Iron Ships, Iron Men

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘Good shooting,’ Rod muttered, aware that the escape had been entirely fortuitous.

  ‘Sand to port,’ came the call.

  ‘Steady as she goes, sir,’ O’Reilly said. ‘But there is a starboard turn in about a quarter of a mile.’

  ‘Breakers dead ahead,’ came a shout.

  ‘Now, sir,’ O’Reilly said. ‘Hard to starboard.’

  Rod spun the helm, and the ship turned once more. Now the trees and the beach were very close, and here were people watching the fleeing vessel, with more arriving every moment. Rod concentrated on staring at the darkest water ahead of him, snaking into the trees; once behind that screen and they would surely be safe, he felt. But even as they reached the first of the trees there was another huge explosion, and the entire ship trembled. He nearly lost his grip on the helm and only brought the vessel back on course after a yaw which carried him dangerously close to the line of sand running by his port hull. O’Reilly had been sent sprawling when the ship had been struck, as had most of the men on deck; one of the stokers, indeed, had been pitched right over the side. There was no way the ship could be stopped to help him, but he reassured Rod by surfacing some feet away, waving his arm to encourage them on, and then swimming for the shore. Meanwhile O’Reilly scrambled back to his feet, rubbing his head, and looking forward, where smoke was wisping upwards from the gaping hole in the deck where the shell had burst.

  ‘We need the pumps on that, O’Reilly,’ Rod snapped.

  ‘Aye-aye.’ The Irishman hurried towards the blaze, summoning the remaining stokers and Cook Peabody to his aid as he did so.

  Five minutes later the hoses, using water steam-pumped up from the engine room, were sending jets into the flames. Rod knew that the hit, although serious enough, was not in a place to impair the manoeuvrability of the ship at this stage. The deck had been torn up, a section of rail and the one boat they had been left had been shattered, and some rigging cut; but the masts remained standing, and once the fire was under control the ship was in no danger. While now they were virtually out of sight of the Federal squadron behind the trees. Several more shots screamed overhead, but all fell harmlessly into the river or amongst the trees, only exciting the watchers from the shore, who having identified the Confederate flag at the stern of this strange intruder, began to cheer and halloo.

  Thankfully Rod opened the speaking tube. ‘Slow ahead, Mr Croft.’

  ‘Slow ahead it is, sir.’

  Rod looked down at the brown water; now he no longer had the colours to judge depths by. But beyond the next bend he could see the rooftops of Savannah, from the waterfront of which a fleet of small boats was putting out to welcome him. He gave a sigh of relief and contentment, allowed himself to relax, and a moment later felt a slight jar under his hands. Quickly he put the helm to port, at the same time snapping down the speaking tube, ‘Full speed astern, Mr Croft.’

  Croft had felt the impact too. The screw reversed itself, the ship trembled, and brown and white water bubbled out from her stern ... but theBoston Queen did not move. O’Reilly came aft again. ‘Fire’s out, Mr Bascom. But the ship’s on a bank. Now there’s bad luck.’

  Rod wanted to curse in anger. To have accomplished so much, and now to run aground in the moment of triumph. ‘Stop engine, Mr Croft,’ he said sadly, then walked to the rail to look down at the brown water swirling past his hull, gently now as the screw stopped turning and the ship was still. Then he looked at the boats which were arriving from every side. ‘Aground you are, Captain,’ said the helmsman on the nearest. ‘But not to worry. We’ll have you off on the next tide. Meanwhile, you’ll come ashore and have a drink with us. You showed those bluebellies how to handle a ship. Yes, sir, Captain, you sure showed those bluebellies.’

  *

  ‘But that was a great achievement, Lieutenant Bascom,’ Stephen Mallory said. ‘Oh, splendid. I am going to see that Sumter's exploits are made famous. Oh, indeed. And your own in bringing a prize home under the noses of the Unionists. This is some more of what the country needs. Eh, Frank?’

  He looked at Franklin Buchanan, who had joined them in the Secretary’s office in Richmond, whence Rod had made his way, in accordance with his orders from Semmes — a journey of several days from Savannah — to make his report. He thought Buchanan had aged since the last time he had seen him, at Jerry’s wedding to Marguerite; certainly he had lost more hair. But this was probably at least partly due to his ill luck over the action of Maryland in remaining within the Union, which had caused him to become a renegade.

