me came. It happened in this wise: Frederic Hudson retired from the management of the Herald, and during the latter part of 1864 I, also, resigned my position on that paper to establish a bureau of naval intelligence, from which I sent news to various journals, both in New York City and else- where, this being one of the first news syndicates — the very first, so far as I know. Being in touch with the officers in the various squadrons, news came to me freely— commanders sometimes sending advance news, with the request that it should not be used until officially reported by the Government. It was late in December, 1864, when the combined attack by land and sea was to be made on Fort Fisher, North Caro- lina, and several days in advance Admiral Porter for- warded me his final order of battle, from which I had prepared a carefully written preliminary story of the operations. This, manifolded, had been sent out to fifteen or twenty papers, with the express understand- ing that it was not to be published until news of the actual attack had been received. Every paper stood by the agreement but one. A rumour of an attack was circulated, and one journal in its desire to be “ prompt ” did not wait for verification, but printed my matter in full. This was Mr. Fox's opportunity. Technically I had 2 5° A Sailor of Fortune violated the Fifty-ninth Article of War, and by the assistant secretary’s orders I was arrested, charged with having given intelligence to the enemy. On the first day of January, 1865 — two weeks before the bat- tle really took place — I was taken into custody at my office in New York City, and without being allowed to communicate with any of my friends, was hurried to Washington and confined in the old Capitol Prison, where many a better man than I suffered long and ignominious imprisonment to satisfy the pique of some public official. It was three months from the day of my imprison- ment before I saw daylight again. Then, one rainy morning, I was escorted by two soldiers to the head- quarters of the Military Commission, where I refused to plead to the charge of furnishing the enemy with information, suggesting that they shoot me first and try me afterward, as had been done in the case of two of my predecessors. I was taken back to my cell, and Senator Charles Sumner, whom I had never met, in- terested himself in my case, with the result that, though I still remained in limbo, the Military Com- mission was abolished. Meantime my father came to Washington and vis- ited me in prison, asking me immediately if I was guilty. I replied that I had done no intentional wrong, that, whatever else I might be, I was not a traitor to my country. My father then went up to the White House and told my story to Mr. Lincoln, who listened attentively, and said: Mr. Fox Catches His Game 251 “ Doctor, your son is not a traitor. I know him well — he couldn't be. My advice is to have him stand trial, by all means. If they do manage to convict him, which I don’t believe they will, I will see that he is not shot.” My father came back with the news that Mr. Lin- coln had agreed to stand by me, which was most com- forting, for months of confinement in a wretched cell take the cheer out of the strongest heart. A few days later I was called downstairs and told to pack my belongings. There being no longer a Mili- tary Court in Washington, I was to be taken to New York for trial. Arriving in that city, I was conducted first to General Dix’s headquarters in Bleecker Street, thence to Ludlow Street Jail, where I was made com- paratively comfortable and treated with unusual con- sideration, for the story of my unjust arrest and incarceration had been exhaustively published in the New York papers. General Dix, always a good friend, had given orders that I was to be brought to see him whenever I wished to come, and I visited him often. Then one morning my trial by court-martial began, and for several days I was a figure of national interest — the papers everywhere commenting freely on what they declared was an unjustifiable proceeding on the part of public officials — one paper, the Tribune, assert- ing that it had cost the Government sixty thousand dollars to try an innocent man. The farce closed at last, with a verdict of acquittal — a fortunate one for me, for, during the days of my trial, that great and noble man who had promised to stand by me — Abra- ham Lincoln, the man whom of all others I shall most 25 2 A Sailor of Fortune revere to my dying day — was shot down, and his body taken through New York City without my being able to pay any small tribute to his sacred dust. When everything was over, and I was a free man once more, an old shipbuilder whom I had known for many years called me to his office one day and handed me a package. “ This is a little testimonial,” he said, “ from your friends in this city. Take it and go into the country and recuperate.” The package contained five thousand dollars in cash. XL I Become a Part of the Mexican Problem I HAVE already briefly referred to the allied fleets of England, France, and Spain which in Feb- ruary, 1862, were lying in Havana Harbour, their purpose being to compel payment of the very large sums due from the Mexican Republic, with the ul- terior motive of usurpation, on the part of France. It is true that England and Spain withdrew from the alliance when the French scheme became evident, but not before they had given force and character to the expedition, which was precisely as the wily French sovereign had planned. Like his great uncle, Napoleon III. was ambitious of conquest. He saw in Mexico a vast empire over which he would exercise suzerainty, and so command a key position in the Western World. With the Mexi- can Republic in so chaotic a state as it was in the early sixties, and with the United States in no position to enforce the Monroe Doctrine, the French ruler with- out much difficulty bore down upon the disordered Government of Benito Juarez, and in 1864 established the so-called Mexican Empire — seating a ruler of his own selection, Ferdinand Joseph Maximilian of Aus- tria, on the throne. The story of Prince Maximilian and his beautiful wife, Carlotta of Belgium, is one of the saddest in all 253 254 A Sailor of Fortune history. They were ideally wed and lived in perfect happiness in one of the most beautiful of European castles, Miramar, on the Adriatic, near Trieste. Maxi- milian had been admiral of the Austrian Navy and gov- ernor of the Lombardo-Venetian kingdom, filling each office with great honour, beloved by those about him. He was not averse to official duties, yet preferred lit- erary and philanthropic pursuits, and the Princess Carlotta was in full sympathy with his every aim and enterprise. It was to Miramar that the commissioners of Napoleon came to invite Maximilian to accept the throne of Mexico, urging upon him the plea that he was the one man to lift up and regenerate a fallen peo- ple. More than all else, Maximilian loved the distinc- tion of being regarded as a benefactor, an ambition shared by his princess, who, furthermore, was perhaps dazzled a little by the pleasing prospect of a crown. The Austrian prince agreed that he would accept the proffered throne if the people of Mexico themselves wanted him, and means were found to assure him that such was the fact. It was in May, 1864, that he en- tered into his empire, assuming the title of Maxi- milian I. His triumph was short lived. Though vanquished and disorganised, a very large element of the Mexican people were still loyal to Benito Juarez, and from the very beginning Maximilian had to battle for his throne. Furthermore, he was steadfastly ignored by the Government of the United States, while Napoleon, who had counted on the South as his chief ally, began to realise with each succeeding Northern victory that the tenure of empire in Mexico was becoming an un- The Mexican Problem 2 55 certain and precarious thing. The future was obscure and portentous for the new ruler and his lovely em- press, and each day added a darker cloud. Finally, in 1866, affairs in Mexico reached a crisis. Our own war was ended, and with a vast host of veterans and a splendid army and navy, we were in a position to make and enforce demands. True to the Monroe Doctrine, the United States suggested to Napo- leon, diplomatically but forcibly, that French interfer- ence in Mexico was an affront to American institutions, no longer to be countenanced — in a word, that his troops must be withdrawn. Napoleon was further given to understand in no uncertain terms that the United States would, if necessary, cooperate with the sup- porters of Juarez, the Liberals, in their efforts to over- throw French and Austrian dominion on Mexican soil. The French Emperor was in no position to resist. Though by various evasions seeking to defer the final day, he did not fail to realise that the end of his Mexi- can empire was at hand, and he urged Maximilian to abdicate. This the latter refused to do. He was no fair weather ruler. Brave, unselfish, and still deluded, he believed in the full justice of his cause, and that the uplifting, and final salvation, of Mexico depended on his courage and the maintenance of a paternal, though imperial, power. It was just at this point that I became, in some measure at least, a part of the Mexican problem. After several months of rest, succeeding the trying days of my enforced retirement, I had once more established my news bureau, with almost the entire support of the 2 56 A Sailor of Fortune New York City press. The Tribune, the Times, the Sun, and others gave me their patronage. Horace Greeley was particularly forceful in his denunciation of my accusers, and I can see him now as he turned from writing at his high stand-up desk to grasp my hand and to give vent to his feelings in some good Anglo-Saxon phrases. Matters started off smoothly, and with fair prospects ahead I supposed I was on shore this time for good. Certainly I had no notion of any immediate personal connection with naval affairs. But the future is full of surprises. I was at this time boarding in the old brownstone mansion at 216 East 17th Street, and in the same house was a Mr. Tifft, of the firm of Corliss & Tifft, bankers. I knew Mr. Tifft well, and one day he presented me to a new guest, General Jose M. Carvajal, of Mexico. In due time I learned that General Carvajal was one of those who had been commissioned by President Juarez to raise funds in this country, and that Corliss & Tifft had undertaken to float a Mexican loan. I was now invited to become press agent, and through my bureau I dis- tributed a vast quantity of printed matter, also send- ing out a news story of General Carvajal’s presence in the United States, of his mission and his needs — concluding with the statement that he was about to float a loan, to which all patriotic persons who desired to support the Monroe Doctrine should subscribe. Our efforts were successful. The public resented the French interference and declared in a substantial man- ner that Maximilian must go. For the man himself there was no enmity — only compassion. It was what The Mexican Problem 257 he represented on American soil that we could not tolerate. The Mexican loan was floated in due season. Meantime, I had naturally become very friendly with General Carvajal, and he had frequently dis- cussed with me certain proposed naval operations. Eventually he suggested that we visit Washington to- gether, and upon our arrival there asked me to intro- duce him to David G. Farragut, who had just been made an admiral and was then at the Capital. It was in the old Navy Department building that we met Farragut, and here I introduced the two distinguished men, who at once fell into conversation upon army and navy matters and the problems which those of Mexico presented. At last General Carvajal said: “ Admiral, I am looking for a man to command the Navy of my country. Can you recommend to me such a person ? ” Farragut reflected an instant, then, turning to me, laid his hand on my shoulder. “ Why not Osbon, General ? ” he asked. “ I think he’s just the man you want.” General Carvajal thanked him and seemed pleased. Then we made our adieus to the admiral and left the building together. As we were going down the steps I said: “ General, you brought me before Farragut to get his indorsement.” “ That is a correct guess,” he replied ; “ I did.” Yet I wished him to be fully satisfied in all par- ticulars that I was the man for the place, and some- what later wrote a letter to my old commanding officer of steam shipping days, Captain John Me- 258 A Sailor of Fortune Gowan, asking him to express an opinion as to my qualifications. Captain McGowan was now in the Revenue Service, and he replied in due season, as follows : Treasury Department. Washington, D. C., Sept. 25th, 1866. Mr. B. S. Osbon served under my command as (third, second, and chief) officer on board the steamships Illinois , St. Louis, and Moses Taylor, during which time he gave me the fullest satisfaction. He is intelligent, active, ener- getic and prompt in obeying orders, which are sure signs that he will make a good commander. I have no hesita- tion in recommending him to fill any position on board of any class of vessel, as his conduct during the time he has been under my command is a sufficient guarantee he will not be found wanting when active service is required. John McGowan, Commander , U. S. Revenue Service . XLI The Creation of a Navy I MMEDIATELY upon our return from Washing- ton General Carvajal directed me to take such steps as were necessary to secure and fit out an armed vessel. This had to be done with very great caution. Though declaring openly for the cause of the Mexican Republic, the United States was still at peace with the French nation, and our diplomatic contin- gent — perhaps a little jealous of its prerogative and its ability to settle matters without the burning of powder — was exceedingly watchful for any move that might be construed as an act of war. It is true the Navy and the Military had little sympathy or patience with this diplomacy. As early as 1864 Grant had de- clared to his generals that as soon as he had disposed of the Confederates he would begin with the Imperial- ists in Mexico, and in May, 1865, he had ordered Sheridan with fifty thousand men into the Southwest, ostensibly for the purpose of restoring Texas and Louisiana to the Union, but in reality to have troops ready to throw across the Rio Grande at any mo- ment. Sheridan was charged by the State Department to be diplomatic, an order which that dashing officer, whose diplomacy was apt to be outlined with the point of a sabre, construed in his own way. He did not 259 260 A Sailor of Fortune hesitate to render material assistance to Juarez, and at one time sent over thirty thousand muskets from Baton Rouge alone.