Iron Ships, Iron Men

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘She is an improved version of the oldVirginia, and she is all we have left with which to defend the Confederacy at sea. God, when I think of the hopes we had of Bulloch’s ironclads, and how close he came to having at least one of them delivered ... what a difference one such ship would have made to the course of this war. Now ... we cannot hope to defeat the Federal fleet on the high seas, with theTennessee; she is, like theVirginia, built for work on rivers and estuaries. But if she is properly fought, we can stop the Federals from taking Mobile, and perhaps gain one last victory for the old stars and bars. That could still be decisive when Lincoln comes to the peace table. Oh, I know Farragut has an immense superiority in force, but consider what that force consists of: fourteen wooden vessels, and the monitors. And only two of the monitors are the new design; the others are exact sisters of the ship you fought in Hampton Roads. And you came damned close to sinking her, am I right?’

  ‘Only by ramming,’ Rod reminded him.

  ‘Exactly.Tennessee has the most powerful ram in the business, and that is exactly how I propose to deal with the monitors. Supposing they survive the torpedoes.’

  ‘Torpedoes?’ Rod asked, frowning.

  ‘Underwater explosives, attached to the river bed by cables so that they float just beneath the surface, out of sight of any approaching warship, but certain to be struck by their keels.’

  ‘By God,’ Rod said. ‘The Russians laid those down off the Crimea ten years ago. And sank two of our ships, too. But they called them mines.’

  Buchanan shrugged. ‘What’s in a name? The important thing is that to strike them means instant destruction, whether the ship is armoured or not. They are absolutely lethal. Between the torpedoes and our ram, we shall deal with the monitors. And then we will have our ironclad in the midst of the Federal fleet, as it should have been in Hampton Roads. That’s why I want you with me, Rod. You have experienced such a battle before. We will win this one, Rod. We cannot fail, providing we all do our duty.’

  ‘I shall be there, sir.’ He felt Marguerite’s fingers eating into his arm, and looked down. ‘I must go, my dear,’ he said. ‘That is my duty, my profession.’

  ‘And you want to go,’ she accused.

  ‘I must want to go, my dearest darling,’ he said. ‘Don’t you want to see the Yankees beaten?’

  She sighed, and her fingers relaxed. Buchanan had observed the exchange with interest, no doubt noting Rod’s use of endearments, but preferred not to comment. ‘I want you on boardTennessee by noon tomorrow, Rod.’ He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece; it showed a quarter to three. ‘Nine hours from now.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Rod stood up. ‘Then I had better take Mrs McGann home. And sir, my heartfelt thanks.’

  ‘I am only sorry you have been given a glimpse of such a very unpleasant side of human nature,’ Buchanan said. ‘I can but promise you it is not solely a southern characteristic, mob violence. Mrs McGann, God speed. I will call at your father’s house after we have driven Farragut back into the Gulf.’

  The Admiral’s barouche was waiting, as was a marine escort. Marguerite, still wearing Buchanan’s housekeeper’s dressing-gown beneath the Admiral’s cape, huddled against Rod as they were driven through the wet streets, now almost deserted; one or two people remained gathered on the corners, gazing at them as they drove by, but either not recognising them or preferring not to show it if they did.

  ‘Rod,’ she whispered. ‘What is going to happen?’

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I agree with the Admiral; I think we have a better than even chance of destroying Farragut.’

  ‘I mean ... afterwards.’ Almost she smiled at her temerity in using that word.

  ‘A lot depends on what happens in the war. Whether we can negotiate an honourable peace, or whether we go down to total defeat.’

  ‘Do you believe we can still negotiate a peace?’

  ‘Yes I do. We need one decisive victory. Destroying the Federal fleet, beating Farragut, would be that victory. There’s an election this year, remember, and not everybody in the North is happy with the way Lincoln has conducted this war, or is conducting it now. They are calling Grant a butcher because he sacrifices so many men to gain each victory. Well, he has got away with it so far because he has been winning, but right now Lee is stalling his every manoeuvre in front of Richmond, and the casualties are still mounting up.’

  ‘But with Sherman coming in from the west ...’

