The war maker

by Horace Herbert Smith

In five minutes I decided to become a blockade runner and to buy the new and already famous ship, if she was to be had at any price within reason. I bought a letter of credit and took the next ship for Bermuda. On my arrival there I found that the “Letter B” had been expected in for several days from her second trip and that there was considerable anxiety about her. I also learned that her owner was building a second ship on the same lines and for the same trade. A fresh cargo of munitions of war was awaiting the “Letter B,” and a ship was ready to take to England the cotton she would bring. I got acquainted with the agent for the blockade runner and, after making sure that he had an ample power of attorney from her owner, offered to buy her and take the chance that she might never come in. He was not disposed to sell, at first, and wanted me to wait until the arrival of her owner, Joseph Berry, who was daily expected from England.

After waiting and talking with the agent for several days I said to him one morning: “It looks as though your ship has been captured or sunk. I’ll take a gambler’s chance that she hasn’t and will give you fifty thousand dollars for her and twenty-five thousand dollars for the cargo that is waiting for her; you to take the cargo she brings in. I’ll give you three hours to think it over.”

I figured that the waiting cargo of arms was worth a couple of thousand dollars more than my offer but it looked as though I was taking a long chance with my offer for the ship. However, I had a “hunch,” or whatever you want to call it, that she was all right, and I never have had a well-defined “hunch” steer me in anything but a safe course, wherefore I invariably heed them. At the expiration of the time limit there was not a sign of smoke in any direction and the agent accepted my proposition. In half an hour I had a bill of sale for the ship and the warehouse receipts for the cargo of war supplies. At sunset that day a ship came in from England with the former owner. He criticised his agent sharply at first, but found some consolation in the fact that the vessel he was building would soon go into commission. When two more days passed with no sign of the anxiously looked for ship Mr. Berry concluded that he had all the best of the bargain and complimented his agent on his shrewdness.

On the third day the “Letter B” came tearing in, pursued at long range by the U. S. S. “Powhatan,” which proceeded to stand guard over the harbor, keeping well offshore on account of the reefs and shoals that were under her lee. The “Letter B” discharged a full cargo of cotton and was turned over to me. While her cargo of arms was going in I went over her carefully and found her in excellent condition and ready to go right back. She was unloaded in twelve hours and all of her cargo was safely stowed in another forty-eight hours. I took command of her, with John B. Williams, her old captain, as sailing master, and determined to put to sea at once. I knew the “Powhatan” would not be looking for us so soon and planned to catch her off her guard.

There was then no man-of-war entrance to the harbor and it was necessary to enter and leave by daylight. With the sun just high enough to let us get clear of the reefs before dark, and with the “Powhatan” well offshore and at the farthest end of the course she was lazily patrolling, we put to sea. The “Powhatan” saw us sooner than I had expected she would and started to head us off, but she was not quick enough. The moment she swung around I increased our speed to a point which the pilot loudly swore would pile us up on the rocks, but it didn’t, and when we cleared the passage we were all of four miles in the lead. As I had figured, the “Powhatan” did not suppose we would come out for at least a week and was cruising slowly about with fires banked, so it took her some time to get up a full head of steam. She fired three or four shots at us but they fell far short. As soon as it was dark, with all of our lights doused, we turned and headed a little south of west so as to come up to Charleston, South Carolina, which was my objective point, from the south. At sunrise we had the ocean to ourselves.

I started in at once to master practical navigation, the theory of which I knew, and to familiarize myself with the handling of a ship. I stood at the wheel for hours at a time and almost wore out the instruments taking reckonings by the sun and the stars. Navigation came to me naturally, for I loved it, and in three days I would have been willing to undertake a cruise around the world with a Chinese crew.

We arrived off Charleston late in the afternoon and steamed up close inshore until we could make out the smoke of the blockading fleet, standing well out, in a semicircle. Then we dropped back a bit and anchored. All of the conditions shaped themselves to favor us. It was a murky night with a hard blow, which came up late in the afternoon, and when we got under way at midnight a good bit of a sea was running. With the engines held down to about half speed, but ready to do their best in a twinkling, we headed for the harbor, standing as close inshore as we dared go. We passed so close to the blockading ship stationed at the lower end of the crescent that she could not have depressed her guns enough to hit us even if we had been discovered in time, but she did not see us until we had passed her. Then she let go at us with her bow guns and while they did no damage, we were at such close quarters that their flash gave the other ships a glimpse of us as we darted away at full speed. They immediately opened on us but, after the first minute or two, it was a case of haphazard shooting with all of them. They knew how they bore from the channel and, making a guess at the proper allowance for our speed, they blazed away, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. The first shells exploded close around us and some of the fragments came aboard but no one was injured. When I saw where they were firing I threw my ship farther over toward Sullivan’s Island, where she could go on account of her light draft, and sailed quietly along into the harbor at reduced speed. At daylight we went up to the dock and were warmly welcomed.

Before the second night was half over we had everything out of her and a full cargo of cotton aboard and we steamed out at once. I knew the blockaders would not expect us for at least four days and we surprised them just as we had surprised the “Powhatan” at Bermuda. It was a thick night and we sailed right through the fleet, at half speed so as better to avoid detection, but prepared to break and run for it at the crack of a gun, without a shot being fired or an extra light shown. As soon as we were clear of the line we put on full speed and three days later we were safe at Turk’s Island, the most southerly and easterly of the Bahama Islands, off the coast of Florida, which I had selected as a base of operations. Though these islands ought long ago to have come under the Stars and Stripes, as they eventually must, they are still owned by England, and in those days they were a haven and a clearing house for the outsiders who were actively aiding the Confederacy—for a very substantial consideration. Most of the blockade runners, including the “Banshee,” “Siren,” “Robert E. Lee,” “Lady Stirling” and other famous ships, were operating out of Nassau, which had the advantage of closer proximity to the chief Southern ports, being within six hundred miles of Charleston and Wilmington. Turk’s Island was nine hundred miles away, but I never have believed in following the crowd. It is my rule to do things alone and in my own way, as must be the practice of every man who expects to succeed in any dangerous business. It is no part of my philosophy to become a party to a situation in which I may suffer from the mistakes of others or in which others are likely to get into trouble through any fault of mine. The popularity of Nassau caused it to be closely watched by the Federal cruisers that patrolled the Gulf Stream, while the less important islands to the south and east were practically unguarded.

Though precarious for the men who made them so, those were plenteous days for the Bahamas, compared with which the rich tourist toll since levied on the then hated Yankees is but small change. The fortunes yielded by blockade running seemed made by magic, so quick was the process. Cotton that was bought in Charleston or Wilmington for ten cents a pound sold for ten times as much in the Bahamas and there were enormous profits in the return cargoes of military supplies. The captains and crews shared in the proceeds and the health of the Confederacy was drunk continuously, and often riotously. By the time I projected myself temporarily into this golden atmosphere of abnormal activity, running the blockade had become more of a business and less of a romance than it was in the reckless early days of the war. The fleet was made up of fast ships of light draft, especially built to meet the needs and dangers of the trade, and they were so much faster than the warships which hunted them that the percentage captured was relatively very small.

Before leaving Bermuda I had ordered a cargo of munitions of war sent to Turk’s Island. We had to wait nearly a month for this shipment to arrive but the time was well spent in overhauling the engines and putting the “Letter B” in perfect condition.