CHAPTER XXV. The River Alabama
The River Alabama—Voyage by steamer—Selma—Our captain and his slaves—“Running” slaves—Negro views of happiness—Mobile—Hotel—The city—Mr. Forsyth.
The vessel was nothing more than a vast wooden house, of three separate storeys, floating on a pontoon which upheld the engine, with a dining-hall or saloon on the second storey surrounded by sleeping-berths, and a nest of smaller rooms up-stairs; on the metal roof was a “musical” instrument called a “calliope,” played like a piano by keys, which acted on levers and valves, admitting steam into metal cups, where it produced the requisite notes—high, resonant, and not unpleasing at a moderate distance. It is 417 miles to Mobile, but at this season the steamer can maintain a good rate of speed as there is very little cotton or cargo to be taken on board at the landings, and the stream is full.
The river is about 200 yards broad, and of the colour of chocolate and milk, with high, steep, wooded banks, rising so much above the surface of the stream, that a person on the upper deck of the towering Southern Republic, cannot get a glimpse of the fields and country beyond. High banks and bluffs spring up to the height of 150 or even 200 feet above the river, the breadth of which is so uniform as give the Alabama the appearance of a canal, only relieved by sudden bends and rapid curves. The surface is covered with masses of drift-wood, whole trees, and small islands of branches. Now and then a sharp, black, fang-like projection standing stiffly in the current gives warning of a snag, but the helmsman, who commands the whole course of the river, from an elevated house amidships on the upper deck, can see these in time; and at night pine boughs are lighted in iron cressets at the bows to illuminate the water.
The captain, who was not particular whether his name was spelt Maher, or Meaher, or Meagher (les trois se disent), was evidently a character—perhaps a good one. One with a grey eye full of cunning and of some humour, strongly marked features, and a very Celtic mouth of the Kerry type. He soon attached himself to me, and favoured me with some wonderful yarns, which I hope he was not foolish enough to think I believed. One relating to a wholesale destruction and massacre of Indians, he narrated with evident gusto. Pointing to one of the bluffs, he said that some thirty years ago the whole of the Indians in the district being surrounded by the whites, betook themselves to that spot and remained there without any means of escape, till they were quite starved out. So they sent down to know if the whites would let them go, and it was agreed that they should be permitted to move down the river in boats. When the day came, and they were all afloat, the whites anticipated the boat-massacre of Nana Sahib at Cawnpore, and destroyed the helpless red skins. Many hundreds thus perished, and the whole affair was very much approved of.
The value of land on the sides of this river is great, as it yields nine to eleven bales of cotton to the acre—worth 10l. a bale at present prices. The only evidences of this wealth to be seen by us consisted of the cotton sheds on the top of the banks, and slides of timber, with steps at each side down to the landings, so constructed that the cotton bales could be shot down on board the vessel. These shoots and staircases are generally protected by a roof of planks, and lead to unknown regions inhabited by niggers and their masters, the latter all talking politics. They never will, never can be conquered—nothing on earth could induce them to go back into the Union. They will burn every bale of cotton, and fire every house, and lay waste every field and homestead before they will yield to the Yankees. And so they talk through the glimmering of bad cigars for hours.
The management of the boat is dexterous,—as she approaches a landing place, the helm is put hard over, to the screaming of the steam-pipe and the wild strains of “Dixie” floating out of the throats of the calliope, and as the engines are detached, one wheel is worked forward, and the other backs water, so she soon turns head up stream, and is then gently paddled up to the river bank, to which she is just kept up by steam—the plank is run ashore, and the few passengers who are coming in or out are lighted on their way by the flames of pine in an iron basket, swinging above the bow by a long pole. Then we see them vanishing into black darkness up the steps, or coming down clearer and clearer till they stand in the full blaze of the beacon which casts dark shadows on the yellow water. The air is glistening with fire-flies, which dot the darkness with specks and points of flame, just as sparks fly through the embers of tinder or half-burnt paper.
Some of the landings were by far more important than others. There were some, for example, where an iron railroad was worked down the bank by windlasses for hoisting up goods; others where the negroes half-naked leaped ashore, and rushing at piles of firewood, tossed them on board to feed the engine, which, all uncovered and open to the lower deck, lighted up the darkness by the glare from the stoke-holes, which cried for ever, “Give, give!” as the negroes ceaselessly thrust the pine-beams into their hungry maws. I could understand how easily a steamer can “burn up,” and how hopeless escape would be under such circumstances. The whole framework of the vessel is of the lightest resinous pine, so raw that the turpentine oozes out through the paint; the hull is a mere shell. If the vessel once caught fire, all that could be done would be to turn her round, and run her to the bank, in the hope of holding there long enough to enable the people to escape into the trees; but if she were not near a landing, many must be lost; as the bank is steep down, the vessel cannot be run aground; and in some places the trees are in 8 and 10 feet of water. A few minutes would suffice to set the vessel in a blaze from stem to stern; and if there were cotton on board, the bales would burn almost like powder. The scene at each landing was repeated, with few variations, ten times till we reached Selma, 110 miles distance, at 11·30 at night.
