BURNING THE GRAIN FLEET.
A week of tempestuous weather followed. The prisoners from the last two prizes occupied the open deck, with no other shelter than an improvised tent made from a sail. They were frequently drenched by driving rain or by the waves which washed over the deck, and often awoke at night with their bodies half under water. The seamen of the Alabama, who bunked below, were not much better off, for the main deck above them leaked like a sieve. A few days of pleasant weather were occupied in calking the decks.
The ship was now far to the westward of Flores and at no great distance from the banks of Newfoundland. On the morning of October 3d two sails were seen. The wind was light; both the strangers approached with all sails set, and apparently without the slightest suspicion of any danger. When within a few hundred yards the Alabama fired a gun and ran up the Confederate flag. There was nothing to be done but to surrender. The prizes proved to be the Brilliant and the Emily Farnum, both conveying cargoes of grain and flour from New York to England. The boarding officer clambered up the side of the Brilliant and ordered Captain Hagar to go on board the Alabama with his ship’s papers. Having been shown into the cabin of the cruiser, the master was subjected to a sharp cross-examination, in the course of which he said that part of his cargo was on English account.
“Do you take me for a d—d fool?” demanded Captain Semmes. “Where are the proofs that part of your cargo is on English account?”
The papers not having any consular certificates attached, were not accepted as proof of foreign ownership. The beautiful vessel, containing all the worldly wealth of her captain, who owned a one-third interest in her, was doomed to destruction.
The master of the Emily Farnum was more fortunate. His ship’s papers showed conclusively that the cargo was owned in England, and was therefore not subject to seizure. He was ordered to take on board his vessel the crew of the Brilliant and also the suffering prisoners on the Alabama and proceed on his voyage. The Brilliant was then set on fire. Fullam wrote in his diary:
It seemed a fearful thing to burn such a cargo as the Brilliant had, when I thought how the Lancashire operatives would have danced for joy had they it shared among them. I never saw a vessel burn with such brilliancy, the flames completely enveloping the masts, hull and rigging in a few minutes, making a sight as grand as it was appalling.
The Alabama was now in the principal highway of commerce between America and Europe. English, French, Prussian, Hamburg and other flags were displayed at her summons upon the passing merchant vessels. If any doubt arose as to the nationality of any vessel, she was boarded and her master compelled to produce his papers. Masters’ Mate Evans was an adept in determining the nationality of merchant ships. Captain Semmes soon learned that if Evans reported after a look through the glass, “She’s Yankee, sir,” he was absolutely sure of a prize if he could get within gunshot; and conversely, when Evans said, “Not Yankee, sir; think she’s English, sir,” (or French or Spanish as the case might be), it was a waste of time to continue in pursuit, for to whatever nation she might prove to belong, she was invariably a neutral of some kind.
Master’s Mate G. T. Fullam.
On October 7th the bark Wave Crest, with grain for Cardiff, Wales, ran into the Alabama’s net. She was used as a target, and in the evening was burned. The deceptive glare proved a decoy for the brigantine Dunkirk, also grain laden, bound for Lisbon, and she, too, was fired. One of the crew of the Dunkirk was recognized as George Forest, who had deserted from the Sumter when she lay at Cadiz some ten months previously. He was duly tried by court-martial and sentenced to serve without pay. This was found later to be a grievous mistake. Forest was a born mutineer, was a glib talker, and acquired great influence among the crew. Had he possessed the added qualification of being able to hold his tongue, the career of the Alabama might some day have been suddenly cut short. But having already had his pay sacrificed, and so, as he said, having nothing to lose, he was often openly defiant, and was constantly undergoing punishment of one sort or another.
The next capture was that of the fine packet ship Tonawanda, bound from Philadelphia to Liverpool with a large cargo of grain and about seventy-five passengers, nearly half of whom were women and children. Captain Semmes was in a dilemma. The Alabama was already crowded with prisoners. But he was reluctant to release so valuable a vessel. A prize crew was put on board, in the hope that the passengers and crew might be transferred to some ship having a neutral cargo, or one of less value than the Tonawanda. Her captain was sent aboard the Alabama as a precautionary measure, and the prisoners of the Wave Crest and Dunkirk transferred to the prize.
The next victim was the fine large ship Manchester. A bond for $80,000 was now exacted from the captain of the Tonawanda, and having added the crew of the Manchester to the crowds on his ship, he was suffered to proceed on his way, much to the delight of his passengers. The Manchester was given to the flames. October 15th the Lamplighter, with tobacco for Gibraltar, was captured and burned. The weather was rough and boarding somewhat dangerous, but the capture and burning were effected without accident.
