In 1862 I ran the blockade at Charleston and proceeded to Europe, where I was detailed to the Confederate commerce destroyer (by some called pirate) Georgia. I was 16 years of age and a midshipman. I had been in many battles and considered myself a veteran—if experience in actual war makes a veteran I surely was one. I was away from the Confederacy for two years, and then, returning to my native land, ran through the blockade again, this time at Wilmington. When I received my new orders I hoped that I would at least find instructions to report aboard a small gunboat as a watch officer, for naval officers were scarce in the South. One can imagine my consternation and disappointment when I discovered that I was to be sent to school! I wondered if the Secretary of the Navy knew that I was all of 18 years of age, and that I was engaged to be married. I fretted and fumed, but now know that if there was one thing I needed more than another, it was a little schooling.
During my absence from the Confederacy a naval school for midshipmen had been established. One might well indeed ask where in the world the Confederate States could locate a naval academy? But the Southern naval officers were a resourceful lot, who could build gunboats in corn fields out of the yellow pine trees found in the neighborhood, and make armor out of rails and scrap iron; so to them a naval academy was a very simple thing to evolve. The Old Dominion Line side-wheel steamship Patrick Henry, which had formerly plied between New York and Norfolk, was lying at Richmond. She carried guns and was square rigged on her foremast, which would allow the midshipmen to be taught how to reef and furl sail. Two little pine board recitation rooms were erected on her hurricane deck between the paddle-boxes. What more could be asked for in those days ? Here was a fully-equipped naval academy ready to hand. Lieutenant William H. Parker, who before the war had been detailed as a professor of seamanship at Annapolis, was made superintendent of the new institution, and he was assisted by several naval officers and civilian professors who, in the face of many trials and difficulties, struggled in an effort to educate some forty or fifty lads, between the ages of 14 and 18, who were restlessly champing at the bit because they wanted to take a more active part in the fray which was going on around them. Among these boys was a young brother of Mrs. Jefferson Davis, a nephew of General R. E. Lee, a son of General J. C. Breckenridge, a son of Mr. Mallory, Secretary of the Navy; a son of Captain Semmes of Alabama fame, and many other scions of the most prominent families in the South.
One would think that the school should have been located in some quiet bend in the river, out of range of the shells of the contending forces, but there were no such places on that river; and besides, the Confederate naval officers were utilitarians, and the schoolship was a very important factor in the defence of Richmond. She was anchored at "Drury's Bluff," the main fortification on the river, situated about seven miles below the city. Through the obstructions in the river a passageway for our own boats had been left open. If the Union gunboats attempted to force their way through, as they had once before done, it was the appointed duty of the school to scuttle itself in this narrow channel. There were no defences on the river between "the Bluff" and Richmond, and should the enemy succeed in getting by the capital would have fallen. The Patrick Henry also served as a guard boat as well as a receiving ship, and all day signal men stood on top of her makeshift recitation rooms, thrashing the atmosphere with their little wigwag flags, sending and receiving messages from the naval land batteries located on the river below Drury's Bluff, one of which was continually engaged, night and day, in shelling the Dutch Gap canal which General B. F. Butler was engaged in digging. Opposed to these naval batteries were a number of strong fortifications on the north side of the river.
When prisoners were exchanged the flag of truce boats were always required to stop alongside the schoolship on their way to or from Richmond or Harrison's Landing (within the Federal lines), where the Union prisoners were delivered, and the Confederates embarked when released. I met with a mortifying contretemps on one of these occasions, when a cartel loaded with Confederate prisoners came alongside of the Patrick Henry and discharged her human freight on to our deck. They were a pitiful looking lot of human wrecks. I was busily engaged in assisting the officer of the deck in keeping the gang plank clear, as each poor fellow wanted to stop and have some conversation with the first men they had seen in gray uniforms for many months. Some of the poor fellows wanted news, and the more affectionate wanted to embrace me; but the executive officer, standing on the quarterdeck, had his eye on me, and I was compelled to be stern, as well as to repel their affectionate demonstrations. I was busily engaged repeating again and again: "Pass forward, my man; I will attend to you in a moment; but don't block the gangway—let these men come aboard," etc., when the raggedest and most forlorn looking of the lot approached me. His matted hair reached to his shoulders. His clothing was not only ragged, but dirty, and it was evident that he had not luxuriated in a bath tub for many a long week. There was a certain assurance in his manner as he approached which, despite his haggard and wretched appearance, should have warned me to be careful; but, as I have said before, I was busy. The poor fellow asked me very politely "who was in command of the Patrick Henry?" and I replied with the stereotyped, "Pass forward, 'My Man'; don't block the gangway!" His sad eyes suddenly blazed in indignation, and to my consternation the dilapidated looking creature drew himself up and with suppressed wrath said "Mr. Morgan, I will apply for you when I get a ship, and I will show you, sir, who goes forward! I am Commander Kennon!"