  ‘Sherman still has a long way to go. No, I believe that one serious check now to the Federal plans, and a more moderate man might well come to power in Washington.’

  ‘Will he be able to take back the Emancipation Proclamation?’

  ‘Probably not. But that would be no bad thing.’

  ‘Will he be able to stop people hating?’

  ‘Given time, maybe.’

  ‘Time,’ she said, and shivered. ‘Rod ... I don’t like these people any more. My own people! I came back here to be with them, and now I see that they hate even more than the Yankees. I couldn’t live here any more, Rod. Not ever again, and no matter what happens.’

  ‘We’ll talk about it,’ he promised, for the barouche was pulling to a halt before Wilbur Grahame’s front gate. The sentries took up their positions, and Rod walked Marguerite up the path to the front door, banged on it. It took some time for a Negro housemaid to open it. ‘Well, what is this?’ she inquired. ‘Miss Marguerite? And Mr Bascom? You all knowing the time?’

  ‘Just let us in,’ Rod told her.

  Candles were flaring on the stairs, and Wilbur was on his way down. ‘What the devil ... ? Rod? Where the devil have you been? There’ve been people from the Admiral looking for you.’ He frowned as he saw Rod’s uniform and the bruises on his face. ‘By God, you have been in a fight.’ Then he recognised his daughter. ‘Meg? Good God, you didn’t spring her?’

  ‘I meant to. I have had to rescue her from a lynch mob,’ Rod told him. ‘With the aid of Admiral Buchanan and his marines.’

  ‘Lynch mob? Good God!’ He peered at Marguerite. ‘Did they hurt you?’

  Yes, Marguerite wanted to shout. They hurt me, you silly self-centred man, more than I have ever been hurt before, or even can be again. They hurt me so much I will never stop aching. Instead she said, quietly, ‘I want to see Joey, and then I would like a hot bath.’

  ‘Joey’s asleep. A hot bath. Yes. Connie, you’d better draw Miss Marguerite a hot bath.’

  ‘At four o’clock in the morning, Mr Wilbur?’

  ‘Just do it,’ Marguerite snapped, her voice brittle. The maid scurried for the kitchen, and Marguerite climbed the stairs.

  Wilbur watched her go, scratching his head. Then he looked at Rod. ‘But hell, you brought her here? You reckon that was a wise thing to do? Suppose the mob come here behind her?’

  ‘By Christ,’ Rod said. ‘You have got to be the most yellow-bellied bastard I have ever known. That is your daughter.’

  Wilbur blinked at him. ‘I have Antoinette to think of,’ he complained. ‘She’s not well. And Claudine. Your wife, Rod. She’s real sick. To have a mob coming here ...’

  ‘So quit worrying. Your house is under guard.’

  ‘Under guard?’ Wilbur ran to the front window, pulled the curtain aside, could just make out the figure of the marine sentry at the gate. ‘Well, what the hell?’ It was difficult to decide whether he was relieved or offended.

  Connie the maid was slowly climbing the stairs with the pitcher of hot water, muttering under her breath. Marguerite stood on the gallery watching her, having returned from the nursery. ‘Will you come up, please, Rod?’ she said.

  ‘In a moment,’ Rod replied.

  Marguerite hesitated, then followed the maid into her room.

  Wilbur turned away from the window. ‘I still don’t think she should be here. And then, this open liaison you’re carrying on ... it ain’t decent. That’s the cause of the trouble, you know. Claudine is just plain jealous.’

/>   ‘So jealous she tried to get her sister hanged,’ Rod said.

  ‘She’s your wife ...’

  ‘Not any more. I renounce her.’

  ‘You can’t do that. The church would never agree to it. Neither would I.’

  ‘I don’t give a damn for either the church, or you,’ Rod told him. ‘I can’t imagine why I ever did. Now you listen to me, you spineless toad: I am spending what’s left of the night with Marguerite, and then I am going to join theTennessee and Admiral Buchanan, and hopefully defeat the Federals. When that is over, I am going to come back here. And I had better find Marguerite still here, and well, and happy. Or I am going to wring your Goddamned ugly neck. Do you understand me?’

  ‘You can’t speak to me like that. In my own home? You’re my son-in-law, some no good Limey drifter I picked up when he was on his beam ends. By God ...’