  Now he ran his hand over his balding scalp and then pulled his nose. ‘It’ll make good propaganda, to be sure,’ he said. ‘And redounds to the credit of Captain Semmes, and his people. And you of course, Rod. But ... wars are not won by destroying commerce, save where one of the belligerents, like us, is totally dependent on that commerce.’

  Mallory looked somewhat annoyed that his senior officer should be so pessimistic. ‘Destroying commerce will hit those Northern money grubbers where it most hurts,’ he declared. ‘And coming on top of Bull Run ... you’ve heard about that, Bascom?’

  ‘A little,’ Rod said. In fact, everyone he had met either in Savannah or on his journey north, had been talking of little else, of how Generals Johnston, Beauregard and Jackson had routed a Federal army sent to drive them from the positions around the Manassas Railway junction, close to Washington itself — the only question being asked amongst the jubilant armchair strategists of the South was why their victorious generals had not simply capitalised on their victory by marching on the Federal capital, hanging Lincoln, and putting an end to the war there and then. But that the war was as good as won no one seemed to doubt for a moment; the mood of the country through which he had passed was one of ebullient, and not altogether attractive, jingoism. Certainly there was no real evidence that the southern states might be locked in a life and death battle, nor had there been any sign of unrest amongst the slave population, as might have been expected when a war was actually being fought over their future. ‘They are saying the war is won,’ he remarked.

  ‘I wish it were,’ Buchanan growled.

  ‘It is a long way from being won,’ Mallory agreed. ‘Lincoln is mobilising men on a vast scale, and mobilising industry, too, while we depend entirely on imported materiel. Frank is quite right there. We know we have not the resources to conquer the North, and that was never our intention when we resorted to arms. But if we have the will, and the skill, we can make it too expensive for them to persevere with the crazy idea that they can conquerus, and an honourable peace can be achieved, which will secure us our independence. Bull Run is making them realise that this war is going to be costly, and now the exploits of theSumter and Semmes will make them think again. When we have a whole fleet of commerce destroyers at sea ...’

  ‘Can we ever have such a fleet, sir?’ Rod asked. ‘I regret to say that although we did manage to refloat theBoston Queen, she is going to take some time to repair.’

  ‘We will have such a fleet, given a few months,’ Mallory said. ‘I have already dispatched trusted agents to Great Britain and France to negotiate either the purchase, or the building, of suitable vessels, and these will be available by this time next year.’

  ‘Meanwhile the Federals blockade the Chesapeake, and every port in the country,’ Buchanan pointed out. ‘They must be beaten off, Stephen, or we will not be here this time next year. Winning victories in the field, as you have said, can accomplish nothing where the Unionists can replace every man, every gun, every bullet, ten times over, and we cannot replace them even once. We need a fleet of war, and where are we going to get that?’

  ‘We need one ship,’ Mallory remarked.

  Both naval officers looked at him in surprise.

  ‘Have you gentlemen forgotten our conversation at Wilbur Grahame’s, oh, fifteen months ago? One ironclad warship will disperse the entire Federal fleet.’

  ‘One?’ Rod asked.

  ‘Their ships are made o
f wood. There is not a single iron vessel amongst them. Oh, there is talk of them building one, but they have been talking about that for years. Now you know, Rod, as do you, Frank, that there is no wooden ship afloat can engage an ironclad. No wooden squadron, for that matter.’

  ‘Do we have the resources to build such a vessel?’ Rod asked.

  ‘No we do not. But the British certainly do. And the French.’

  ‘And they will build them for us?’

  ‘No they will not,’ Buchanan declared.

  ‘Now really, Frank, that is defeatist talk,’ Mallory objected. ‘Bulloch is a good man. So is North ...’

  Buchanan snorted. ‘Bulloch may know what he’s about, but James North is a bungler.’

  ‘I believe that between them they will do the job,’ Mallory insisted.

  ‘They cannot, if Great Britain maintains neutrality, as it seems she may well do,’ Buchanan said. ‘Then she will have to abide by the laws of neutrality, the most important of which is that no overt aid can be given to either of the belligerents. Building warships for one side is certainly giving aid.’

