Iron Ships, Iron Men

by Christopher Nicole

  As the day grew steadily lighter, Semmes studied the stranger through his glasses once more. ‘The stars and stripes,’ he said with considerable satisfaction. ‘Our efforts have not been in vain. TheGolden Rocket, out of New York. Alter course to close her directly, Mr Kell.’

  The people on the merchantman had by now become aware that they were being approached by a stranger; Rod could see her officers, together with some passengers, clustering on the after deck to stare at this oddly behaving ship, coming so close with the entire Caribbean Sea in which to manoeuvre, pointing in wonderment at her flag, which none of them could have seen before.

  ‘Put a shot across her bows, Mr Bascom,’ Semmes called.

  ‘Aye-aye, sir. Elevate six inches, gunner,’ Rod commanded.

  The long eight-inch barrel slowly rose as the wheel was turned.

  ‘Aim zero one seven degrees.’

  ‘Zero one seven it is, sir.’

  ‘Fire.’

  The gun roared and bucked, and the shot screamed through the air, to plummet into the water only feet in front of theGolden Rocket's bows. She immediately veered to and fro as her helmsman temporarily lost control, but then she was back under command, holding her course, while her crew and passengers lined the rail to stare in consternation at their assailants; several shook their fists.

  Semmes had his speaking trumpet ready as theSumter steadily approached, while Rod had the chaser reloaded, anticipating the next command, as the Yankee ship, far from showing any signs of heaving to, now emitted a puff of smoke from her funnel to indicate she was raising steam to increase her speed.

  ‘Put a ball through her rigging, Mr Bascom,’ Semmes ordered. ‘That fellow seems incapable of taking a hint.’

  ‘Aye-aye,’ Rod acknowledged, and retrained his gun. ‘Fire!’ he commanded.

  This was a perfect shot, at such close range. Hurtling across the merchantman’s foredeck, the ball smashed into the foremast; the huge spar trembled for a moment, and then went crashing over the side, carrying a mass of rigging and cordage with it, and causing the mainmast to tremble. Instantly sail was taken in to prevent this second catastrophe, and theGolden Rocket lost way.

  Semmes stood on the after bulwark of theSumter as she approached, hands twined in the shrouds. ‘Stand by to receive a boarding party,’ he bellowed.

  ‘You, sir, are a pirate,’ replied the captain of the merchantman, face crimson with anger and outrage.

  ‘I am the Confederate States ShipSumter,’ Semmes retorted. ‘And you are my prize. You’ll keep your guns trained, Mr Bascom.’

  ‘Aye-aye,’ Rod acknowledged. The main deck thirty-two pounders were run out, as theSumterin turn lost way abeam of her victim, and only a hundred feet distant. The boat had already been swung out and was now put down, and Kell, accompanied by ten marines, was rowed over the waves, while the crew of theSumterwatched for any overt attempt to redress the situation on the part of the Yankees. But there was none; the merchantmen were too shocked by the unexpected assault to make any aggressive response. TheGolden Rocket’s own boats were lowered and the passengers and crew rowed across to the raider, where Semmes had the remaining marines drawn up in a guard of honour by the gangway to receive them; the boats were immediately returned to the merchantman to be used in unloading her cargo.

  ‘Captain Raphael Semmes.’ Semmes saluted the Yankee skipper.

  ‘John Burton. You, sir, are a pirate,’ Burton repeated.

  ‘You, sir, are out of date with your news of what is happening in the world. I have to inform you that a state of war now exists between the Confederate States of America and the United States of America, and that my instructions are to sink every ship I may discover flying the stars and stripes. I may regret having to do this, but it is my duty.’

  ‘War?’ gasped one of the passengers. ‘You mean, civil war?’

  ‘I mean, a struggle for independence, sir,’ Semmes told him. ‘It is not unknown in our history.’

  ‘You mean to sink my ship?’ Burton turned and ran to the rail. Kell was busily transferring everything of value into the waiting boats.

  ‘You’ll be hanged for this, by God,’ shouted another of the passengers. ‘Those are my goods you are stealing.’

  ‘Contraband of war, sir,’ Semmes replied. ‘Will you gentlemen not descend to my cabin?’

