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When the Gannet Returned

When The Gannet Returned by John Weaver


The first light of dawn had crept up on the crew of the blockade runner The Gannet with little warning. The sky had turned to an early oyster shell gray and the sun challenged the low, flat clouds to assume morning position. Lack of sleep was evident in everyone’s eyes and slumping shoulders as The Gannet, low on coal, sluggishly sailed toward the Wilmington port. The captain, badly misjudging time, had left Nassau in approach to the Southern coastline and found himself and crew uncovered by the protecting darkness twenty miles from the New Inlet opening.

Detected by a Union navy boat, The Gannet made a determined run through the wintry waters as cannon blasts detailed a threat from the northern enemy. A shell, finding target, smashed The Gannet’s wheelhouse, while another tore away its starboard paddle box. Immediate protection from Colonial Lamb’s artillery at Fort Fisher and the grace of God were the only forces that allowed The Gannet and crew to escape without further damage.

Andrew Boydese hoisted a dram of rum in celebration of safety with the others as the boat and crew passed the cyprus known to all as the Dram Tree. The tree, located on the bank of the Cape Fear River, was a marker and a destination, when reached, called for the recognition of safe harbor by all men of maritime.

Andrew, just a few months turned twenty years, was from Liverpool, where he served as assistant to a firm of European merchants trading chiefly with India and the United States. Nowhere was the succession of the southern states more keenly watched than in the Liverpool offices. It had only been a year since Lincoln had ordered his navy to sea where a blockade was formed, stretching from Alexandria on the Potomac, down the Atlantic coast to the Florida Capes and across the Gulf of Mexico to the Rio Grande.

There was little hope for Andrew in Liverpool beyond the usual life of office routine until The Gannet’s captain approached him with expectations of attracting his quick young mind aboard his ship to import trade to the blocked southern ports of the Confederacy. Andrew was offered a generous raise in pay, but at the time of accepting the invitation, his young heart raced with the visions of adventure and not lure of the money.

In the beginning, The Gannet’s running the North’s blockade was safe because of the Union’s lack of navy ships. The Blockade was insufficiently organized and difficult to maintain because the Union navy had only 150 vessels, of which one-third were unserviceable. Lincoln’s blockade was meant to starve the South into submission, but a blockade was easier to proclaim than to achieve.

Runners, like The Gannet, were offered little threat and proceeded as if there were no blockade at all. But with urgency, the North increased its fleet and became much more aggressive and more noticeable on the water. It was not long before all sides realized that how long the land war would last would be determined by who controlled the sea. Andrew was beginning to reevaluate how much adventure was necessary for a boy to become a man.

The early morning cannon fire and race for livelihood pierced Andrew’s attention like a falling tree crashing through a glass window. The Gannet, a long second-hand Irish cattle boat, was equipped with a double propeller steamer with one stack, and was schooner rigged with two masts. Before sailing from Liverpool, the captain had ordered it to be repainted as black as the inside of a stove oven. The Gannet was fast, which was necessary for a runner, and could attain speeds of thirteen and one-half knots.
As always, she was loaded down with a million dollars worth of cargo consisting of Lamaster guns, Enfield rifles, army shoes, blankets and over 180 barrels of gunpowder, plus necessities such as large amounts of morphine, quinine and other medical supplies. The Gannet’s supply was the Confederacy’s demand.

Andrew’s family in Liverpool, like himself, did not understand the politics of the war. It was a reality that made as much sense as starving a prized horse. Everyone questioned the legality of the blockade by Lincoln. The Confederate leaders, including newly elected President Jefferson Davis, hoped and believed England and France would soon dispatch their fleets and free the Southern ports, but until then the war offered ship owners the opportunity for unlimited wealth. Queen Victoria’s government had issued a Royal Proclamation concerning the need to respect the Federal Blockade, but it had turned out to be viewed more as an act of courtesy than of substance.

Andrew maintained all logs of inventory and kept the financial books organized. He was the captain’s right-hand man and only worthy chess opponent. The Gannet had made over a dozen runs in and out of Southern ports during the past year, and Andrew had found the port of Wilmington to be his favorite. Wilmington, a quiet and pleasant community, was known as North Carolina’s principal seaport and the state’s largest city. Wilmington was a Southern town rich in the colors and fragrances of Azaleas and salt air.
With the increasing difficulties of running the blockades, Andrew was making his final trip to Wilmington. He would have already seen his last sail upon the ocean if it had not been for a special person. Her name was Sarah Ellen.

Sarah Ellen was a young woman from Wilmington whom Andrew had met over six months ago on a Sunday morning while Andrew and the captain took in services at the First Baptist Church at Market and Fifth Streets. Sarah Ellen and her family sat in front of Andrew and the captain. Her brown hair was pulled into a tight bun, and Andrew spent the entire service studying the lines and form of her neck. He paid little attention to Reverend John Pricherd’s sermon.
During hymns, Andrew sang the high notes as high as possible and the deep notes with the immersion of a fog horn. Sarah Ellen turned faintly, as did parts of the church, to see this exuberant religious person. She caught Andrew’s eye, and he shared a smile. Afterward, he stepped to her side and introduced himself. She immediately took notice and invited him for a buggy ride after lunch. They spent that afternoon and several more like it growing closer as friends on the surface but intimate, maturing adults underneath. She made him promise each time he left that he would write and return safely.

