Mrs. Trescot, it seems, spent part of her night in
attendance on a young gentleman of color, who was introduced into the world in
a state of servitude by his poor chattel of a mother. Such kindly acts as these
are more common than we may suppose; and it would be unfair to put a strict or
unfair construction on the motives of slave owners in paying such attention to
their property. Indeed, as Mrs. Trescot says, “When people talk of my having so
many slaves, I always tell them it is the slaves who own me. Morning, noon, and
night, I'm obliged to look after them, to doctor them, and attend to them in
every way.” Property has its duties, you see, madam, as well as its rights.
The planter's house is quite new, and was built by himself;
the principal material being wood, and most of the work being done by his own
negroes. Such work as window-sashes and panellings, however, was executed in
Charleston. A pretty garden runs at the back, and from the windows there are
wide stretches of cotton-fields visible, and glimpses of the river to be seen.
After breakfast our little party repaired to the river side,
and sat under the shade of some noble trees waiting for the boat which was to
bear us to the fishing grounds. The wind blew up stream, running with the tide,
and we strained our eyes in vain for the boat. The river is here nearly a mile
across, — a noble estuary rather, — with low banks lined with forests, into
which the axe has made deep forays and clearings for cotton-fields.
It would have astonished a stray English traveller, if,
penetrating the shade, he heard in such an out-of-the-way place familiar names
and things spoken of by the three lazy persons who were stretched out — cigar
in mouth — on the ant-haunted trunks which lay prostrate by the seashore. Mr.
Trescot spent some time in London as attaché to the United States Legation, was a club man,
and had a large circle of acquaintance among the young men about town, of whom
he remembered many anecdotes and peculiarities, and little adventures. Since
that time he was Under-Secretary of State in Mr. Buchanan's administration, and
went out with Secession. He is the author of a very agreeable book on a dry
subject, “The History of American Diplomacy,” which is curious enough as an
unconscious exposition of the anti-British jealousies, and even antipathies,
which have animated American statesmen since they were created. In fact, much
of American diplomacy means hostility to England, and the skilful employment of
the anti-British sentiment at their disposal in their own country and
elsewhere. Now he was talking pleasantly of people he had met — many of them
mutual friends.”Here is the boat at last!” I had been sweeping the broad river
with my glass occasionally, and at length detected a speck on its broad surface
moving down towards us, with a white dot marking the foam at its bows. Spite of
wind and tideway, it came rapidly, and soon approached us, pulled by six
powerful negroes, attired in red-flannel jackets and white straw hats with
broad ribbons. The craft itself — a kind of monster canoe, some forty-five feet
long, narrow, wall-sided, with high bow and raised stern — lay deep in the
water, for there were extra negroes for the fishing, servants, baskets of
provisions, water buckets, stone jars of less innocent drinking, and abaft
there was a knot of great strong planters, — Elliots all — cousins, uncles, and
brothers. A friendly hail as they swept up along-side, — an exchange of
salutations.
“Well, Trescot, have you got plenty of Crabs?"
A groan burst forth at his insouciant reply. He had
been charged to find bait, and he had told the negroes to do so, and the
negroes had not done so. The fishermen looked grievously at each other, and
fiercely at Trescot, who assumed an air of recklessness, and threw doubts on
the existence of fish in the river, and resorted to similar miserable
subterfuges; indeed, it was subsequently discovered that he was an utter
infidel in regard to the delights of piscicapture.
“Now, all aboard! Over, you fellows, and take these gentlemen
in!" The negroes were over in a moment, waist deep, and, each taking one on
his back, deposited us dry in the boat. I only mention this to record the fact,
that I was much impressed by a practical demonstration from my bearer
respecting the strong odor of the skin of a heated African. I have been wedged
up in a column of infantry on a hot day, and have marched to leeward of
Ghoorkhas in India, but the overpowering pungent smell of the negro exceeds
everything of the kind I have been unfortunate enough to experience.
The vessel was soon moving again, against a ripple, caused
by the wind, which blew dead against us; and, notwithstanding the praises
bestowed on the boat, it was easy to perceive [t]hat the labor of pulling such
a dead-log-like thing through the water told severely on the rowers, who had
already come some twelve miles, I think. Nevertheless, they were told to sing,
and they began accordingly one of those wild Baptist chants about the Jordan in
which they delight, — not destitute of music, but utterly unlike what is called
an Ethiopian melody.
The banks of the river on both sides are low; on the left
covered with wood, through which, here and there, at intervals, one could see a
planter's or overseer's cottage. The course of this great combination of salt
and fresh water sometimes changes, so that houses are swept away and
plantations submerged; but the land is much valued nevertheless, on account of
the fineness of the cotton grown among the islands. “Cotton at twelve cents a
pound, and we don't fear the world.”
As the boat was going to the fishing ground, which lay
towards the mouth of the river at Hilton Head, our friends talked politics and
sporting combined, — the first of the usual character, the second quite new.