* The State Department could do no more than discountenance Grant and Sheridan, but an expedition like mine could be nipped in the bud. It was no easy matter to fit out, man, and provision a Mexican ship of war in an American port and to get away to sea, unknown to the civil authorities. My problem was further complicated by French spies, who in some manner had received a hint of our intention and dogged me whichever way I turned. Yet I eluded them now and then. I kept my news bureau going, and acted through faithful agents when necessary. I selected a steamer in New York, another in Boston, and a third in Philadelphia as possible pur- chases, and I think we led those French detectives the liveliest chase of their lives. I visited in person the steamers in Boston and New York, but kept away from the one in Philadelphia, the vessel that was to go. My officers and men were selected separately and secretly, no two being ever allowed to meet. It would require pages to relate even a portion of our experiences in getting our vessel — curiously enough named the General Sheridan — into shape for active service. In a comparatively brief period, how- ever, she was ready for sea, and as a blind I made a trip to Boston, returning so that my departure would take place on Sunday, when, as was then the case, the telegraph offices would be closed. I had arranged for * Sheridan in his memoirs says : “ It required the patience of Job to abide the slow and poky methods of our State De- partment.” The Creation of a Navy 261 a tug to proceed up the Hudson River early on Sun- day morning, also for two cars to be attached to the morning express on the Hudson River Railroad. The cars were to take my men a little way up the river, and the tug was to bring them back — the whole being a plan to evade the spies, who, we knew, were now watching us night and day, with the hope of being able to give information sufficiently positive to thwart our undertaking. My men, each of whom had been notified of the hour and place of starting, came promptly, and filled the two cars waiting in the Hudson River yards. The regular train backed and hooked on to them, and we were off. I knew in all reason that the detectives were on ahead, and, sure enough, when we reached Spuyten Duyvil Creek two of them put in an appearance, and attempted to enter our cars. It was now time for positive action, and we denied them admittance. “ We are officers of the law,” they declared, “ and demand that you let us in ! ” “ Gentlemen,” I said, “ we don’t care a tinker’s dam for any law that you represent. If you make a fuss we will drop you off the train.” They retired inside their own coach and we ran along until we were not far from Tarry town, when we saw our tug, and, by prearrangement, our coupling- pin was drawn and our two cars left behind, slowing down, while the train proceeded on its peaceful way, the two spies shaking their fists and reviling us from the rear platform. The tug now came along the bank and we hastily / 262 A Sailor of Fortune embarked, proceeding back down the river, arriving at Jersey City, where we took train for Philadelphia. Those were days of slow travel. The train, a freight, took eleven hours to reach Philadelphia, and it was midnight when we marched through the sleeping town toward the Camden ferry. There were eighty of us, officers and men, and we were suddenly hailed by a policeman who demanded our identity and errand. “ A draft of men for the Navy Yard,” I said, and we were allowed to pass. At Kaighn’s Point our vessel was under steam and ready for sea, with a number of men on board, re- cruited around Philadelphia by Mr. Jackway, my cap- tain, himself formerly of the Coast Survey Service — a fine navigator, a brave, capable man, and a thorough sailor of fortune. Our vessel’s former commander, however, was still nominally in charge, and we had cleared under his name in order to create no suspicion in the Custom House. At five next morning a pilot was to have been on board. I waited for him ten minutes, then concluded it unwise to delay longer. Undoubtedly the detectives had by this time suspected our destination, and would be down upon us by the first train. Also, the telegraph was now available, and every moment seemed pre- cious. Without further delay we cast off lines and steamed down the Delaware. The Mexican Navy was under way at last. XLII Great Plans, and What Came of Them T HE General Sheridan, which we intended to rechristen the Margarita Juarez, after the Mexican President’s daughter, was what to- day might be called a large, ocean-going tug. She was about one hundred and twenty-five feet long, and a very powerful vessel. She was to be armed with six Wiard steel rifles and with a torpedo outfit, this arma- ment and our munitions of war to follow on another vessel, owned by the same people who had sold us the Sheridan. Our officers and crew were picked men, all veterans of the Civil War, and as fine a lot as I have ever seen collected on one vessel. Our wardroom per- sonnel was pretentious. As chief officer of the em- bryo navy, I also carried the title of admiral, with power to convert prizes into privateers with letters of marque for destroying the French marine. Next in rank came Captain Jackway, who, in event of our accumulating a squadron, would become fleet captain. I had also two lieutenants and a secretary — the last a remarkable person who spoke and wrote fluently in nine languages. Officers and crew were to have one- half of all prize moneys, and now that we had been allowed to get to sea unmolested, we were a happy set of fellows as we headed for the South, dreaming of stirring adventures and golden fortunes ahead. 263 264 A Sailor of Fortune My orders from General Carvajal were to proceed to Brazos Santiago, a small harbour just above the mouth of the Rio Grande, there to receive further or- ders. The general himself was to come down by pas- senger steamer and be there on my arrival. It was our plan to begin the campaign by following down the Mexican coast, keeping in touch with what was going on by means of information signalled from the shore, finally to slip into the harbour of Vera Cruz by night and destroy the French vessels there, by torpedoing one, and capturing the others in the confusion which would ensue. As for the merchant marine, we went so far, before leaving New York, as to have ransom bonds prepared for the entire French transatlantic fleet — for the different ships by name, with the amount to be levied on each. Well, it is good to make plans and to dream dreams. The planning and dreaming of themselves are worth something. We had a rough passage between New York and our destination. I ran into the usual storm off Hat- teras and had a hard time to save the vessel. A strong norther was blowing when we arrived off Brazos San- tiago, with a big sea on the bar and no more than two wheelbarrow-loads of coal in our bunkers. By the skilful pilotage of Captain Jackway we managed to get in, and I was met immediately upon landing by a representative of General Carvajal, and was conducted by him on horseback to the general’s ranch at Browns- ville, Texas, a number of miles away. Here we still further perfected our plans, and I returned to the ves- sel to await our armament and munitions. Great Plans 265 But they never came. The vessel carrying them had been caught like ourselves off Hatteras, and with less fortune. She had gone down, and our Wiard rifles and torpedo outfit were at the bottom of the sea. I took a bronco and rode over to convey the sad news to General Carvajal. He took it stoically. “ Never mind,” he said. “ To keep your men busy, leave the Sheridan at Brazos and come over here.” So we packed our baggage, got a lot of teams to do the hauling, and I was presently admiral of a wagon train with a force of “ horse-marines ” on the way to Gen- eral Carvajal’s ranch. Certainly this was not much like a realisation of our fine plans, and though the boys rather enjoyed going into camp as a sort of a picnic, I began to suspect that my dreams of conquest and naval supremacy had come to a sudden and rather ridiculous end. But General Carvajal was not disturbed. He took me to the Rio Grande and pointing down the Mexican side, said, “ There is a gunboat belonging to the Mexican Navy, but she has fallen into the hands of the Revo- lutionists. Do you think you can capture her by boarding ? ” The Revolutionists, it should be said, had little or nothing to do with the affair we had come to settle, but carried on a sort of guerrilla warfare in the State of Tamaulipas — there being many of these local revo- lutions at this time. The vessel across the river was a sidewheel steam- boat of the ordinary Western river type, of very light draft and lying in shallow water. The river at this 266 A Sailor of Fortune time was low, and it seemed only a question of swim' ming a short distance and surprising a small crew on board. I looked at the prospective prize for a moment and said I thought the boys would like the job. In fact, I knew they would, for they were just the sort of fellows for that kind of work. When we returned to the ranch and I proposed it to them, they wanted to set out at once. We decided that the next night would be a good time to capture the Chinaco (which translated meant “ robber,” or “thief”), and accordingly, a little after dusk on the following day, we went down to the river bank with our revolvers and ammunition tied to our heads, and waded out very silently until it was neces- sary to swim. After swimming a distance of perhaps thirty yards we were once more in wading depth, and crept silently up under the guards of the steamer, which drew not more than two and one-half feet of water; and before our friends knew we were any- where in the neighbourhood we had boarded from all sides. They surrendered without firing a shot, and the Mexican Admiral had a new flagship, carrying one twelve-pounder brass rifle and six mountain howitzers as a total armament. Notwithstanding her light bat- tery, she was a serviceable vessel for river use, and when a few days later we had the Margarita Juarez, as I concluded to name her, in apple-pie order, with a supply of ammunition borrowed from the United States forces in Brownsville, and with a crew of one hundred and twenty picked men, we constituted rather a formidable adjunct of the Juarez Government, as time proved. Great Plans 267 There now succeeded several weeks of waiting filled with minor events, many of which I could not explain, but which I now suspect resulted from the lack of har- mony between the State and Military Departments at Washington. I think very few of us understood what was going on, or what were our positions at that time. For myself, I was nominally in the employ of the Mexican Republic, yet it is quite certain that my sup- plies, and many of my orders, were of American origin, the latter transmitted through General Car- vajal. I have always suspected that there was some plan on foot, in which the restoration of Juarez was only the first step, and that General Grant was chiefly con- cerned in the idea. Grant was always an annexation- ist, and certainly there was little evidence at this time that Mexico, under any form of government, was able to govern herself. Furthermore there was thought to be need of an outlet for the manumitted slaves and for the large floating element of white men who had served as soldiers in the Union army. Always deeply inter- ested in Mexican affairs, it is not impossible that Grant’s programme included a dream of extending our dominion across the Rio Grande to embrace the land of the Montezumas. But whatever the purpose — if there was a purpose — it came to nothing, and thus far has not been made public. Generals Grant, Lew Wallace, Sheridan, and perhaps Sherman, knew what was going on, and Gen- eral Wallace must have thought that I was in the secret, for at a Grand Army Encampment dinner long afterward he said : “ Gentlemen, let me present to you 268 A Sailor of Fortune Admiral Osbon of the late Mexican Navy. If you and the world at large knew what we know, you would know more than we are willing to tell. If the move- ment inaugurated, in which we took part, had been consummated, our names would have gone ringing down the ages.” Aboqt a year ago I wrote to General Wallace concerning the matter, but he was too ill to reply, and never recovered. Perhaps in the autobiog- raphy which he has left behind he will clear up the story. At all events, those of us who were obeying orders were kept a good deal in the fog. General Sedgwick, who commanded the Department of the Rio Grande, and Colonel Alonzo F. Randall, of the First Light Artillery at Brownsville, were no wiser than myself. They received curious, and sometimes contradictory, orders emanating from unknown sources and not al- ways easy to fulfil. For my own part, I cruised up and down the river without much to do, keeping mostly to the American bank, as revolutions were still in progress in Tamaulipas, the sound of musketry in Matamoras being an everyday occurrence. If I re- member rightly there were no less than nine governors in that city in the space of a few months. I used to ask the sentinel at my door, “ Well, orderly, who is governor this morning?” And sometimes he would answer : “ I think there has been no change over night. I have heard no firing.” XLIII The Mexican Navy Distinguishes Itself C URIOUS incidents followed one upon another, interesting enough at the time, even exciting, but often without definite purpose and seldom with tangible result. At one time I received orders from General Carvajal to go down the river to take on board a hundred sharpshooters, consigned to me from New Orleans, evidently with the consent of United States military authority, yet upon reaching the designated point I was obliged to receive them under cover of my guns, owing to the fierce opposition of United States Customs officials. At another time I awoke one morning to find a pontoon bridge stretched across the river from Brownsville to Matamoras, mak- ing a military connection from the American to the Mexican side. Later in the day, General Cortina, com- mander of the Revolutionary forces, then in control in Matamoras, sent word that unless the bridge was re- moved he would open fire on Brownsville. General Sedgwick, who understood no more than I why he had been ordered to make the pontoon con- nection, deputised me to wait upon Cortina, which I did. Our interview opened with drawn pistols and closed with brandy and cigars, in true Mexican fash- ion. I returned with General Cortina’s ultimatum, that unless the bridge was removed the firing upon Browns- 269 270 A Sailor of Fortune ville would open next day at noon. Naturally, we were all a bit anxious for the outcome of this mys- terious incident, which, as usual, ended with nothing, for at precisely fifteen minutes of the given time there came from somewhere another mysterious order, and a detachment of United States troops marched across the pontoon bridge, cast it adrift from the Mexican side and let it swing down parallel with the American bank. At still another time, when General Canales was in Revolutionary command, word came across that unless my vessel was removed from the American bank the Matamoras guns would open on her, regard- less of what damage might be done to Brownsville. After considerable discussion with the United States authorities, I decided to disarm my vessel, land my guns and ammunition and leave the matter for Uncle Sam to decide. It was just at this time that General Sherman and a Mr. Campbell, who had been sent to Mexico as special commissioners, arrived in the Sus- quehanna, off Brazos Santiago. Learning of their com- ing, I hurried over with two of my staff and four extra horses, to welcome them. As the United States authorities at Brownsville had no conveyance to send but an ambulance, it was natural that