BERMUDA IN BLOCKADE TIMES 
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 BERMUDA IN BLOCKADE TIMES. 
 
 By Charles Hallock. 
 
 THE Bermuda Islands constitute the 
 most charming winter resort im- 
 aginable. Everything about them 
 is complete, neat, finished, refined, and 
 agreeable. There are no nuisances, noth- 
 ing noxious, no snakes, no morasses, no 
 disagreeable insects. The hotels are con- 
 venient and comfortable, society of a 
 high order, and the lower classes tract- 
 able, harmless, and cleanly, as a rule. 
 The tout ensemble is as if everything had 
 been newly whitewashed, and was spick- 
 span new and clean. No wonder it is the 
 favorite resort of visitors who have be- 
 come informed of its peculiar charms, 
 who have enjoyed its balmy breezes, its 
 fruits, its fishing, and its drives. 
 
 Some reminiscences of the islands in 
 the old Confederate times cannot fail to 
 be interesting to survivors of that event- 
 ful period, especially to those who bore 
 some active part in its varying fortunes 
 and enterprises. 
 
 Previous to the Southern Rebellion, 
 Bermuda was comparatively unknown to 
 the world, except as an important British 
 naval station. No startling episode in 
 the great concatenation of events had 
 occurred for many years to disturb the 
 tranquil repose of her many peaceful 
 islands. Far out and alone in the broad 
 Atlantic, like some beautiful recluse, she 
 woed the soft winds of summer, or bared 
 her breast to the autumnal gales that 
 wreathed her reefs and bald bluffs with 
 foam. Monthly, the packet passing to 
 and fro between St. Thomas and Halifax, 
 and touching there, aroused her from her 
 Rip Van Winkle sleep ; and when the 
 few hours' bustle at the wharf had ceased, 
 when the mail coach that ran from the 
 hither point to the extremity of the 
 islands had dispensed its favors along the 
 circuitous route, and the little budget of 
 news and epistolary missives had been 
 duly digested, she lapsed again into the 
 quiet of her daily routine. Her small 
 farmers cultivated arrowroot, tomatoes, 
 
 onions, and potatoes to a limited extent 
 only (for her negroes had grown negligent 
 and thriftless under the license of their 
 freedom,) and an occasional craft dropped 
 into her landlocked bays to bear her 
 vegetable tributes to the markets of the 
 North. And when the people of colder 
 climes ate, in the early spring time, of 
 her luscious bananas"" and those other 
 luxuries so acceptable because so out of 
 season, they thought kindly of Bermuda, 
 and many an invalid went out to breathe 
 the genial air of her winter months. 
 Tourists, too, have sketched the charms 
 of her cedar-covered islets, with their 
 ever-changing outlines, and once the 
 graceful pen of the romantic and now 
 lamented Willis essayed the pleasing 
 task ; but his eyes were dazed by the 
 glare of her white limestone roads and 
 snowy cottages and cliffs, and so he 
 hastened home and never did full justice 
 to Bermuda. 
 
 But suddenly a new era dawned upon 
 the islands. A marvellous change came 
 over the sleepy realm ; the spell that 
 bound the enchanted isle was broken- 
 The war in America crowded her ports, 
 with shipping and awakened the echoes, 
 of busy trade and commerce, which 
 frightened the hobgoblins from the caves 
 which they had tenanted since Shakes- 
 peare sang the tale of " vexed Bermoe- 
 thes " two hundred and fifty years ago. 
 The blockade of the southern ports threw 
 into her lap rare treasures, to which her 
 eyes had been unaccustomed before ; and 
 often upon her deep, transparent waters 
 were seen what looked like clots of foam, 
 but which were really stray waifs of cot- 
 ton floating — cotton worth two shillings 
 sterling per pound. Ah, what golden 
 harvests were reaped, what mighty risks 
 were run for this same cotton in those 
 old blockading days ! It seemed as- 
 though wealth came down in showers, 
 upon Bermuda. It blessed all in any- 
 way connected with the blockade. It 
 
338 
 
 BERMUDA IN BLOCKADE TIMES. 
 
