St. James was farther out the channel, scouting for deep water, and thus was safe. It was up to Wake and the prize schooner to try their effort to get Annie off, in conjunction with the sloop and Random. An exhausted Wake realized the sun was climbing over the horizon and heating the air. He yelled over to Williams.
“Take our line, James! We’ll try too.”
Turning to the petty officer beside him, Wake struggled to keep his voice calm.
“Set everything she’s got. Every rag aloft and all hands to leeward.”
The jerk on the line as the schooner took the strain startled Wake and he felt her slow and stop. But he heard a chorus of hurrahs from Annie as that vessel slid forward, slowly but inexorably out over the shoal. Once released from the tether of the Annie, all the other ships eased forward toward the St. James a quarter mile further offshore. The report of the leadsman in the port shrouds now sounded more positive.
“By the deep two. Two fathoms.”
“Oh Lordy! Not now.”
Wake turned around at the seaman’s comment and looked astern. At first he could see nothing due to the glare of the rising sun over the trees. Then he was slowly able to follow the pointed arm of the sailor and focus on some movements at the shoreline of the settlement half a mile away. He saw horses and a wagon of some sort. Then he understood. It was the field battery. He had no idea what type of gun it was or its effective range. If it was anything like a navy twelve-pounder then the flotilla was within its destructive power.
Wake shouted over to Rork and Williams on their vessels and pointed at the battery, then up to the sails, gesturing to set more sail and speed up. They instantly understood and followed suit, the risk being that if they grounded at a greater speed the chances of floating off decreased considerably. The hope of getting the ships out the channel now rested on MacDougall in the St. James, who was exploring the waters ahead of the rest to find the deep route. As that thought formed in Wake’s mind he heard a sailor say the same thing to another bluejacket, and he smiled, proud of these men he served with. Whatever would happen, they would stay together.
A faint pop brought his attention back to the shore. There was no telescope glass on the deck and his eyes could not tell what kind of gun it was. A small skipping splash astern was followed by another larger one, a hundred feet ahead and to starboard. The seaman who had just spoken offered another opinion to his shipmate.
“Brass six-pounder, by the sound of it, Roger. Just a toy gun unless you’re close an’ they’re shootin’ grape at ya. Saw ’em when I was a soldierin’ down here in ’56. Useless against the Indians, but the officers insisted we haul ’em damned things about.”
Grateful for the unsolicited information, Wake decided to ignore the Confederate artillery since there really was nothing he could do about it. It was time to concentrate on getting away and finding a naval surgeon for the wounded.
The second shallow area was a rocky reef that was easier to see in the daylight with the sun from astern. A few more desultory shots came from shore, but none came close and the Confederates soon stopped wasting their ammunition. Heeling over with all sail set, the ships and boats kept on sailing until they were in two and a half fathoms and the shoreline of Deadman’s Bay lay four miles to the northeast.
At that point Williams called all the vessels together, hove to under jibs and foresails, with the senior men gathered aboard Annie for individual reports of the situation.
After receiving reports from various people on the status of the flotilla, Williams and Wake conferred alone. Then, looking exhausted but relieved, Williams called the petty officers to the afterdeck, there being too many men for a meeting in his cabin below. A chart of the coast was spread on the deck and the men sat down around it, the first time off their feet since the operation had begun last night. Williams was quick to the point.
“Here is our situation, men. We have two men mortally wounded who will probably die by tonight. Another seven are shot with moderate to minor wounds, all of which require a surgeon’s care immediately to prevent a gangrenous infection. One man, a Unionist refugee, is dead and will have to be buried at sea as soon as possible this morning.
“We also have eleven prisoners in our custody from the settlement and the blockade runner vessels. Finally, we have thirty-four Unionist refugees who we have to get to safety as quickly as is possible. So much for the human factors.
“Now for the ships. The naval schooners are seaworthy, but the Random is leaking considerably from the strain of the groundings. The Rebel schooner, the Princess, and the sloop, Hermosa, are in good shape in spite of a great many bullet holes. Twenty-three bales of cotton and thirty barrels of turpentine were seized, along with a dozen shotguns and pistols. The firearms will be returned to the refugees who owned them.”
Williams smoothed out the chart as he pointed to a place on the coast and continued.
“Our position is about fifty miles from the steamer Clyde off the Suwannee River. She has a surgeon aboard, and with the wind as it is,