I had known Commander Kennon well when I served in the same flotilla with him on the Mississippi in 1861-2. To say that I was mortified faintly describes my feelings when I realized that I had ordered a commander "forward." If the deck had opened and let me drop into the coal bunkers, where my embarrassment would not have been so conspicuous, I would have been grateful. The last time I had seen Kennon was when he was in command of the old sidewheel steamer Governor Moore, with which he rammed and sunk the U. S. sloop-of-war Varuna when Admiral Farragut passed the forts below New Orleans. Immediately after he struck the Varuna, the Hartford, Brooklyn, and the frigate Mississippi closed in on him and shooed him ashore with their heavy guns. They set fire to the Governor Moore and blew her up almost instantly. The last the Confederates saw of Kennon he was struggling in the river. Now I submit that by all the rules of the game, after not hearing of him for more than two years, I had a right to suppose that he was dead, and I do not think it was right for him to come back in disguise to confound a poor midshipman who was obeying orders and trying to do his duty. Several years after this contretemps I again served with Kennon, this time in the Egyptian army, and he seemed to take a fiendish delight in recounting to the army officers how he was once ordered "forward" by a "d—d midshipman!"
Life at that naval academy was necessarily one of privation. The clothing of the midshipmen was made of the coarsest materials. We slept in hammocks slung as closely together as sardines in a box. Our food was scanty and unappetizing—a little lump of fat pork or a slither of meat which from its toughness aroused the suspicion that it had been carved from very close to the horns of some half-starved animal, a "hardtack," generally infested with weevils or worms, to be washed down by a tin cup full of hot water colored with chicory or burnt grains of ground corn. This decoction was brevetted coffee. There was no variety—the same menu served for breakfast, dinner and supper. But if we were short on rations, we had plenty of excitement to make us forget the emptiness of our stomachs. Drills, study and recitations went on continually, the latter punctuated by the booping of the guns and the bursting of the shells. A section of midshipmen with camp stools under their arms would enter a recitation room where would be seated the professor on a rough cane-bottom chair. He would order one of the youngsters to "take the blackboard," and commence the business of the hour by giving out the problem, "If x equal 10," but frequently he got no farther before a crashing of great guns aroused his curiosity and he would request one of the young gentlemen to step outside and see which one of the batteries was using a particular rifle gun or a heavy smoothbore. Having received the information, he would attempt to resume the recitation, when he would again be interrupted by a message from the captain to send two or three midshipmen to assist in working the guns of some battery which was short of officers. After the artillery duel was over these boys would return to the ship and continue their studies. On other occasions they would be detailed to go down the river and assist in laying mines and anchoring spar torpedoes. The bushes on the bank of the river were infested with sharpshooters. Then there were expeditions in small boats to cut out Federal warships and carry them by boarding, as they succeeded in doing on several occasions. It was useless to ask for volunteers, as every midshipman on the Patrick Henry would clamor for permission to go, so these details were given as rewards for good conduct.
For the expedition to board the U. S. gunboat Underwriter, lying in Albemarle Sound, a number of midshipmen were fortunate enough to get details, among them Daniel M. Lee, a younger brother of Fitzhugh Lee, and Palmer Saunders. It was moonlight the night of the attack, but the clouds obscured the moon. With muffled oars the Confederate row-boats approached the doomed craft, and before they were discovered they were so close that the broadside with which the warship had intended to annihilate them passed harmlessly over their heads. Lee and Saunders were in the same boat and boarded at the gangway, where a Jacob's ladder had been left hanging against the side. Saunders tripped gayly up the ladder, only to meet a sailor armed with a cutlass; this the man brought down on the poor boy's head with such terrific force that it literally split his skull into two parts, one-half of his head resting on his shoulder as he dropped dead and fell into his boat. Lee, who was closely following Saunders, leaped lightly onto the deck and tackled a sailor at close quarters. The sailor threw him down and fell on him. The sailor was trying to use his weapon, but Lee was holding him so tightly he could not manage it. Some Confederates rushed to Lee's assistance, and one of them placed the muzzle of a navy revolver against the Yankee sailor's back and was about to pull the trigger when Dan Lee called out: "Don't shoot, you fool! Can't you see how thin this man is? I am under here!" Those who know Lee believe that he would have had his joke even if the man's cutlass had been in him.