 blessed the adventurers of high and low 
 degree, who gathered there from the 
 four quarters of the globe to speculate 
 upon the national misfortune ; it blessed 
 the grasping Englishman, the southern 
 renegade, the deserter from the North, 
 and the mercenaries and sharpers of all 
 colors and persuasions alike. The em- 
 ployees of blockade-runners received 
 fabulous wages — captains, $2,500 in 
 gold per round trip, which never ex- 
 ceeded a month, and was sometimes 
 made in a week; pilots, $1,500; engi- 
 neers, coal-heavers, and seamen, in pro- 
 portion. The capitalists who invested 
 in the venture seldom failed to make 
 fortunes, notwithstanding the large per- 
 centage of steamers lost or captured ; for 
 the gains were so immense that one suc- 
 cessful voyage made up the loss of half a 
 dozen failures. They fared sumptuously 
 every day upon the profits which they 
 sheared from the poverty and distress of 
 those who bore the burden of the war. 
 Their steamers were supplied with the 
 luxuries of every clime. The cabin 
 tables were spread with sparkling wines 
 and choicest viands. The pinched Con- 
 federates, whom three lingering years of 
 war had reduced to rags or homely 
 homespun, looked with envious eyes upon 
 the sleek, well-dressed blockade-runners 
 who sauntered through their streets at 
 will, while they themselves were in con- 
 stant dread of prevost-marshals and con- 
 scripting-officers. They gloated upon the 
 glittering gold which strangers lavished 
 and despised their own paper dollar, which 
 would hardly buy a row of pins. The 
 invalids who sweltered and thirsted in 
 the hospitals were thankful for the boon of 
 a little ice which they chanced to receive 
 from some vessel's chest at Charleston or 
 Wilmington. It seemed to the strug- 
 gling South as if the steamers were the 
 only link between their present world of 
 despair and a realm of happiness beyond ; 
 and when, at intervals, they steamed 
 swiftly up to its deserted ports, their ad- 
 vent was always welcomed with delight. 
 
 On such occasions there was some sem- 
 blance in those same ports — of Charles- 
 ton or Wilmington — of the commercial 
 activity in the bygone days of peace. 
 Negroes bustled about the wharves, and 
 
 the incessant clatter of the donkey engines 
 was heard, discharging freight which long- 
 tailed drays carted leisurely away. How- 
 ever, excepting these and the seamen, 
 only a few old men and youngsters of 
 various hues sauntered about the spot. 
 The streets were quite deserted, except 
 by the provost guard, an occasional 
 female in mourning garb, or a crippled 
 soldier hobbling on his way. There was 
 an oppressive sense of desolation every- 
 where, such as one feels in an old mill 
 where the machinery, long since silenced, 
 has gone to rust, with rank moss grown 
 on the water-wheel, and the weather-worn 
 roof opening to the sky. In the market, 
 a brace of lean fowl and a half-dozen 
 slimy catfish patiently waited a purchaser. 
 At Wilmington, an old scow ferried oc- 
 casional passengers over the river to the 
 dilapidated buildings opposite. All around 
 the railroad depot, broken machinery, old 
 cannons, and merchandise were strewn. 
 Three or four used-up locomotives were 
 in perpetual hospital at the round-house, 
 and a wheezy old engine, with steam es- 
 caping at every joint, had just struggled 
 in with the " express train," or half a 
 dozen leaky cars, at a maximum speed 
 of five miles an hour. No smoke issued 
 from the chimneys of the hamlet on the 
 neighboring knoll, for its owner was long 
 since killed in the war, and the women 
 of the family had moved away. Lean 
 cranes flapped lazily up from among the 
 rank weeds and cat-tails that grew in 
 the abandoned ricefields. White people 
 were out at their elbows and toes, and 
 the negroes wore fragments of Federal 
 uniforms, which had been stripped from 
 battlefields. Buzzards seldom vouchsafed 
 their once familiar presence, for they had 
 long since followed their scents to the 
 richer banquets near Chancellorsville and 
 Chattanooga. Cotton, which had been 
 brought from its hiding-places in the in- 
 terior, lay piled in vast quantities in sheds 
 and in the open air. In places it was 
 strewn knee-deep, where the bagging had 
 burst open, rotted by long exposure. 
 Huge masses of rosin, melted and run 
 together and mingled with hoops and 
 staves, were encountered on every side. 
 What wealth lay wasting here, while the 
 world was suffering for the want of it ! 
 
BERMUDA IN BLOCKADE TIMES. 
 