Selma, which is connected with the Tennessee and Mississippi rivers by railroad, is built upon a steep, lofty bluff, and the lights in the windows, and the lofty hotels above us, put me in mind of the old town of Edinburgh, seen from Princes Street. Beside us there was a huge storied wharf, so that our passengers could step on shore from any deck they pleased. Here Mr. Deasy, being attacked by illness, became alarmed at the idea of continuing his journey without any opportunity of medical assistance, and went on shore.
May 10th.—The cabin of one of these steamers, in the month of May, is not favourable to sleep. The wooden beams of the engines creak and scream “consumedly,” and the great engines themselves throb as if they would break through their thin, pulse covers of pine,—and the whistle sounds, and the calliope shrieks out “Dixie” incessantly. So, when I was up and dressed, breakfast was over, and I had an opportunity of seeing the slaves on board, male and female, acting as stewards and stewardesses, at their morning meal, which they took with much good spirits and decorum. They were nicely dressed—clean and neat. I was forced to admit to myself that their Ashantee grandsires and grandmothers, or their Kroo and Dahomey progenitors were certainly less comfortable and well clad, and that these slaves had other social advantages, though I could not recognise the force of the Bishop of Georgia’s assertion, that from slavery must come the sole hope of, and machinery for, the evangelisation of Africa. I confess I would not give much for the influence of the stewards and stewardesses in Christianising the blacks.
The river, the scenery, and the scenes were just the same as yesterday’s—high banks, cotton-slides, wooding stations, cane brakes—and a very miserable negro population, if the specimens of women and children at the landings fairly represented the mass of the slaves. They were in strong contrast to the comfortable, well-dressed domestic slaves on board, and it can well be imagined there is a wide difference between the classes, and that those condemned to work in the open fields must suffer exceedingly.
A passenger told us the captain’s story. A number of planters, the narrator among them, subscribed a thousand dollars each to get up a vessel for the purpose of running a cargo of slaves, with the understanding they were to pay so much for the vessel, and so much per head if she succeeded, and so much if she was taken or lost. The vessel made her voyage to the coast, was laden with native Africans, and in due time made her appearance off Mobile. The collector heard of her, but, oddly enough, the sheriff was not about at the time, the United States’ Marshal was away, and as the vessel could not be seen next morning, it was fair to suppose she had gone up the river, or somewhere or another. But it so happened that Captain Maher, then commanding a river steamer called the Czar (a name once very appropriate for the work, but since the serf emancipation rather out of place), found himself in the neighbourhood of the brig about nightfall; next morning, indeed, the Czar was at her moorings in the river; but Captain Maher, began to grow rich, he had fine negroes fresh run on his land, and bought fresh acres, and finally built the “Southern Republic.” The planters asked him for their share of the slaves. Captain Maher laughed pleasantly; he did not understand what they meant. If he had done anything wrong, they had their legal remedy. They were completely beaten; for they could not have recourse to the tribunals in a case which rendered them liable to capital punishment. And so Captain Maher, as an act of grace, gave them a few old niggers, and kept the rest of the cargo.
It was worth while to see the leer with which he listened to this story about himself, “Wall now! You think them niggers I’ve abord came from Africa! I’ll show you. Jist come up here, Bully!” A boy of some twelve years of age, stout, fat, nearly naked, came up to us; his colour was jet black, his wool close as felt, his cheeks were marked with regular parallel scars, and his teeth very white, looked as if they had been filed to a point, his belly was slightly protuberant, and his chest was marked with tracings of tattoo marks.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“My name Bully.”
“Where were you born?”
“Me born Sout Karliner, sar!”
“There, you see he wasn’t taken from Africa,” exclaimed the Captain, knowingly. “I’ve a lot of these black South Caroliny niggers abord, haven’t I, Bully?”
“Yas, sar.”
“Are you happy, Bully?”
“Yas, sar.”
“Show how you’re happy.”
Here the boy rubbed his stomach, and grinning with delight, said, “Yummy! yummy! plenty belly full.”
“That’s what I call a real happy feelosophical chap,” quoth the Captain. “I guess you’ve got a lot in your country can’t pat their stomachs and say, ‘yummy, yummy, plenty belly full?’”
“Where did he get those marks on his face?”
“Oh, them? Wall, it’s a way them nigger women has of marking their children to know them; isn’t it, Bully?”
“Yas, sar! me ’spose so!”
“And on his chest!”
“Wall, r’ally I do b’l’eve them’s marks agin the smallpox.”
“Why are his teeth filed?”
“Ah, there now! You’d never have guessed it; Bully done that himself, for the greater ease of biting his vittels.”
In fact, the lad, and a good many of the hands, were the results of Captain Maher’s little sail in the Czar.
“We’re obleeged to let ’em in some times to keep up the balance agin the niggers you run into Canaydy.”
