“Recollections of a Rebel
Reefer,” by James Morris Morgan (London: Constable and Company, Ltd., 1918)
Chapter III
In September 1860 I went to Annapolis and presented
myself before the Board of Examiners for admittance. The dignity and solemnity of the officers who,
arrayed in their uniforms and with their swords beside them, sat at a long
table, caused me to have a slight attack of stage fright; but the ordeal was
soon over and I was allowed to go out in the fresh air in utter ignorance as to
whether I had passed successfully or not.
My mind, however, was soon relieved by Lieutenant Scott, who passing by
said to me, ‘Youngster, you are all right.’
The historical frigate Constitution (Old ironsides)
had recently been fitted out as a schoolship and lay
at anchor in the Severn River. I was directed to go on board and found on
her deck a number of other boys as green as myself. Things went very easily at first, as we had nothing
to do besides loafing around the decks and wondering at the strangeness of our surroundings. We had no wants, unless it was a longing for
the cute little jackets with the brass buttons and beautiful gold anchors on
the lapels of the turned down collars.
The captain and the lieutenants were just too sweet for anything,
answering our fool questions as though their one object in life was to please
us. But we were ungrateful and took much
more interest in the boatswains, mates, and the old grey-haired sailors who
kept the ship clean and spin yarns. The sailors
first initiated us in the mysteries of getting our hammocks ready and how to
swing them on the berth deck, and also how to lash them up in the morning when
we ‘turned out’ preparatory to stowing them snugly in the hammock
nettings. Everything was going on
pleasantly until one day, to our great delight, our uniforms arrived; they were
so pretty that it seemed a pity they should make such a difference in our happy
lives, but such was the fact. We had no
sooner got into our regulation togs than a great change in the demeanour of everybody else seemed to take place. Those affable and chummy lieutenants who an
hour before had treated us almost as equals, even condescending to joke with
us, now stood on their dignity, and if they spoke at all it was to give an
order or a reproof. The old sailors
gravely saluted us as they passed, but they would not stop for a little
conversation. I wondered what we had
done to deserve such treatment, but I was not long in finding out. With the uniform I had come under naval
discipline; and it was extraordinary how those soft-spoken lieutenants licked
up into shape. I, who had never obeyed
anybody within less than a week, would jump as though I was shot when one of
them would give me an order. The routine
of the ship had commenced in earnest – reveille; dress (and woe betide him who
had lost a button or whose shoestring was not properly tied); lash t he
hammocks; carry them up to the spar deck and stow them neatly in the nettings;
breakfast; recitation; drill at the great guns; recitation; infantry drill;
recitation; cutlass exercise; recitation; dinner; recitation; boat drill, or
loosing, reefing, or furling sail. After
supper were the study hours until nine o’clock, and then, after slinging our
hammocks, discipline was suspended and we were allowed half an hour to skylark
and have a little rough house – which would always be interrupted, as taps sounded,
by the hoarse voice of the master-at-arms bellowing, ‘Silence, fore and aft,
gentlemen!’ My young sisters at home were
constantly, at this time, writing me letters filled with good advice and
begging me to control my temper and to be kind to those nice navy officers,
samples of whom they had met only at cotillions, and little did they dream how
those so gentle and elegant gentlemen could on occasion roar like bulls of Bashan and scare a midshipman
out of seven years’ growth. They also
implored me not to get frisky and try to lasso the commandant of
midshipmen. To those who knew the late
Rear Admiral C. R. P. Rodgers, that embodiment if dignity and elegance, I need
not say that I followed my sisters’ advice. The
drill I most enjoyed was when we were exercised in the rigging, making and
furling sail. The masts of the old
frigate were very lofty, and when the officer of the deck through his speaking-trumpet
would give the order, ‘All hands make sail!’ we would rush to our stations and stand
close to the rails anxious and impatient as young racehorses at the starting
barrier. At the order,
‘Aloft, t’gallant and royal yardmen!’ ‘Aloft, topmen!’