 339 
 
 Such was the melancholy picture. At 
 the steamers' offices, however, there was 
 always some stir ; and when an auction 
 sale of blockade goods was advertised, 
 something of a crowd was collected. All 
 the Jews swarmed there from far and 
 near, like flies around the bung of a sugar 
 cask, wrangling with each other and 
 scrambling for the prizes offered ; these 
 worthies owed no allegiance, except to 
 Moses, and consequently were exempt 
 from military service. Large prices were 
 paid in Confederate scrip for coffee, 
 medicines, shoes, and the rest ; and with 
 the proceeds the blockade-runners pur- 
 chased the coveted cotton at S250 per 
 bale. When the blockade business was 
 at its climax, Confederate money was 
 worth about S14 for $1 in gold; and as 
 the cotton brought from 45 to 50 cents 
 per pound in Bermuda, the profit on a 
 single bile was S230 ! 
 
 Sometimes as many as a dozen steam- 
 ers were in the port of Wilmington at 
 once. In general they loaded leisurely, 
 because they had to wait their opportu- 
 ' nity. It was only when the night was 
 moonless, and the tide full on the bar 
 that they could hope to run the blockade 
 with success. The " silvery moon " had 
 no chirm for blockade runners ; rather, 
 come storm and angry wrack of wind and 
 wives. Occasiomllv, three or four would 
 run out together, dividing the attention 
 of the ever-vigilant blockading cruisers ; 
 but as a rule, each attempted the perilous 
 gauntlet alone. Often they failed upon 
 the very threshold of their adventure, and 
 the anxious owners on shore received 
 early intimation of their probable fate in 
 the dull boom of guns that was wafted 
 from Fort Fisher, thirty miles below. It 
 was a bold act, worthy of brave men, to 
 attempt that bristling cordon of Federal 
 ships in an unarmed, inoffensive craft. 
 Women often did it, too ; but women can 
 be brave even when men's courage quails. 
 
 We can imagine one of these long and 
 rakish steamers lying in the stream oppo- 
 site the cotton-sheds, where she has been 
 loading ; a jaunty craft with graceful 
 lines, appointments all complete, and 
 color so like the dusk that at nightfall she 
 seems like a doubtful shadow upon the 
 water. The thin cloud of brown smoke 
 
 that floats from her funnel, and the merry 
 " Heave-yo " at the windlass, betoken 
 that she is getting under way. Her flags 
 are flaunting gayly — a Confederate at the 
 stem, a British at the stern. There is a 
 group of women and children on her 
 quarter-deck, and, but for the long rows 
 of cotton bales that peer over her rails, 
 one might imagine that she was engaged 
 for a pleasure excursion down the river, 
 — only that it was not customary for offi- 
 cers in uniform to demand passports of 
 mere excursionists. Male passengers are 
 scarce, for the gates of the Confederacy 
 are closed to such. Beside a couple of 
 Jews, there are an invalid and a cripple ; 
 also two nondescripts, whom the provost 
 guard, the shippers, the negroes on shore, 
 their fellow-passengers, and the examin- 
 ing officers, have repeatedly passed opin- 
 ion upon as to whether they were de- 
 serters, Yankee spies, correspondents of 
 the London " Times," government offi- 
 cials, or agents of the government depart- 
 ing on secret service. However, they are 
 both thoroughly " papered," and no ob- 
 jection can be made. Their passports 
 are from headquarters at Richmond, and 
 duly vised by the commanding officer at 
 Wilmington. 
 
 There is very little vivacity on board. 
 A feeling of uncertainty pervades all. 
 Friends part with tremulous hand- shak- 
 ings. Those who command the craft 
 know well the dangers that attend the 
 voyage and the risk that hangs over their 
 rich freight of half a million. Many a 
 lady's bosom heaves with throbbing heart 
 and breath suppressed, even while gliding 
 securely past the ricefields, marshes, and 
 belts of timber that girt the river bank. 
 Wilmington gradually fades from view. 
 The sun settles down upon the red 
 horizon. An ironclad, struggling against 
 the current, is passed and left astern. 
 The steamer picks her way through tor- 
 tuous channels, successive obstructions 
 of piles stretched across the river, and 
 labyrinths of torpedoes, marked by flag- 
 buoys. Down near the mouth of the 
 river there is a battery, and from a cutter 
 that has put out from shore a lieutenant, 
 with his guard, clambers over the ship's 
 side, to search for stowaways and examine 
 passports again. Every nook and corner, 
 
340 
 
 BERMUDA IN BLOCKADE TIMES. 
 
 every locker and pantry is searched this 
 time. Even the hold and coal-bunkers 
 are fumigated to smoke out any who per- 
 chance may have concealed themselves 
 there. When these trials have been en- 
 dured, the steamer increases speed and 
 proceeds on her course to the broad and 
 placid sound that is sheltered by the bar. 
 There she rests at anchor and awaits the 
 protecting shades of night. Here there 
 is no danger. The bristling guns of Fort 
 Fisher and the Mound Battery, and the 
 shoal water on the bar afford double pro- 
 tection. The blockading fleet lies miles 
 away outside. Perhaps from the mast- 
 head the outlines of one or two of 
 them can be indistinctly traced — noth- 
 ing more. 
 