  Rod prodded him on the chest with his forefinger. ‘I have just spoken to you like that, and I intend to do so again, whenever it is necessary. You had better remember that.’

  He went up the stairs. If he was genuinely angry at the way Wilbur had just abandoned his daughter, he was even more exhilarated. He didn’t want to think of what Marguerite had experienced, what she had so narrowly escaped, because he didn’t want to have to hate these people any more. He was happy that Buchanan had come to their aid, and in such a manner, and that Buchanan had wanted him, above all others, for theTennessee. There was a career for him here in these Confederate States of America, under men like Semmes and Buchanan, both of whom clearly had the highest regard for him, and when they were gone, as his own commander. He was sure of it, just as he was sure it would be senseless to turn his back on it. Marguerite was just feeling down in the mouth, and resentful at the way her own people had turned against her. No one could blame her for that. It must be his business both to make her realise that the mob who had attacked her was not representative of her people, and the enormous advantages that could accrue to them both were he to remain with the Confederate Navy, and perhaps rise to the highest rank.

  He knocked, and then opened the bedroom door; the maid stared at him in consternation, mixed with apprehension, for Marguerite sat in her tub in the centre of the floor, washing her hair.

  ‘You can go, Connie,’ Rod told the girl, and she curtseyed and hurried for the door. Rod closed it behind her. ‘How’s the boy?’

  ‘Sleeping. I didn’t have the heart to wake him.’

  He knelt beside the tub, traced the vivid blue bruises on Marguerite’s back and shoulders, her thighs and her arms.

  ‘I’m black and blue all over,’ she said.

  ‘At least they’re coming out.’

  They gazed at each other, and he kissed her. Then he took off his uniform and lifted her from the water, dripping as she was.

  ‘The carpet,’ she said. ‘You’ll want to sleep on the bed.’

  He laid her on the carpet; still she gazed at him, while water soaked the wool to either side of her, making a puddle under her.

  ‘Oh, how I love you,’ she said. ‘To see you at the door in the gaol was the happiest sight I have ever known. But to think of you going away again ...’

  ‘Do you want to, now?’ he asked. ‘Those bruises ...’ he dared not consider the ones in her mind.

  ‘Yes,’ she said fiercely. ‘Now. Make me feel like a woman again, Rod, and not like a thing.’

  He covered her, and made her moan with desire and satisfaction. It had been more than two years.

  ‘Will you come back again?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. Whenever I can, if only briefly. I imagine Buchanan has some plans for when the Federals are defeated, but they can’t extend very far beyond Mobile; we don’t have the ships.’

  ‘And when the war is over?’

  ‘Then I’ll come back for good.’

  ‘And I must stay here until you do.’ She shivered. ‘With Father. And Claudine. And Mother.’

  ‘They’re not going to trouble you now. You’ll be safe here, and you’ll be with Joey. And I will come to see you whenever I get a moment from the ship.’

  She sighed. ‘And with that, I must be content.’

  He dried her, and they went to bed, and made love again, before collapsing into a mutual sleep of exhaustion in each other’s arms. When she awoke he was already dressed in his somewhat tarnished uniform; it was the middle of the morning.

  She sat up, gazing at him. She had no words, or at least, none she would dare speak to him, at this moment. Because they would come out like: What are you doing? Why are you risking your neck, time and again, for people with whom you have nothing in common, for a cause you abhor? Why aren’t you taking me away from here, to new places where we can be free, and never have to look over our shoulders at the seething cesspool we have left behind?

  Did that mean she had nothing in common with these people now, either? They were her people. But it did mean that. She didn’t know if she abhorred their cause or not, now. But if it was a society which could throw up people like James Roebuck, then she wanted no part of it.

  He sat on the bed, took her in his arms. ‘I’ll try to get back just as soon as I can, even if it’s only for an hour,’ he promised. ‘And remember that I’ll only be a couple of miles away, at any time.’

  She nodded. But she knew she had already lost him, at least until after the coming battle. His mind, his whole being, was on board theTennessee. He was a fighting seaman, and he was being offered a fight. She could never have even half of him until this senseless war was over.