an old soldier like Sherman should accept my horses and my escort. “ Damn an ambulance when you can get a horse! ” he said, and we discussed my difficulties all the way over, with the result that on the following Sunday morning, with our guns and ammunition on board, and with a brass band borrowed for the occasion, I The Mexican Navy 271 hoisted my admiral’s flag once more on the Margarita Juarez, assured of the protection of the military of the United States. It will be seen from these inci- dents, unimportant as they appear, how curious was the naval and military situation along the Rio Grande during the final days of the so-called Mexican Em- pire. In the meantime the republican cause had pros- pered greatly. In spite of excuses and delays on the part of Napoleon, and of the pleadings of the Empress Carlotta, who besought that sovereign on her knees, the French troops were retiring. Already they had abandoned northern Mexico, and with the Maximilian empire doomed, Juarez was now in a position to give attention to the Revolutionists in Tamaulipas. About the middle of November (1866) a report reached us that a large force under General Escobedo was march- ing on Matamoras with a view of putting the Liberal Government in control. In due time he arrived, and with his six thousand men went into camp above the city. Immediately I went over to pay my respects to him and to offer the services of the Mexican Navy for whatever they might be worth. He thanked me pleasantly, and I sup- posed he would advise me when he was ready to make the attack, so that I might get into a position to flank the forts with my fire. He did not do so, and one morning about two o’clock I was aroused by a terrible cannonading, and knew that General Escobedo had begun the assault. Without concerted arrangement, I did not feel justi- fied in attempting to use my guns or to land my forces, 2 7 2 A Sailor of Fortune for I had no knowledge of his plans. I therefore be- came merely a spectator, or listener, to the clash of arms. Then all at once it ceased. I expected to hear shouts of triumph as Escobedo’s troops entered the streets of Matamoras, but there came no sound except of cheering along the lines of fortification. I saddled a horse and going ashore rode to Escobedo’s camp, where troops were pouring in pellmell, in wild dis- order. I found the general, and presenting my compliments asked him why he did not notify me of the coming attack and allow me to render such assistance as I could. He was in deep distress at his defeat, declaring that his engineers had misled him as to the works, that, among other things, they had built sixteen-foot scaling ladders for a moat twenty-two feet wide. The Revolutionists had allowed his troops to get within short range, and then mowed down six hundred of them in ten minutes. The repulse had been sudden and complete. I now resolved to take Matamoras without the as- sistance of General Escobedo. I came back to the ves- sel and announced to my officers and men that, as we were unable to get our pay, and had hard work even to get rations — all of which was true enough, Heaven knows — I had resolved to turn the vessel for a time into a merchantman, to earn some money. They seemed well disposed toward this idea, and to give it official colour I announced next day in the Brownsville Ran- chero that the Margarita Juarez had been transferred to the merchant marine and would accept passengers The Mexican Navy 273 and freight for up-river points. We also landed our guns and my forces went into camp. Of course I apprised General Carvajal of my plan, and with his assistance had dummy freight especially prepared for the trip. This in due season came aboard, and there was also a small amount of genuine freight, while a few passengers engaged staterooms. When all was ready at last, the men were taken into our confi- dence, and on the last night the guns were once more quietly taken aboard, and concealed behind the dummy freight. We were advertised to sail at ten o’clock next morn- ing, but when our passengers came down we put them off with an excuse that we would not leave that day, and did not let them aboard. They must have been surprised when at eleven o’clock we cast off and steamed up the river, to all appearances a peaceful merchantman, loaded and bound up stream. Certainly this is what we appeared to the Revolutionists on the Matamoras side, and this was the impression we had laboured to create. We had further arranged with one Colonel Ford, an American in command of a Liberal battery on the Mexican shore — his position in the Army being an anomalous one, similar to that of mine in the Navy — to act in conjunction with us; and when we were just coming abreast of the Revolu- tionist fortifications, over went our dummy freight, the men appeared at the guns, and simultaneously with Ford we let go, giving the Revolutionists a complete % surprise, tumbling them out of their forts one after another, taking them seriatim until we had the entire eight. It was really great sport. The Revolutionists 274 A Sailor of Fortune were enfiladed by a fire which made their position un- tenable, and they ran like rats, hardly pausing to re- turn our fire. In just an hour and forty minutes Mata- moras was ours, and General Escobedo and his army marched in in great triumph. As for the Mexican Navy, it modestly went back and tied itself to the American bank. It had distinguished itself at last. It was willing that the Army should do the shouting. XLIV An Exciting New Year’s Eve T HE war in Mexico was one of vengeance and reprisal. From the beginning, both sides had pursued guerrilla tactics, with campaigns of massacre and rapine. The “ Black Decree ” — forced by his ministers upon Maximilian — an edict by which everyone bearing arms against the empire became liable to the death penalty, and the enforcement of this infamous proscription, resulted in deeds and measures unknown to any civilised code of arms. Even where hostilities had ended, the flow of blood went on. De- tails of riflemen were kept busy, filling graves. At Matamoras, it is true, a large number of the Revolutionists came over to the National army and were forgiven; but there were many who were rene- gades by nature and petty criminals by choice. These, if captured, were given short shrift. General Bereo- sabel, who with Escobedo’s occupation became Gov- ernor of Tamaulipas, was a fine gentleman with an English education, but his knowledge of the law related chiefly to its execution — the latter usually attended with results fatal to the offender. With the Mexican Navy now tied up to the Mexican bank, I could observe these conditions at close range, and every morning the the sound of musketry volleys brought the tidings that another detachment of prisoners had paid the extreme penalty of error. 275 i 276 A Sailor of Fortune “ General,” I said, one day, “ if you keep on shoot- ing these fellows, we shall presently have ten women to every man in this end of Mexico. Instead of killing these poor devils, why don’t you set them to work ? ” “ What can I do with them ? ” he asked. “ Well,” I replied, “ the streets of Matamoras are in wretched condition. Let them lay paving stone. There’s plenty of it up the river. Give me a lot of these fellows, and I will set them to getting out the ma- terial ; I will bring it down on the vessel, — the Mexican Navy isn’t very busy just now.” General Bereosabel approved of the idea, and before long I had a supply of recruits, all willing to get out stone for any number of days in preference to looking once into a musket barrel at sunrise. Of course I kept armed and alert for possible outbreaks. I wish I had been equally thoughtful during my next undertaking. I had made two trips as a stone droger, when I was ordered by the Governor to go up the river with a load of rifles and ammunition (doubtless a consign- ment from Sheridan) and a considerable amount of specie. I was also to have three passengers — the Gov- ernor’s niece, who was to visit some friends up the river, and two troublesome Revolutionary generals, who were to be delivered to the military at a given point, from which they would be conducted to some unknown destination. The generals I was to supply with rations, allowing them to find quarters where they could. General Bereosabel’s niece — a spirited young lady, as events proved— was assigned the best state- room in the vessel, the one adjoining my own, with doors opening both to the main cabin and the deck, An Exciting New Year’s Eve 277 as is the case with all river steamers. My reasons for being thus explicit will develop later. The chief feature of my expedition, however, as it turned out, was a company of eighty casadores or light infantrymen — converted Revolutionists for the most part — which General Bereosabel detailed to accom- pany me, as a guard for the treasure. Perhaps he thought my crew incompetent for this duty. Perhaps he was afraid I would vanish with both his niece and the specie. At all events, the company of armed in- fantry came aboard, while my own men, being more or less off duty, stored their arms and made themselves comfortable in the after part of the lower main deck. Of course we were entirely in the hands of the casa- dores , and with two Revolutionist generals aboard — one of them Hernandez, a notorious agitator — it seems strange to me now that no possibility of trouble en- tered my mind. At all events, it did not, and we de- voted our ingenuities chiefly to keeping warm, for it was the last day of the year, and very cold for the climate. It seldom snows on the Rio Grande, but it snowed that day, and a stiff norther was blowing that chilled us through. All sorts of provision were made for Gen- eral Bereosabel’s niece, while as many as could gath- ered about an improvised stove in the forward end of the cabin. When night fell, it was snowing quite hard, and I tied up to the American bank, as I considered navigation dangerous in that narrow, crooked river. After the evening meal was over I sat down with several of the officers around the little stove forward for a social chat. I had on my slippers, and for the 278 A Sailor of Fortune only time during my stay in Mexico I did not wear a brace of revolvers at my waist. The New Year’s Eve slipped away pleasantly, and I remember that we were discussing life in the tropics when the steward came in and informed Captain Jack- way that General Hernandez, who had retired, had taken the blankets out of two other rooms into his own, and refused to deliver them to their respective owners. I was naturally irritated at this report. My orders had been to supply my officer prisoners with nothing but food, and I had already allowed them good quar- ters and as much in the way of comfort as was possi- ble. I now left my chair, and going to Hernandez, ex- plained to him in pretty forcible Spanish, of which I had a very good command, that he had no right to enter any room but his own, and that he must sur- render the appropriated blankets forthwith. He glared at me fiercely for a second, then suddenly whipping out a revolver, stuck it within three inches of my face and pulled the trigger. Why the charge failed to explode I do not know. I do know that I grabbed his arm with my left hand, and when he did fire, an instant later, the bullet passed through the upper deck. By this time I had concluded that it was to be my life or his. Holding his arm straight and extended upward with my left hand I struck it a heavy blow with my right fist. I think I must have been very strong in those days, for the blow not only sent his pistol flying but broke the upper bone of his arm. I did not realise this at the moment, and grappled with him, forcing him toward the glass door, An Exciting New Year’s Eve 279 intending to push his head through it, and so have him at my mercy. But by this time something else had happened. What had been the original plan between Hernandez and the casadores I do not know, but, whatever it was, my affair with the archplotter had brought it to a sudden climax. The shot fired by Hernandez had been a signal for the seizing of our armory, my men had been corralled and were under guard below, while Captain Jackway and the officers about the stove had been surrounded and overpowered. A number of the mutineers were now upon me, clubbing at me with their muskets, only failing to strike me for want of room to get action. I knew immediately what was up, and that, unarmed as I was, my only hope was in escape. I heard the order given to shoot me down, and I made a break, and with a bound was under the long cabin table, scampering on my hands and knees toward my state- room, the soldiers firing wildly, filling the cabin with smoke, which became the means of my getting to my room unharmed. Here I hastily bolted the door, and had buckled on my pistols to go out and face them, when suddenly I felt a hand on my arm and, turning, found General Bereosabel’s niece, who had entered by the outside door. She was cooler than I, and better able to reason. “You are not going out there,” she said; “they will kill you.” I realised that this was a sound opinion, and stepped back through the outside door into the snow, intend- ing to go over the side of the vessel and make my way 280 A Sailor of Fortune to a United States military station not many miles dis- tant. But the casadores were already battering at the inner door and would be upon me in another instant. My wise-headed little companion realised this, and without a word seized me firmly, and a second later I was in her stateroom with both doors locked and bolted, while the casadores were now eagerly search- ing and prodding in my empty apartment. Then a little later they were at the senorita’s door, demanding admission. I have heard a good deal of Spanish in my life, and a good many instructions concerning the deference and respect due to a lady, but I have never heard a finer example of the language nor a more concise les- son in Spanish etiquette than that young lady delivered to those murderous Greasers through the door of her stateroom that cold New Year’s Eve on the Rio Grande. She ended by telling them that I had gone over the side of the vessel, at which statement they hurried out on deck, and in the dim light seeing the half obliterated tracks in the snow, accepted her state- ment. Then, after barricading my men in the after cabin below, they moved the vessel to mid-stream, posted a guard, and gathered about the little stove forward, to wait for morning. Through the door and partitions we could hear the orders, and knew what was going on. By and by, when all got still, I suspected that, in true Mexican fashion, most of the enemy had gone to sleep. By two in the morning it was perfectly quiet, and I de- cided to reconnoitre the situation. My companion also realised that some action was necessary, and, softly An Exciting New Year’s Eve 281 opening her outside door, allowed me to step out on the deck. I hardly know what was my purpose. Cer- tainly, swimming ashore on such a night would be a last resort. Slipping forward and peering down on the lower deck I saw that the guard there, like the others, had gone to sleep. It consisted of three men by the brass pivot gun, which had been turned to cover the cabin, the plan having been to blow us all into eter- nity as we sat around the stove. One of the guards lay across