THE BOAT FROM THE “ALABAMA” ANNOUNCING THE SURRENDER AND ASKING FOR ASSISTANCE.
The picture shows shot-marks in the thin deal covering of the chain armor amidships.
An incident that occasioned gratification was the coincidence of the lowering of the enemy’s colors by an early shot from the Kearsarge, already mentioned, and the unfolding of the victorious flag by a shot from the Alabama. The Kearsarge’s colors were “stopped” at the mizzen, that they might be displayed if the ensign were carried away, and to serve as the emblem of victory in case of success. A shot from the last broadside of the Alabama passed high over the Kearsarge, carried away the halyards of the colors, stopped at the mizzen, and in so doing pulled sufficiently to break the stop, and thereby unfurled the triumphant flag.
The Kearsarge received twenty-eight shot and shell, of which thirteen were in the hull, the most efficient being abaft the mainmast. A 100-pounder rifle shell entered at the starboard quarter and lodged in the stern-post. The blow shook the ship from stem to stern. Luckily the shell did not explode, otherwise the result would have been serious, if not fatal. A 32-pounder shell entered forward of the forward pivot port, crushing the waterways, raising the gun and carriage, and lodged, but did not explode, else many of the gun’s crew would likely have been injured by the fragments and splinters. The smoke-pipe was perforated by a rifle shell, which exploded inside and tore a ragged hole nearly three feet in diameter, and carried away three of the chain guys. Three boats were shattered. The cutting away of the rigging was mostly about the mainmast. The spars were left in good order. A large number of pieces of burst shell were gathered from the deck and thoughtlessly thrown overboard. During the anchorage in Cherbourg harbor no assistance was received from shore except that rendered by a boiler-maker in patching up the smoke-stack, every other repair being made by our own men.
Captain Semmes in his official report says:
“At the end of the engagement it was discovered, by those of our officers who went alongside the enemy’s ship with the wounded, that her midship section on both sides was thoroughly iron-coated. The planking had been ripped off in every direction by our shot and shell, the chain broken and indented in many places, and forced partly into the ship’s side. The enemy was heavier than myself, both in ship, battery, and crew; but I did not know until the action was over that she was also iron-clad.”
The ships were well matched in size, speed, armament, and crew, showing a likeness rarely seen in naval battles.5 The number of the ship’s company of the Kearsarge was 163. That of the Alabama, from the best information, was estimated at 150.
The chain plating was made of one hundred and twenty fathoms of sheet-chains of one-and-seven-tenths inch iron, covering a space amidships of forty-nine and one-half feet in length by six feet two inches in depth, stopped up and down to eye-bolts with marlines, secured by iron dogs, and employed for the purpose of protecting the engines when the upper part of the coal-bunkers was empty, as happened during the action. The chains were concealed by one-inch deal-boards as a finish. The chain plating was struck by a 32-pounder shot in the starboard gangway, which cut the chain and bruised the planking; and by a 32-pounder shell, which broke a link of the chain, exploded, and tore away a portion of the deal covering. Had the shot been from the 100-pounder rifle the result would have been different, though without serious damage, because the shot struck five feet above the water-line, and if sent through the side would have cleared the machinery and boilers. It is proper therefore to assert that in the absence of the chain armor the result would have been nearly the same, notwithstanding the common opinion at the time that the Kearsarge was an “iron-clad” contending with a wooden ship. The chains were fastened to the ship’s sides more than a year previous to the fight, while at the Azores. It was the suggestion of the executive officer, Lieutenant-Commander James S. Thornton, to hang the sheet-chain (or spare anchor-cable) over the sides, so as to protect the midship section, he having served with Admiral Farragut in passing the forts to reach New Orleans, and having observed its benefit on that occasion. The work was done in three days, at a cost for material not exceeding seventy-five dollars. In our visit to European ports, the use of sheet-chains for protective purposes had attracted notice and caused comment. It is strange that Captain Semmes did not know of the chain armor; supposed spies had been on board and had been shown through the ship, as there was no attempt at concealment; the same pilot had been employed by both ships, and had visited each during the preparation for battle. The Alabama had bunkers full of coal, which brought her down in the water. The Kearsarge was deficient in seventy tons of coal of her proper supply, but the sheet-chains stowed outside gave protection to her partly-filled bunkers.