  ‘What are you going to do with us?’ inquired the man who had first spoken.

  ‘I mean to take you into Havana, and there set you ashore. From there I have no doubt you will be able to find a passage to New York.’ Semmes allowed himself a grim smile. ‘Unless you are so unfortunate as to encounter another Confederate warship.’

  They stared at him in consternation, then back at theGolden Rocket. Kell had now completed his task, and his men were rowing back to theSumter; already wisps of smoke were rising from the hatches of the doomed vessel. No one left the deck, as the flames then became apparent, licking up at the masts, glowing at the ports. It was a terrifying, and indeed, horrifying sight to a seaman, as in the burning merchantman they all saw a possible foretaste of their own eventual fates, were they to fall in with a Federal warship.

  Tears ran down Burton’s cheeks as he watched his vessel burn, soon becoming a vast torch from whose deck smoke billowed high into the clear Caribbean air. Semmes understood his distress, and that of the passengers, and ordered his steward to serve them all with glasses of brandy. This generous gesture was clearly appreciated, but they still clustered on deck for the hour it took theGolden Rocket, with a vast hissing noise, to disappear beneath the waves.

  ‘Set course for Havana, Mr Kell,’ Semmes ordered.

  ‘And our goods?’ asked the passenger who had earlier complained, now watching the last of the bales disappearing into the hold of theSumter.

  ‘Anything which can be of use to this ship and her purpose,’ Semmes told him, ‘will be appropriated. Everything else will be sold at auction in Havana.’

  ‘And you do not consider yourself a pirate?’

  ‘I am a Confederate officer, carrying out his duties,’ Semmes said sternly.

  *

  They made Havana two days later, and he was as good as his word, setting the prisoners ashore, and selling that part of the cargo he could not use. The money was partly used to fill his coal bunker. Everyone understood this might become a problem later on, as the other nations of the world chose sides in the American struggle, or opted for the strictest neutrality, but for the moment the Spaniards could not have been more helpful. If they had heard that fighting had broken out between the rival factions in the States, they as yet had no idea of the size or bitterness of the contest, nor could they properly evaluate theSumter's role at this moment, having had no orders from Madrid on whether or not the Confederacy was to be recognised as a belligerent.

  Even the American Consul was taken by surprise, although he reacted quickly enough, and stormed down to the dock to demand that the Confederate raider be arrested as a pirate, having of course been applied to by Captain Burton and his passengers. This attempt failed, but Semmes kept his men on the alert the entire time they were in port, in case it became necessary to make a hasty exit. ‘Make no mistake,’ he told his officers. ‘These are the good times. Things will change in another few months, as word gets about, and the Federals start seriously looking for us, and their consuls are prepared in advance for our arrival.’

  Once that happened in the Western Hemisphere, Rod gathered, he intended to sail for Europe to refit, and to interfere with the American carrying trade to and from the old continent. Meanwhile, for the next few weeks they did indeed prosper, boarding and burning several more vessels at the bottom end of the Florida Passage, and taking their crews to within a safe distance either of Cuba or one of the Bahamian islands before allowing them to row ashore. Their good fortune was even abetted by the weather, for although it was now late July and approaching the height of the hurricane season, the winds remained light.

  Up till now their victims h
ad all been reasonably small vessels, but the day came, at the beginning of August, when they sighted, south of them and steaming north into a light breeze, a screw barque roughly double their own size.

  ‘Now there is a ship,’ Kell said, studying her through his binoculars. ‘If she is a Yankee ...’

  ‘We must have her,’ Semmes agreed.

  By now every man on board theSumter knew exactly what to do, and went about his duty with a practised certainty. Not the least of Semmes’ achievements, Rod recognised, was the way he had welded his crew of foreigners into a willing instrument of war for the Confederate cause. Of course he had been helped by enjoying continuing success; no one had had an opportunity to become bored, and everyone knew that the prize chest was steadily growing. But still this remained the happiest ship Rod had served on.