the gun, the other two being huddled under the bulwarks. In my slippers, through the snow, I crawled along with a revolver in my left hand until I reached the first man under the bulwarks, and with a single blow from his own musket eliminated one factor of my problem. A well-directed and energetic kick in a care- fully selected spot disposed of the gentleman at his side, and as this roused the man across the gun it was necessary to shoot him, which of course instantly awoke the group sleeping about the cabin stove, caus- ing them to jump up and throw open the doors to see what was going on. But by this time I was ready for them. The brass gun covered them completely, and in the fiercest and most ferocious Spanish I could command I swore that if one of them lifted a hand I would blow the whole lot to Hades. I could have done it, too, for the gun was heavily loaded with grape, and to have pulled the fric- tion primer lanyard would have slaughtered that crowd almost to a man. I can’t begin to describe the foolish, helpless looks of those fellows. They were armed; but they knew I 282 A Sailor of Fortune was desperate, and that the movement of a weapon would bring death upon them all. Perhaps the reader will faintly realise the tension I was under during the moment of silence they stood looking at me. Then they begged for mercy. “ Drop your guns,” I called, “ every one of you ! Come down one at a time, unarmed. If I see a sus- picious move I will fire.” They obeyed like Sunday-school boys, and I or- dered Hernandez and his companion in arms, who had now appeared, to see that my men were released, which they did. Then the reaction took place, and I wanted to sit down quietly with somebody about like General Bereo- sabel’s niece to help me think it over. We celebrated, too, for our steward came running with a bottle of wine and some hot tamales — an early New Year’s feast on the Rio Grande. I suppose, to make the. story complete, it ought to end with a romance in which we should play the chief parts. My recollection is that neither of us thought of anything of the sort. She was simply one of the courageous girls of those troublous times, a worthy scion of a noble race, who gave a hand to a sailor of fortune at an opportune moment. It was my honour and pleasure to land her safely at her destination, and I have never seen her since she bade me good-bye that day, now almost forty years ago. As for the generals and the casadores — well, as I said in the beginning of this chapter, General Bereo- sabel’s idea of law related chiefly to its execution. Meantime, we had great difficulties in getting our An Exciting New Year’s Eve 283 pay from the Mexican treasury. General Bereosabel issued orders for our money, but we had to resort to various devices to get the cash. Finally, when there were several thousand dollars due me, with no present prospect of collection, and as there was little or no further use for my services, that I could see, I made up my mind to resign, a decision that was somewhat hastened by the discovery that there were no less than eighty native applicants for my position. It seemed quite certain that if there were eighty Mexicans who wanted to command the Mexican Navy, my resigna- tion was likely to take the form of a funeral service, unless I got it in early, in the usual way. Eighty to one was an odds too heavy even for an admiral, and my resignation went in, despite General Bereosabel’s protest. It was now late spring, and the conflict in lower Mexico was nearly over. By the middle of March the last of the French troops had departed, and Maxi- milian, abandoned to his fate, was doomed. Many of the French soldiers had agreed to remain individually for a certain bounty, but, after accepting it, deserted at the last moment. The poor monarch’s fate was now sad indeed. Carlotta, who had failed in her efforts with Napoleon and in other directions, had been un- able to stand the mental strain, and was wandering about the beautiful castle Miramar, on the Adriatic, near Trieste, her mind full of disordered fancies. About Maximilian, only a hopelessly small force of his Mexican supporters gathered, and these, as one defeat succeeded another, rapidly melted away. Yet he struggled on. Still strong in his purpose of 284 A Sailor of Fortune good — still believing that upon him depended the sal- vation of a disordered Government — he remained steadfast, refusing to abdicate, refusing to abandon a people who, because he loved them, must surely, one day, uphold his cause. Overwhelmed at last, captured, his days were num- bered. It was at Queretaro that he made his last stand, and here, as always, he showed the hero’s self- denial and courage, foregoing all personal comforts, ministering to the sick and wounded, refusing at last to escape when it became known that the day was lost. “ I do not hide myself,” he said, and knowing his beloved Carlotta’s hopeless fate, he longed only for the bullet which would release him from the sorrow and bitterness of it all.* Rumours of the fighting and the victories of Juarez came to us on the Rio Grande, and we knew that the end was near, though it was not until after my de- parture that the story was complete. I went over to New Orleans after my resignation, where I was pre- sented to General Sheridan by our Mexican Minister, Mr. Campbell, under my late rank and title. This closed my connection with the Mexican affair, though, curiously enough, in a civil capacity I was to perform a final duty — to add the final touch, as it were, to an episode of which I had seen the prelude in Havana Harbour five years before. I had been in New Orleans but a week when I be- came boarding officer of the New York Associated *“Now for a lucky bullet, Salm ! ” was Maximilian’s cry to his loyal friend, Prince Salm-Salm, as he saw the white flag go up near him. An Exciting New Year’s Eve 285 Press, at Southwest Pass (an entrance to the river below New Orleans). It was my duty to board all vessels for news of any sort. On the morning of June 29th, 1867, very soon after my arrival, I looked out over the bar and saw, lying outside, an Austrian man-o’-war, her colours at half- mast and bordered with black. There was no telegraph connection with Mexico in those days. I knew in- stantly that she had brought news, and I could guess well enough what it was. When I boarded the vessel, which I did without delay, the captain gravely took me into his cabin and told me that he had a communi- cation which, as representative of the Associated Press, I would be permitted to make public; but that I must pledge myself not to allow it to appear in print until it had reached the Austrian and French ministers at Washington. He then told me how on the morning of the 19th of June, at Queretaro, on the “ Hill of Bells,” where they had met defeat, Maximilian and his two generals, Miramon and Meji, had faced a file of soldiers, and so made the supreme expiation. Maxi- milian had died as he had lived — brave of heart and gentle of spirit — forgiving those whose duty it was to take his life — refusing at the last the bandage for his eyes.* * In his last hours Maximilian wrote a noble letter to Juarez, whose spirit he admired, and a tender message to the poor de- mented soul who was watching for his coming at Miramar. The letter to Carlotta was as follows: My Beloved Carlotta: If God permits that your health be restored, and you should read these few lines, you will learn the cruelty with which fate 286 A Sailor of Fortune We computed the cable tolls, for I was also to for- ward the message direct to Paris and Vienna, and he paid me the amount in gold. Returning to my head- quarters, I opened the wire to New Orleans, called Mr. Mingle, then manager of the telegraph department, and, having obtained his assurance that the news would be kept sacred until it was in the hands of the legations at Washington, I forwarded the story, which he received in person. For nearly twenty-four hours the public knew noth- ing of the matter. Then, if I remember rightly, the announcement of the death of Maximilian was made simultaneously in Europe and the United States.* I had seen the beginning of an international tragedy. I had received the news of its end. has stricken me since your departure for Europe. You took with you, not only my heart, but my good fortune. Why did I not give heed to your voice? So many untoward events! Alas, so many sudden blows have stricken my hopes; so that death is but a happy deliverance, not an agony to me. I shall die glo- riously, like a soldier, like a monarch, vanquished, but not dis- honoured. If your sufferings are too great, and God shall call you to join me, I shall bless His divine hand which has weighed so heavily upon us. Adieu, adieu. Your poor Maximilian. It is probable that Carlotta never comprehended this letter. “ He is dead — they will kill him — I know the Mexicans,” she is said to have declared in a semi-lucid interval. Yet she never ceased to believe him living, and to this day, still alive herself, cared for now in her own native Belgium, she is watching for his return. * The first brief announcement of Maximilian’s death was made by the press June 30th, 1867. XLV I Attend the Havre Exposition, and Welcome Mrs. Farragut I REMAINED about one year at Southwest Pass, during which time, besides being the official news gatherer, I held the positions of deputy United States marshal, commodore of the New Orleans tow- boat fleet, and doctor of medicine of the port. My ex- perience as a sea captain fitted me for the last named post, for I had dealt with almost every known dis- ease in every known climate, and I believe I had some natural faculty for the business. At Southwest Pass I had at one time fifty-two cases of yellow fever. And of these I did not lose one, which I think is a pretty good record. Curious things happened at that strange half-water, half-mud place which sticks out into the Gulf of Mexico like a fishing pole, but I have not the space to set them down here. One storm still gathers in my mind, out of the many terrible semi-tropic gales of that locality — a storm presaged only by some strange subcompre- hension which makes the pelican fly low and disturbs the fish, but is not revealed by the barometer. All the morning I had watched them — the birds skimming the surface of the water and the fish shooting about in that unusual way, feeling an inward something of my own that foretold disaster. I was so sure by ten 287 288 A Sailor of Fortune o’clock that a gale was coming, though there was not a single tangible sign, that I hoisted the signal, “ Pre- pare for a Hurricane.” There were a number of vessels anchored in the river, waiting to be towed to New Orleans, and their captains came or sent ashore to know why I had hoisted the signal. When I explained, they laughed; but I kept the signal flying. The pilots laughed, too; but I did not haul down the flags. Then the captain of a little bark and his mate — both had their families aboard — came to ask why I ex- pected a gale. I told them as best I could how the peli- cans were flying low and the fish were disturbed, and how the alligators had gone into holes. I advised him to put his vessel into the bank across the river, well anchored and stripped for a hurricane. Those men did not laugh. They had their wives and children aboard and were taking no chances. They followed my in- structions to the letter; and at two o’clock that night there was blowing one of the wildest hurricanes I have ever known. The river rose until I was obliged to pass a couple of hawsers over my house and lash it to the piling, and to cut holes through the floor to let in the water for ballast, to keep from drifting away. A pilot boat was swept by and went high and dry on the marsh. The vessels waiting to be towed to New Or- leans were driven about and scattered like ships of straw. One of our towboats was there, and I ordered her sunk to her main deck to keep her off the marsh. Next morning, she and the little bark anchored on the left bank were the only vessels not driven ashore and damaged. Our wrecking tugs pulled thirteen of them The Havre Exposition 289 off; and I do not believe there was a captain in that fleet that ever disregarded from that day, no matter what the barometer might indicate, the more mys- terious warnings of the wise pelicans, the alligators, and the fish. I left Southwest Pass for a voyage to Europe, for I was suffering from my old unlucky knee and I was told that an ocean voyage would benefit me. I was also going for another reason, for in the course of my many travels I had met one Eliza Balfour — a young lady of Scotch descent — of the Balfours of Burleigh, and we were to meet and be married on the other side. Our wedding took place at Liverpool, and after a brief time we crossed over to Havre to attend the Maritime Exposition, the first of the kind ever held in Europe. Before leaving America I had made arrangements with the New York Times, the Philadelphia Inquirer, and papers in each of the other chief cities of the United States for foreign correspondence, and on the other side the London Times, the Manchester Guardian , the Liverpool Post, and Mercury engaged articles on the Maritime show. It was not customary in those days to syndicate descriptive matter, so that each of my letters had to be separately written and differently constructed. Yet I did not find this a difficult under- taking, once I got going. There was a vast deal to see, all the time, and no one letter, or ten, could cover it all. The London Times presently invited me to send a letter as often as circumstances would warrant, and the pay was most liberal for those days. Being the only American newspaper man in Havre I was treated with 290 A Sailor of Fortune great courtesy, and unusual facilities were accorded me for getting interesting facts. Near my headquarters in the Exposition was the working model of a pneumatic telegraph apparatus which interested me very much.. In time I familiarised myself with the details of its method, and frequently explained it to visitors who happened along. One day a tall, gaunt, grey-eyed Englishman over- heard a part of one of my impromptu lectures, and presently, when we were alone, asked me if I would explain the principles of the pneumatic telegraph to him. His interest and manner appealed to me and I did my best. He listened with great attention, asking many questions. When I had finished, he said: “ My name is Weir. I am the president of the com- pany that owns this machine. It is, as you say, par- ticularly adapted to the needs of naval vessels. If you care to handle it for us at this Exposition, and will undertake to introduce it into the French Navy, I will give you a one-fifth interest in the patents, and allow you six pounds sterling per week for expenses.” I clinched the bargain at once, and with the income from my news correspondence I now had what was then considered a very excellent provision for life on the Continent. In fact, I may say that fortune seemed to smile about this time. Admiral and Mrs. Farragut were that year making a tour abroad and were everywhere received with great honours. If I remember rightly, the ad- miral was in poor health, and was unable to attend the Exposition; but Mrs. Farragut came up from the Mediterranean on the sloop of war Canandaigua, and The Havre Exposition 29 1 was welcomed with