THE SHELL IN THE STERN-POST OF THE “KEARSARGE.”
The charge was withdrawn from the shell, which was boxed in, and in that condition it remained for months, until the ship reached Boston, where, when the vessel was repaired, a section of the stern-post containing the embedded shell was cut away and sent to the Navy Department, and was finally deposited in the Ordnance Museum, at the Navy Yard, Washington.—J.M.B.
The battery of the Kearsarge consisted of seven guns: two 11-inch pivots, smooth bore, one 30-pounder rifle, and four light 32-pounders; that of the Alabama of eight guns: one 68-pounder pivot, smooth bore, one 100-pounder pivot rifle, and six heavy 32-pounders. Five guns were fought by the Kearsarge and seven by the Alabama, each with the starboard battery. Both ships had made thirteen knots an hour under steam; at the time of the battle the Alabama made ten knots. The masts of the Kearsarge were low and small; she never carried more than top-sail yards, depending upon her engines for speed. The greater size and height of the masts of the Alabama and the heaviness of her rig (barque) gave the appearance of a larger vessel than her antagonist.
Most of the line officers of the Kearsarge were from the merchant service, and of the crew only eleven men were of foreign birth. Most of the officers of the Alabama were formerly officers in the United States Navy; nearly all the crew were English, Irish, and Welsh, a few of whom were said to belong to the “Royal Naval Reserve.” Captain Semmes said, “Mr. Kell, my first lieutenant, deserves great credit for the fine condition in which the ship went into action with regard to her battery, magazine, and shell-rooms”; and he assuredly had confidence in the speed and strength of his ship, as shown by the eagerness and dash with which he opened the fight. The prisoners declared that the best practice during the action was by the gunners who had been trained on board the Excellent in Portsmouth harbor. The Blakely rifle was the most effective gun. The Alabama fought bravely until she could no longer fight or float.
The contest was decided by the superiority of the 11-inch Dahlgrens, especially the after-pivot, together with the coolness and accuracy of aim of the gunners of the Kearsarge, and notably by the skill of William Smith, the captain of the after-pivot, who in style and behavior was like Long Tom Coffin in Cooper’s “Pilot.”
To the disparagement of Captain Winslow it has been said that Lieutenant-Commander Thornton commanded the ship during the action. This is not true. Captain Winslow, standing on the horse-block abreast the mizzen-mast, fought his ship gallantly and, as is shown by the result, with excellent judgment. In an official report he wrote:
“It would seem almost invidious to particularize the conduct of any one man or officer, in which all had done their duty with a fortitude and coolness which cannot be too highly praised, but I feel it due to my executive officer, Lieutenant-Commander Thornton, who superintended the working of the battery, to particularly mention him for an example of coolness and encouragement of the men while fighting which contributed much toward the success of the action.”
This Sunday naval duel was fought in the presence of more than 15,000 spectators, who, upon the heights of Cherbourg, the breakwater, and rigging of men-of-war, witnessed “the last of the Alabama.” Among them were the captains, their families, and crews of two merchant ships burnt by the dar
ing cruiser a few days before her arrival at Cherbourg, where they were landed in a nearly destitute condition. Many spectators were provided with spy-glasses and camp-stools. The Kearsarge was burning Newcastle coals, and the Alabama Welsh coals, the difference in the amount of smoke enabling the movements of each ship to be distinctly traced. An excursion train from Paris arrived in the morning, bringing hundreds of pleasure-seekers, who were unexpectedly favored with the spectacle of a sea-fight. A French gentleman at Boulogne-sur-Mer assured me that the fight was the conversation of Paris for more than a week.
* * *
1 This incident, and others pertaining to the Alabama, were told the writer by the officers who were taken prisoners.—J.M.B.