‘Aloft, lower yardmen!’ we would spring into the shrouds, and hardly touching
the ratlines with our twinkling feet, a perfect stream of midshipmen would dash
up to the highest yards decreasing in numbers on the shrouds as they reached
their stations. Then they would step on
to the foot ropes and crowd as closely as possible to the mast until the order
was given to ‘lay out and loose!’ when they would go
out on the yardarms and cast off the gaskets.
Then would come the orders in rapid succession,
‘Let fall!’ ‘Sheet
home!’ ‘Lay in!’ ‘Lay down from aloft1’ – when as though by
magic the bare poles would be hidden by her snow-white canvas from her trucks
to her deck, and the midshipmen, helter-skelter, would come leaping from
ratline to ratline until they reached the deck, while some of the more
venturesome would leap to a backstay and slide down with fearful velocity. They were a gay and reckless set of boys, but
the ‘Brood of the Constitution’ will be remembered as long as history is
written. It is true that at that time we
only had one hero amongst us – that we knew of – but others developed
later. Our hero at the time was a
red-headed, freckle-faced, loose-jointed, slabsided,
tall, and lanky youth from the very depths of Missouri.
He first appeared on the deck of the Constitution
dressed in coarse and baggy clothes set off by a huge green cravat tied in a
monstrous bow-knot. He gazed around the
deck in a supercilious sort of way, walked over to a hatchway, and leaned
against a windsail that was ventilating the berth deck,
with the result that he almost instantaneously found himself three decks below
where he thought he was. We thought he
had been killed, but his long arms, which he had thrown around the windsail, saved him, as he had only slid the distance
rather rapidly. Coming on deck he
informed us that he had ‘slid down three
stories.’ He introduced himself by
saying that his name Was William Pipkin, but that
they always called him ‘Bill Pip’ for short at home, and that he would be just
as well pleased if we called him that, as he was more accustomed to it. Needless to say, we accommodated him. He took a plug of tobacco out of his pocket,
cut off a big hunk which he placed in his mouth, and then generously offered
the exquisite and elegant officer of the deck, Lieutenant Robert Wainwright
Scott, a chew, which was declined with a savage glare that would have caused
heart failure in any of the rest of us, but which did not trouble ‘Bill
Pip.’ Shortly after he had got into a
uniform some ladies, among them the wives of some of the officers, visited the
ship and remained aboard rather late. It
was getting dark when they made a move to go ashore, and one of them expressed
herself as being a little nervous about the long walk after reaching the shore. The gallant Lieutenant Upshur, who was the
executive officer of the ship, said that he was sure any one of a number of
midshipmen who were standing near would be delighted to accompany them, and,
unfortunately for him, he called ‘Bill Pip,’ who was the tallest of the lot,
and said, ‘Mr. Pipkin, I am sure you will be glad to
escort these ladies.’ To the
lieutenant’s horror and amazement, the lanky boy replied, ‘I am very sorry, Mr.
Upshur, but the last thing my mother said to me when I left home was, “Bill
Pip, you keep away from the women.”’ But
who can foretell what a boy will turn out to be? ‘Bill Pip’ resigned at the outbreak of the
Civil War and went South. He did not like the navy and refused an
appointment iin that of the Confederacy. He enlisted in the army as a private, but the
navy still pursued him. He was one of a
number of artillerymen detailed to fill the complement of the Arkansas’s
crew and was in that vessel when she ran through the ironclad fleet above Vicksburg and the wooden
sloops-of-war of Admiral Farragut’s fleet below that
city. ‘Bill Pip’ by his own gallantry
and merits rose to the rank of full colonel in the army, and after the war went
into business, amassed a fortune, and died a millionaire! Lieutenant Commanding [sic: officially, he was just “Lieutenant”] George W. Rodgers was
the captain [sic: he was officer in
charge] of the Constitution. He was afterwards killed at an assault on Fort Sumter
when in command of the U.S.
monitor Katskill [sic: Catskill]. He was a strict disciplinarian with very
gentle manners; all the same, the most refractory midshipman did not care to be
haled before him on any charge whatsoever.