great ceremony. Rest assured, I was on hand when the ship was announced, and re- ceived a most cordial greeting from the wife of my old commander. Indeed, the gentle and noble old lady had always been like a mother to me after the New Orleans episode, and I remember once, when I went to call on the admiral in his home, after the war was ended, how she kissed me and declared I had saved her husband’s life. At the Havre Exposition it was the same. A day was fixed for her visit, and it was arranged that I should call for her and conduct her through the show. She was received in state by the mayor and civic of- ficials, and when we made the rounds she kept my arm throughout, everywhere making known the fact that I had been her husband’s signal officer at New Orleans, and declaring that I had saved his life. I think we were the centre of attention at the Exposition on that day, which I still recall with great pride; and I shall always revere the beautiful nature and kind heart of the noble woman who made that day possible. Of course an event of this sort could not fail to count for me in the advancement of my plans concern- ing the French Navy. I was made one of the judges on exhibits pertaining to the outfitting of ships with labour-saving appliances, and I did not fail to direct attention to the pneumatic telegraph, in which I had a genuine and most enthusiastic faith. It was near the end of the show, when one day a very nice old gentle- man came to see the model, and when I had explained it in such French as I could command he said: “ Now, sir, if you will please tell me all about it in 292 A Sailor of Fortune English, I think I can understand it much better,” and he handed me his card. I was a bit chagrined, expecting to see the name of an Englishman who had not comprehended a single word I had said. I was mistaken. The card bore the name of Admiral Paris, of the French Navy, one of the men I most desired to meet. ,We immediately be- came good friends, and I felt that I had made a long step in the direction of business success. XLVI I Have Dealings with Napoleon III. — A Remorseful Emperor the close of the Exposition at Havre I went to Paris and began a vigorous campaign with a view of establishing the pneumatic tele- graph on the French naval marine. Through my new friend, the admiral, who was himself preparing a work on naval architecture and appliances, I made the acquaintance of a number of influential officers and officials, and felt that I was getting along swim- mingly. It was necessary, however, to secure the imperial approval before a demonstration could be given of the apparatus; also, of course, before an order could be obtained from the French Government. Napoleon III. was not an easy man to see in those days, and even Admiral Paris did not care to suggest that he would arrange an interview. I secured the coveted presenta- tion at last in a peculiar manner. From the beginning, in France, I was known to have been in Mexico, in the service of the Juarez Gov- ernment, and was placed on the list of suspects. I think by this time there was no feeling against me person- ally; but it was natural that the authorities should wish to be quite certain of my errand, when the French and Mexican complications had been so recently ad- 294 A Sailor of Fortune justed, and when there was still so much resentment toward the French emperor on account of his connec- tion with the Maximilian tragedy. I was watched continually, my letters were opened, even the servants in the house where my wife and I had apartments acted as spies. Those were troublous times in France, just prior to the Franco-German war, and everyone of whom there was the least suspicion was kept under close surveillance. Of my followers, one of the most persistent, was an Englishman. Go where I would, I could see his face. At the Cafe Royal one morning he planted himself directly in front of me. I felt the time had come to speak. “ My friend,” I began, “ will you join me at break- fast ? I have something to say to you.” He looked at me a moment and shifted his seat closer. I said: “ You have favoured me with your company so long, I think I ought to introduce myself. My name is Osbon, as you know. I live in the Rue de la Pepi- niere. I am here on business — to sell, if possible, to the French Government a pneumatic telegraph sys- tem, owned by a company in London. I have served in the Mexican Navy as its senior officer; but I am no longer connected with that Government and have no interest in its movements. I don’t like to be followed around Paris as if I were a revolutionist or a regi- cide. You have a pleasant sort of a face, but I see it too often.” “ My dear sir,” he said, “ there is some mistake. It is true I have seen you before, but I am simply an A Remorseful Emperor 295 English gentleman, formerly a British consul, living quietly in Paris.” “ Well,” I replied, “ you may be an English gen- tleman, and you may have been a British consul. But you are at this moment a French spy — a mouchard.” He looked at me keenly a moment, then he said : “ Perhaps I can be of assistance to you. How would you like an introduction to the Emperor?” This was business, and I replied promptly, “ Noth- ing would give me greater pleasure.” “ Make it worth my while and I will get you a per- sonal interview,” was his next remark. “ What is your * while ’ worth ? ” I asked. “ For five hundred dollars I will present you to the Emperor, and you can show him the apparatus. You must do your own business after that.” When we left the breakfast table I had agreed to meet him at the office of the Emperor’s chamberlain on the following Wednesday. Without delay I hur- ried over to London, told Mr. Weir of my arrange- ment, a meeting of the board was called and the five hundred dollars voted and placed in my hands. On Wednesday morning promptly at eleven o’clock I was at the imperial chamberlain’s office, to find my British friend there. I showed him the money and told him that when I had seen the Emperor and had my interview the money would be his. Ten minutes later I was in the presence of Napoleon III. I know now that the Emperor had been induced to see me on the ground that I had come from Mexico, and, having held a commanding position with the op- j posing forces, would likely be able to communicate 296 A Sailor of Fortune interesting and perhaps valuable information. Na- poleon was at this time filled with remorse at the thought of having sent Maximilian to his doom, and I saw almost immediately that he was hungry for every word from the fallen empire. He permitted me to show him a small model of the telegraph machine, and called in the young Prince Imperial to look at it. Then turning to me anxiously he said, “ Mr. Osbon, you have been in Mexico.” I saw how eager he was in his interest, and I told him in detail the story of my going to Mexico, and some of my experiences there. He was most minute in his questions, but I did not tell him all, for I wanted another interview. In reply to some of his inquiries I said — and it was true — “ I will have to consult my papers before I can reply to your satis- faction.” Promising to return in a few days with further in- formation, I left his presence, joined my Englishman and turned over the stipulated sum, feeling, as one would say in nautical terms, that I had both anchors down in France. I called alone, after that. He never refused to see me, and we always talked much more of Mexico than of the machine. I found I had much to tell that inter- ested him — in fact, every small detail of those final days seemed to fascinate him, and when I told him of the arrival of the Austrian vessel at Southwest Pass draped in mourning, he seemed to hang on my very words. That I had chanced to be the one to receive and forward the tragic news of Maximilian’s end gave me a peculiar importance in his eyes. A Remorseful Emperor 29 7 The third time I called I asked him to give me a letter to the Minister of Marine requesting that a test of the pneumatic telegraph be made on board a French man-of-war. He assented readily, and with the pre- cious missive I sought the minister and was introduced to the senior officer commanding the Mediterranean Fleet. I was not long in obtaining a requisition to have the machine fitted up on the Jeanne d’Arc, the flagship of the squadron. The wedge was in at last, and in due season I was notified that the vessel was ready to be fitted with the appliance. I now sent to London, brought over six first-class men, the piping and the machines, and went down to Cherbourg to install them. We had a royal time, for quarters and all comforts were placed at our disposal, and when the machines were installed we went on a trial trip and demonstrated the practicability of the apparatus. Yet I was by no means through with the Emperor. What I wanted, now, was the Government order, and I had many interviews with the French sovereign, during which, though he was chiefly interested in Mexico and I in the machine, we got along famously. One day I said to him, “ I wish I had here a trunk I have at home. It contains some documents which might interest you.” He said, “ Send for it at once. Cable for it. Sit down here and write a cable, and I will see that it is sent. Who has this trunk ? ” “ My father.” “ Very well. Tell your father to send the trunk to the office of the Compagnie Generate Transatlantique, 298 A Sailor of Fortune at New York. The company will be instructed to for* ward it to you in Paris.” The longest cable I ever wrote went to my father that night, and in due season the trunk arrived. I was notified by wire from Havre, and when I went to meet it I found it guarded by an official, who accompanied me with it to my rooms, even insisting that it be placed inside of our carriage. On the following day I took some of the documents over to show to Napoleon. They were chiefly official reports, among them being, I think, certain papers emanating from the Mexican emperor’s headquarters, these having in some manner fallen into our hands. They do not now seem to me to have been of any spe- cial importance, but to him they were as priceless treasures. Whenever I wanted to see the Emperor now, the door was always open. There seemed noth- ing that he was not ready to grant. When at last a favourable report came from the committee of experts appointed to pass on the machine, and I was delayed only by the official appraisements of value, I went to the Emperor and told him that we would agree upon a price of thirty thousand pounds, and the matter was settled upon that basis. When there came another de- lay, this time in the payment, another interview with the Emperor resulted in our receiving one-half the purchase money, forthwith. So you see it is an ill wind that blows nobody good. Poor Maximilian’s venture had resulted tragically enough for him, and it cast a dark shadow over Napoleon’s latter days. But with- out my reminiscences of that sombre episode it is quite certain that I should have found but a poor welcome at A Remorseful Emperor 299 the French Court. I may say here that in due time I received my fifth interest of the French purchase, and felt fairly well-to-do. But our company lost heavily by the Franco-Prussian war, which even then was brew- ing, and the downfall of Napoleon and later patents and appliances eventually brought our business to an end. I will close this chapter with a humorous incident which has little to do with the subject as a whole, yet seems worth recalling. During our stay in Paris the Emperor gave a fete, and both Mrs. Osbon and myself were anxious to attend. I knew that the official method to gain ad- mission was through our United States Minister, at that time General John A. Dix, an old friend, as the reader may remember. I went up to the Legation, therefore, and meeting the General’s son John, told him my mission. “ Well,” he said, “ you should have made your ap- plication about three years ago. They were all spoken for nearly that far ahead. However, you might see my father.” I did see General Dix, and, while he was very cor- dial, he could do nothing, for he had no more tickets at his disposal. “Very well,” I thought, “I have done the proper thing, anyway ; now I’ll see what I can do on my own account.” So I sauntered around to the Tuileries and told the chamberlain I should like to attend that ball. “ Certainly. Of course,” he said, “ I will send you the tickets.” 3°° A Sailor of Fortune The tickets came, and they were tickets, sure enough. The outer envelope was nearly as large as a fore-royal. Within, the tickets gradually reduced in size — each card being for some special permission, un- til we reached one that admitted to the royal presence. On the night of the event we were on hand in full regalia, and when the hour came for presentation we purposely formed at the end of the American column. As each person faced the Emperor and Empress, Gen- eral Dix stood ready to make the presentation. When we came up, at last, he stared at us as much as to say, “ How in the name of heaven did you get here ? ” Then, just as he was about to speak, the Emperor held out his hand. “ I know Captain Osbon very well,” he said ; and after greeting Mrs. Osbon we passed on. A day or two later, when I dropped into the Lega- tion, the first greeting I received was, “ Say, Osbon, how did you manage it? Tell us.” “ Oh,” I said, “ that was easy enough. Me an’ the Emperor’s chums ! ” XLYII Various Enterprises, and Asphalt I N 1869 I was once more in New York, in the employ of the Old Colony Steamship Company, then owned by Fisk and Gould, as assistant to the managing director. Most of the work was left to me, as my chief, Mr. M. R. Simons, was not a prac- tical steamboat man, and I began at once to harmonise and discipline the crews of the Bristol and Providence, the crack vessels of Long Island Sound. The Ply- mouth Rock, another vessel, idle at the time, we con- verted into the first large excursion steamer in these waters. The management of her excursions fell to me, and on the occasion of the International Yacht Races we carried four thousand passengers, bringing every one home safely, though she cracked her shaft during the trip. The White Star Line now offered me a position at what was considered the very excellent salary of sev- eral thousand dollars a year, and I remained with that company until 1871, when I had another attack of the journalistic fever — one never is permanently cured of that complaint — and in July of the same year, on a capital of four hundred dollars, I established the Nau- tical Gazette, an eight-page weekly paper, the first maritime journal of America. I had a partner at first, but his legs were overlong, 301 3 02 A Sailor of Fortune and he wrote on his lap, so after a few months we dissolved. Perhaps his physical characteristics had nothing to do with the fortunes of the paper, but I know that it prospered from the day he went away. In two years the Nautical Gazette had a paid circulation of seven thousand regular subscribers and had become a sixteen page paper. Furthermore, I had been elected secretary of the National Board of Steam Navigation, a position which required my presence in Washington during the sessions of Congress, where I represented both the board and my paper, and was associated inti- mately with almost everyone of importance in politi- cal life.. I could make a book