 As dusk falls, a little boat puts out from 
 land. This brings the indispensable 
 pilot, who at once becomes grand master 
 of the ship. Everything depends upon 
 his skill, and implicit obedience to his 
 directions. He has the path before him 
 all mapped out, and can tell the number 
 and latest position of every blockader off 
 the adjacent coast. He has carefully 
 noted the stage of water, marked the 
 channel, set his signal lights, and ar- 
 ranged the indispensable preliminaries of 
 the trip. At length the last glimmer of 
 twilight has vanished. A perceptible 
 haze gathers upon the ocean. Every 
 light in the ship is carefully extinguished. 
 The binnacle is enveloped with canvas. 
 Telegraph lines are rigged fore and aft, to 
 communicate from the pilot forward to 
 the officer who directs the helmsman at 
 the wheel. The lookouts, the captain 
 and subordinate officers take their respec- 
 tive places. Presently a deep sigh comes 
 from the ponderous engine, and a tremor 
 runs through the vessel as she gathers 
 headway and snuffs the fresh breeze that 
 comes from the ocean. Strictest silence 
 is enjoined now. Not a whisper is heard. 
 Even the plash of the patent paddle- 
 wheels ( never very noisy ) is drowned 
 by the monotonous sough of the breaking 
 waves. The funnels emit no vapors or 
 tell-tale sparks. The lights on shore 
 change rapidly with the varying course. 
 A red lantern flashes for an instant to 
 starboard and then goes out, just where a 
 glimpse was caught of a cloaked figure 
 
 seated in a skiff. A pale, white light 
 gleams on the larboard side. A brighter 
 one blazes from Fort Fisher in the dis- 
 tance. And thus the course is laid over 
 the bar. The speed of the vessel in- 
 creases as the hour of trial approaches, 
 and the lights afloat and ashore flit and 
 intermingle with a rapidity that confuses 
 the senses. Presently the swash and long 
 swell of the sea denote that the bar is 
 passed, and the lights, now grown faint 
 and spectral, seem to keep pace with the 
 vessel as she lays her course along the 
 coast. 
 
 The novice sits aft with bated breath 
 and his heart in his throat, a desperate 
 grip upon some stanchion, and his eyes 
 straining far out into the gloom, while, 
 with a sinking sensation like being twirled 
 in a swing, he is hurried through space 
 at a speed of twenty miles an hour, over 
 billows of phosphorescence that roll off 
 into the wake behind. The silence is 
 oppressive, and the suspense painful. 
 But presently a new object of interest' 
 absorbs attention. Can you see nothing 
 — there — just where the gleam of that 
 brilliant star flashed on the foam ? Pshaw ! 
 'tis mere fancy. The shadaws always fall 
 deepest where the dull gray of the ocean 
 blends with the sky. It is the loom of 
 the mist, nothing more. And yet there 
 is something that flits like a shadow, mov- 
 ing a? we move — an undefined nebula 
 without shape or substance, ever attend- 
 ant, like an incubus that oppresses one 
 in dreams. Ha ! this is exciting ! What 
 tension of taut-drawn nerves ! What if 
 it should be one of them ! We are draw- 
 ing a little ahead of the thing now. 
 Surely it is a blockader, and one of the 
 fleetest, too. < Her scent is keen. These 
 lights on shore betray us whenever we run 
 between them and her. If we could only 
 head her off now and stand out to sea ! 
 But not yet ! See ! she burns a blue 
 light, —-and how it streams over the 
 waves ! And there goes a rocket ! We 
 can see her plainly enough now — as 
 plainly as she can us — and so near, just 
 on our port bow ! We are lost beyond 
 hope ; yet the ladies are calm and mo- 
 tionless, and the children are sleeping 
 quietly below. Ha ! there it comes — a 
 shot. " Take care ! " There is a daz- 
 
BERMUDA IN BLOCKADE TIMES. 
 
