THE ST. LAWRENCE AND THE PETREL
By James Morris Morgan
Few people now living are aware of the fact that the states of Louisiana and South Carolina had navies separate from the Confederate States and fewer still know that people in the Confederacy fitted out privateers, but imagine that it is the proper thing to call the de facto government-owned ships, such as the Alabama, etc., "privateers." Now a privateer is of course a vessel owned by a private party and sails under the protection of a "letter of marque" to prevent their crews from being treated as pirates in case of capture. The United States Government settled the matter to its own satisfaction by branding everything afloat which belonged to the Southern Confederacy as pirates—and this brings about an interesting question, as it is well known that the definition of a man-of-warsman or navy sailor is "a sea soldier" or "a soldier that fights on water." Now it was all right for the soldiers of General Sherman's army to burn hundreds of houses on their " march to the sea," because, I suppose, the houses were on land, but it constituted an act of piracy according to the government of these same soldiers when a Confederate sailor burned a ship on the high seas; and what is a ship if it is not both a dwelling and a floating warehouse? Now to follow out this line of reasoning to its natural conclusion: if a soldier belonging to a "de facto" government becomes a pirate when he goes in a boat on the water, then naturally every time General Lee's army crossed a river on pontoon bridges by that act they also became a band of pirates. But I am drifting away from the South Carolina navy.
Prior to the Civil War the United States Government had a class of revenue cutters that were unique in their yachty appearance. They were, of course, small, being topsail rigged schooners, and as they were built to catch smugglers naturally they were exceptionally fast. One of these cutters, the Petrel, was stationed in Charleston harbor at the time of the secession of the state and was at once seized and turned over to the South Carolina navy. The armament of the Petrel consisted of one 18-pounder, or "Long Tom" as the little gun was affectionately called by the sailors. This gun was mounted forward of the foremast.
A very young master's mate with more enthusiasm than experience was given the command and he put to sea in great haste as he feared that two local privateers, a little brig called the Jeff Davis, and a little tug, mounting one 32-pounder, called the Lady Davis, which were cruising outside of Charleston bar, would gobble up all the prize money before she, the Petrel, would be able to get in her fine work.
Getting into the Gulf Stream the Petrel cruised for days without success until one day her boy commander saw what he was sure was fortune, coming fearlessly toward him, in the shape of a big East-Indiaman with dirty sails and yards all askew; and what made the youngster doubly sure of his prize, was the way in which the ship was painted, black with a white stripe around her in which was painted camouflage black gun ports. All East Indiamen used this deception to make them resemble (at a distance) frigates and the Chinese pirates were supposed to take fright at the sight, and instantly seek safety in flight. But the supposed disguise did not intimidate the Petrel's young captain a bit. He gallantly bore down on the supposedly doomed ship and signaled her to "heave to," to which signal the big ship paid no attention. Then more sail was set on the Petrel and she easily headed the lumbering old craft. When she got to within some 300 yards of her a shot from the Long Tom was sent across the supposed Indiaman's bows as a peremptory notice that she had been ordered to stop!
"Rien n'est sacre pour un Sapeur," as the French poilu said when he picked the lady's lap dog up by the tail—and the tale of what followed that shot which went skipping over the waves is more dramatically and tersely told in the language of the Petrels boy skipper when a lot of irreverent midshipmen insisted upon his giving them a full description of that memorable combat in which he had borne such a conspicuous part. His account of the engagement was as follows:
Just as I fired the shot across the bows of the supposed old water bruiser her whole side seemed to fall apart and for an instant I saw a sheet of flame reaching from her stem to her stern followed by a terrific crash and roar as of thunder. I distinctly felt a jar, and after a time I came up spouting water like a half-drowned whale. And that is all I know about the fight between the United States 50-gun frigate St. Lawrence and the Confederate States 1-gun cruiser Petrel.
While in the Gulf of Mexico the St. Lawrence had heard of the doings of the toy cruisers or privateers in the Gulf Stream off Charleston and she proceeded to investigate, but her commander never dreamed that his camouflage to look like an Indiaman would succeed to such an extent that a toy boat like the Petrel would sail up to within a few cable lengths of the frigate without discovering the ruse, and then boldly open fire on a fighting ship much more than 50 times her superior.
The youthful commander of the Petrel realized the truth of the old yarn about the sailor who once "got religion" and while reading his Bible came across the verse which says that "those who go down to the sea in ships see the wonders of the Lord." He stopped and scratched his head and after cogitating for a while he said: "Well of course that must be so as everything in this book is true, and now that I come to think about it I never did make a voyage in a full-rigged ship, but I can tell the fellow that wrote that this, and that is, that those who go to sea in barks, brigs, schooners or other small craft—they see hell!"