of my Washington recollec- tions alone, for in the course of events I was brought into close contact with Grant, Garfield, Arthur, Harri- son, McKinley, Zach. Chandler, Conklin, and many others. They are all dead now; but the days when I knew them, and we exchanged stories together, come back, bringing happy memories. I cannot forego relating one incident, recalled by the names of Chandler and Conkling. Conkling was a man of fine physique, and was proud of his skill as a boxer. He often bantered men to put on the gloves with him, and at a dinner one night induced Senator Chandler to engage in a bout, which naturally ended with the latter’s defeat and discomfiture. Chandler, however, bided his time, and somewhat later, when another dinner was on, quietly engaged a professional pugilist to occupy a seat at the table, under the unob- trusive name of Mr. Smith of Michigan. When the dinner was over, Conkling as usual was Various Enterprises 303 anxious for his favourite exercise, and playfully ban- tered Senator Chandler to engage him as before. “ No, Conkling,” said Chandler, “ I’m not in your class. Suppose you try my friend Smith here, of Michigan.” Mr. “ Smith ” protested that he knew very little of the sport, but Conkling insisted and the gloves were finally donned by both. What happened to Conkling I am hardly prepared to describe. Don Quixote’s en- counter with a windmill was a small affair in compari- son. Mr. Smith danced about him, landing when and where he wished, playing with him as he would with a punching bag. The elegant New York senator was dazed, overwhelmed, humiliated, crushed. When he surrendered and called enough, as he did at last, Sena- tor Chandler smiled blandly and presented the pugilist in his true colours, and Conkling paid the bill. For thirteen years uninterruptedly I owned and edited the Nautical Gazette; then, one autumn, on the way from Washington I was in a train that broke in two, and I received injuries which made it necessary for me to give up all work and go abroad. I did not sell out, but closed up the paper, paying all subscribers and advertisers, resuming publication several months later, fully restored to health. But I was unfortunate, for a second accident — this time on the elevated railway — once more laid me on my back. I now leased the paper, and subsequently sold it, with which transaction my proprietary journalism came to an end, though I have never ceased to be a contributor to various publications, and am, at the present writing, an associate editor of the American 304 A Sailor of Fortune Shipbuilder. The Nautical Gazette had various for- tunes and owners after my retirement, and still ex- ists, a flourishing publication owned by Crossett & Bates. My own fortunes were varied and often peculiar after this period. Through Mr. A. D. Bryce-Douglas, an old friend and one of the proprietors of the Fair- field Shipbuilding Works, at Go van, Scotland, Sir William Pierce of Glasgow sent for me to superintend the organisation of a line of steamers between New York and the West Indies. Both Mrs. Osbon and my- self were royally entertained by the prospective foun- ders of the new company. At Ardrossan we made our home in the Bryce-Douglas mansion, whence we trav- elled here and there as invited guests, attending, among other events, the annual games at Windermere Lake, where I renewed my old acquaintance with the Prince of Wales. I was to become managing director of the new company, and after inspecting the plans for the pro- posed ships I returned to New York and went down through the West Indies, where I visited every island and arranged for prospective traffic. I then returned to London, established offices, and contracted with Os- wald, Mordaunt & Company for the vessels. All the papers were drawn, and, just three days before they were to be signed, Sir William Pierce, our financier, died. The heirs of Sir William did not wish to con- tinue the West Indian Navigation scheme, and I returned to the United States. Meantime I had made a preliminary contract with the asphalt interests of Venezuela — the famous New Various Enterprises 3° 5 York & Bermudez Company whose private affairs have since become so entangled with politics as to involve the United States in an unsavory public em- broglio with the Venezuelan government. Still hoping to build the transportation line, I returned to England, but could effect no satisfactory arrangement. The asphalt people now made me a proposition to go to Guanoco and superintend their plant at that point, also the La Brea & Guanoco Railway. I accepted, and sailed from New York on the steamer Fontabelle for my new destination. A number of years had slipped away in various steamship projects and in other more or less successful undertakings, and it was January nth, 1896, when I left for the now notorious asphalt districts of the south. My experience as superintendent of the New York & Bermudez Company and of the La Brea & Guanoco Railway was neither very long nor very agreeable. All the petty intrigue and underground politics which have since come to the surface, as it were, of the lakes of pitch were then fermenting, and I did not fancy the process. “ Touch pitch and be defiled ” is a prov- erb which would seem to have been especially in- vented for the asphalt industry. In time, perhaps, the mix-up of companies and politics will be understood and rectified; but my own knowledge of the mess is too limited to undertake a lucid analysis here, and, besides, the public is already weary of the theme. The asphalt lakes, however, constitute one of the wonders of the world. The largest, La Brea, is about five miles long and three miles wide, and the major portion of it consists of asphalt in its pure state. This 3°6 A Sailor of Fortune substance is a bituminous vegetable product, like coal, distilled and diffused by some subterranean volcanic agency, and in its liquid state it bubbles and blisters under the fierce tropic sun — literally a lake of pitch.* In places, where it is cooled and hardened, it is covered with tropical vegetation, which has to be cut away before the asphalt can be removed. The supply seems inexhaustible, and no matter how much is taken out, within a short time the hole fills and the level of the lake is restored. Whether the supply is really never- ending, time alone can tell. A narrow strip of land but a few yards wide, and upon which there was then a growth of trees, separates this lake from another, Lake Felicidad — the two being probably connected somewhere in the depths. On one side is a range of mountains, on the other, in close proximity, the Guanoco River. Above and below are pampas, or muddy swamp plains, extending on the northward to the Gulf of Paria. It is a weird, sinister locality — a place for unhealthy ambitions and un- natural schemes. Perhaps I should say a few words here as to the method of handling this strange merchandise. The workmen employed during my administration ranged in number from one hundred to three hundred West India negroes and native Venezuelans, about equally divided. Vessels were chartered and sent to Guanoco to bring coal for the locomotives, piles for wharfage and various supplies — the vessels to be returned with cargoes of asphalt ranging in bulk from five hundred to eight hundred tons. Cars which brought the asphalt from the lakes held about one ton each, and to prevent * The Spanish name La Brea signifies pitch. Various Enterprises 307 the pitch from sticking to the sides they were washed with a coat of mud. The bodies of the cars were hoisted from the trucks and the contents dumped into the ship’s hold, in bulk. Great care had to be exercised in confining the asphalt, for if it shifted it was likely to put a vessel on her beam ends. It was a peculiar business, throughout, and I was not unhappy, when, at the end of September, 1896, my connection with it ceased. XLVIII A Mysterious White Race I WAS glad, however, of my Guanoco experience, which certainly was a new one to me, and I was interested in acquainting myself with the abo- rigines of this portion of the globe. These are of two distinct kinds — the first being a few tribes of the ordinary Venezuela Indians, who live in swamps and sleep in hammocks made fast to trees, with no other covering than a few palm leaves, during the rainy season — the other race being the strange White In- dians of Venezuela, of whom so little has been written or is known, even by natives of the country. As it became my fortune to meet and to see something of a number of these wonderful people, it seems worth while to make more than a passing mention of them here. From my arrival in Venezuela I had heard marvel- lous tales concerning them, how they dwelt in a fertile valley, surrounded by lofty mountains — living at peace with the world, because they refused to mingle with the people of the world or to allow anyone not of their own race to enter their domain. They were said to be by no means a bloodthirsty people — quite the contrary, in fact — but strong to resist invasion, nature having aided them in maintaining their seclusion. Passing up the San Juan River, the casual observer 308 A Mysterious White Race 309 would never notice the mouth of a small navigable creek concealed by overhanging tropic foliage. Yet this is their gateway, and a little way above, a guard — all that is needed for the narrow place — permits none but the strange white natives to pass. What lies beyond, in that fabulous valley of seclu- sion, none but themselves have ever seen. Yet such are the reports of marvels there, that more than one man has risked his life, and lost it, perhaps, in attempting to enter this forbidden land. It is said that war, famine, and pestilence are unknown within its bor- ders; that stores of priceless jewels are there, such as the world has never known; that all of their domes- tic utensils are fashioned of beaten gold. I don’t see how men have ever learned these things, when nobody has ever been there, and when the people them- selves will have nothing to say of their affairs. Per- haps at some time in the past a member of the race has looked with eyes of love upon a maiden of the outer world and forsaken his country, and told its tradi- tions. It could not have been the other way around, for no maiden of the race has ever been allowed out- side of the happy valley. At all events, these are the reports. What we know is, that they weave the most marvellous hammocks in the world — hammocks of a net and filament so fine, yet so strong and expansive, that one may wrap it around and around the body in a countless envelop- ment of folds until one is sheathed and enshrouded in a perfect cocoon. They have very little outside traffic beyond this hammock industry — the latter, when I was there, being carried on through the comandante del 3 IQ A Sailor of Fortune Rio, General Brito, who had won a measure of their confidence. To General Brito they turned over their hammocks which, sold in Trinidad, were converted into Winchester rifles, ammunition and certain articles of clothing. The rifles were chief in importance, which would indicate that the people of mystery have recog- nised the use of modern arms, and though peaceful are prepared to resist any probable invasion. I may add that there is a tale of some long ago ex- pedition — perhaps of the early Spanish days — that at- tempted to enter the forbidden valley only to be repulsed with such ghastly slaughter that the effort was never repeated ; the only undertaking of the kind, since, having been a project on the part of the Vene- zuelan Government to gain entry on a plea of taking the census of this unregistered tribe. The Venezuelan officials first pleaded with and then threatened the guards at the little river gateway. Then they came away strong in the conviction that it was better to keep their own names on the census rolls than to try to carry the blessings of civilisation into the happy valley. Its , inhabitants could go uncounted to the crack of doom for all they cared ; they probably wouldn’t be interested in asphalt and revolution, anyhow. During my residence in Venezuela I saw two parties of these strange people, each party consisting of seven persons in charge of General Brito. We were building some small huts ( ranches ) for the workmen, and needed a quantity of temeche palm for thatching. We finally contracted with General Brito to build a num- ber of these huts and thatch them, complete. When the frames were ready, he left and went up the river, A Mysterious White Race 3 1 1 returning a few days later with a very large curiara or canoe (fashioned from a great single log), loaded like a hay boat with the temeche, and manned by seven unusual-looking white men. There were several hundred employees at our works, yet none of them had ever seen such men as these before. Curiosity ran high, for they wore what re- sembled European clothing, and we all knew there were no white strangers in our neighbourhood. Be- sides, no white men of our race were ever so adept at using a paddle as these. When the canoe grounded and General Brito came ashore, I said to him : “ Who and what are those men? ” “ Those,” said General Brito, “ are some of the famous White Indians of Venezuela. I have con- tracted with them for the temeche, and persuaded them to bring it here. I thought you might like to see a few specimens of this race.” I watched them intently while they unloaded their craft, which they did in a brisk, busy way, saying not a single word during the operation. Then by Brito’s invitation they pulled their canoe up high and dry on the shore and gathered around him. I had an excellent opportunity to study their physi- cal characteristics, and I think I was never so im- pressed by any human beings. In the first place they were absolutely different from any people I had ever seen. They were white, it is true, but it was not the white of the Caucasian, nor yet the pallor of the arsenic eater, or of disease. It was a strange, inde- scribable white that would attract attention anywhere, and, though so unusual, did not repel. In their cheeks 3 12 A Sailor of Fortune there was a pinkish hue, but their skin showed no tan or burn, such as one is led to expect in that fierce climate, where the thermometer ranges at from 122 0 to 130° at midday. Their features were well formed and regular. They had moderately high foreheads; full, round, but keen, eyes; well formed noses; mouths indicating firmness; beautiful ears; well rounded chins. Their hair was coal-black, but not coarse. In figure they were graceful and of medium height, with a weight of perhaps one hundred and forty-five pounds. They stood erect and were apparently of great strength. Their hands and feet were well formed and seemed small. Their clothing, as I have said, was European. It had been purchased in Port of Spain, evidently, and the wearers seemed quite at home in it, though it was General Brito’s belief that such attire was never worn inside their own domain. It was put on for contact with the outside world, and then only by a few. Such native dress as he had seen was very simple, and was not unlike that worn by the darker tribes. What was the female attire, he could not guess, as never in all his forty years’ experience in that district had he seen a woman of this white race, nor a female child. He knew little of their language, and absolutely