The conflict on the deck of the Underwriter was brief and bloody. Her crew made a gallant fight for their ship, but were assailed from all sides, and to add to their difficulties, the Underwriter was on fire. Wounded and prisoners were put into the boats, and the gunboat was left to her fate. The midshipmen of the expedition, with the exception of the much-loved Palmer Saunders, returned to their school, where they resumed their studies while awaiting another opportunity to show their metal.
I remember one morning that, shortly after daylight, we received the information that a portion of General Grant's army had surprised and captured Fort Harrison, which was situated on the north side of the river, about two miles from where we lay. Fort Harrison was one of the most important defences on that line of fortifications. About 7 o'clock in the morning we discovered that a pontoon bridge was being thrown across the river a short distance above where we lay. The bridge was soon completed, and then we saw Hoke's famous division crossing it. These were the best dressed soldiers in the Confederate army, as the State of North Carolina had the forethought to buy for itself several blockade runners, which kept their troops decently clothed.
It was evident to all of us that our soldiers were going to try to retake Fort Harrison. Several of the midshipmen, myself among the number, obtained permission to accompany the troops so that we could see the fight to greater advantage. Arriving at the selected spot, Hoke's division was drawn up in line of battle. We were within range of the enemy's artillery, but not a shot was fired at us while the formation was going on. We were much pleased at this, as we thought it showed weakness. No sooner had our line completed its formation than it opened at intervals to allow batteries of light artillery to pass to the front. At the gallop they went for several hundred yards, and then, wheeling, they unlimbered and opened fire. Soon the smoke was so dense that we could no longer see them, and then suddenly the firing ceased and they burst through the smoke on their way back to us. All of this time Fort Harrison and its outlying fortifications were ominously silent. As soon as our artillery had repassed through our lines, the infantry received the order to move forward, and shortly afterwards came the command to charge. The ear-splitting rebel yell rent the air.as the gallant fellows rushed at the works, but alas! as they got within a hundred yards or less of the fort, out of the bushes and undergrowth a long line of bluecoats arose and poured a withering fire into the ranks of our men, while the great guns of the fort sprinkled grapeshot and canister among them. Soon we midshipmen saw a few skulkers and slightly wounded men coming to the rear, and then the whole line seemed to suddenly give way and they fell back, but not in much disorder. When we reached the point from which we had started, the -division was reformed, and suddenly the men burst into cheers. At first we could not understand what had caused the wild outbreak of enthusiasm, but soon we saw a stately figure mounted on a white horse coming clown the line. It was General R. E. Lee! As he passed near where we were standing we could distinctly hear him telling the men that they "must retake that position for him, as it was the most important on the line, and he was sure they could do it if they would only try."
Again our artillery roared, and under cover of the smoke we again advanced, only to meet with a similar reception to that given us on the first attempt. Again we came back, but in somewhat greater disorder than on the previous occasion. Again they reformed at the same place, and again General Lee, hat in hand, his splendid silvery head uncovered, rode down the line imploring his men to make one more effort for him. I had always had the idea that General Lee was a cold, unemotional man, but he was excited that day—even the staid and stately "Traveller," his warhorse, was prancing. Well, to cut the story short, we advanced for the third time on the works which had been ours but were now in the possession of the enemy. The charge was not as enthusiastic as the two previous ones, and when our men were again repulsed they broke and fled in disorder. I may have been a web-footed sailor, but I did not notice any infantrymen pass me on the way back to our second line of defence.
As soon as the division reformed General Lee again rode down the line, thanking his troops for their gallant effort and begging them not to be downhearted over their failure, as they had done all that it was possible for men to do, and that anyhow the position was not as important as he had at first thought it was.
On our way back to the ship a "sawbones" caught one of the middies and made him hold a wounded man's leg while he (the surgeon) cut it off.
