At daybreak on the morning of March 13,1862, Federal gunboats commenced a bombardment of the shore at Slocumās Creek about twelve miles below New Bern by water in preparation for the landing of troops. Lacking the numbers and artillery to hold New Bern, the North Carolina troops retreated inland to Kinston, but the loss of New Bern, nearby Morehead City, and the smaller ports of North Carolinaās Outer Bank was a serious blow. Troops were rushed into the state from Virginia.
THE SPY OF MOREHEAD CITY
Outer Banks of North Carolina
There was a macabre quality about the scene, as if the curtain had risen on some infernal tableau. Fog from the marsh billowed about the figures like smoke, and the light of a lantern added to the eerie effect, tinging the mist an ugly, sulphurous yellow.
Each man grappled to gain an advantage over the other. The one in jacket and seamanās trousers was short and stocky, while his adversary was tall and attired in a flowing cloak. A sharp cry of pain came from the seaman as he reeled from a blow to the mid-section. Mist closed in to conceal the pair, parted again, and in that instant when the fog lifted the cloaked figure raised his arm high. Down came the blade of a knife like a shining silver streak.
It was March 10, 1862, the second year of the War Between the States. Unaware of the bloodshed ahead, the dunes and marshlands of the Outer Banks lay in their hushed windswept isolation as they had for centuries.
At Crab Point in Morehead City, twenty-two-year-old Emeline Pigott brought supper to the Confederate soldier hiding in her familyās storeroom. As she left him she heard a knock at the front door.
It was Mr. Edwin Forsyth, a wizened little man with a tanned face and sharp bright blue eyes, a frequent visitor.
āCome in. Iāll call my father,ā said Emeline Pigott. Waiting for her fatherās arrival, she cringed at the sound of a faint cough from the direction of the soldierās hiding place. Had their visitor heard? With her back to him she quickly feigned a cough herself. Forsyth had always been a good friend but one couldnāt be too careful. Emeline did not breathe easy until she heard her father close the front door behind his caller.
A stroll would slow her rapidly beating heart. She slipped quickly outside into the darkness and mist. Her father would try to discourage her going alone at night, if he knew about it, but she would not be long. Wearing a dark coat with a fitted bodice and full skirt and covering her hair with a white scarf to protect it from the misting rain, Emeline Pigott hurried along the empty road.
Reaching the corner of Evans and Arendell, her pace slowed. Before her lay the backwater of the Newport River, and as she made her way along the narrow winding path, she heard the faint night sounds from the water. Her tension gradually ebbed.
Stopping for a minute to retie the slipping head-scarf, she thought she heard a muffled sigh, but she dismissed the sound. It was unlikely that anyone would be out here at this hour. How foolish such thoughts were! Then, in one chilling moment, a hand shot swiftly across her mouth, and a strong arm encircled her waist.
āDonāt scream. There is no one to hear you.ā Emeline felt a terrible thrust of fear. He was right. āNod your head, if you promise not to scream, and I shall drop my hand.ā She nodded vigorously.
Standing before herāas if he had either descended from heaven or sprung from hellāstood a tall figure in a long dark cloak. Emeline did not cry out.
āAre you a Confederate sympathizer?ā he asked.
She looked at him, realized that he was a Federal naval officer, and didnāt answer. He asked her again more kindly. Now she heard the traces of his Southern accent, and she managed a faint, āYes, sir.ā
āYou donāt know me, maāam. I have relatives in New Bern, and I came to warn the Confederates. The Union commander plans to burn the Trent River Bridge and attack the town.ā
Emeline gave a shocked gasp. āWhen?ā
āIn twenty-four hours, perhaps less.ā
āWhere, sir?ā
He hesitated but only for a moment. āOur forces will go ashore at the mouth of Slocumās Creek.ā And with that he wheeled and strode off into the darkness. In a few minutes she heard the creak of oarlocks somewhere out on the water.
Suddenly she found herself at the edge of a dim yellow circle of light. As she stumbled and almost fell, her foot encountered something far too yielding to be a log or a piece of driftwood. Sputtering, almost out, a lantern lay overturned on the ground. When she turned up the flame, she was barely able to stifle her scream.
She had stumbled upon a manās body. The eyes were wide open and staring directly up at her. It was a Yankee seaman who was very dead. Had he encountered the officer in the long dark cloak and become suspicious of his presence here? She realized that the Union officer had been searching for someone to take his warning to the Confederates, seen her, and waited until she reached this desolate spot.
Death and intrigue sometimes went hand in hand, she thought. It was a night when a chance encounter was pointing her life toward a great destiny and perhaps great danger. She shuddered.
Then Emeline straightened her shoulders, and it was as if a more determined young woman emerged from within the girlish figure. Now she had a mission. She must reach the Confederates with the Union officerās warning. She would take her fatherās swiftest horse.
Reaching her home at Calico Creek, she hurried to the stable. āSaddle Duke,ā she called out to the stable boy and then headed for the house to change into her riding habit. The dark green jacket set off her creamy skin and auburn hair. As she mounted the big roan a voice at her elbow suddenly spoke and someone grasped the reins.
āWhere do you think youāre going?ā
For a moment she was afraid it was her father. But it was only her brother, Levi, whose voice already was taking on a similar deep timbre.