The newspapers found on the prizes kept Captain Semmes informed in regard to the events of the war and often gave the whereabouts of the Northern cruisers which he wished to avoid. The escape of the “290” was known in New York, but that she would develop in so short a time into the pest of the Atlantic was not thought of. The tactics of Captain Semmes were always the same. A false flag was invariably used until the victim got within striking distance, and then hauled down, to be replaced by the stars and bars. For this purpose flags of various nations were used—French, Spanish, Portuguese and the like, and often that of the United States; but the one most frequently employed was that of Great Britain.
The crew of the Alabama taken as a whole were a turbulent lot. Boarding officers had little or no control over their boats’ crews. Knowing that the guns of the Alabama would answer for their safety, they would rush below like a gang of pirates, staving open chests and boxes and carrying off anything that took their fancy. The clothing and personal effects of sailors were often heartlessly destroyed After being transferred to the Alabama, however, the prisoners were comparatively free from this sort of persecution; and with the exception of being placed in irons, their treatment seems to have been as good as circumstances permitted. As all private looting was contrary to the captain’s orders, the sailors belonging to the boarding crews did not often venture to carry anything on board their own ship which could not readily be concealed. Whisky they frequently did find, and occasionally one of them had to be hoisted over the Alabama’s side, very much the worse for his explorations among the liquid refreshments.
Although directly in the path of American commerce and only a few hundred miles from New York, the United States flag now began to be a rarity. From the 16th to the 20th of October nine vessels were chased and boarded and their papers examined, but all of them were neutrals. The reason is not far to seek. The captain of the Emily Farnum had promised Captain Semmes as one of the conditions of his release, that he would continue his voyage to Liverpool; but the moment he was out of sight, he put his ship about and ran into Boston and gave the alarm. The American shipping interests throughout the seaboard were thrown into an uproar of terror. The experience of Captain Tilton in trying to escape in the Virginia had led him to believe that the Alabama was considerably swifter than she really was, and extravagant estimates of her speed were accepted as true.
Secretary Welles hastily dispatched all the available warships in search of the Alabama, but he put too much trust in the report of her probable future movements, which had been brought in innocently enough by Captain Hagar, and much valuable time was lost beating up and down the banks of Newfoundland and the coast of Nova Scotia, while the Alabama had shifted her position to a point much nearer New York, and thence southward. The sober second thought of the navy department, that with the advent of cold weather the Alabama would seek a field of operations farther south—probably in the West Indies—proved to be correct. But the West Indies was a very large haystack and the Alabama, comparatively, a very small needle.
The Northern newspapers found on the prizes were carefully scanned by the captain and his secretary for valuable information, after which they were passed on to the other officers in the ward room and steerage and thence into the hands of the crew. These teemed with denunciation of the “pirates,” and the members of the crew were described as consisting of “the scum of England,” an expression which rankled in the sailor’s heart and for which he took ample vengeance when his opportunity came.
The name of Captain Semmes became a synonym of heartless cruelty. Captain Tilton said he treated his prisoners and crew like dogs, and Captain Hagar said that it was his custom to burn his prizes at night, so that he might gather round him fresh victims among those who sailed toward the burning ships in order to save human life. The British premier, Lord Palmerston, and his minister of foreign affairs, Lord John Russell, were denounced for letting loose such a fire-brand.
The officers and crew were almost universally referred to as pirates. Indeed, the newspapers had some official warrant for this appellation. In his proclamation calling for 75,000 volunteers after the capture of Fort Sumter, President Lincoln had declared “that if any person, under the pretended authority of said states or under any other pretence shall molest a vessel of the United States, or the persons or cargo on board of her, such persons will be held amenable to the laws of the United States for the prevention and punishment of piracy.”
This proclamation may have served the purpose of frightening off a horde of privateers until the blockading fleets could get into place, but the position taken was clearly untenable when the Confederacy was recognized as a beligerant.
Few United States vessels could get cargoes after the presence of the Alabama off the coast became known. This was true on both sides of the Atlantic. Ship captains on the coast of Portugal offered in vain to transport salt free of charge as ballast. American craft which ventured out took care to have their cargoes well covered with consular certificates of foreign ownership.
On October 16th several days of bad weather culminated in a cyclone, and the Alabama was probably saved from foundering by the prompt action of Lieutenant Low, who was in charge of the deck, and who took the responsibility of wearing ship without waiting to call the captain. The main yard was broken and the main topsail torn to shreds.