nothing of their manners and customs, except that they had learned the use of firearms and tobacco. You may imagine how intently I studied the little group, while these curious people in turn showed a cer- tain mild interest in us and our surroundings. We tried to get them to ride up to the superintendent’s house on the train, but they preferred to walk rather A Mysterious White Race 313 than trust themselves behind a locomotive. They en- tered the building, however, and were taken through the various departments, the office, the kitchen, and the store, all of which seemed to give them a quiet pleasure. In the store we treated them to some refresh- ments and cigars, both of which they took without reserve. Then we showed them the carpenter shops; also the wharf, where vessels were being loaded. They went aboard one of the vessels and walked about the decks, gazed up at the lofty spars and down into the hatchways, but they could not be persuaded to go into the hold or the cabin. After two or three hours with us they pushed their curiara off the river bank, and seizing their paddles were soon out of sight around a bend of the river, homeward bound. About a week later General Brito brought down another load of temeche palm with another, and en- tirely different, crew of the strange people. They be- haved precisely like their predecessors, and in a brief space disappeared into their mysterious seclusion and we saw them no more. General Brito said that he had never seen any sign of gold or treasure among them, and he thought the stories told were largely mythical. It was possible, he thought, that they might have cer- tain jewels and articles of gold and silver, used for ornament or religious service, but he believed it un- likely that domestic implements would be fashioned of any precious metal, for they knew its value and would use their surplus to supply their needs. Yet it is just possible that in their wisdom they have never let any sign of their mineral wealth appear, realising that to do so would excite the cupidity of the cruel 3 J 4 A Sailor of Fortune conquering race which has destroyed every other aboriginal nation of the South, and incite a struggle which would end in their own extinction. For one, I sincerely hope that through ages to come they may maintain the peace and seclusion of their happy valley. XLIX Locating Cervera’s Fleet I REMAINED for a considerable time in South America after severing my connection with the Bermudez company, engaged in various under- takings. Eventually I went to Caracas, thence to Carupano, where I remained several months, making a survey of a railroad route to the vast sulphur de- posits there, also of the deposits themselves and of the harbour of Carupano — a chart of which was published by the United States Hydrographic Office at Wash- ington, and for which the Government of Venezuela very kindly decorated me with the order of the Bust of the Liberator. Meantime, war between the United States and Spain had been brewing, the Maine was blown up in Havana Harbour, and the Spanish fleet commanded by Ad- miral Cervera was somewhere on the water — knowl- edge of its exact locality being the most important bit of information which could be supplied to the United States Government and the American people, espe- cially to those residing near the coast. I had a theory concerning the movements of these vessels, deduced from my long experience at sea, my acquaintance with the needs and operations of such ships, and my knowledge of the various harbours and bases of supply absolutely necessary to their support. 315 3*6 A Sailor of Fortune I had, further, a plan for passenger-steamer scouting, by which I believed the enemy could be more carefully observed and reported without exciting suspicion than from any naval vessel. There were passenger steamers that made every port of supply available to the Span- ish Fleet. I decided to undertake such a tour of ob- servation, and tendered my services by letter to the Navy Department at Washington. The authorities ap- peared somewhat doubtful of my plan, at first, but on May nth (1898) I was supplied by Secretary John D. Long with the necessary credentials, with orders to report by wire through our consuls. In the meantime I had been doing some detective work in port. I casually interviewed every man that came to Caracas from the West Indies, but found only one who claimed he had seen the Spanish Fleet, and that a long time before. I did at last, however, find a genuine source of in- formation in the valet of the Spanish Minister at Caracas. The valet by no means confided anything to me direct, but he was shaved in a barber shop kept by a Frenchman, and from the earliest dawn of his- tory the barber has been noted no less for his ability to acquire information than for his soothing and lo- quacious distribution of such knowledge. I believe this particular barber meant to be discreet, but we were very good friends, and he did love to talk, especially as I made it a point to shave with great frequency — as often as twice a day sometimes — and was not un- generous in the matter of fees. I never met the valet personally, but I manufactured information which I knew would be repeated to him, Locating Cervera’s Fleet 317 and which could not fail to elicit something of value in the way of reply. Thus, in a manner, I rigged a long-range suction pump on him, and little came into the Legation at Caracas that did not find its way through the barber into my reservoir of knowledge. I learned, what I had suspected, that Cervera’s fleet was bound for the West Indies, also at what points the vessels were expected to coal. This was important, but not sufficiently exact as to the matter of time. Perhaps I should mention in passing that there were some anxious days and nights in Caracas about this period. A rumour became current that the Spaniards had planned to massacre every Yankee in the city — a little bunch of less than forty souls, all told — and for a while the American contingent was considerably disturbed, especially as President Andrade thought it necessary to place an armed guard around the United States Legation. On May 1 2th I went prospecting to La Guayra, and after locating Mrs. Osbon, who was me, at the Hotel Neptuno, I met a little coloured boy whom I had known at Guanoco, and who was now in the cable office at La Guayra. Here was an unexpected mine of information. The cable operators talked among them- selves, and my little coloured friend overheard much that was going on. I presented him with a silver dol- lar and told him what I wanted to know. That evening he met me by appointment, and I learned from him where the Ristormel — a collier loaded with four thou- sand tons of coal, was expected to meet Cervera’s fleet. Knowing the marine geography of the coast as I did, and all the possibilities and probabilities of navigation 3 1 ^ A Sailor of Fortune in that part of the world, I felt sure now that I could, without great difficulty, locate the missing fleet. I went out next morning, and secured passage north in the Dutch steamer, Prins Frederick Heinrick, Captain Neiman, which would call at Curagao, Jacmel, Aux Cayes, and Port au Prince. At one of these ports, or en route, I felt certain that we should find the Spanish ships. I immediately telephoned to Mr. Loomis, then our minister at Caracas, that I was going north in the Dutch boat, and he informed me that a messenger would come down on the three o’clock train with despatches. It was six o’clock on the evening of Friday, May 13th, that we sailed from La Guayra — an unlucky combination in the matter of dates, one might think; but this time the evil charm which is supposed to be attached to Friday and the thirteenth day failed to work. Perhaps as two negatives make a positive, so the very combination of two bad omens makes a good one. At all events, it was a calm, pleasant night, and there was a congenial company aboard the little Dutch vessel. Among the passengers were three American boys named Davis, upon whom I felt I could rely if I needed any assistance in carrying out my plans. I con- cluded, however, that it was too early to expect de- velopments that night, and I retired early saying nothing to anyone. Nevertheless, I had a strong sailor presentiment that on the next day there would be something to see or hear. At five next morning I was awake, and partly dress- ing myself, went on deck. The dim outline of the Island of Curagao appeared on the horizon, but too Locating Cervera’s Fleet 319 dim and far away to reveal anything in the way of vessels there. I went below and was in the act of shav- ing when I heard the man on watch report a sail off the starboard beam. I hurried on deck and met the captain, who said there was some smoke to the east- ward. I went below again, finished my toilet, and going out on deck, ascended the rigging. Looking away to the eastward I saw the smoke of a squadron. The captain called up, “ Those are English vessels, going from San Lucia to Jamaica.” “Not much!” I called back; “those are Spanish ships. That is Cervera’s fleet ! ” Increasing daylight and lessening distance estab- lished my claim. I knew the names of the vessels, and before long could recognise them from their pictures. There were the Maria Teresa, the Viscaya, the Oquendo, the Cristobal Colon, and the two torpedo boats, Furor and Pluton — a third, the Terror, having been crippled and left behind at Guadeloupe. To see them thus was to me a beautiful sight. They did not look beautiful when I saw them at closer range, but distance concealed their unsightliness, and moreover they were glorified to me in the fact that my scouting theory was so promptly justified, and that I had lo- cated the game. All the machinery of the Government had been put into service to discover the Spanish Fleet, and now here it was under my very eyes. A cable to Washington, and a nervous nation would know the truth. As we drew nearer I made a careful survey of the vessels, their armament, their draft of water — which 3 20 A Sailor of Fortune told me how light they were with coal — the character of their crews, and their appearance in general. I be- gan to see now that they were less beautiful than I had at first thought them, though it was not until we were directly upon them that the fulness of their sad condi- tion became apparent. Meantime, the officers in a pilot boat had entered the Harbour to arrange for the admission of the ves- sels. Cervera desired that two of his ships should be permitted to enter for the twenty-four hour limit, and then two more, for the Ristormel, the collier, had thus far not effected a conjunction with him and his need was very great. Two vessels only, his flagship, Maria Teresa, and the Viscaya, were accorded the privilege. The Davis boys made photographs as the vessels passed in — probably the last ever taken of the Spanish ships. I was the first passenger ashore at Curasao, eager to get in touch with Washington so that Sampson or Schley might be sent swooping down upon the enemy. I had my cablegram all ready, with full details as to the condition and needs of the vessels, all of which was most important, as it would enable our experts to calculate precisely on the force necessary to oppose them, as well as upon probable movements. Our con- sul, Mr. Smith, however, was a man of commercial rather than military instincts, and having informed me that he had already forwarded the facts of the fleet’s arrival, thought that sufficient. A cable from Mr. Loomis settled the matter, and my report was forwarded, forthwith. I had by this time communicated the fact of my special mission to the three Davis boys and enlisted Locating Cervera’s Fleet 3 21 their aid, which they gave with patriotic eagerness. I found that our consul owned the only coal pile of any value on the island, and that it was feared pressure might be brought to bear upon him to dispose of it, if not to the Spaniards, at least to some one who would direct its course toward the bunkers of the Spanish fleet. Without hesitation, therefore, I posted one of the Davis boys as a guard on the coal pile, and warned the consul that any disposal of the coal by which it would be transferred to Cervera’s vessels would be re- ported to the authorities at Washington. I am afraid he was not very pleasant over the matter; but he re- frained from violence, and our guard proved effective. The other two Davis boys acted as scouts, and I also enlisted the services of some patriotic friends in Cura- sao. Among us we kept near to all the Spanish officers who came ashore, listening closely to their talk, with the hope of getting a clue to their next destination. They were very careful, however. They talked freely of various points in the West Indies, all of which I knew to be out of the question for them — only once letting fall the name of Santiago. This was their most accessible harbour, and the fact that they spoke the name but once and then imme- diately avoided it, convinced me that Santiago was to be their final haven. I promptly added another cable to this effect, but I have every reason to believe that it was never sent. If it was, I have been unable to learn of the fact. Consul Smith is dead now, and I would not for the world do him an injustice; but it was my opinion, and it was the opinion of many in Curasao, that he had been in tropical latitudes so long 322 A Sailor of Fortune and had so many commercial interests there, that he was not in full sympathy with the nation he officially served. Meantime, the Maria Teresa and the Viscaya were laying in needed supplies. Lighters loaded with pro- vision and the refuse of a coal pile — the only fuel out- side of Smith’s in Curasao — were moving to and fro, making good use of the time limit. Well for them that they had even this grace, for their need was indeed bitter. While we had been lying outside, waiting for a pilot, we had a fine opportunity to examine our enemy at close range. That they were our enemy, made it needful that we should do all in our power to oppose and circumvent them, but I can tell you there was not even mirth in my heart as I regarded the pitiable con- dition of the Spanish Fleet. The line of vessels that had presented so grand an appearance as they steamed up on our starboard beam became only a wretched looking lot of iron hulks when viewed at a distance of a hundred yards. A vessel in perfect condition is a beautiful thing; but on the other hand when she looks “ tough ” she looks “ awful tough,” and of all the “ tough ” vessels I have ever seen, those of Cervera were the worst. Being so light, they rolled heavily and revealed bot- toms fouled thickly with weeds and barnacles. Above the water line they already had the general appearance of the scrap iron which they were doomed to become. As for the crews, they were gaunt, listless, and hollow- eyed with hunger, with never a smile on the faces of either officers or men. In fact, there was something almost uncanny about the appearance of those vessels Locating Cervera’s Fleet 323 and their crews. They were like the ghosts of vessels and men, long at the bottom of the sea. A mournful sight they were, making manifest a naval poverty such as I had never imagined. To prophesy anything for them but defeat was to excite derision. They were not even a forlorn hope. Men and vessels, they were doomed. During Cervera’s stay in Curasao cablegrams from Spain and Cuba were constantly coming, and early on Sunday afternoon a message reached him which caused him to prepare for immediate departure. Coal- ing ceased and even some of the livestock, though already paid for, was not taken aboard. Men were summoned, boats hoisted, and the Viscaya and Maria Teresa steamed slowly down the harbour, to be joined outside by the remainder of the fleet. I posted a look- out on the highest point of the island to watch the ships so long as they were visible. Evidently they were steaming for the little island of Bon-Aire, where they would transfer some of their supplies, and where they perhaps still hoped to meet the missing Ristormel. I felt certain that Santiago was their destination. They had too little coal to try for Cienfuegos or Havana, and, besides, there was the constant danger of meet- ing Sampson or Schley. I tried to prevail upon Consul Smith to let me use a small Dominican steamer which he controlled to fol- low the fleet at a respectful distance and make certain of its course; but my request was refused, with the result that Cervera did make Santiago unseen, and for a time lay safely hidden in that port. Our own vessel, the Prins Fredrick Heinrick, sailed 324 A Sailor of Fortune from Curasao Monday afternoon, and all the way to the North I and my faithful assistants, William, Clive, and Clare Davis, did scout duty, keeping watch, night and day, and making diligent inquiries in different ports. We accomplished nothing further, however, and arriving in New York I placed a detailed report in the hands of the United States despatch agent in the Post Office building, and went home for a needed rest. A few days later I received the Department’s acknowl- edgment and thanks.