āTell Papa I left to visit Mary Belle at New Bern and will be back in the late afternoon.ā
āEmeline, where are you really going?ā
āIāll tell you later. Itās an emergency.ā He squeezed her arm affectionately, āGood luck, Em.ā She turned the horse toward New Bern.
She had not ridden far when a voice shouted out of the blackness, āHalt!ā A rider cantered toward her, and she was terrified that it might be a Yankee. It was only a Confederate picket who let her go. The moon was brighter now, the trail easier to follow.
Her horse whinnied, catching the scent of wood smoke from camp fires borne on the fresh salty wind from the sea, and she asked herself, Our boys or Yankees? She began to keep to the center of the trail so Dukeās feet wouldnāt snap the twigs of the brush at either side. She prayed he wouldnāt whinny again, for though they were safely downwind, if the men who had built the fire didnāt hear her, their horses would. Suddenly Duke whinnied and reared up in fear. Emeline began to talk soothingly, reaching down to pat him. As she did her hand touched that of a man.
Terrified, she forced herself to speak boldly.
āTake your hand off my horseās bridle,ā she said, her voice curt. āYouāre endangering the lives of our men with the smoke from your fire.ā
It was another Confederate sentry. āOne of our girls are you? Well, you might be right, maāam, if the Yankees werenāt miles away from here.ā
āNot so far as you might think,ā replied Emeline less sharply, for now that she could see the face of the soldier, her fear subsided. He looked more like a boy with his small pinched features and beardless face. His butternut uniform was shabby, and he wore no overcoat to protect him from the cold. Feeling a sudden wave of sympathy for him, she reached into the saddlebag and gave him her brotherās old woolen gloves. He accepted them gratefully.
āHow far am I from the commanding officerās headquarters?ā she asked, explaining that she had an urgent message to deliver.
āāBout three miles, maāam. When you reach the big oak take the fork where the trail bears left.ā
The clouds thinned, and now she could see the moonāa pale galleon sailing in a wispy trough of clouds. Temporarily the forest trail was drenched by its light. When she reached the fork she was challenged again, this time by an officer who rode out from among a group of Confederates and reined his horse in beside hers. Before he could speak, Emeline demanded to be taken to the commanding officer.
āIām sorry, but Colonel Taylor doesnāt have time to see you. Heās much too busy,ā replied the young captain in a courteous but firm voice.
āIf he wishes to avoid another disaster like Roanoke Island, he will find time to see me.ā The captain gave her a hard stare, and she flushed realizing her words had been impertinent. But she was tired of the obstacles in her path. Observing her determined gaze and her beauty, the officer smiled and motioned for her to follow. He introduced himself, and together they rode through the woods to the commanderās tent, receiving permission to enter.
Colonel Taylor listened with interest, and then his grey eyes bored into hers as if trying to read her true character. āYou might be able to help us a great deal. Would you be willing to gather more information for the Confederacy?ā
Surprised and tired, she hesitated.
āThink about it,ā he said. āIām not asking for an immediate answer.ā
āThe answer is yes. I can tell you that now.ā
āBefore I accept that, young lady, I warn you that if you are caught with any message on your person, you will be executed as a spy.ā
āThe Yankees would shoot me, sir?ā
āHang you or shoot you, one or the other. The fact youāre a woman would be no protection.ā
āThen I must keep from being caught,ā she said gravely, and he nodded.
āIām not able to ride this far often without attracting attention. How could we solve that?ā
āLet me suggest you relay information to your fellow townsman Captain Josiah Pender, or to whomever he recommends.ā Emeline nodded, her large black eyes shining with excitement. Before she left the colonel insisted that she have a glass of sherry and a biscuit. He poured the wine himself from a Waterford decanter, and she sat for a few minutes sipping it before the fire while he asked friendly questions about her home and family.
Then his mood changed and he shook his head. āWell, war clouds continue to darken over our coast.ā He glanced at his pocket watch. āYouāre tired, young lady. McRae, accompany Miss Emeline back to Morehead City, or as far as you deem wise.ā
McRae did as he was ordered, charming his attractive companion on the way. He was a Virginian and knew many important people in Richmond and Washington. Emeline was fascinated by the stories of intrigue. In the capital city top officials in Lincolnās cabinet still socialized with those who secretly sympathized with the Confederacy. She had heard her father and his friends talk of how a woman spy had brought information to General Beauregard of the route the Yankees would take to Manassas and Centreville. Because of her the Confederate victory became a rout, and Beauregard boasted that he had known not only who the commander would be but also how many enemy soldiers there would be, to a man!
Emeline Pigott listened enthralled. Yes! She wanted to be a spy.
Not only intelligent and fearless, she also possessed a sense of destiny. Convinced that the purpose of her meeting that night with the officer beside the marsh had led her to this opportunity to help the Confederacy, she acted without hesitating.
Two days later Emeline waked to the steady roar of heavy cannon fire. It came from the direction of New Bern, and she knew the Federal fleet had gone up the Neuse River to attack just below the town. She remembered Captain McRae. His face had been in her thoughts often. They had discussed how he might come to town dressed as a civilian and serve as a contact himself between her and Colonel Taylor. But in a small village the presence of a stranger was always suspect.
On Friday Emeline spent most of the morning doing needle work, but it was not cross-stitch or embroidery. She was cleverly sewing pockets into one of her petticoats. Noon came and she heard her fatherās foot...