A A A I AEC RN hy ee IRE th _ - -

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394 Chronicles of the Cape Fear River

thirty miles from Bermuda. And later, when our party of five
persons endeavoring to reach the Confederacy in a small launch
after the fall of Fort Fisher was cast away the second day upon
Green Turtle Cay, an obscure island of the Bahamas, where
we dwelt in a negro’s hut for three weeks, and then foolishly
risked our lives again for two weeks at sea in a small boat
which landed us in the surf among the man-eating sharks off
Cape Canaveral, Florida.

Strangely enough, as I was writing these reminiscences of
long ago, a benevolent old gentleman presented himself at my
office door and said, “I want to see my old friend, Mr. Sprunt,
who was purser of my ship fifty years ago, and whom I have
not seen since then,” It was gratifying to see again in the
flesh my brother officer, Andrew J. Forrest, of Baltimore, who
was first assistant engineer with us when Fort Fisher was cap-
tured and our occupation as blockade runners terminated.
Among many other incidents which our meeting brought to
mind was a ludicrous scene recalled by my friend. “Do you
remember,” said Andy, “how annoying it was to the captain
when his belated slumbers, after a night at poker, were dis-
turbed in the early morning by the usual holy-stoning and
washing-down-decks which Chief Officer Carrow was so par-
ticular about? Do you recall the occasion when, having fin-
ished breakfast, we were strolling about the quarter-deck, and
a rooster got out of the coop near the galley and, perching him-
self upon the bridge-deck near the captain’s stateroom, crowed
and crowed, until with a savage oath the skipper burst out of
the door in his pajamas with a big Colt’s revolver and chased
that rooster all over the ship in a rage that fairly choked us
with laughter ?”’

My friend tells me that we two are the only survivors of the
fifty-two officers and men upon the muster roll of the old ship,
which was subsequently used as a transport in the South Ameri-
can wars.

The stirring scenes recalled in these reminiscences occurred
more than a half-century ago. But few of those who participated
in blockade running still survive, and their hoary heads and
feeble knees attest the measure of their days. One, whose
moral excellence commands universal respect, still heeds the
call of the sea, and none of his profession is more skillful in
piloting the big steamers with their valuable cargoes through
the devious Cape Fear Channel over the bar to the city’s harbor.

Blockade Running 395

Fifty years ago he and I were captured, man and boy together,
in the same ship, under the Confederate flag; and we suffered
together the privations, discomforts, and trials of prisoners of
war. Upon the return of peace our vocations cemented a friend-
ship which has extended unbroken to the present time. Some
years ago he was called by the Master who once walked upon
the sea to the higher service of a minister of the gospel, in

which he has been signally blessed.
The writer, for twenty-six years a member of the Board of

Commissioners of Navigation and Pilotage, having ample
means of observation at home and abroad, believes that our
pilots compare most favorably with those of the order elsewhere

in all the essential qualifications of this dangerous calling.
The story of their wonderful skill and bravery in the time of

the Federal blockade has never been written, because the sur-
vivors were modest men, and because time obliterated from

their memories many incidents of that extraordinary epoch in
their history.

Amidst almost impenetrable darkness, without lightship or
beacon, the narrow and closely watched inlet was felt for with
a deep-sea lead as a blind.man feels his way along a familiar
path, and, even when the enemy’s fire was raking the wheel-
house, the faithful pilot, with steady hand and iron nerve,
safely steered the little fugitive of the sea to her desired haven.
It might be said of him as it was told of the Nantucket skipper,
that he could get his bearings on the darkest night by a “taste”

of the lead.

We recall the names of some of the noted blockade runners
and their pilots, so well known in Smithville about fifty years
ago: Cornubia, afterwards called the Lady Davis, C. ©. Morse ;
Giraffe, afterwards known as the R. H. Lee, Archibald Guthrie ;
Fanny, Henry Howard ; Hansa, J. N. Burruss; City of Peters-
burg, Joseph Bensel; Old Dominion, Richard Dosher; Alice,
Joseph Springs; Margaret and Jessie, Charles W. Craig; Hebe,
George W. Burruss; Advance, C. C. Morse; Pet, T. W. Craig;
Atalanta, Thomas M. Thompson; Hugena, T. W. Newton;
Ella and Annie, J. M. Adkins; Banshee, Thomas Burruss ;
Venus, R. Sellers; Don, William St. George; Lynx, J. W.
Craig; Let Her Be, J. T. Burruss; Little Hattie, R. S. Gris-
som; Lilian, Thomas Grissom; North Heath, Julius Dosher ;
Let Her Rip, E. T. Burruss; Beauregard, J. W. Potter; Owl,
T. B. Garrason; Agnes Fry, Thomas Dyer; Kate, C. C. Morse;