 341 
 
 zling glare like a flash of sheet lightning, 
 a deafening roar from the guns, and all is 
 gloom again. The blue light has burned 
 out. " Any one hurt ? Were we struck ? ' ' 
 " No." " All right ; pitch in the rosin, 
 engineer, and shove ahead ! Hard-a- 
 starboard there at the helm ! " There is 
 no occasion for further silence now. It 
 is simply a question of superior speed. 
 The swift craft doubles on her track like 
 a swallow, and stands directly out to sea. 
 In ten minutes she is safe. Still, the 
 engines do not cease their effort, but all 
 night long she leaves the coast at swiftest 
 speed, outward bound for Bermuda. 
 Vigilance is not relaxed. By day there 
 are lookouts stationed aloft, and every 
 craft like a steamer is carefully shunned ; 
 at night, again, lights are out as before ; 
 and so, day after day, until at length the 
 tall beacon on Bermoethes flashes out its 
 friendly blaze, the steamer runs in under 
 the rocky shore, and the rattle of the 
 cable over the bows tells that she is safely 
 anchored in the roadstead. 
 
 In the early morning, with a negro 
 pilot on board, the vessel steams tortu- 
 ously through narrow channels among 
 picturesque islands, — some bald and wave- 
 worn, and others crowned with snowy 
 cottages nestling in groves of cedar, with 
 weather-stained ruins and grim martello 
 towers from which great cannon bristle, — 
 and rounding a point abruptly, comes at 
 once in full view of the romantic port of 
 St. George's, with its crowded shipping, 
 its white and yellow limestone houses, its 
 tropical trees, with their great broad 
 leaves, its many skiffs and row-boats pass- 
 ing to and fro, and the grand old hill 
 behind, with its signal-station and frown- 
 ing battery. There the blockade-runner, 
 had no fear of Federal cruisers, albeit 
 their ports might yawn and cannon bristle 
 within pistol range. 
 
 At only one other spot on the globe 
 could be seen in those days the same 
 commercial features that made Bermuda 
 attractive to those interested in keeping 
 open the outlet for cotton. As at Nassau, 
 so here, the attention of the stranger 
 entering the harbor was at once attracted 
 to the sharp and graceful outlines of the 
 numerous lead-colored steamers that lay 
 at anchor in the stream or moored along- 
 
 side the wharves ; and among all the 
 miscellaneous shipping, but two flags 
 were conspicuous — the cross of St. 
 George and the Rebel flag, the one with 
 its crimson field and the other with its 
 field of snowy white. The Stars and 
 Stripes were not numerous, for fear of 
 Rebel cruisers had induced the Federal 
 vessels to seek the protecting aegis of the 
 British flag. On shore, long lines of cot- 
 ton bales lay piled upon the wharves ; 
 vessels bound to trans-Atlantic ports were 
 busily loading with the precious staple ; 
 gangs of stalwart blacks sweltered in the 
 sun as they plied their cotton hooks. 
 Then, if ever, the negroes of Bermuda 
 had fallen upon " flush times." A crown 
 was as easily earned as a shilling used to 
 be. Boating seemed to be the favorite 
 employment of both sexes. Fleets of 
 skiffs and small craft of all descriptions 
 thronged like bees around a newly ar- 
 rived ship. Negroes of every size and 
 hue clung to her sides and clambered up 
 the rigging, anxious to earn a sixpence 
 by putting passengers ashore. Ebony 
 Venuses, in short frocks and palm-leaf 
 hats with enormous brims, vied with 
 greasy and dilapidated Sambos for cus- 
 tomers. Six boats insisted upon carrying 
 the same passengers. There was always 
 a ridiculous rivalry at the foot of the 
 gangway ladder, and an incessant bandy- 
 ing of epithets and threats. And when 
 some official barge hauled in alongside 
 with vigorous sweep of oars, there was a 
 crash among the lighter skiffs, a clatter 
 of oars and paddles, a jargon of angry 
 voices, a dodging of woolly pates, and 
 a rolling of whites of eyes that threatened 
 disaster somewhere. 
 