As the sun went down we midshipmen returned to our school and chills and fever—not fashionable "malaria," but regular old-time chills and fever, which first made the agonizing tremors pass through the frame and the teeth chatter and rattle, the chill only to be allayed by the heat of a burning fever, which always followed it. The mouth became parched and the dry tongue clove to the roof of the mouth. In those days it would have been considered a crime to give a sufferer from fever a drop of cool water! It was my day and hour for .a chill, so I sought out a quiet place on the deck, where the planks looked soft, and lay down to shake it off. This performance was not included in the routine of the ship, but it was as regular as the beat to general quarters. As we slept in hammocks and they were stowed away in the daytime, we were allowed to lie down any place where we did not interfere with the routine of the ship. With the exception of some of the boys from the alligator states, most of us were sufferers from this cause, and many of them were also weakened from chronic dysentery brought on by the bad food they had to eat; but simple chills and fever was never considered of sufficient importance to allow one to be excused from either duty, lessons or drills.
In the autumn I passed my examination and was promoted to the dignity of passed midshipman. I received my orders with delight, as they did not take me far away from Richmond. I was sent to a perfect inferno, a naval battery called "Semmes," situated on a tongue of land formed by the river, and in a semi-circle, completely enfilading it, were the Bohler, Signal Hill, the Crow's Nest, Dutch Gap and Howlet House batteries. All day the big guns boomed and all night the mortar shells exploded; but I could get away on Saturday evenings and spend a night in town, so what did I care, at my age, for the inconveniences of the rest of the week?
The winter of 1864-5 was a very cold one, and the snow lay deep on the ground for most of the time. When the early spring at last arrived my commanding officer surprised me by ordering me to report to the Secretary of the Navy, and advised me to take my belongings with me. As I had none besides the clothes, ragged and torn, I stood in, and my sword and pistol, which I always wore, it did not take me very long to pack my effects.
While trudging along through the mud on my way to Richmond I very seriously pondered over all my sins of commission and omission, as I could not understand why a Secretary of the Navy would want to see a passed midshipman unless it was for the purpose of giving him a reprimand (?). Judge of my surprise when I was ushered into the august presence of the, so far as I was concerned, all-powerful man, and he simply informed me that I was to accompany Mrs. Jefferson Davis's party south. It then suddenly dawned upon me that the Confederate cause was doomed and that Richmond was about to fall.
Mrs. Davis's party consisted of herself, her children, her sister, Miss Howell; three daughters of Mr. Trenholm, Secretary of the Treasury; Colonel Burton Harrison, Mr. Davis's private secretary, and myself. We boarded a train at the station and the President joined us there to bid good-bye to his family. The train stopped every few miles to let troop trains pass by, and it was a wearisome arid uncomfortable journey. The news of the fall of Richmond caught up with us on the way, and when we at last arrived at Charlotte, N. C., nothing could induce Mrs. Davis to go a foot farther until she could hear from her husband.
The superintendent of the Confederate States Naval Academy was among the very last to be informed that Richmond was being evacuated. This information was conveyed to him in an order directing him to land the midshipmen, blow up the schoolship, and proceed south with his command. The midshipmen had not proceeded very far on their way to Richmond before they heard the magazines of their late home tearing the old ship into atoms, and as they trudged along the river bank one terrific explosion after another shook the ground under their feet as the ironclads were destroyed. Arriving in Richmond, they found the gutters running with whiskey which the frightened inhabitants had attempted to destroy in that way to keep it from falling into the hands of the Federal soldiers—instead of which, much of it went down the guzzles of a mob composed of the riffraff of the city, skulkers, deserters and dazed negroes. The midshipmen, marching like the veterans they were, crossed the bridge to Manchester, where they were to entrain for the south.
On arriving at the railway station they found the officials of the Treasury Department in a great state of trepidation, owing to the fact that they had under their charge all the gold belonging to the Confederacy—some half a million of dollars. The mob had learned of it, and were rapidly gathering with the object of looting, and not a soldier in sight to afford them protection. When the mob saw a lot of young boys with guns file onto the platform alongside the train that was to carry the kegs of specie they cheered derisively. Captain Parker ordered his command to fix bayonets, and in less time than it takes to tell, had cleared the station of that crowd of ruffians. Putting the gold on the train with his midshipmen in charge of it, he pulled out of the station, bound he did not know where.