  ‘I thought we had some considerable hopes of British intervention on our side, or at least open assistance?’ Rod asked, looking at Mallory, and recalling Wilbur Grahame’s insistence that King Cotton would carry the day.

  ‘Well,’ Mallory admitted, ‘it seems we may have been over-optimistic there, at least in the short term. It appears that there is a considerable stockpile of cotton in England, and so they will not immediately feel any pinch in that direction, and of course the Yankees have agents over there beating the drum about how they are fighting to end slavery, and the British are an emotional people. Having freed their own slaves, and bankrupted one of the most prosperous portions of their empire, they are now anxious to have everyone else make the same mistake. But that does not mean they will not do business with us, and without breaking any neutrality laws, as Bulloch and North well know. So long as the ships being built are not armed in any way, and cannot be demonstrated to be warships in any way, then there is nothing to prevent us ordering them in Great Britain, and taking delivery. We can attend to the arming of them once they are under our flag and outside of British territorial waters.’

  Buchanan was shaking his head. ‘That may just work with your commerce destroyers, which might pass as fast merchantmen. But an ironclad frigate? There is no way that you can disguise the fact that she is meant to be a fighting ship, whether she is actually carrying guns and ammunition or not.’

  ‘We shall see,’ Mallory remarked. ‘I need hardly remind either of you that such a ship is absolutely vital to our cause. Because Frank is right in saying that no matter how often our boys lick the bluebellies, their navy is slowly going to strangle us to death if we let them.’

  Then I can see no hope for the Confederacy,’ Buchanan declared.

  Mallory opened his mouth, closed it again, and looked at Rod.

  Who scratched his head. ‘Have weno resources we can use, here in America? I have heard that we have taken possession of the Norfolk Navy Yard. Surely there was material we could use to build a warship?’

  ‘The Federals saw us coming,’ Buchanan told him. ‘They destroyed all the stores. We took possession of a derelict yard with one half-burned frigate on the stocks. The oldMerrimack. She’d been having engine trouble and was there for an overhaul.’ He pulled his nose. ‘One hulk. I even had her towed up the Elizabeth River when I learned the Union fleet was on its way to the Chesapeake, just in case we could make something of her, but she really is just a hulk with worn-out engines. The only things aboard her worth salvaging are her guns; she has some Dahlgrens. But I haven’t as yet been able to arrange transport for them to any useful place.’

  ‘Then keep them, sir,’ Rod cried enthusiastically. ‘Because there you have your ship, and she will need guns.’

  Mallory frowned at him. ‘What do you propose to do with one wooden warship?’

  ‘Not exactly theGloire,’ Buchanan commented wryly.

  ‘Sir ...’ Rod leaned forward. ‘We do not need theGloire. Our purpose is to drive the Federal Navy from our bays and seaports, or sink them if they refuse to go. We are talking of an armoured coastal defence vessel, nothing more. If it will do the job. Would it not therefore be possible to take the hull of theMerrimack, and build on an iron superstructure, re-arm her, and send her amongst the Federal fleet?’

  ‘By God,’ Mallory objected. ‘Now there is an heroic concept.’

  ‘Wouldn’t work,’ Buchanan said. ‘They’d simply hull her, and down she’d go. If she hadn’t already turned turtle from being topheavy.’

  ‘My point is,’ Rod insisted, ‘that her lack of seaworthiness is irrelevant, in the context of what we require; she is not intended to cross oceans or fight an action at sea. Her fighting will be done in estuaries or harbour mouths — shoal and sheltered waters. It doesn’t matter what she looks like, or how she performs as a ship, so long as she can do the job. So, why don’t we strip all the timber out of the topsides, right down to the water level, and from there upwards build in iron. Then no Federal ship can sink her, because they cannot fire under water. You would in effect have a self-propelled floating battery.’

  ‘Supposing she can ever raise steam again,’ Buchanan grumbled. ‘As I said, her engines are shot. As for working up any speed ...’

  ‘But that too is irrelevant,’ Rod said patiently. ‘She can move as slowly as she likes, so long as she moves. It may even be an advantage to have her moving slowly, inexorably, towards her target. As they will not be able to sink her, the Federals must either cut and run, or stay and be sunk themselves. The effect on morale would be enormous.’