From 1848 to 1852 there were no slaves run; but since the migrations to Canada and the personal liberty laws, it has been found profitable to run them. There is a bucolic ferocity about these Southern people which will stand them good stead in the shock of battle. How the Spartans would have fought against any barbarians who came to emancipate their slaves, or the Romans have smitten those who would manumit slave and creditor together!
To-night, on the lower deck, amid wood faggots, and barrels, a dance of negroes was arranged by an enthusiast, who desired to show how “happy they were.” That is the favourite theme of the Southerners; the gallant Captain Maher becomes quite eloquent when he points to Bully’s prominent “yummy,” and descants on the misery of his condition if he had been left to the precarious chances of obtaining such developments in his native land; then turns a quid, and, as if uttering some sacred refrain to the universal hymn of the South, says, “Yes, sir, they’re the happiest people on the face of the airth!”
There was a fiddler, and also a banjo-player, who played uncouth music to the clumsiest of dances, which it would be insulting to compare to the worst Irish jig, and the men with immense gravity and great effusion of sudor, shuffled, and cut, and heeled and buckled to each other with an overwhelming solemnity, till the rum-bottle warmed them up to the lighter graces of the dance, when they became quite overpowering. “Yes, sir, jist look at them how they’re enjoying it; they’re the happiest people on the face of the airth.” When “wooding” and firing up they don’t seem to be in the possession of the same exquisite felicity.
May 11th.—At early dawn the steamer went its way through a broad bay of snags bordered with drift-wood, and with steam-trumpet and calliope announced its arrival at the quay of Mobile, which presented a fringe of tall warehouses, and shops alongside, over which were names indicating Scotch, Irish, English, many Spanish, German, Italian, and French owners, Captain Maher at once set off to his plantation, and we descended the stories of the walled castle to the beach, and walked on towards the “Battle House,” so called from the name of its proprietor, for Mobile has not yet had its fight like New Orleans. The quays which usually, as we were told, are lined with stately hulls and a forest of masts, were deserted; although the port was not actually blockaded, there were squadrons of the United States ships at Pensacola on the east, and at New Orleans on the west.
The hotel, a fine building of the American stamp, was the seat of a Vigilance Committee, and as we put down our names in the book they were minutely inspected by some gentlemen who came out of the parlour. It was fortunate they did not find traces of Lincolnism about us, as it appeared by the papers that they were busy deporting “Abolitionists” after certain preliminary processes supposed to—
“Give them a rise, and open their eyes
To a sense of their situation.”
The citizens were busy in drilling, marching, and drum-beating, and the Confederate flag flew from every spire and steeple. The day was so hot that it was little more inviting to go out in the sun than it would be in the dog-days at Malaga, to which, by-the-bye, Mobile bears some “kinder sorter” resemblance, but, nevertheless, I sallied forth, and had a drive on a shell road by the head of the bay, where there were pretty villarettes in charming groves of magnolia, orange-trees, and lime oaks. Wide streets of similar houses spring out to meet the country through sandy roads; some worthy of Streatham or Balham, and all surrounded in such vegetation as Kew might envy.
Many Mobilians called, and among them the mayor, Mr. Forsyth, in whom I recognised the most remarkable of the Southern Commissioners I had met at Washington. Mr. Magee, the acting British Consul was also good enough to wait upon me, with offers of any assistance in his power. I hear he has most difficult questions to deal with, arising out of the claims of distressed British subjects, and disputed nationality. In the evening the Consul and Dr. Nott, a savant and physician of Mobile, well known to ethnologists for his work on the “Types of Mankind,” written conjointly with the late Mr. Gliddon, dined with me, and I learned from them that, notwithstanding the intimate commercial relations between Mobile and the great Northern cities, the people here are of the most ultra-secessionist doctrines. The wealth and manhood of the city will be devoted to repel the “Lincolnite mercenaries” to the last.
After dinner we walked through the city, which abounds in oyster saloons, drinking-houses, lager-bier and wine-shops, and gambling and dancing places. The market was well worthy of a visit—something like St. John’s at Liverpool on a Saturday night, crowded with negroes, mulattoes, quadroons, and mestizos of all sorts, Spanish, Italian, and French, speaking their own tongues, or a quaint lingua franca, and dressed in very striking and pretty costumes. The fruit and vegetable stalls displayed very fine produce, and some staples, remarkable for novelty, ugliness, and goodness. After our stroll we went into one of the great oyster saloons, and in a room up-stairs had opportunity of tasting those great bivalvians in the form of natural fish puddings, fried in batter, roasted, stewed, devilled, broiled, and in many other ways, plus raw. I am bound to observe that the Mobile people ate them as if there was no blockade, and as though oysters were a specific for political indigestions and civil wars; a fierce Marseillais are they—living in the most foreign-looking city I have yet seen in the States. My private room in the hotel was large, well-lighted with gas, and exceedingly well furnished in the German fashion, with French pendule and mirrors. The charge for a private room varies from 1l. to 1l. 5s. a-day; the bed-room and board are charged separately, from 10s. 6d. to 12s. 6d. a-day, but meals served in the private room are all charged extra, and heavily too. Exclusiveness is an aristocratic taste which must be paid for.