I may as well explain the grades of rank now: A captain in the navy has rank with a colonel in the army; commander, with a lieutenant-colonel; lieutenant-commander, with a major; lieutenant, with captain; master, with first lieutenant; ensign, with second lieutenant.
The fact of our captain being relieved did not prevent orders being issued to have the brig repaired, and the riggers from the yard came on board and made things lively for a while.
In about a month's time we were ready, and started for Charleston. All went nicely until after we passed Cape Hatteras. I had an attack of some light fever, and was on the sick list. On board was a master's mate by the name of Bridges. He had been recommended for promotion to ensign, and ordered to Boston for examination, but, failing to pass, he was attached to the Perry, and every one on our vessel was desirous to assist him in gaining experience. For that reason he was allowed to stand my watch while I was sick, and usually some of the ensigns would be on deck to see that everything was all right. But early one evening we had just finished supper, and all of us sat in the ward-room having a social chat. Feeling as if some fresh-air exercise would benefit me, I went on deck, and, looking to the windward, I saw that a heavy squall would soon strike us. Mr. Bridges was serenely promenading the deck, totally oblivious of any impending danger, while the brig was sailing close to the wind with every stitch of canvas set. I told Bridges to have the light sails taken in as quickly as possible, at the same time calling his attention to the squall. No time was lost by me in getting to the ward-room, and informing the executive that he was needed on deck to have all hands shorten sail. While I was speaking, the squall struck us and nearly capsized the brig, and it was hard work for us to get on deck, on account of the vessel careening over so much. Then there was an exciting time; the crew had become panic-stricken for a few minutes. Orders were given to let go everything. The pressure of the wind, the mast lying at such a great angle, prevented the yards from coming down. The wheel was in front of the cabin door, the excitement brought the captain out, and he yelled to put the wheel hard down. Now that was the first time that he ever gave an order on deck, and it nearly ended the Perry's career, then and there.
The navigating officer has to stand regular deck watch with the others while at anchor, and the executive is expected to be on board during the day and have charge of everything in general. One of the master's mates—-not Mr. Bridges—-was also put on watch duty, and, with six ensigns, our turn on watch was only four hours out of every twenty-four; in fact, we had so much leisure time that we did not know how to pass it away. All the work required of the crew was to scrub decks before breakfast and a half-hour's drilling at the broadside guns. Arrants and myself would take a boat and crew and go fishing every pleasant day. Taking the sounding lead with us, we were soon able to find good fishing grounds. The bottom of the lead has a large hole that is filled with hard tallow—-"arming the lead." When the lead strikes the bottom it will bring up anything that it comes in contact with, be it sand, mud, or gravel, and, if rocks, the tallow will bear the impression. By that means, it can be known to a certainty what the bottom is composed of in that locality. For fishing, we would sound until we found a bank composed of shells and gravel, and there we were sure of catching all the fish we wanted.
Now, for our captain's mistake No. 2. He had gotten the idea into his head that we were not close enough to the land. The weather had been quite pleasant and the sea smooth. An experienced seaman has no use for land unless it is in a secure harbour, and, much to our surprise, the captain ordered the sails loosened and the anchor weighed, and we stood in for the shore. The leadsman was continually taking soundings and, when in three fathoms, the brig was brought head to wind and the anchor let go. There we were in eighteen feet of water, the brig's draft being twelve feet. This left just six feet of water between our keel and a nice hard sandy bottom. The captain was well satisfied with the vessel's position, as he remarked that no blockade-runner could now pass without being seen. A few nights afterward his mind underwent a mighty sudden change, when a heavy gale came on from the eastward about midnight, and the waves got high and every few minutes the sea would lift us up, then let us down with a heavy thud on that "nice sandy bottom." The fact was we were anchored in the breakers. The top-sails were reefed and set, then the anchor was weighed, the foresail was braced sharp up and back, so as to bring the vessel's head to the southward, but it was of no use; the brig would not swing around in the breakers but only drift astern towards the beach. The anchor was again let go, then a rope was put into the hawse-hole, the other end outside the port and fastened on the quarter-deck. The cable was unshackled at the fifteen fathoms shackle, the rope fastened to it, and the chain let run out of the hawse-hole. As the brig drifted astern the rope fastened on the quarter gradually tautened until the strain on the anchor checked us, allowing the vessel to swing around until her top-sails filled. A buoy was then attached to the rope and the latter let go. Away we went, leaving the anchor behind, and then came the hard work in earnest—-beating off a lee shore in a heavy gale of wind. When the gale was over we found our brig to the south-east of Charleston and a considerable distance from our station, so back we went as fast as the vessel would sail. While passing the entrance to Charleston Bay we espied a small schooner stranded on the shoals. Here was a chance to display our valour and zeal for the service.
Arrants and I were in charge of the second cutter, with the boat's crew heavily armed. When we got on the shoals we found the "suspicious" craft to be a small schooner of about fifteen tons. The sails were neatly furled and the cabin entrance carefully boarded up. There were neither cargo nor provisions on board, and on the stern, in freshly painted letters, was the name Old Abe, which we thought was strange for a rebel craft. There was not a house nor living being in sight in any direction, so we set fire to the mysterious craft and returned to the brig.
CHAPTER XIX
AFTER BLOCKADE-RUNNERS
On arrival at Murrell Inlet, we sought the wooden buoy, and got it on board; the line was put through the hawse-pipe, and we all tugged at it until we got hold of the chain, when that was put around the windlass and the anchor hove up. Having had enough of that locality, we anchored farther out to sea in deeper water. In a couple of weeks, our nearest neighbour, the gun-boat at Georgetown Bay, brought us our mail and some fresh beef. They had a tale of woe to unfold. It seems they had captured a small schooner and made use of it as a pleasure yacht. One night it had broken adrift and stranded on some sand shoals. They had intended, some pleasant day, to fasten a rope to it and have the gun-boat pull it off, but they sorrowfully stated that the "—- rebs had burned it up." We hadn't a word to say. It was the Old Abe.
The enemy was in the habit of making night attacks on our vessels whenever they had the opportunity. It would have been an easy matter for them to send small boats and men from Charleston overland and make things quite lively for us. To prevent any surprise party coming on board, we put up the "boarding nettings" and kept men on guard in different parts of the brig. George Brinsmaid, one of the coloured men on board, was useless for going aloft, or anything else, for that matter, so he had extra guard duty to perform. He was given a loaded rifle and stationed at the port gangway. It made no difference how often the officer of the deck would go to him, that fellow was sure to be found asleep. I had bucketful after bucketful of water thrown on him during my watch, but it had no perceptible effect in keeping him awake, for he was constitutionally sleepy. The fact that he was so useless formed circumstances which resulted in his death.