  As the two ships were on converging courses, theSumtercontinued under sail alone, running before the light northerly breeze, although steam was up and Mr Brooks was waiting for the word of command. Also the guns were kept concealed, although they were all loaded — there could be no question of a chase here, as the larger vessel would have the greater speed. So surprise was essential. The crew of the barque were clearly interested in the stranger, but concerned only to greet her as theSumter was also flying the stars and stripes. It was not until the two ships were within a few hundred yards of each other that the orders came from the bridge in rapid succession. ‘Set the ensign, Mr Kell. Hand your canvas, Mr Chapman. Put a shot across her bows, Mr Bascom. Full steam, Mr Brooks. Starboard your helm, coxswain.’

  The sails came down, the Confederate flag fluttered to the mizen trunk, the ship turned smartly across the bows of the big merchantman, and the eight-inch roared to send a shot into the sea directly in front of the vessel. There was the usual scurry and pandemonium on board the other vessel, her crew and passengers clearly not understanding what was happening. But another shot from the eight-inch caused her to obey the summons to surrender; her engine was stopped and she lay quiet on the waves, rolling gently.

  Kell took possession of her, while Semmes greeted her officers and passengers, amongst whom were several women and children, with his usual courtesy, and turned aside their protests with his usual firmness. Her name was theBoston Queen, and she was on passage from Rio de Janeiro to her home port; no one on board had any idea what was happening in the States.

  ‘The fortunes of war,’ Semmes told her captain. ‘But as you have women and children on board, we will deliver you into Havana Harbour.’

  Unloading so large a ship was obviously going to take some time, not the least valuable item of her cargo being a still large coal supply; she had apparently been favoured with fair winds for most of her voyage and had scarcely used her engine before this very day. Semmes was delighted, as he would not now have to ask the Spanish authorities for bunkering service; he had his suspicions that their feelings towards him might have changed during his month’s absence, both under the protests of the American consul, and also from the arrival of a steady stream of survivors with their tales of having been set upon by Confederate pirates.

  It was while this unloading process was continuing that Kell himself returned to theSumter and took his captain aside. ‘That is a very fine ship, Raphael,’ he said. ‘Too good to sink. Were she returned to a Southern port she could be fitted out as a commerce destroyer twice as powerful as ourselves.’

  Semmes stroked the waxed ends of his moustache. ‘Prize taking was not included in our orders.’

  ‘Nonetheless, you are entitled to use your discretion, surely, where something of such value is concerned.’

  Hm,’ Semmes said. ‘Hm. It will mean a prize crew, too.’

  ‘Not a big one,’ Kell argued. ‘She has simply to run the blockade into Charleston or Savannah.’

  ‘Simply, you say. It’ll have to be a good man to do that with a skeleton crew. I cannot spare you, John.’

  ‘We have other good men,’ Kell pointed out. ‘One in particular.’

  Semmes considered for a few minutes longer, then nodded. ‘You’re right, by God. Mr Bascom,’ he called. ‘How many men would you need to take theBoston Queen into Savannah?’

  Heart pounding, Rod made a quick calculation. ‘Leave me sufficient coal so that I need not set sail, sir, and I can do it with ten men, including myself. I would require a coxswain to share the helm, an engineer, six stokers, and a cook.’

  Semmes nodded. ‘Then you will take command of the prize, Mr Bascom. You will deliver her to the port authorities in Savannah, and then you and your people will proceed to Europe by the quickest possible means, travelling in a neutral vessel if you can. You will rendezvous with theSumter in Cadiz, Spain, in two months time. Understood?’

  ‘Aye-aye, sir,’ Rod acknowledged, elation at having been given a command of his own only slightly tempered by the prospects of leaving his comrades and this successful cruise.

  ‘However,’ Semmes continued, ‘you must be certain of one thing; that ship cannot be allowed again to fall into Federal hands. Should such a contingency appear probable, or even possible, then she must be scuttled. I will leave you one boat.’

  Rod nodded. ‘I understand that, sir.’ Semmes gave one of his grim smiles. ‘However, should you be successful in your task, as I am sure you will be, before regainingSumter, you will proceed to Richmond, and there you will give Secretary Mallory a full report of our activities to this point, and our achievements. It can do no harm now to publicise our purpose.’