2 Commander Kell says the Alabama began with shell.—EDITORS.
3 Captain Semmes in his official report says: “The firing now became very hot, and the enemy’s shot and shell soon began to tell upon our hull, knocking down, killing, and disabling a number of men in different parts of the ship.”—J.M.B.
4 The controversy in reference to the Deerhound is summarized thus in a letter to the editors from Professor James Russell Soley, U.S.N.:
“A neutral ship, in general, could have no right to take part in hostilities even to the extent of rescuing the drowning sailors of a belligerent, their situation being a part and a consequence of the battle. In the case of the Deerhound, however, the interference was directly authorized by Captain Winslow’s request, addressed to Mr. Lancaster, and, therefore, the latter committed no breach of neutrality in taking the prisoners on board. Once on board the English yacht, however, they were as free as air. So far from its being the obligation of the Deerhound to surrender them, the obligation was exactly the other way. Their surrender would have been as gross a violation of neutrality toward the Confederates as their unauthorized rescue would have been toward the Union Government. Captain Winslow was therefore perfectly right in refusing to detain the Deerhound, since the conduct of the yacht was the necessary and logical consequence of his own act. The point where he was clearly in the wrong was in making the request in the first place. What he should have done, as Surgeon-General Browne clearly intimates, was to have steamed up close to the sinking Alabama, and saved her people himself, instead of remaining four hundred yards off.”
It will be noticed that this statement leaves untouched the question of the right of a prisoner to escape after surrender and before delivering himself up.—EDITORS.
5
NOTE.—Twelve Confederate cruisers figured in the so-called “Alabama Claims” settlement with England. Named in the order of the damage inflicted by each, these cruisers were: the Alabama, Shenandoah, Florida, Tallahassee, Georgia, Chickamauga, Sumter, Nashville, Retribution, Jeff. Davis, Sallie, and Boston. The actual losses inflicted by the Alabama ($7,050,293.76, according to claims for ships and cargoes filed up to March 15th, 1872) were only about $400,000 greater than those inflicted by the Shenandoah. The sum total of the claims filed against the twelve cruisers for ships and cargoes, up to March 15th, 1872, was $19,782,917.60, all but about six millions of it being charged to the account of the Alabama and Shenandoah.
On May 8th, 1871, the Treaty of Washington was concluded, in accordance with which a Tribunal of Arbitration was appointed, which assembled at Geneva. It consisted of Count Frederick Sclopis, named by the King of Italy; Mr. Jacob Staempfli, named by the President of the Swiss Confederation; Viscount d’Itajuba, named by the Emperor of Brazil; Mr. Charles Francis Adams, named by the President of the United States; and Sir Alexander Cockburn, named by the Queen of Great Britain. The Counsel of Great Britain was Sir Roundell Palmer (afterward Lord Selborne). The United States was represented by William M. Evarts, Caleb Cushing, and Morrison R. Waite. Claims were made by the United States for indirect and national losses, as well as for the actual private losses represented by nearly twenty millions on ships and cargoes.
The Tribunal decided that England was in no way responsible for the $1,781,915.43 of losses inflicted by the Tallahassee, Georgia, Chickamauga, Nashville, Retribution, Jeff. Davis, Sallie, Boston, and Sumter; and on September 14th, 1872, it awarded $15,500,000 damages for actual losses of ships and cargoes and interest, on account of the Alabama, the Florida and her tenders, and the Shenandoah after she left Melbourne.—EDITORS.
CHAPTER 7
THE COLORED TROOPS AT PETERSBURG.
Henry Goddard Thomas, Brevet Major-General, U.S.V.
East of Petersburg, on high ground, protruding like the ugly horn of a rhinoceros, stood the Confederate earthwork, fortified as a battery, which we undermined and exploded July 30th, 1864. It did a good deal of goring before we destroyed it. Its position enabled the garrison to throw a somewhat enfilading fire into our lines, under which many fell, a few at a time.
