Cowardice cripples Yankee raid on Galveston

On Jul. 25, 1861, three months after President Lincoln ordered a blockade of all southern ports, the United States Navy sent a ship to seal off Galveston Bay, and the frigate Santee relieved the original vessel of the lonely watch in mid-September.

 

Bored by seven weeks of uneventful guard duty, Lt. James Jouett volunteered to lead a daring nighttime attack on Nov. 7 against the General Rusk, a steam-powered man-of-war anchored near the Rebel fort on Pelican Island. Relying upon the element of surprise, Jouett hoped to overwhelm the crew and scuttle the fighting ship before the Rebs knew what had hit them. If his main objective proved unattainable, he would seize the , an armed schooner.

 

Through the pitch-black darkness, 40 nervous sailors rowed two small launches the seven miles to the target. Slipping into the well-defended harbor, they glided unseen past the and pulled alongside the General Rusk.

 

That was when Lt. Jouett’s troubles began. His launch went aground and was rammed moments later by the second boat. The loud collision awoke the sleeping Confederates, who immediately manned the General Rusk’s four large cannons. Outgunned and outnumbered, Jouett wisely moved onto easier pickings.

 

At point-blank range, Jouett’s gunner, a fearless fellow named Carter, blasted a gaping hole in the center of the just below the water line. Scrambling aboard the schooner with pistol blazing, Carter stood off the Confederates while waiting for reinforcements.

 

The one-man boarding party was in for a long wait. No sooner had the gunner left the launch than it came under fire not from the Rebs but the second boatload of Yankees. Mistaking their comrades for secessionists, the shaken seadogs killed Jouett’s pilot and coxswain before fleeing for their lives.

 

Maneuvering the blood-soaked launch back into position, Lt. Jouett shouted over his shoulder as he climbed up the side of the schooner, “Now is your time! Come on board!”

 

Blinded by thick smoke, Jouett did not see a pikes-winging Rebel until the blade pierced his right arm and stuck in his side. Oblivious to the pain, he shoved the assailant into the sea and continued his frantic search for the gunner.

 

When Jouett at last found Carter, he was not only alive but master of the vessel. The surviving members of the crew had withdrawn belowdeck to make a final stand. However, at the same instant he realized victory was his, Jouett noticed the gunner and he were all alone.

 

Running to the rail, he could not believe his eyes. The scared sailors had not budged from their seats and now were casting off for calmer waters. With a superhuman effort, the lieutenant leaped into the launch and at sword point forced his men aboard the.

 

There was not a moment to lose. The schooner was on fire and sinking, and snipers on shore were improving their aim with every shot. From across the bay, several steamers were bearing down on the Yankee raiders.

 

Though seriously wounded, Jouett had to act fast. As he coaxed the enemy crew out of the hold, his own men again ran out on him. Weak from loss of blood, he did not have the strength to chase them down.

 

Instead, the outraged gunner gladly handled the chore. “Go back, cowards!” Carter shouted. “Go back and tell your shipmates that you deserted your officers!” Simple shame or fear of a court-martial caused spines to stiffen, and the two-time turntails helped load the prisoners into the launch.

 

As the burning faded in the distance, the incorrigible cowards once more lost their nerve. “My God! Here come the steamers!” they screamed in terror. “They’ll run us down!” Jouett restored order by threatening to shoot the next man that made a sound.

 

The Confederate captain shook his head in amazement and complimented his captor. “I don’t know who you are but damn me if you ain’t a brave fellow. Deserted twice by all your crew and yet got the vessel.”

 

But Jouett and his right-hand man were not out of the woods. Even though the captain of the Santee failed to light the way home, the lion-hearted lieutenant somehow stayed conscious and evaded pursuit until daylight revealed the mother ship..

 

In his report, Lt. Jouett kept quiet about the mass cowardice of the Galveston raiding party, an omission that satisfied superiors eager to conceal the troubling truth from the northern press. The whole sordid story was not told until 1879 because, as Jouett recalled, “at that critical period of the war, the scandal would have resulted in injury to the service.”

 

The “Houston Press” and “Houstonia” magazine recently interviewed Bartee about his new book “Texas Boomtowns: A History of Blood and Oil.” You can read both interviews on his website barteehaile.com.