 The passenger who was fortunate 
 enough to run the gauntlet of this rivalry 
 successfully, did not find St. George's a 
 specially attractive place ; nor will he 
 to-day. The hot sun streams up from 
 the dazzling white of its narrow limestone 
 street and is reflected again from the 
 walls on either side. Houses, neat and 
 substantial enough, but without architec- 
 tural plan, are inconveniently placed in 
 the path just where one wishes to go. 
 Streets, lanes, and alleys intersect each 
 other in labyrinthian perplexity. The 
 banana and pawpaw grow in most im- 
 
342 
 
 BERMUDA IN BLOCKADE TIMES. 
 
 
 probable places, and dispute with the 
 cottages for their sites. Descending the 
 hilly roads, the foot slips into a gully, 
 and going up, the toe encounters an in- 
 convenient rock. Soldiers in red coats 
 flash like flambeaux at every turn, and 
 everywhere sailors, blockade-runners, cit- 
 izens, merchants and lascivious mulatto 
 women congregate like people at a fair. 
 The plaza or open square is crowded with 
 lazy negroes who have nothing to do ; 
 not far away, among the shipping, is a 
 camp of black women, huddled like gyp- 
 sies around their pots and fires, engaged 
 in cooking for such as are hungry and 
 not curious as to culinary secrets. Near 
 at hand is the market wharf, crowded 
 with fishing boats, whose sable proprie- 
 tors skin huge fish with dexterous knives 
 as easily as one draws off his glove. 
 These will always give good weight for 
 an extra price per pound. Trade is ac- 
 tive in all the shops, and not one but has 
 some interest in the blockade. The beer 
 and gin shops drive a thriving business ; 
 the clothing shops coin money ; and in 
 the larger establishments huge piles of 
 blockade goods fill every nook and 
 cranny. Every one has his hands full of 
 business. Ships cannot bring supplies 
 fast enough. Shops are repeatedly emp- 
 tied and replenished. The large hotels 
 cannot begin to accommodate all who 
 apply, even though the charges are exor- 
 bitant. Supplies of coals constantly ar- 
 rive for the blockade runners, and many 
 a swift steamer that comes from England 
 finds her most profitable venture in the 
 direction of a Confederate port. 
 
 Such was the aspect of things in the 
 once lethargic, staid old town of St. 
 George's during the palmiest days of the 
 blockade. Who will say that the social 
 benefits derived equalled the pecuniary 
 profits? What old resident did not 
 shudder at the corruption that danced 
 attendance upon a feverish trade. As 
 every project and every venture, in those 
 days, looked toward the southern coast, 
 of course the inhabitants were intensely 
 "secesh." More than one resident of 
 the islands ran the blockade to fight the 
 battles of the South. The songs of 
 " Dixie " and the " Bonny Blue Flag " 
 were heard everywhere. Even the negroes 
 
 caught the infection, and sang how "Jeff 
 Davis is a gentleman and Abe Lincoln is 
 a fool." Confederate papers were re- 
 ceived almost semi-weekly. Confederate 
 flags were chalked upon the walls and 
 gateways. Pictures of prominent south- 
 erners and of Rebel cruisers adorned the 
 photograph galleries. Almost every house 
 had some memento of the Confederacy. 
 British goods were always in great de- 
 mand by the blockade runners, for they 
 would have no dealings with Yankees. 
 Accordingly in the shops could be found 
 bushels of Connecticut pins and cases of 
 Massachusetts shoes marked "London," 
 elegant felt hats from New York labelled 
 " Paris," and good, old Irish whiskey 
 from New Jersey ; for there were many 
 articles that could be purchased cheaper 
 in the United States than in Europe, and 
 the laws of trade are inflexible ■ — " the 
 longest pole knocks down the most per- 
 simmons." And so quantities of these 
 goods found place in blockade cargoes 
 to the great profit of speculative patriots 
 in the Northern States. 
 
 In that period of promiscuous scram- 
 bling for wealth, it was a relief to escape 
 from this contaminating atmosphere of 
 St. George's to shake the dust from the 
 feet, and fly at a spanking gait over the 
 hard lime road toward Hamilton. It is 
 the regular mail route, and a finer road is 
 seldom seen. It is a luxury to drive over 
 such a road. The breeze almost always 
 blows fresh from the ocean and tempers 
 the heat of the ardent sun. Elegant 
 equipages are encountered at frequent 
 intervals, for they have fine carriages in 
 Bermuda. The wheels fly around with 
 a low, pleasant clatter as they reel off the 
 easy miles, and the horses step off over 
 steep ascent and level way alike, with a 
 gait that never flags. 
 