On Saturday nights we frequently had dances – which we called ‘hops’ –
on board the frigate, and many of the belles of Annapolis, Baltimore, and Washington used to
attend them just as they do in this day and generation. The berth deck would be decorated with flags
and the Academy band furnished the music.
Occasionally we had a little excitement on
board of Old Ironsides. One day ‘Fighting Bob’ Evans, not known by
that sobriquet in those days, gave us a thriller. Two boys, one big and the other small, had an
altercation. Bob had nothing to do with
it, but con amore proposed to the big
boy that he would help the little one lick him.
The little boy like a goose said that he did not want anybody to help
him, that he would cut his antagonist with a knife if he was touched. An officer passing by heard the remark, and
thinking that it was Evans who had made it, promptly put him under arrest and
marched him to the captain’s cabin, and preferred that charge against him. Under the midshipmen’s code poor Bob could
not squeal on his comrade. Captain [sic] Rodgers arose from his seat; his
wrath was majestic. ‘And so, sir!’ he
said to Evans, ‘you propose to raise a mutiny on board of my ship. I will let you know, sir, that a midshipman
was hung to a yardarm for mutiny before this, and you dare try to raise one and
I will hang you!’ And turning to the
officer said, ‘Confine him below.’ To
one ignorant of the annals of the service this hanging business would have
sounded like an empty threat, but it must be remembered that the hanging of
Midshipman Spencer, son of the Secretary of War, on board of the brig Summers [sic: Somers] was at that time
an affair of comparatively recent date, and worse than that the captain of the Summers, Alexander Slidell M’Kensie [sic:
Mackenzie] was a ‘Rodgers,’ and Bob did not know but what the hanging of
midshipmen ran in his blood. The wardroom of the old frigate was away
down below the water line and the after-staterooms were as dark as Erebus. Bob was confined in the darkest of them. He stood it for about twenty minutes
and then requested that he should be allowed to write a letter. Permission being granted, he was taken into
the light, and pen, ink, and paper furnished him, and this, according to the story
which filtered down to us midshipmen, was the letter he wrote to his uncle, a
lawyer in Washington:--
MY DEAR UNCLE – I have committed mutiny and
they are going to hang me. If you want to see me again come quickly to your affectionate
nephew. Robley D. Evans
Poor little Bob, he was only fourteen years
of age and of very small stature for his years. The
winter of 1860-61 was a very cold one to me.
I had once seen a snow flurry at home, but I had never before seen a
large body of water like the Severn River
frozen over. The Northern boys were
delighted and at once begged permission to go skating. Seeing them gracefully skimming over the ice
like so many swallows was fascinating to me, and I could not resist the desire
to join them; so procuring a pair of skates, with many doubts I too went upon
the ice. We had gone ashore and walked
some distance up the river to a place the higher authorities thought safe, and the
master-at-arms patrolled the river-bank to afford assistance in case of
need. I had proceeded only a short
distance from the shore when suddenly both feet went skyward and the back of my
head hit the hard ice, and the force of my fall let me crash through it. The depth of the water was over my head and I
was weighted with a heavy regulation overcoat, but I could swim and dive almost
as well as the average alligator of my native bayous. I came up under solid ice, and then went down
again, and was fortunate enough to find the hole I had come through. I tried to climb up on the ice, but it would
break as fast as I put my weight on it.