At Charlotte it was learned that General Sherman's troops were approaching from several directions, and that there was grave danger of Mrs. Davis falling into their hands. It was decided that with the treasure she should leave at once under the protection of the midshipmen. They went as far as Chester, S. C., and detrained there, the specie being loaded on commandeered wagons, in which Mrs. Davis and her family also rode—a midshipman guard on foot preceding and following, as well as marching on each side of the unique train; and thus they plodded on their, weary way over the wretched country roads.
When night overtook them at the end of their first day's journey they found shelter in a rough, pine-board, wayside church, where Mrs. Davis and her little children slept on the bare floor. Captain Parker, as commanding officer, spent the night in the pulpit, and the middies who were not on guard lay their wearied young bodies down anywhere and went to sleep.
Day after day this peculiar cavalcade continued its march, in all kinds of weather, over those roads which one moment were ankle deep in mud or sand, and the next so stony that the unshod mules We're lamed and the feet of the midshipmen were cut and bruised—there was hardly a sole left to a shoe in the command, and many of the youngsters had no shoes at all before they reached the end of their tramp. Throughout this trying journey Captain Parker attests that he never heard a single complaint uttered by any one in the command. The long marches were very trying on another account. Constant vigilance had to be maintained, as on their flanks were constantly hovering gangs of deserters watching for an opportunity to swoop down on the coveted booty.
It was impossible for Mrs. Davis to obtain shelter at any house, as the natives feared that "the Yankees" would destroy their property if they heard she had received hospitality. When finally she arrived in Abbeville, Colonel Armistead Burt put his house at her disposal, and when she declined his kind offer, telling him that "if she accepted his hospitality she feared his house would be burned," the noble old aristocrat made her a profound bow, saying: "Madam, I know of no better use my home could be put to than to be burned in such a cause!"
The midshipmen left Mrs. Davis at Abbeville and resumed their march to Augusta, Ga., still escorting the gold. Augusta was only eighty miles away, and when they arrived there it was to learn that the place was being evacuated and that they must get away from there as quickly as possible. So back to Abbeville they tramped.
Captain Parker was determined, if possible, to put that gold into the possession of Mr. Davis, but when he returned to Abbeville Mr. Davis had not yet arrived. But Mr. Mallory, the Secretary of the Navy, had and he ordered the gold turned over to the tender care of the soldiers, and also ordered the Confederate States Naval Academy disbanded! Each midshipman received a copy of the following order:
ABBEVILLE, S. C., May 2, 1865.
SIR: You are hereby detached from the naval school, and leave is granted to visit your home. You will report by letter to the Hon. Secretary of the Navy as soon as practicable.
Paymaster Wheless will issue you ten days' rations, and all quartermasters are requested to furnish you transportation.
Respectfully your obedient servant,
(Signed) Wm. H. PARKER,
Commanding.
It was in this way that these ragged and weary boys were turned loose on the world. Many of them were a thousand miles from their homes. The homes of others had been destroyed. The quartermasters who were expected to furnish transportation immediately became invisible, as they had already fled in an effort to save themselves, and could they have been found, Sherman's army had destroyed the railroads which were to furnish the transportation. It was a tragic ending for a unique institution of learning.
One might ask what became of the men who received their only education under such extraordinary circumstances. The answer is that the after careers of many of these boys would compare favorably with that of many youths graduated from the most celebrated universities. They became lawyers, doctors, civil engineers, planters, bankers, and business men. Several of them became millionaires. Three of them became judges; one a distinguished member of Congress; several were members of state legislatures; and two of them were afterwards captains of large merchant ships. Two of them became mayors of great seaport cities, and one of them was appointed United States Consul General to Australia, while still another one was a United States Minister to Russia.
One interesting incident in the careers of three of these little midshipmen who were together on the schoolship Patrick Henry, and whose combined capital at that time probably would not have exceeded is cents in Confederate money (and gold was at a 100 for 1 premium), occurred when they met some thirty years afterwards on a commission to settle the long litigated question concerning the debt due bondholders by the States of "old" Virginia and West Virginia. One of them was Clarence Cary, of the prominent law firm of Cary & Whitridge, representing Brown Brothers and the bondholders of the North; another was Bartlet Johnson, banker and broker, representing the bondholders of Baltimore and that section of the business world; and the third was Virginius Newton, president of a great national bank and representing the interests of the Virginia and Southern bondholders. It is true that there were only a score or two of millions involved, but it goes to show the prominence achieved in the business world by some of the graduates of the Confederate States Naval Academy.