The last time he saw her was in the late evening before The Gannet left for Liverpool. Andrew stood under a full moon outside Sarah’s bedroom window. They talked until he had to leave and then they pressed hands against the screen and said goodbye. She watched as his form disappeared in the darkness.

In Andrews’s front coat pocket was a ring he intended to offer Sarah. It was his great-grandmother’s, and he hoped she would find it as beautiful as he did. Andrew was weak with anticipation but strong on hope that she would accept it and his hand for marriage.

Andrew’s name was emphatically requested by the captain who was ordering The Gannet to an immediate stop. A port inspector had sailed out to meet The Gannet and wished to board in order to check the ship’s cargo to make sure it was not illegal. Confederate law prohibited trade with Northern states.

"Andrew Boydese!" the captain shouted. The captain, a spare and educated man, carried himself with high bearing. He fingered his flamboyant mustache with the tips of his fingers as he looked outward at the approaching vessel. He was a man accustomed to being obeyed.

"Here captain," Andrew said. "What
seems to be the matter?"

"Are all inventories in order? We need to be immediately prepared for inspection."

"Yes, captain. Everything’s in order," Andrew said while taking the captain’s side.

"Captain of The Gannet, I presume," the inspector said, standing on the bow of his boat.

"Yes, I am he," the captain said.

"You will have to turn around and anchor out with the other boats," the inspector said. "Yellow fever has taken over Wilmington. A steamer from Nassau, called The Kate, brought it in several weeks ago. Your ship must wait thirty days and be inspected for disease before you will be permitted to port."

"That’s insane!" the captain said. "We are disease-free, and besides we have a damaged boat here."

"We can’t take any chances, sir," the inspector said, squinting from the sun’s morning glare.

"You’ll have to let us in by order of Jefferson Davis," Andrew said, stepping to the edge of the boat.

"I beg your pardon?" the inspector asked.

"Yes," Andrew began. "We have supplies that have orders from Mr. Davis that are to be shipped instantly to him in Richmond. You will have to let us in. We have no sick on board and our men will not leave the port area. Besides, we do not care to take ill with the fever."

"What supplies ordered by President Davis are so important?" the inspector asked.
Andrew looked down his list of inventory before speaking.

"Ammunition and boots. And it says here of importance six cases of English brandy."

"Brandy, you say?" the inspector asked.

"Yes, brandy," Andrew resumed. "The finest and the best. President Davis has orders for it to be shipped to his side as immediately as it touches Southern soil. No sooner and no later. And there would be a bottle or two for you for your cooperation."

The inspector cupped his chin in thought. His eyes studied those of Andrew’s for trust. "OK, bring your boat in, and let’s get it unloaded."

"Thank you," Andrew said. "And President Davis, I am assured, thanks you as well."

"All hands, straight ahead," the captain ordered.

A smile curled from the captain’s mouth making his mustache lift up like it was being pulled with twine. "You are the quickest in thought of all I have ever known," the captain said as he patted Andrew’s shoulder. "Let’s get this ship unloaded."

Andrew’s worry was for Sarah. Had she been stricken with the fever? He had to get to her as soon as possible. The Gannet was brought in to port where the captain began inspecting for damage. Andrew and the inspector itemized the inventory. Papers were signed, hands were shaken and brandy presented.
Smoke, dense and black, sat over the Wilmington port like a canopy of dark haze, and an acidic stench filled Andrew’s nose. There was suffering in the town.

"What is with this smoke?" Andrew asked the inspector, who was reading the label on a bottle of brandy.

"The town is burning rosin," he said. "People believe the fever epidemic can be smoked out by rosin fires. They are burning all over the city. It has been terrible here. Everyone that could afford to go has left for places with better health."

Andrew folded the papers and placed them in an envelope before stuffing them in his overcoat front pocket. He touched Sarah’s ring resting at the bottom of the canvas pouch, and he pressed the round metal between his forefinger and thumb before sealing the pocket and buttoning it closed. He turned and raced from the Wilmington port down Market street toward Sarah’s house.

The streets were empty except for a few wagons loaded down with corpses that were headed toward Oakdale Cemetery. The Wilmington community had tripped on a fever that had brought it and its people to their knees. Everything for Andrew was in slow motion. His heart pumped as he rounded the corner of Sarah’s street. Her house was at the end of the block.

The house was still and quiet. Andrew stepped up on the porch and knocked on the door. He tried to catch his breath and he knocked louder. A note taped on the door said the family had gone to Smithville. Andrew stepped down from the porch, turned and stared at the house. He seemed clothed in obscurity. His mind was gray with vagueness. He closed his eyes and listened for Sarah’s distant voice. He saw her on the porch and he embraced her smile. Then she was gone. Andrew took a sit on the steps and emptied his mind of the confusion. He wanted to sit there and wait for her return, but he knew better. He did not have time to make any trips to other towns before The Gannet would be unloaded, repaired and prepared to depart.

Andrew emptied the contents of his coat pocket. He took the inventory papers out of their envelope and in their place he put Sarah’s ring. He closed the envelope and wrote her name on the front. He walked around back to her bedroom window and placed the envelope, on the inside of the screen of her window sill. He turned and headed back to The Gannet, where he knew his services were required. He said a silent prayer that Sarah and her family were safe and out of harms way. He would be back, yes. When The Gannet returned, he would be on board.

©All rights reserved by John Weaver

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