  Once she had thought that about Jerry. When the door had closed behind him, she buried her face in her pillow and wept, as she had done when last he had left her — for a ship which was now at the bottom of the English Channel.

  *

  ‘What do you think of her?’ Franklin Buchanan asked his Executive Officer. Rod had just finished a thorough inspection of the ironclad, and he had to admit he was impressed. She was in every way a better version of theVirginia, in that her hull was in good shape, as were her engines, her armour was of a heavier quality, and her guns were everything he could have hoped for. There were no fewer than six long-range rifled cannon, which was the most powerful armament he had ever commanded, while she also had a most formidable beak for ramming. He could only fault her speed, which because of her great weight would never be more than six knots, he reckoned, and the fact that her rudder chains were exposed. But he had no doubt that she was good enough to take on the Federal fleet outside the harbour; what a pity, he thought, that Jerry McGann would not be opposed to him this time, when at last he was being given a real opportunity to gain the day. But Jerry was undoubtedly still with theKearsagey in Europe.

  TheTennesseepossessed, unfortunately, very little support, as the three wooden sailing sloops were hardly up to line of battle quality. On the other hand, he could hardly fail to share Buchanan’s confidence, because here conditions were exactly reversed to those which had obtained and hampered theVirginiain Hampton Roads. There the Confederate ship had been forced to do the attacking, and her twenty-four foot draft had faced her with insuperable problems amidst the sandbanks. Now it was the Federals who would have to attack, if they wanted to seal up the last Confederate seaport, andtheir task was pretty well impossible, Rod estimated.

  Because of the shoals and sandbanks which cluttered the estuary, the approach into Mobile Bay was very narrow. The entrance to the bay was controlled by four forts, named respectively Gaines, Morgan, Jackson and St Philip — the last two in memory of the forts which had fallen so easily in the delta of the Mississippi. These forts were all heavily armed — each mounted more than twenty guns; more important, they were defended by battle hardened regulars.

  Most important of all, the deepwater approach channel would necessitate the Federal squadron passing very close to Fort Morgan; there was no possibility here of Farragut detaching half his force to assault the forts, and steaming by during the height of the battle with the remainder.
Thus forearmed, Buchanan had made his dispositions accordingly. TheTennessee was moored just inside the fort, adding her immense fire power to that of the land batteries; the three sloops were moored just north of her. And stretching out from the fortress, right across the channel, was the line of underwater explosives. Each carried enough explosive to blow a fatal hole in the bottom of any craft, whether made of wood or iron, which touched their sensitive detonators, and they were the linchpin of the Confederate defensive plan.

  ‘Obviously Farragut must send his monitors in first,’ Buchanan explained. ‘They are the only ships he has that can possibly risk a gun to gun battle with Fort Morgan; he will hope to follow with the rest of his fleet once the fort has been silenced. Now the thing to remember is that, because the monitors are slow moving, the assault must be made on the rising tide. Thus they will come steaming in here, blazing away at the fort, and before they know where they are, they will be in the minefield. With fortune we will destroy them all, but one will be sufficient. The others will certainly seek to stop, and even withdraw, until they can find a channel through the torpedoes. But with a rising tide that will be impossible, given their lack of manoeuvrability. There will be the most utter confusion. Certainly I see the monitors being swept into the bay, and past the fort, before they can hope to check themselves; again, hopefully more than one will strike a torpedo.

  ‘But the essential factor will be that the Federal squadron, by necessity in line ahead and also travelling as slowly as possible, as they will be waiting for the monitors to silence the fort, will also be thrown into confusion. They will not at first know what is happening, as the monitors are defeated. Then they will not dare risk either passing the fort or finding themselves in the torpedo field. They also will seek to withdraw, until they have considered the situation, and they also, caught by the tide, will be thrown into confusion. I foresee a totally disorganised Federal fleet. Into the midst of whichTennessee will steam, through the one channel I have kept clear of the torpedoes, and which of course is known only to us. We shall have every gun firing.’ His face was shining with excitement, as he saw the course of the battle unfolding in his imagination. ‘If we do not put them to flight, and sink some of them into the bargain, I shall eat my hat. Now, Rod, pick holes in that.’