The second Kate was a new iron steamer, double-screw propeller, 344 tons, English built, commanded by Captain Stubbs. She had made a successful run into Charleston with a valuable cargo, and was also successful in running out again with 700 bales of cotton, which she landed in Nassau.
She had loaded a second inward cargo at Nassau and sailed for Charleston, but, failing to elude the blockaders, she ran for Wilmington and on July 12, 1863, at 4.55 o'clock a.m., was making for New Inlet close ahead when she was intercepted by the Federal blockader Penobscot, which opened a heavy fire on her and drove her ashore on the south end of Smith's Island, where her wrecked hull still remains. The Federals attempted to haul the Kate off into deep water, but were prevented by the Confederates on shore, who drove them away. With the exception of two of her crew who remained and were captured, the officers and men of the Kate escaped to the shore.
The "Night Hawk."
It is not surprising that the Federal blockading fleet so often failed to refloat blockade runners after they were stranded on the beach, because the runners always timed their attempt to pass the fleet at high tide, the depth of water on the bar being only 10 to 12 feet and the channel beset with shoals and obstructions, so that before the Federals could prepare for hauling off these vessels and thereby secure for themselves large sums of prize money, the tide would have fallen, leaving the stranded ships more firmly embedded in the sand, and when in daylight another high tide would come the Federals had to deal with the Confederate guns, which kept them at a distance. There were, however, several instances which I recall of the rescue of stranded ships by the Confederates, notably that of the Kate and of the Night Hawk. The latter was a most spectacular, exciting affair, which I will relate in Mr. Thomas Taylor's words:
"It was on my second trip to Bermuda that one of the finest boats we ever possessed, called the Night Hawk, came out, and I concluded to run in with her. She was a new side-wheel steamer of some 600 tons gross, rigged as a fore-and-aft schooner, with two funnels, 220 feet long, 21½ feet beam, and 11 feet in depth; a capital boat for the work, fast, strong, of light draught, and a splendid sea boat—a great merit in a blockade runner, which sometimes has to be forced in all weathers. The Night Hawk's career was a very eventful one, and she passed an unusually lively night off Fort Fisher on her first attempt.
"Soon after getting under way our troubles began. We ran ashore outside Hamilton, one of the harbors of Bermuda, and hung on a coral reef for a couple of hours. There loomed before us the dismal prospect of delay for repairs, or, still worse, the chance of springing a leak and experiencing such difficulties and dangers as we had undergone on the Will-o'-the-Wisp, but fortunately we came off without damage and were able to proceed on our voyage.
"Another anxiety now engrossed my mind: the captain was an entirely new hand, and nearly all the crew were green at the work; moreover, the Wilmington pilot was quite unknown to me, and I could see from the outset that he was very nervous and badly wanting in confidence. What would I not have given for our trusty pilot Tom Burriss! However, we had to make the best of it, as, owing to the demand, the supply of competent pilots was not nearly sufficient, and toward the close of the blockade the so-called pilots were no more than boatmen or men who had been trading in and out of Wilmington or Charleston in coasters.
"Notwithstanding my fears, all went well on the way across, and the Night Hawk proved to be everything that could be desired in speed and seaworthiness. We had sighted unusually few craft, and nothing eventful occurred until the third night. Soon after midnight we found ourselves uncomfortably near a large vessel. It was evident that we had been seen, as we heard them beating to quarters and were hailed. We promptly sheered off and went full speed ahead, greeted by a broadside which went across our stern. When we arrived within striking distance of Wilmington Bar, the pilot was anxious to go in by Smith's Inlet, but as he acknowledged that he knew very little about it, I concluded it was better to keep to the New Inlet passage, where, at all events, we should have the advantage of our good friend Lamb to protect us; and I felt that as I myself knew the place so well, this was the safest course to pursue. We were comparatively well through the fleet, although heavily fired at, and arrived near to the bar, passing close by two Northern launches which were lying almost upon it. Unfortunately, it was dead low water, and although I pressed the pilot to give our boat a turn around, keeping under way, and to wait awhile until the tide made, he was so demoralized by the firing we had gone through and the nearness of the launches, which were constantly throwing up rockets, that he insisted upon putting her at the bar, and, as I feared, we grounded on it forward and with the strong flood tide quickly broached to, broadside on to the northern breakers. We kept our engines going for some time, but to no purpose, as we found we were only being forced by the tide more on to the breakers. Therefore we stopped, and all at once found our friends, the two launches, close aboard; they had discovered we were ashore, and had made up their minds to attack us.
"At once all was in confusion; the pilot and signalman rushed to the dinghy, lowered it, and made good their escape; the captain lost his head and disappeared; and the crews of the launches, after firing several volleys, one of which slightly wounded me, rowed in to board us on each sponson. Just at this moment I suddenly recollected that our private dispatches, which ought to have been thrown overboard, were still in the starboard lifeboat. I rushed to it, but found the lanyard to which the sinking weight was attached was foul of one of the thwarts; I tugged and tugged, but to no purpose, so I sung out for a knife, which was handed to me by a fireman, and I cut the line and pitched the bag overboard as the Northerners jumped on board. Eighteen months afterwards that fireman accosted me in the Liverpool streets, saying, 'Mr. Taylor, do you remember my lending you a knife?' 'Of course I do,' I replied, giving him a tip at which he was mightily pleased. Poor fellow! he had been thirteen months in a Northern prison.