Slowly but surely I thus broke my way toward the shore, and soon fund
myself in water that barely reached up to my armpits. Seeing me standing on hard bottom the
master-at-arms suddenly determined to do the great life-saving act, and came
crashing through the ice ands seized me by the arm. I was escorted to the ship in disgrace and
reprimanded by the officer in charge for having gone on the ice without
informing any one that I did not know how to skate. The master-at-arms, who had seen my
life-and-death struggle from the river-bank and who had done nothing to help me
until I was safely standing on the bottom, and there was no further danger in
coming to my assistance than getting the legs of his trousers damp, was
showered with compliments and congratulated as a life-saver by the higher
officers (who had not seen the incident), much to the amusement of the
midshipmen who had been on the ice, many of whom had really risked their lives
in their endeavours to get near me.
In February the time for our first dreaded
examinations arrived, and there was intense excitement in our little floating
world. Some forty-odd of our class
‘bilged,’ which in midshipman parlance means that they were found deficient in
their studies, the result of which was that t hey received polite letters from
the Secretary of the Navy informing them that if they would send him their
resignations he would be pleased to accept them at once. These acceptances arrived promptly, and
through some misunderstanding were handed to the unfortunate boys before arrangements
for their departure had been completed, and of course there ensued a most extraordinary
state of affairs. Here were some
forty-odd young civilians suddenly freed from the yoke of naval discipline and
detained on board a man-of-war where every movement was regulated by orders. Naturally it was not long before pandemonium
broke loose. As long as the ‘bilged’ saw
the officers around, the training they had received in the last few months kept
them in order; but when night came and two bells (nine o’clock) were struck and
the hammocks were slung, the usual rough play on the
berth deck became almost a riot.
To separate the goats from the sheep the
‘bilged’ were directed to sling their hammocks as far forward as possible
instead of on their customary hooks. When taps sounded and the gruff voice of the master-at-arms
bellowed his usual warning of ‘Gentlemen! Silence, fore and aft!’ the almost sacred
order was received with derisive shouts of laughter from forward. The petty officer repeated the order, which we
all well knew emanated from higher authority.
There was an ominous silence as the master-At-arms retired up the
hatchway. Then suddenly, by some
ingenious device of the ‘goats’ at the order, ‘Let fall!’ a whole row of
hammocks occupied by ‘sheep’ came down with a crash, emptying their contents,
midshipmen, blankets, and mattresses, in indescribable confusion on to the
deck. Man is no near akin to monkeys
that , as Rochefoucauld said, ‘We even take a certain
amount of pleasure in the very misfortunes of our friends.; and all the boys
who had escaped the disaster burst into roars of laughter, which were quickly
hushed by the arrival of a lieutenant on the scene. The hammocks were reslung
and for a few minutes after the officer’s disappearance from the scene there
was silence again. We were just dozing
off when the sound of a giggle coming from forward made us sit up and take
notice. The order to keep silence was
again given and received with laughter.
This brought Lieutenant, now Admiral, John H. Upshur, the executive
officer, on the scene. He ordered
silence again and a ‘goat’ answered him with a ‘tee-hee.’ The lieutenant walked a little way further
forward, stooping as he went to avoid the hammocks overhead, and repeated his
command, which was received with a chorus of ‘ha-ha’s.’ When the young demons had enticed him as far
forward as they wanted him, they commenced to roll thirty-two-pound round shot
down that inclined deck. The lieutenant
manfully stood his ground for a moment, but the improvised ten-pin balls came
faster than he could skip over them and he had to take refuge on the hatchway
steps. ‘Beat to quarters!’ he fairly
roared, and to the accompaniment of the ‘long roll’ of the drums we jumped into
our clothes and tumbled up on deck, where we took our stations at the guns; but
not for long, for we were marched down to the main deck and there made to toe a
seam and stand at ‘attention.’ Such was
the habit of discipline that the ‘goats,’ forgetting that they were free,
accompanied us. The suave and elegant
lieutenant in charge ordered a wardroom boy to bring him a table, a chair, a
newspaper, and a hot cup of coffee, and made himself
comfortable. After what seemed to me to
be an interminable time the deadly silence was broken by the officer saying
that if the gentlemen who had made the disturbance would step forward he would
gladly let the rest of us ‘turn in.’ He
just said that for form’s sake, as no one knew better than he did that the
traditions of the Naval
Academy did not allow a
midshipman to ‘squeal’ under any circumstances – and the hours dragged
along. At last, some of the fighting men
of the class asked permission to leave the ranks, which was granted, as the
lieutenant had been a midshipman himself and knew what was coming as well as
the boys did. These fellows went to the
guilty parties and intimated to them that there would be some black eyes to
carry home if they did not confess and let the rest of us have some rest. The hint acted like a charm, and one after
another of the newly made civilians stepped forward. It was then so nearly time
for reveille that it was hardly worth while for us to go to sleep again, but we
had the satisfaction of seeing a very seedy-looking set of civilians go over
the side the next morning as they bade farewell for ever to a naval career.