I heard much of the mighty devil-fish which frequents these
waters. One of our party, Mr. Elliot, sen., a tall, knotty, gnarled sort of
man, with a mellow eye and a hearty voice, was a famous hand at the sport, and
had had some hair-breadth escapes in pursuit of it. The fish is described as of
enormous size and strength, a monster ray, which possesses formidable
antennae-like horns, and a pair of huge fins, or flappers, one of which rises
above the water as the creature moves below the surface. The hunters, as they
may be called, go out in parties, — three or four boats, or more, with good
store of sharp harpoons and tow-lines, and lances. When they perceive the
creature, one boat takes the lead, and moves down towards it, the others
following, each with a, harpooner standing in the bow. The devil-fish sometimes
is wary, and dives, when it sees a boat, taking such a long spell below that it
is never seen again. At other times, however, it backs, and lets the boat come
so near as to allow of the harpooner striking it, or it dives for a short way
and comes up near the boats again. The moment the harpoon is fixed, the line is
paid out by the rush of the creature, which is made with tremendous force, and
all the boats at once hurry up, so that one after another they are made fast to
that in which the lucky sportsman is seated. At length, when the line is run
out, checked from time to time as much as can be done with safety, the crew
take their oars and follow the course of the ray, which swims so fast, however,
that it keeps the line taut, and drags the whole flotilla seawards. It depends
on its size and strength to determine how soon it rises to the surface; by
degrees the line is warped in and hove short till the boats are brought near,
and when the ray comes up it is attacked with a shower of lances and harpoons,
and dragged off into shoal water to die.
On one occasion, our Nimrod told us, he was standing in the
bows of the boat, harpoon in hand, when a devil-fish came up close to him; he
threw the harpoon, struck it, but at the same time the boat ran against the
creature with a shock which threw him right forward on its back, and in an
instant it caught him in its horrid arms and plunged down with him to the
depths. Imagine the horror of the moment! Imagine the joy of the terrified
drowning, dying man, when, for some inscrutable reason, the devil-fish relaxed
its grip, and enabled him to strike for the surface, where he was dragged into
the boat more dead than alive by his terror-smitten companions, — the only man
who ever got out of the embraces of the thing alive. “Tom is so tough that even
a devil-fish could make nothing out of him.”
At last we came to our fishing ground. There was a
substitute found for the favorite crab, and it was fondly hoped our toils might
be rewarded with success. And these were toils, for the water is deep and the
lines heavy. But to alleviate them, some hampers were produced from the stern,
and wonderful pies from Mrs. Trescot's hands, and from those of fair ladies up
the river whom we shall never see, were spread out, and bottles which
represented distant cellars in friendly nooks far away. “No drum here! Up
anchor, and pull away a few miles lower down.” Trescot shook his head, and
again asserted his disbelief in fishing, or rather in catching, and indeed made
a sort of pretence at arguing that it was wiser to remain quiet and talk
philosophical politics; but, as judge of appeal, I gave it against him, and the
negroes bent to their oars, and we went thumping through the spray, till,
rounding a point of land, we saw pitched on the sandy shore ahead of us, on the
right bank, a tent, and close by two boats. “There is a party at it!” A fire
was burning on the beach, and as we came near, Tom and Jack and Harry were
successfully identified. “There's no take on, or they would not be on shore.
This is very unfortunate.”
All the regret of my friends was on my account, so to ease
their minds I assured them I did not mind the disappointment much. “Hallo Dick!
Caught any drum?” “A few this morning; bad sport now, and will be till tide
turns again.” I was introduced to all the party from a distance, and presently
I saw one of them raising from a boat something in look and shape and color
like a sack of flour, which he gave to a negro, who proceeded to carry it towards
us in a little skiff. “Thank you, Charley. I just want to let Mr. Russell see a
drum-fish.” And a very odd fish it was, — a thick lumpish form, about four and
a half feet long, with enormous head and scales, and teeth like the grinders of
a ruminant animal, acting on a great pad of bone in the roof of the mouth, — a
very unlovely thing, swollen with roe, which is the great delicacy.
“No chance till the tide turned,” — but that would be too
late for our return, and so unwillingly we were compelled to steer towards
home, hearing now and then the singular noise like the tap on a large unbraced
drum, from which the fish takes its name. At first, when I heard it, I was
inclined to think it was made by some one in the boat, so near and close did it
sound; but soon it came from all sides of us, and evidently from the depths of
the water beneath us, — not a sharp rat-tat-tap, but a full muffled blow with a
heavy thud on the sheepskin. Mr. Trescot told me that on a still evening by the
river side the effect sometimes is most curious, — the rolling and pattering is
audible at a great distance. Our friends were in excellent humor with
everything and everybody, except the Yankees, though they had caught no fish,
and kept the negroes at singing and rowing till at nightfall we landed at the
island, and so to bed after supper and a little conversation, in which Mrs.
Trescot again explained how easily she could maintain a battalion on the island
by her simple commissariat, already adapted to the niggers, and that it would
therefore be very easy for the South to feed an army, if the people were
friendly
SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and
South, p. 141-6
