Orphan Hero

by John Babb

  Mr. Palmer stuck his hand in the bag, reveling in the feel of the gold. “Agreed, suh. Can I offer you a drink of this rum?”

  “Thank you, sir—perhaps another time. The sun is on its way.”

  The Rei rounded the barrier island and headed into the gulf while it was still dark. As a precaution, they were running only under wind power, with no lanterns lit. Captain Pesca called to him. “Señor Windes, there’s a light off to the east and it appears to be heading our way. Looks like the sparks and fire off the top of a smokestack if I was to guess. I intend to stay fast to the coastline and run west with all the sail we can muster. Perhaps before dawn we can hide ourselves beyond Dauphin Island.”

  The kind of coal burned by a steamship was extremely crucial if a blockade-runner was to survive. Soft coal was less pure and commonly gave off an obvious visual display of sparks and dark smoke. By contrast, hard coal was much cleaner burning, and the smokestack generally produced smoke that was almost white in color, and thus was more difficult to identify at a distance.

  Unfortunately, coal that was readily available in the southern states of Virginia, Tennessee, and North Carolina was only of the soft variety. Captain Pesca insisted on obtaining hard coal from the Granadine Confederation in Soledad, Colombia. It was his preference to reserve the majority of this fuel for use while he was near the southern coastline, in circumstances where he was trying to avoid detection by Union gunboats. Much of the rest of the time, he relied on the wind to power his vessel.

  On May 12, the Rei dropped anchor in São Luís. Gali had already sold the cotton for ninety-five dollars per bale. They had cleared $10,000 on the sugar and $6,250 on the cotton. After paying for dockage and wharf fees in São Luís, paying their captain and crew, and giving each member of the crew an extra double eagle to ensure they would be ready to sail again on their vessel; they netted over $12,000 on the trip.

  Over the next five months, they ran six similar shipments—all to Brownsville, Sabine Pass, Mobile, and Pensacola. After the last trip, they resolved not to go back to Mobile. They had run into three Navy vessels in the waters around Mobile and counted themselves lucky to have escaped without being sighted. The Navy vessels were generally side-wheel steamships and could commonly outrun most blockade-runners when their prey was heavily loaded with freight. Likewise, the Rei would have been outgunned in a fight, as they had good intelligence that the Navy ships were well armed with much heavier cannon.

  Thirty-Four

  You Aren’t Worth Ten Cents In Ransom, Sir

  The Gulf of Mexico 1861

  The Confederacy had appointed Colonel Abraham Myers as their first Quartermaster General. Almost everything purchased by the southern states would go through the hands of Myers or his forty-eight employees and agents. In the not too distant future, his would become an almost impossible mission.

  In August of 1861, Myers had contracted with Mr. Gazaway Bugg Lamar of Augusta, Georgia to provide one million pairs of shoes, eight hundred thousand yards of gray wool, five hundred thousand flannel shirts, and five hundred thousand pairs of socks. It was Mr. Lamar’s intention to ship these items into southern ports utilizing European suppliers, but the blockade had already been very effective in preventing large-scale movement of these articles to support rebel troops.

  Even wool became scarce in the winter of 1861–1862, and many of the southern mills went silent. Not only was the blockade working, but many sheep farmers in the Appalachian Mountains were not particularly sympathetic to the southern cause and resisted selling their wool to Colonel Myers except as a customer of last resort. Worse, there was no manufacturing capability in the south to mass-produce wool socks. The only alternatives seemed to be to purchase manufactured socks from Europe or knit them in the Confederacy individually, by hand.

  Journal Entry—November 25, 1861

  Gali and I know that we need to move quickly to take advantage of a new market opportunity with the Confederates. We sailed the Rei up the coast of Mexico to Tampico, where Gali left the ship. He is to purchase 200,000 yards of Mexican wool yarn, contract with an entire village to turn the wool into socks, and also hire twenty men and wagons to transport what we hope are finished goods overland. The wagons will cross northeastern Mexico, travel 450 miles to Reynosa, which is directly across the Rio Grande from Edingburg, Texas, where we will sell to Col. Myers’ agent based in San Antonio.