 Seldom is found more varied or 
 picturesque scenery than among the 
 islands of Bermuda. There are wooded 
 dells as secluded as if far remote from 
 sea, where mangroves grow and the aroma 
 of the sage bush perfumes the air. There 
 are dark avenues of cedars, whose dense 
 foliage shuts out the sun. Here, on a 
 rising knoll, an aristocratic cottage peers 
 out from among palmetto groves and 
 clustering banana and pawpaw. Hedges 
 
BERMUDA IN BLOCKADE TIMES. 
 
 343 
 
 of oleander in luxuriant bloom grow high 
 above the limestone walls that gird the 
 road, and through the vista we catch a 
 glimpse of the blue ocean beyond. Then 
 an abrupt turn in the road leads to a nar- 
 row neck of land and reveals an unob- 
 structed view. On the right is the broad 
 expanse of ocean, with snowy sails pen- 
 cilled on the far horizon, and sparkling 
 lines of foam that break over the coral 
 reefs nearer shore ; on the left, an archi- 
 pelago of islets — some of them densely 
 wooded — with outlines sweeping grace- 
 fully into all conceivable curves, while 
 others are mere isolated hummocks of 
 rocks, where the surf never ceases to 
 thunder. Now we cross a substantial 
 bridge that joins two islands, and looking 
 over the rail down into the deep green 
 water, twelve feet or more, can see the 
 large fish sporting on the bottom. Then 
 there is a ferry to cross, and after that the 
 road skirts the rocky shore so closely that 
 one can toss a pebble into the emerald 
 sea and hear the sough of the waves that 
 mom and murmur in the selfsame caves 
 that Calaban knew of long ago. Here 
 are rocks chafed into every fantastic 
 shape by the angry surges which in storms 
 dash far over the roadway. At intervals, 
 pieces of wreck are strewn — relics of 
 fated ships lured to destruction by the 
 siren voices of sweet Bermuda, so peace- 
 ful when the sea is calm. At intervals 
 great watertanks are cut into the rocky 
 hillside to catch the rain, for the Ber- 
 mudians have no wells, and must pro- 
 vide against times of drought. Approach- 
 ing Hamilton, the road turns inland 
 again, cut through the solid rock in many 
 places, and winding over hill and dale, 
 through shady groves of cedar ; past 
 elegant mansions, half hidden by foliage 
 and protected from intrusion by massive 
 walls, whose tops bristle with spikes of 
 broken glass laid in cement ; past little 
 patches of arrowroot and sweet potatoes ; 
 then through avenues of palmetto and 
 China trees, that lead up to a pretty 
 chapel and its churchyard ; and at last to 
 the coast again, where there are romantic 
 little bays with houses perched upon the 
 very shore, ornamental gardens shut in bv 
 seawalls, boat-houses, bathing-houses, and 
 jaunty yachts at anchor. 
 
 All the buildings in Bermuda are built 
 of limestone, for the whole island is but 
 a quarry ; and when a carpenter wishes to 
 build, he takes his saw and saws himself 
 a house from the material at hand. The 
 people are aristocratic, but hospitable ; 
 the mansions elegant, the gardens spa- 
 cious and beautiful ; the shaded avenues 
 and suburban retreats afford many de- 
 lightful drives. 
 
 At Somerset are fine farms and grazing 
 fields for the cattle that are brought from 
 New York and Nova Scotia for the Ber- 
 muda market. At Ireland Island are 
 spacious storehouses for the garrison, an 
 iron floating battery, several strong forti- 
 fications, and an extensive quarry. Here 
 also are some of the finest docks in the 
 world, all built by convict labor that ex- 
 tended through many years of toils (for 
 Bermuda was a penal colony once), and 
 here are the huge wooden hulks in which 
 they were confined, still moored to the 
 quay. Some men-of-war are always sta- 
 tioned here. 
 
 What more need be said in praise of 
 Bermuda, or in descriptive detail? It is 
 true that the flush times of the old block- 
 ading days have passed away. The 
 golden gains they then enjoyed were as 
 transitory as the so-called Southern Con- 
 federacy itself. The commercial fabric 
 upon which many hopes were built has 
 crumbled. The motley crowd of specula- 
 tors and cormorants that thronged her 
 streets is dispersed forever. Her wharves 
 no longer swarm with shipping. Once 
 more she has lapsed into the healthful 
 quiet of her former peaceful life. The 
 little colony lives and moves in blissful 
 independence of the vexed questions that 
 distract the world outside, unmoved by 
 the turmoil of political strife. Her gov- 
 ernor regularly draws his ample salary, 
 her legislators receive their stated pay for 
 settling the momentous affairs of the 
 island, and the citizens are happy in the 
 possession of a sufficiency of the good 
 things of this life. Invalids still seek the 
 genial atmosphere of her winter months, 
 and hold their visits always in kindly 
 remembrance. Happy is Bermuda ! no 
 longer vexed with the fever of excite- 
 ment that was attendant on the block- 
 ade. 
 