  Rod nodded, and got to work to select his crew. Every man had to be a volunteer, both because the mission would be at once dangerous and arduous, and because it meant giving up a share of the prize money to be won during the next two months. On the other hand, there would be prize money allotted for those who took the ship home, and a considerable amount of glory as well — if they could do it; he found the nine he required quickly enough, transferred their gear, and got the big ship under way, with himself on the helm.

  He had never handled so large a ship before, nor a screw propeller, and she took a little getting used to. But after some wild yawing he got her under control and set his course. The crew of theSumtergave him three cheers, while the passengers and crew of theBoston Queen lined the rail morosely to watch him sail away. By dusk the raider was hull down.

  For all the great comfort available on board theBoston Queen, there was no time to enjoy it. Rod and Coxswain O’Reilly shared the helming, and when off watch slept on deck beside the wheel; Engineer Croft spent his entire time in the engine room, and his six stokers worked shift and shift, three at a time. Cook Peabody kept hot coffee and regular meals coming. It was a back-breaking schedule for them all, and Rod marvelled that these were the same men he had watched coming aboard theSumter only four months before, and felt that they might require the harshest discipline to be trusted. Semmes had done that simply by the quality of his leadership; with such a crew Rod felt he could sail round the world.

  They flew the stars and stripes as they approached the American coast, while Rod brooded on the best way to penetrate the blockade. TheBoston Queen was clearly a fast ship, and after some reflection he determined to trust to that and surprise rather than attempt to sneak past the cordon at night. That would be to invite the warships to open fire as he did not know the answer to any of the Federal identification signals, and also to risk going aground in the shallows at the entrance to the Savannah River — he had a chart of the area, but had never entered it before, nor had any of his men.

  As they approached the coast two days later, he therefore reduced speed, and gave everyone, including himself, several hours of good sleep, before getting under way again just after midnight. As the sun came up behind the ship, theBoston Queensteamed at full speed over the horizon and into the midst of six Federal steam sloops and gunboats, four anchored and the other two cruising slowly up and down some three miles off Fort Pulaski. With smoke belching from her funnel, and the stars and stripes stiff at her stern, she must b
e making an impressive sight, he thought. And a surprising one. Undoubtedly the Federal warships would by now have been alerted that there was a Confederate raider at sea, but they would also have been given the dimensions of the vessel as well as a description. TheBoston Queenwas clearly too large to be theSumter, nor was she obviously armed. Rod was almost past the warships before someone started signalling him, and then a blank shot was fired, summoning him to heave to for inspection. By now the shore was only a few miles distant, the trees rising above the horizon with every moment.

  Rod himself took the helm. ‘All right, Mr O’Reilly,’ he said. ‘Set the colours.’

  ‘Aye-aye, captain,’ the Irishman agreed, ran down the stars and stripes, and sent the stars and bars aloft in its place. Instantly there was a furious reaction from the Federals. Bugle calls could be heard across the water, even above the growl of the engine, anchors were weighed, and guns run out. To no avail. TheBoston Queen was past them and hurtling at the river mouth. Which represented the next danger, as all buoys and markers had of course been removed by the defenders of the port. ‘You’ll reduce speed, Mr Croft,’ Rod called down the speaking tube.

  ‘Aye-aye,’ came the response, and the grinding of the screw began to decrease.

  The ship lost way, and the vibration diminished. There came a bang from behind them, and then the scream of the shot, which plunged into the sea some fifty yards to their right, sending a plume of water high into the sky. Rod could only grit his teeth and carry on; there was no room for any zig-zagging as the water shoaled. Now O’Reilly was back at his side with the chart, and the stokers on watch below had also come on deck, manning the shrouds to assist in conning the ship.

  ‘Breakers to starboard,’ came the call.

  ‘And ahead,’ came another.

  ‘That’s correct, sir,’ O’Reilly agreed. ‘The channel bends to port about here.’

  ‘Slow ahead, Mr Croft,’ Rod said down the speaking tube, and then spun the wheel to bring the ship round, just in time; there was another explosion and another shot plunged into the sea, only feet from where the ship would have been had she held her course.