Chronicles of Black Courage - African American Confederate sailor Robert Smalls

Ebony, Nov, 2001 by Lerone Bennett, Jr.

Outside, on the dock, life continued as usual, and the crier called the early-morning hours.

"One o'clock, and all is well!"

"Two o'clock, and all is well!"

One hour later, Robert Smalls donned the braided coat and the wide-brimmed straw hat of Captain Relyea. Mimicking the captain's walk and manner, he gave the signal to light the fires under the boilers. Twenty-five minutes later, the Palmetto and Confederate flags were hoisted, and Robert Smalls, captain of the Planter and of his soul, backed slowly away from the Southern Wharf, blowing the required signal and seeming to be in no hurry to rush away. A Confederate sentry, only 50 yards away, noticed this activity but did not, according to official reports, "think it necessary to stop her, presuming that she was but pursuing her usual business." So it seemed also to other eyes and guards, who noticed that "the Planter, after leaving the Wharf, proceeded along the bay as far, perhaps, as the Atlantic Wharf, where, after a short stoppage and the blowing of her whistle, she was turned and proceeded on her course to sea." During the short stoppage, five women, three children and at least one man boarded the vessel. Among the new passengers were Small's wife, Hannah, who held their newborn son, Robert Jr., in her arms and grasped the hand of their daughter, Elizabeth.

So far, so good.

But there were dangers all around them, and two major threats ahead. The first threat was Fort Johnson on the harbor shore of James Island. Smalls, fighting down an impulse to hurry, steamed past this fort slowly, giving the traditional steam whistle salute. Then he steamed to the second and final test, Fort Sumter, the pentagonal structure whose Carolina gray brick walls rose 40 feet above the water level on an artificial island in the middle of the main ship channel. It was here on April 12, 1861, that the Civil War had started, and an aura of doom and menace surrounded the place.

As the Planter approached the grim exterior of this fort, some members of the crew called for a change of course, saying the plan would never work and that it was best to make a run for it. Suppose, someone said, the guards asked to speak to the captain. What would they do if the sentinels sent a guard to inspect the ship?

There was more than panic in this. For the tide was flowing against the Planter, slowing her progress, and the sun was rising fast.

Undeterred by these complications, Smalls held tenaciously to his course, and his plan. It was at this point, according to one authority, that he put himself and his crew into God's hand, praying: "Oh, Lord, we entrust ourselves into thy hands. Like thou didst for the Israelites in Egypt, please stand guard over us and guide us to our promised land of freedom."

By now it was four o'clock, or thereabouts, and the rising sun was raising the odds against Smalls and his crew. Could he pull it off in daylight? Would the guard see through the imposter?

As the Planter passed under the walls of Fort Sumter, Smalls stood in the pilot house "with his arms folded across his breast, after the manner of" the captain, his head and face shielded by "the huge straw hat which Captain [Relyea] commonly wore on such occasions." Turning his back slightly to the sentinel, and shielding his face, he pulled the cord of the steam whistle, giving the countersign--three shrill sounds and one hissing sound.