* I had expected no other re- ward. I did receive, however, from Leslie’s Weekly a modest sum in payment for a brief account of the matter, published June 23d; and in this I prophesied that the battle which followed ten days later might be desperate, but that it would be short, as, indeed, it was. When we saw those vessels disappear below the horizon at Curasao we knew that they went to cer- tain annihilation. ♦Washington, June 3d, 1898. Sir: — The Department received your letter of the 28th ultimo, reporting your observations of the Spanish Fleet off and in the port of Curasao, and detailing your work as a volunteer scout while on your way to New York. The Department appreciates your patriotic interest in this matter, and thanks you for your very interesting report Very respectfully, Chas. H. Allen, Acting Secretary , Mr. B. S. Osbon, No. 15 Whitehall St., New York City. L In a Quiet Harbour * T HE destruction of Cervera’s fleet occurred at Santiago de Cuba, July 3d, 1898. During the following month the Spanish-American war ended, and with it closed my last participation in naval affairs. There has been no opportunity for action of any sort since then, and, besides, the reader of a mathematical turn of mind will perhaps have calcu- lated that I was already, in 1898, beyond the Scrip- tural age limit allowed to man in these latter days, and hence, though still hale and brisk, I am no longer considered so available for active duties of the service. My later years have been passed in comparative quiet, and in an effort to live comfortably on such modest means as have been at my command. As I recall my life now, after thus passing it in re- view, the incidents seem to crowd one upon the other so rapidly that I wonder sometimes where I have found room for them all. Yet they were all there, and there have been others which I have not found space to recount. Perhaps I should have made some reference to the half-dozen books and pamphlets I have compiled from time to time, for though they did not seem to me of any special importance at the mo- ment of publication, I realise now that they were not without a place and purpose. One volume, a “ Hand- 325 3 2 ^ A Sailor of Fortune book of the Navy ” * — a list of every naval vessel then in existence, and a brief history of the same — was used by the Navy Department in considerable numbers, and is still, I believe, accepted as authority for that period. Another little book, “ The Deviation of the Compass,” was regarded as useful by mariners, and had a satisfactory sale. Then I suppose I should make some record of cer- tain posts of honour which in the course of events have fallen to my share. In 1890 I was elected captain of the Naval Veterans, at their annual encampment in Boston — in 1891 commodore, and in 1892 rear ad- miral of the association, filling each office for the period of one year. During this time I was also nomi- nated for the office of junior vice department com- mander of the New York State Grand Army, losing the election by six votes. On the following year I was nominated again, but, through some jealousy then ex- isting, a report was circulated that I was not eligible, it being declared that I was never on the roll books of the Navy.t I had no desire to fill the office after that, but as an answer to my detractors I obtained letters from officials and a number of my old shipmates, and these, with a few other credentials which I had pre- * “ Osbon’s Handbook of the Navy.” D. Van Nostrand & Co., N. Y., 1864. t DEPARTMENT OF YARDS AND DOCKS. Navy Yard, Boston, Mass., Aug. 20th, 1892. Captain B. S. Osbon, New York City. Dear Sir and Shipmate: It gives me great pleasure to bear honourable testimony as to your services on the Hartford from January to May 1862 In a Quiet Harbour 3 2 7 served, I compiled in a small leaflet, after which I was annoyed no more in that direction. My effort has been only to serve well, and as senior officer of the Naval Veterans I had the good fortune to be able to further the publication of the “ Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies,” a work not yet complete, but being now well and handsomely issued. On the 17th of June, 1895, I commanded the fleet as Flag Officer Farragut’s Clerk and Signal Officer. I remember distinctly the zeal and energy you displayed and the commenda- tions you received from Farragut on a number of different occa- sions, but especially on the night we passed Forts Jackson and St. Phillip. You were always ready for duty, whenever any ex- pedition or reconnaissance was being set on foot. You certainly did your whole duty while you were an appointed officer on board of the Hartford and it affords me pleasure to make these statements. Yours very truly, Albert Kautz, Captain U. S. N. lU. S. STEAMER SAN FRANCISCO , Flagship of the Pacific Station, Honolulu, H. I., July 17th, 1892. Commodore B. S. Osbon, National Association of Naval Veterans, United States, New York City. Dear Sir and Shipmate (in former days ) : I regret that any one has questioned the fact of your having served your country in battle, and am glad to be able to say that you were with us when we passed Forts Jackson and St. Phillip when the City of New Orleans was held by the Navy, that you were then Flag Officer Farragut’s Clerk and also personally at- tended to the signals. We were shipmates, and you left the Hartford with a grand reputation. Captain Kautz is Captain of the Yard at Boston, and he will also be able to certify to your services, also Mr. Herbert Tyson of Philadelphia. I have heard of your excellent record since you left the Hartford. Rear Admiral Irwin, U. S. N., at present commandant of the Mare 3 28 A Sailor of Fortune of vessels in the water parade on the occasion of the opening of the Harlem Ship Canal, leading over one hundred vessels of all types through the canal without an accident or a moment’s delay, a feat highly com- mended by naval officers and the public press. And so we have reached the end of our long way. And a long way it is, for it began far back in another Island Navy Yard, remembers you in Dupont’s squadron and I think by your request will write you a letter. It is annoying to have any doubt upon one’s War Record but any attempt to deny your having been under fire in the passage of the Forts with Farragut must recoil. Yours very truly, As a shipmate of war times, and a Naval Veteran, J. C. Watson, Captain U. S. N. 147 Pierrepont St., Brooklyn, June 28th, 1892. Captain B. S. Osbon. Dear Sir: I have received your letter and am quite astonished to hear of any question being raised in regard to your services during the War of the Rebellion. I feel provoked to write anything about a matter which is so well known to your great credit, and know- ing of your services in the U. S. Flagship Hartford as I do I feel the most profound contempt for those who have caused you any annoyance. The idea now in ’92 to question your serv- ices 41 years after the war began. You were Admiral Farra- gut’s Clerk and Signal Officer. At Pilot Town, mouth of the Mississippi, you assisted in hoisting the flag there. At the battles of Forts Jackson and St. Phillip, you hoisted by order of Farra- gut the signal for the attack to begin, and during that ever memorable battle when the Hartford was aground and on fire you did all you could to allay the excitement among some of the men, and extinguished the fire. The next day, April 25th, at the battle of Chalmette you were very active in the perform- ance of your duty signalling and carrying messages to the divi- sion officers at the great guns, myself among that number. At Carrollton above New Orleans I saw you leave our ship with a In a Quiet Harbour 329 century, while just a little beyond the horizon is the signal buoy that will tally four score years. I voyage now in quiet and familiar waters. The compass no longer points to unknown harbours, over uncharted seas. The course is no longer marked by the flash of cutlass and the roar of guns. Like any other craft of a vanished time, I have been retired from the fiercer action of the front, trying to be content with the' memories of the vanished days. Yet the smell of pow- force which went on shore to capture the rebel guns and burn the gun carriages which the rebels left in their batteries, as we had to leave there and did not wish the rebels to return and obtain their guns during our absence. I saw you go with the Admiral, then Flag Officer, before the battle of New Orleans, on a reconnaissance in a small steamer, the Iroquois , and while on that duty you were under a heavy fire from both Forts Jack- son and St. Phillip. If the “ bummers ” who have maligned you were ever under such a fire as that, I really believe they would be like the frog in the fable, burst with self-importance. After you left the ship honourably, I heard of you during the entire duration of the war. I have no more to say except that you give my compliments to your enemies and tell them to go to Hades. Yours truly, John L. Broome, Lieutenant Colonel, U . S'. Marines. NAVY PAY OFFICE New York, June 24th, 1892. This is to certify that the records of this office show that Bradley S. Osbon, Flag Officer’s Clerk of the West Gulf Block- ading Squadron, was paid Prize Money for captures made at New Orleans by said Squadron. A. J. Clark, Pay Director, U. S. Navy ( in charge ). NAVY DEPARTMENT Washington, D. C., July 20th, 1892. Sir: Referring to your letter requesting information in regard to your appointment, service and discharge as Clerk of the late 33° A Sailor of Fortune der puts it all before me and makes me long some- times for the flash and roar of battle — to feel the deck lift and rock to the thunder of heavy guns. Perhaps the old craft may be good for another voyage yet — something with just enough of the flavour of con- quest and adventure to set one’s pulse going and make him forget the years. But a few blocks away from my present snug har- bour, at the foot of Twenty-fourth Street, New York City, is moored another old craft — a friend of my youth — the sloop of war, St. Mary’s. The reader may recall how I first met her at Honolulu, and how we helped her to defend Hawaii from the Frenchmen, so long ago. She is a school ship now, and often I go down to visit her, and talk to the boys, who, I think, are always glad to see me, and to hear my sailor yarns. The St. Mary’s is of my time and kind — the sort of a vessel I know and love best. To me, of course, the new ships and the new commanders can never be as the old ships and the old commanders. Yet the new ships com- Admiral Farragut, U. S. Navy, in the year 1862, I have to in- form you that it appears from an examination of the records that you were appointed Flag Officer’s Clerk for duty on board the U. S. S. Hartford January 20th, 1862, and you resigned said appointment April 30, 1862. In view of the facts stated and of the commendations subsequently made by Admiral Farragut of your conduct during the engagement which resulted in the capture of New Orleans, your service under the above-named appointment appears to have honourably terminated on the date of your resignation. Yours very respectfully, B. F. Tracy, To Mr. B. S. Osbon, Secretary of the Navy. New York. In a Quiet Harbour 331 pel my wonder and admiration — the new commanders will as bravely guard the nation’s welfare, maintain its honour, and keep the old flag flying on every sea. In every war our Navy has been the nation’s pride. During the early days of the great Civil struggle, when the Confederate Commodore Barron — captured at Hatteras and confined at Fort Warren — heard of the Port Royal affair, he forgot for a moment his change of heart, and jumping up, exclaimed : “ I tell you, noth- ing can stand against our Navy! ” Commodore Barron was right — nothing can — noth- ing ever did stand against the American Navy. It is my humble opinion that so long as our nation remains united and free, nothing ever will. It also fell to my lot to organise the parade which escorted the body of John Ericsson to the iron vessel, the Baltimore, that was to bear him to his native Sweden, and when the Saint Gaudens bronze statue of Farragut was erected in Madison Square, Mrs. Farra- gut, with her thoughtful kindness, asked me, as his old signal officer at New Orleans, to be present, and, at the moment of her unveiling the statue, which was draped with American colours, to hoist the admiral’s flag on a little flag staff which had been erected by its side. Thus I was to render a final homage to the man I had served and honoured in life, who in that noble bronze stands there at the corner of Madison Square Park looking out over the heads of the passers-by, just as I have seen him standing amid flame and battle- smoke looking toward New Orleans, determined to- fulfil orders, to carry out his undertaking, regardless 33 2 A Sailor of Fortune of shot and shell. That was David Farragut’s chief characteristic — to fulfil orders. He was a God-fear- ing, gentle-hearted, noble man, averse to shedding blood, but before all he was a sailor in the service of his country and he let nothing stand between him and victory. It was so at New Orleans — it was so later at Mobile where, unhappily, because of a wasting fever, I could not be with him. Yet I can understand how he looked there, and just how his voice sounded when he said, “ Damn the torpedoes ! Go ahead on the engines ! ” I have seen the look and I have heard the voice — and now as I pass that statue I never fail to recall the night between the forts, and I lift my hat in honour of the man to whom death was nothing — to whom his nation’s cause was all. THE END i