  ‘We could even fit her with a ram,’ Mallory said, caught up in Rod’s enthusiasm. ‘By God, Frank ...’

  ‘It’s a hare-brained scheme,’ Buchanan insisted. ‘But it might just work, save for one thing, which scuppers the whole idea: we don’t have the iron industry even to plate a single frigate.’

  ‘Goddamn it,’ Mallory said. ‘I’d forgotten that.’

  ‘You ... we,’ Rod added tactfully, ‘are still thinking along purely conventional lines. An ironclad, we say, must be clad in iron plates. Why? An ironclad needs to be clad iniron. Whether they are beautifully founded or not is immaterial. We certainly have iron here in the South. We have railway track, for instance.’

  ‘Railway track?’ Buchanan gave a short laugh. ‘You’d armour a warship in railway track?’

  ‘Why not?’ Rod demanded. ‘A few yards of track, laid laterally, and then crossed with track laid vertically, and the whole bolted together ... that might not look very pretty, but I’ll bet it’ll even be stronger than armour plating.’

  Mallory looked at Buchanan. ‘If it’d work, Frank. If it’d work ...’

  Buchanan was again pulling his nose, but not quite so negatively, now. ‘It’s an idea,’ he said.

  ‘How long would it take?’

  ‘Well ... if we really got down to it we could maybe have her ready by next spring.’

  ‘No later. Campaigning is just about over for this year, I guess, but I reckon Lincoln will want to launch an all out attack next year, just as soon as the weather is good enough, and I also reckon he’s going to make a drive on Richmond. We have to have that fleet dispersed by then, or we could face invasion on two fronts, down through Maryland and across the Rapahannock, and up the York Peninsula by a sea-landed force.’

  ‘We’ll have her ready by next spring,’ Buchanan asserted.

  ‘It must be done in the most absolute secrecy,’ Mallory insisted. ‘Not a word of our plan must be released.’ He looked at Rod.

  ‘You have my word for it, of course, sir,’ Rod agreed. ‘I wish only to find a passage for my men and myself, to Spain.’

  ‘Spain?’

  ‘I am under orders to rejoin Captain Semmes in Cadiz, Spain, at the earliest possible moment. That destination is also a secret, sir.’

  ‘Oh, I understand th
at,’ Mallory said. ‘And your men will be sent off immediately. Have you an officer to place in command, or can they be trusted on their own?’

  ‘Seamen, trusted not to desert given half a chance?’ Buchanan inquired.

  ‘My men will report for duty as ordered, sir,’ Rod said. ‘They are the best I have ever sailed with. If you need an additional commander, then Engineer Warrant Officer Croft is your man. But ... am I being relieved of my posting?’

  Mallory looked at Buchanan.

  ‘I want you seconded to theMerrimack the captain said. ‘If I am to have command.’

  ‘And you do, indeed, have command,’ Mallory told him. ‘As of this moment.’

  ‘Well, sir ...’ Rod’s heart was pounding. This was far more to his liking than commerce destroying. To take on the Federal fleet, from the deck of a truly revolutionary warship ...’I would certainly like to sail with Captain Buchanan on such a mission.’ He smiled. ‘Steam with him, at any rate.’

  ‘You shall be my executive officer,’ Buchanan declared.

  ‘Ah ...’ Mallory played with the pencil on his desk, while both naval officers looked at him. ‘It’s a matter of seniority,’ the Secretary explained, unhappily. ‘This fellow Jones ...’

  ‘Don’t speak to me of Jones,’ Buchanan growled.

  ‘Nevertheless, he is a good man, and a faithful officer, and he was a man of experience in the Union navy before adhering to our cause. He also bears a famous name in our naval history. He is, more important, the senior lieutenant available at this moment, and he will have to hold that rank. I am sure Bascom understands.’

  ‘Second officer,’ Rod said sadly, resisting the temptation to add, ‘yet again.’

  ‘A post of honour,’ Mallory insisted.

  ‘On the ship he dreamed up?’ Buchanan growled. But he had been in the navy long enough to understand the requirements of seniority. He leaned across and held out his hand. ‘I’d be proud to have you along, Mr Bascom.’