  Captain Pesca and I then sailed the Rei to Havana, where I purchased 25,000 British Blucher shoes for a half dollar a pair from a fellow ship owner who had gotten cold feet about trying to penetrate the Union blockade, and was trying to cut his losses. The shoes are sturdy, consisting of waxed uppers and well sewn, hobnailed soles.

  Unfortunately for the marching Rebel soldier, I fear he will soon find that the sole of these shoes will gradually wear down and the hobnails slowly begin to protrude through the innersoles of his shoes, thus making walking a painful experience. Perhaps they will file down the nails sticking through the soles. But after wearing these Bluchers for a few months, whenever the opportunity presents itself, I’m guessing they will enthusiastically steal more desirable boots from their enemy.

  Before departing Havana, I made another purchase from a British blockade runner, which I kept out of sight in my cabin. In five days, we were back in Tampico. Because of the size of our investment, both Gali and I have decided to travel by wagon with our cargo of 25,000 pairs of shoes and 50,000 pairs of stockings. We asked for, and quickly obtained, four volunteers from the ship’s crew to go along with us for security. By now, the sailors have learned there is monetary reward to be had for extra work.

  Captain Pesca would delay his departure by seven days, then sail up the coast of Mexico, slip south of Brazos Island, enter the Rio Grande, and wait on B. F. and Gali above Brownsville where the river made an abrupt turn to the north. They would meet on the Mexican side of the river, but if Pesca decided it was too risky because of blockade activity around Brownsville, he would return to Tampico. And for their part, if Pesca and the Rei were not there when Gali and B. F. arrived, they would return to Tampico via wagon.

  Before the wagon train departed, B. F. made a point of showing Gali and the four sailors what he had purchased in Havana—six Henry rifles and an accompanying five thousand rounds of forty-four caliber ammunition. The Henry had been created in 1860 and was the latest in the industry’s efforts to build a repeating rifle. For the first time, this rifle used a self-contained metallic cartridge—no extra percussion caps, no extra powder, and no lead ball. A good shooter could fire fifteen rounds in not much more than twelve seconds.

  Unfortunately, the rifle had three weaknesses. It was awkward to load, requiring that the cartridges be loaded down a metallic tube running underneath the barrel. The rifle had no wooden forestock, so the shooter had to hold the front of the rifle by the loading tube and the barrel.

  If more than a half dozen shots were fired in rapid succession, the barrel became extremely hot and could not be held at all if the fifteen rounds were fired rapidly. To complicate this problem, the brass loading tube was an excellent conductor of heat from the barrel, hence it was difficult to reload the weapon if it had been fired rapidly.

  And finally, it was almost impossible to carry enough cartridges to keep a man supplied with ammunition during a battle that lasted for any length of time. In fact, many Army officers did not want their men to have repeating rifles because they ran out of ammo too quickly, and developed a tendency to be careless in their aim, compared to their counterparts who were forced to take a single, but careful shot before having to reload.

  B. F. had learned about the problem with the over-heated barrel the hard way in Cuba, so he explained the situation to Gali and the sailors. “The point is, we want everybody to know we’ve got Henry rifles to defend ourselves. We’re going to fire these guns before we leave town. Use a thick cloth to hold the barrel and don’t let on like there’s a problem. If the six of us shoot off about ten or twelve rounds apiece i
n a few seconds, word will spread, and nobody will have much enthusiasm for bothering us on this trip.”

  They made a big show of their “practice” in front of the wagon teamsters and several men from the village. When they fired their rifles, it gave the impression of an impenetrable enfilade from an entire company of men. Not only did the barrels get hot, but the shooters were almost entirely obscured by black smoke. B. F. realized they wouldn’t even be able to see what they were shooting at within seconds of a fight beginning. But from the exclamations of the Mexican villagers when they finished firing, he was more than satisfied with the demonstration’s results.

  A journey that would have required twenty days with oxen only took five days with horses. No matter, B. F. had forgotten how miserable travel by wagon could be. Thankfully, other than the monotony of the trip, there were no bandits. At least, there were none who had an appetite for doing battle with Henry rifles.