Occasionally we were taken ashore for
infantry drill with the battalion composed of the ‘oldsters’ who lived in the
old Academy buildings. The Professor of
Infantry Tactics was Major Lockwood, a gallant officer who afterwards became a
brigadier general in the Union Army.
Major Lockwood unfortunately stammered and once the battalion got
facetious with him. He had instructed them
that they must never make a motion to obey and order until they heard the last
sound of the command. He was in front of
the battalion holding the hilt of his sword in his right hand and the end of
the blade in his left. He gave the order
to march all right, and then he gave the order to charge while he was walking
backward intending to halt them when they got near him, but a fit of stammering
came over him and he could only say ‘Ha-Ha-Ha-!’and
before he could finish the word the midshipmen had run over him and also over
the sea-wall and into the water, guns, uniforms, and all. Of course for the moment there was a great
deal of hilarity, but unfortunately those intelligent navy officers know an
antidote for every prank a midshipman can conceive. By the end of 1860 a dark cloud had settled over our spirits, and we
no longer spent our few moments of leisure skylarking, but instead discussed
the burning question of secession. We did
not know anything about its merits, but conceived the idea that each State was
to compose a separate nation. Harry
Taylor, afterwards rear admiral, who was from the District of Columbia, said that he was going
with New York
because that State made more commerce than any other one, and necessarily would
have the biggest navy. He was promptly
called down by being informed that no one would be allowed to join any State
except the one he was born in – and he was further humiliated by a much-travelled boy who asserted that he had been in Washington and that the District of Columbia had
only one little steamboat out of which to make a navy, and that one ran between
Washington
and Acquia Creek [sic]
and that she was rotten. Personally, I
was insulted by being informed that Louisiana
had been purchased by the money of the other States just as a man buys a farm,
and that therefore she had no right to secede.
This was said in retort after I had made the boast that by rights many
of the States belongs to Louisiana. So the wrangle went on day after day until
the news came that South Carolina
had in reality seceded, and the boys from that State promptly resigned and went
home. Then followed the news of the
firing on Fort Sumter.
The rest of the lads from the South resigned as rapidly as they could
get permission from home to do so – I among the rest. I passed over the side of the old Constitution and out of the United States Navy with a big lump in
my throat which I vainly endeavoured to swallow, for
I had many very dear friends among the Northern boys – in fact, affectionate
friendships, some interrupted by death, but a few others which have lasted for
more than half a century. To my surprise
my captain, George Rodgers, accompanied me ashore and to the railway station,
telling me, as I walked beside him, that the trouble would end in a few weeks
and that I had made a great mistake, but that even then it was not too late if
I would ask to withdraw my resignation. As
we passed through the old gate opening into the town, the gate which I was not
to pass through again until my head was white, fifty years afterwards, and as
we walked along the street, Captain Rodgers kindly took my hand in his, and
then for the first time I realized that I was no longer in the navy, but only a
common and very unhappy little boy. But
the Confederacy was calling me and I marched firmly on. That call seemed much louder at Annapolis than it did
after I reached my native land.