For some time previous to the explosion of the mine it was determined by General Burnside that the colored division1 should lead the assault. The general tactical plan had been given to the brigade commanders (Colonel Sigfried and myself), with a rough outline map of the ground, and directions to study the front for ourselves. But this latter was impracticable except in momentary glimpses. The enemy made a target of every head that appeared above the work, and their marksmanship was good. The manner of studying the ground was this: Putting my battered old hat on a ramrod and lifting it above the rampart just enough for them not to discover that no man was under it, I drew their fire; then stepping quickly a few paces one side, I took a hasty observation.
We were all pleased with the compliment of being chosen to lead in the assault. Both officers and men were eager to show the white troops what the colored division could do. We had acquired confidence in our men. They believed us infallible. We had drilled certain movements, to be executed in gaining and occupying the crest. It is an axiom in military art that there are times when the ardor, hopefulness, and enthusiasm of new troops, not yet rendered doubtful by reverses or chilled by defeat, more than compensate, in a dash, for training and experience. General Burnside, for this and other reasons, most strenuously urged his black division for the advance. Against his most urgent remonstrance he was overruled. About 11 P.M., July 29th, a few hours before the action, we were officially informed that the plan had been changed, and our division would not lead.
GUIDON OF THOMAS’S BRIGADE OF THE COLORED DIVISION— SHADED PARTS, GREEN; THE FIELD, WHITE.
We were then bivouacking on our arms in rear of our line, just behind the covered way leading to the mine. I returned to that bivouac dejected and with an instinct of disaster for the morrow. As I summoned and told my regimental commanders, their faces expressed the same feeling.
Any striking event or piece of news was usually eagerly discussed by the white troops, and in the ranks military critics were as plenty and perhaps more voluble than among the officers. Not so with the blacks; important news such as that before us, after the bare announcement, was usually followed by long silence. They sat about in groups, “studying,” as they called it. They waited, like the Quakers, for the spirit to move; when the spirit moved, one of their singers would uplift a mighty voice, like a bard of old, in a wild sort of chant. If he did not strike a sympathetic chord in his hearers, if they did not find in his utterance the exponent of their idea, he would sing it again and again, altering sometimes the words, more often the music. If his changes met general acceptance, one voice after another would chime in; a rough harmony of three parts would add itself; other groups would join his, and the song would become the song of the command.
The night we learned that we were to lead the charge the news filled them too full for ordinary utterance. The joyous negro guffaw always breaking out about the camp-fire ceased. They formed circles in their company streets and were sitting on the ground intently and solemnly “studying.” At last a heavy voice began to sing,
“We-e looks li-ike me-en a-a-marchin’ on,
We looks li-ike men-er-war.”
Over and over again he sang it, making slight changes in the m
elody. The rest listened to him intently; no sign of approval or disapproval escaped their lips or appeared on their faces. All at once, when his refrain had struck the right response in their hearts, his group took it up, and shortly half a thousand voices were upraised extemporizing a half dissonant middle part and bass. It was a picturesque scene—these dark men, with their white eyes and teeth and full red lips, crouching over a smoldering camp-fire, in dusky shadow, with only the feeble rays of the lanterns of the first sergeants and the lights of the candles dimly showing through the tents. The sound was as weird as the scene, when all the voices struck the low E (last note but one), held it, and then rose to A with a portamento as sonorous as it was clumsy. Until we fought the battle of the crater they sang this every night to the exclusion of all other songs. After that defeat they sang it no more.
About 3 A.M. the morning of the battle we were up after a short sleep under arms. Then came the soldiers’ hasty breakfast. “Never fight on an empty stomach” was a proverb more honored in that army than any of Solomon; for the full stomach helps the wounded man to live through much loss of blood. This morning our breakfast was much like that on other mornings when we could not make fires: two pieces of hard-tack with a slice of raw, fat salt pork between—not a dainty meal, but solid provender to fight on. By good fortune I had a bottle of cucumber pickles. These I distributed to the officers about me. They were gratefully accepted, for nothing cuts the fat of raw salt pork like a pickle. We moistened our repast with black coffee from our canteens. The privates fared the same, barring the luxury of the pickle.
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