  When they arrived in Reynosa, they sent a horseman to San Antonio to alert Col. Myers’ man, Lt. George Feathers, that they had goods to sell and that he should bring wagons and gold or silver if he wished to buy their boots and socks. Gali suggested they keep the goods on the Mexican side of the river until they saw the money.

  In four days, Lt. Feathers sent word that he had arrived directly across the river in Edingburg. B. F. and Gali sent two men across to reconnoiter Feathers’ forces, and they reported back that he had no more than twenty soldiers with his wagons. Hence, they decided to not divide their forces, but to sit tight and invite the Lieutenant to their camp. As the river was shallow in January, it was not necessary to utilize the Edingburg Ferry, and he came across with an escort of four horsemen.

  B. F. was surprised that the man was almost fifty years old, figuring that a Lieutenant would be close to his own age. He came to the point. “I understand Myers is trying to buy boots and socks but has had no luck. We have twenty-five thousand pairs of good British Bluchers and fifty thousand pairs of wool socks. The lot is eighty-five thousand dollars in gold.”

  “Ya’ll wouldn’t be tryin to pull that wool over my eyes would ya’ll? I make it about fifty thousand dollars for yore goods.”

  “That might have been the price before the war but not now. As you very well know, every port is under blockade, and it’s only getting worse. There’s not a place to make these socks in the whole south, even if you had the wool. And your boss is trying to buy a million pairs of boots. Are you ready for him to hear you turned down twenty-five thousand?”

  Feathers pointed to Gali. “Why don’t ya’ll come on over to the Texas side of this river? I dasn’t say that boy there’ll find hissef standin’ in a field of cotton with a hoe in his hand afore morning.”

  “Lieutenant, you’re addressing my partner. I’d suggest you find your manners real quick.”

  “Are you and yore ‘partner’,” He spat the word out, “ready to stand up to my company across the river?”

  B. F. pulled his Henry from behind the wagon seat, and Gali and the four sailors followed suit. “Are you and those single-shots ready to stand up to our fifteen shot repeaters? Now let’s talk sense. Eighty-five thousand dollars—in gold. You just lost your chance to bargain!”

  “I have the full authority of Colonel Myers to pay you in the currency of the Confederate States of America.”

  “We don’t deal in paper. Send one of your men—say that sergeant there—back to San Antonio or down to Brownsville to fetch the gold. You and these other three will be our guests until he returns.”

  “Are you holding agents of the Confederacy for ransom?”

  Gali spoke up. “Señor, I have an idea you personally aren’t worth ten cents in ransom to anyone in your entire Army. But until this deal is done, you’re going to remain right here in the line of fire between us and your men across the river.”

  It wasn’t a quick resolution. Toward the end of the third day, B. F. was ready to turn his men around and head back to the south. But finally came a shout that wagons were coming across the river. The young sergeant had done well. There hadn’t been anywhere close to that much gold in south Texas. But he had $30,000 in gold coins and $55,000 in silver on two of the wagons. They made their trade, with Henrys at the ready.

  The lieutenant couldn’t resist one more comment. “Don’t be stupid enough to try this again.”

  “On the contrary Lieutenant, we’ve given you a unique opportunity to be unstupid today. We can bring lots of goods through here. It may be one of the few places left that’s not blockaded. But two things must happen. You’ve got to change your attitude, and you need to get enough gold in here for us to trade with you. We can make you look good to your Colonel Myers, but we’re only going to trade for gold or silver. These wagons can’t carry enough cotton—or your scrip—to pay off.”

  Feathers pointed once more at Gali with a sneer. “I ain’t tradin’ with the likes of him.”

  B. F. looked at him with an empty smile. “That will be your loss.”

  As the soldiers turned to the north and began heading back across the river, B. F. and Gali and their wagons turned toward the south. B. F. was thoughtful. “Perhaps we don’t need to take our chances again with Lieutenant Feathers. He’s just foolish enough to try and get even with us the next time we want to do business.”