HENRY CLAY AS SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE. 
 
 By Mary Parker Folk ft 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING all that has 
 been written about Henry Clay, his 
 Speakership has been neglected. 
 It was overshadowed by his later career. 
 Yet had Clay's public life ended in 1825, 
 with the close of his service as Speaker, 
 that alone would have marked him as one 
 of the greatest of Americans. The ac- 
 counts of Clay's Speakership are based to 
 a great extent on reminiscences and hear- 
 say, rather than upon the records. It has 
 been my purpose to supplement the per- 
 sonal narrative by use of the Congres- 
 sional Journals and Debates. This ma- 
 terial has peculiar value because it dis- 
 proves the assumption that the political 
 development of the Speaker's power dates 
 from recent times. I hope to be able to 
 show that Henry Clay was the first polit- 
 ical Speaker. 
 
 The choice of Clay as Speaker of the 
 House of Representatives in 181 1 marks 
 a great change in the spirit of the Amer- 
 ican people, — a change, first, in the objects 
 of their national system, and, secondly, in 
 the parliamentary methods by which those 
 objects were attained. In 181 1, the ac- 
 tive young Republicans, who were boldly 
 taking matters into their own hands, re- 
 belled against their cautious elders, and 
 demanded a more vigorous policy. War 
 with Great Britain was the emphatic cry. 
 President Madison was unfit to direct 
 military operations. Congress had shown 
 weakness and timidity. A crisis had 
 come when the nation needed a new 
 leader, and needed him in a position 
 which should correspond to his conse- 
 quence and power. The natural leader 
 of that moment was Henry Clay. That 
 the position he was given from which to 
 lead the country was the chair of the 
 House of Representatives is a fact of 
 great significance. 
 
 The new principles set forth during 
 Clay's long service were, first, the in- 
 crease of the Speaker's parliamentary 
 power ; secondly, the retention of his 
 personal influence ; and, thirdly, the estab- 
 
 lishment of his position as legislative 
 leader. As a presiding officer Clay from 
 the first showed that he considered him- 
 self not the umpire, but the leader of the 
 House. His object was clearly and ex- 
 pressly to govern the House as far as 
 possible. In this he succeeded to an ex- 
 tent never before or since equalled by a 
 Speaker of the House of Representatives. 
 Clay was the boldest of Speakers. He 
 made no attempt to disguise the fact that 
 he was a political officer. Speakers now, 
 to be sure, following the example of such 
 predecessors as Clay, seek to give their 
 party every possible advantage from their 
 position in the Chair ; yet, on occasions 
 when nothing is to be gained, they at- 
 tempt to keep up the fiction of the 
 Speaker as a parliamentary officer. But 
 Clay had no thought of effacing himself 
 in the least degree. He allowed no op- 
 portunity of expressing his attitude on the 
 subjects that came before the House to 
 pass unused. When in 181 2 the repeal 
 of Non-intercourse came up, instead of 
 simply throwing his casting-vote with the 
 nays, he took occasion to express " the 
 pleasure he felt in having opportunity to 
 manifest his decided opposition to the 
 measure." He was the first Speaker, 
 moreover, and one of very few, to vote 
 when his vote could make no difference 
 in the result. He demanded the right 
 for the first time when the attempt was 
 made in 1817 to pass the Internal Im- 
 provement bill over the President's veto. 
 Often ',-lay was very arbitrary. When 
 Mr. Winrhrop became Speaker, Clay gave 
 him this advice : " Decide promptly, and 
 never give the reasons for your decisions. 
 The House will sustain your decisions, 
 but there will always be men to cavil and 
 quarrel over your reasons." His concep- 
 tion of the Speakership was too wide for 
 the canons of parliamentary law of that 
 time. When an aim was set clearly be- 
 fore him, he was too impatient to think 
 of choosing between proper and improper 
 means. He took the means which would 
 

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