  Gali replied. “He’s the kind of man whose stupidity made this war possible. I would be glad never to see him again.”

  Thirty-Five

  Brave Men

  The Rio Grande River 1861

  They had earned $10,000 more than expected, as they had anticipated having to negotiate their price, but Feathers’ rudeness had gone in their favor. They gave every wagon driver an extra twenty dollars before they headed back to Tampico. B. F., Gali, the four sailors, and two wagons loaded with gold and silver doubled back to the meeting point to look downstream for Captain Pesca and the Rei.

  B. F. knew they were late, and he knew it was unlikely that Pesca would still be waiting for them, but he had no desire to retrace the trip overland—particularly carrying over 3,500 pounds of silver and gold. They traveled through the night, finding a dry ravine along the river to hide out during the day, then continued their journey the second evening, and arrived at the big bend in the river at two o’clock in the morning.

  There was no way to look for Captain Pesca and the Rei at night, so again they found concealment and a place to rest. At daybreak, B. F. left Gali and the four sailors with the gold and went ship hunting.

  By nine o’clock, he had seen no sign of the Rei and was about to return to Gali when he noticed a steep, vertical bank on the river with cypress trees that grew right along the river’s edge. The sheer embankment was about one hundred feet high and afforded no path down to the water. He decided to walk upstream about a quarter of a mile, swim out in the river about thirty yards, and float by the embankment via a piece of driftwood.

  The boat was almost invisible—but it was there.

  He called out to Pesca and began swimming in the vessel’s direction. He had taken no more than three strokes when he noticed the rail of the ship was suddenly lined with muskets. He quickly gulped a breath of air and dived beneath the muddy surface, angling toward the downstream end of the ship. Just as his lungs were about to burst, he touched the solid wood planking of the Rei’s hull.

  B. F. stayed in the water and eased around to the back of the sloop. Using a tree on the bank, he pulled himself aboard, then lay there behind a furled sail, catching his breath and trying to listen to what was going on. The conversation was all in Portuguese, and he didn’t speak enough of the language to figure out what was being said.

  He maneuvered a bit closer and saw Captain Pesca using a spyglass on the surface of the river. B. F. thought, Do I not trust this man? I’ve been in tough spots with him before and could always depend on him. He stood up. “Looking for someone, Captain?”

  He’d heard the expression ‘white as a sheet,’ but had never seen it illustrated so well as Cap
tain Pesca did. “Was that you in the river, Señor B. F.? How did you get on the ship?”

  B. F. grinned. “That was me, alright. I’m just glad nobody shot at me.”

  “Until you started swimming, we thought you were a log. You just took ten years from my life, Señor.”

  B. F. laughed. “How about your crew moving the ship about two hundred yards downstream right at dark. We’ll meet you where that point of land reaches out into the river.”

  B. F. slipped back over the side, walked through the trees to a point where he could regain the river bluff, found Gali and the sailors, and told them when and where to reconnect with the Rei. “Tell Captain Pesca to stop for me at the dock with the big red lanterns in Brownsville, straight across from the docks at Matamoros. I’m going into Brownsville to find Joe Hudspeth. He’s the Confederate agent I dealt with before. If we’re lucky, he’ll have cotton to sell, and we can make money on both ends of this trip.”

  Joe Hudspeth had a room on the second floor above Solomon Brown’s Law Office in Brownsville. He had been a bookkeeper in Vicksburg before the war and was very capable in the way he handled his government’s business. A slightly built man, he had thinning grey hair and wire rimmed spectacles. But when he spoke, his voice was extremely deep and resonating. If you closed your eyes, you’d never guess that the bass voice originated with the small man in front of you.

  Hudspeth made no pretense in trying to give the impression he was somehow more important than he appeared. It was easy to like the man, and B. F. felt comfortable enough that he could be completely honest in relating their experience with Feathers.

  “I don’t have any authority over Feathers, Mistuh Windes. I suppose I could report this to Colonel Myers, but I hate to do business that way. At the same time, we need to keep trade lanes open. Maybe there’s a way around Feathers.”