by Jim Musgrave
"Are you the captain of this vessel?" the officer asked.
"Yes, indeed I am. We're pulling out at 0800 hours on January fifth. Did you want to see my papers?" Sinclair smiled.
"No, I'm just checking for possible unauthorized cargo. My men need to go through some of that freight you're loading." The tall lieutenant motioned for the two marines to stop the workers and have them bring the boxes back down the gangway and onto the pier where they could be examined.
"Certainly, Officer! Heave to, men! Get that gear back down here for these kind gentlemen," said Walter.
The two marines opened the cartons to reveal mostly hardtack, or sea biscuits, and bully beef, or beef jerky. Two other cartons contained nuts and dried beans. The Lieutenant, seemingly satisfied, had his men close the cartons back up. "Your food seems to be the sort used on long voyages, Captain. I thought your manifest said Liverpool."
"These are times of war, Officer. I'm bringing these quality preserves to our own naval forces in jolly England. We have also been inconvenienced by your little dispute. We can no longer obtain all the fresh quality foodstuffs we once enjoyed from our colonies," said Walter, smiling broadly.
The young lieutenant became a bit irate at this. "Yes, we know all about war, Captain. My brother was killed this week when one of your countrymen ran his ship through a blockade. He was sliced in two as the runner rammed his frigate broadside."
"I'm terribly sorry to hear that, Lieutenant. The war has made bitter enemies of brothers, and some of my countrymen have seen to profit from your miseries. On behalf of the British who only want the war to end, I salute you and your brother for your noble sacrifice."
The young officer smiled. "Very well, Captain. You may carry one with your loading. Good luck with your trip."
"Thank you, kind sir! I, for one, shall spread the word of Union hospitality to all my mates in England. It's been an honor doing business with you!" Sinclair motioned for the dockworkers to get on with their duties.
The sun was beginning to go down on another day in port, and Walter was happy to be finally getting back to his true home, the sea. Ericsson and Greene would have to listen to him once they were underway, and he relished the chance to be in charge. The several inventions installed by Ericsson and his "genius" were hindrances, to Walter's way of thinking. A flush toilet! As long as a man knew which way the wind was blowing, who needed the likes of such a contraption? A hot-air engine and a screw propeller on his stately warship? Ericsson said they would need these when they rounded Cape Horn. Walter had made it three times before without the aid of such devices. The one invention that Walter did concede was a miraculous contrivance, one that would make their trip a true possibility, was the desalting apparatus. Sinclair watched, as this tank was able to turn a gallon of seawater into fresh water—drinkable, unsullied water! Walter knew, from experience, that the most valuable commodity on long ocean voyages was fresh water. This invention would allow them to travel on without risking the danger of exposing themselves to strangers at sea. Pirates, or even slave traders were roaming the South Pacific these days, and with their little water device, they would not need to ask for any assistance. However, there was still a distance between them, and Walter resigned himself to be wary of the genius Swede. For genius had a way of turning into power, and power was often the most corrupting influence of all. As for the adventure, Walter needed it as much as the ocean needed the fish in her depths to be complete. It was the romance of adventure that kept Walter alive, and this was bound to one fantastic gamble!
* * *
Hampton Roads, Virginia, December 29, 1862 On board the U.S.S. Monitor
Captain Dana Greene, eating a strict vegetarian diet, was down to 110 pounds in his stocking feet, and he was spending each morning, before chow was served, performing an elaborate ritual, reading from Whitman, stripping down naked, and asking the Oversoul to guide him in his daily duties. He also asked the gods to forgive him for, what he believed, was a disgraceful defeat against the enemy. The U.S.S. Monitor had become a monster in Greene's dreams, taking on mythic proportions. Instead of a ship of iron, this was a gigantic steel wall, over a thousand feet high, standing in front of the little Monitor, as Greene looked up and grew more frightened by the moment. In his dream, Greene could not stop his craft from speeding straight for the wall, and inside the wall, there were thousands of men, their bodies set on fire from some infernal menace inside this gigantic metal Jericho, and these bodies were leaping out into space, falling hundreds of feet to their deaths. And Greene and his little metal boat would race toward this wall of doom, passing the screaming men who were bobbing, like cadaver corks, in the waves around him. Just before slamming into the gray steel wall, Greene would awaken screaming.
Chip walked in on the Captain several times during their eight months tour of duty down in Virginia, and what he saw was enough to frighten any young man. Chip had once before seen a young slave become this obsessed with tobacco in the fields. One day, the slave began smoking the leaves, right in front of the master. The slave had secretly rolled giant cigars inside his cabin. He did this because the master smoked them, and the field hand thought he could endear himself to the owner by smoking in front of him. However, the opposite occurred, as the slave was beaten until he could no longer work in the fields, and he eventually died alone, smoking away until his dying breath. Chip did not want to watch his new Captain starve himself to death, so he began telling him about the trip to Easter Island. Chip, in his own imagination, over the months of standoff against the Virginia (as President Lincoln himself had ordered the Monitor not to attack) had concocted quite a splendid picture, and he wanted the young lieutenant to begin to see that their redemption could be just around the corner.
Gradually, day-by-day, Captain Greene began to come out of his stupor. Dana was beginning to return to his normal, romantic self, and Chip was very pleased with himself. They spent hours talking together, in secret, while the other sailors went about their plan of the day. They talked about living in a world where you could fish for your dinner and pick your drinks out of trees. Where young women ran around half- naked, with no shame, and where color was not a badge of disgrace. Chip even told the young lieutenant about what Captain Sinclair had told them about becoming gods to these natives.
"Do you believe they'll think we're superior beings, Captain?" Chip asked, his eyes wide with expectation.
Dana smiled. "Well, we will have one of the most ingenious men in the world in our company. I suppose we'll be able to show them a thing or two. There are many superstitions in these native tribes. If we show them a kindness they've never before experienced, then I can imagine we will become quite popular."
"My Daddy says these poor folks have already suffered from cannibalism and from slave traders. I guess we will look like Santa Claus and his elves next to all that!" Chip laughed at his own joke.
"We had better go down and get some dinner, or I'll be Santa Stick to them!" said Greene, and they walked off, laughing to themselves.
Chapter Forty-One: Off the Cape
December 30, 1862, off of Cape Hatter as, North Carolina
Lieutenant Greene's ship was prepared for its new deployment. The Navy Department had replaced Greene as captain with Lieutenant Thomas O. Selfridge, Jr., and the Monitor was to be transferred to another blockade and would be traveling south down the Atlantic seaboard. The turret was "keyed up" and a plaited tarred hemp gasket was placed between the turret and the brass deck ring in the recess. The gun ports had their huge iron pendulums secured in position. Wood bucklers were bolted to the outside of the turret covering the open gun ports and then caulked tight. The turret was revolved so the gun ports were abeam, and then it was set down on the gasket. Everything loose inside of the turret was secured or stowed below for rough seas. The two massive 11-inch Dahlgren shell guns were slid to amidships, their carriage compressors tightened, and all tackle drawn tight and secured. A temporary helm was rigged on top of the turret and test
ed.
Greene was to serve as the first lieutenant while they traveled down the coast, and he was in charge of securing the ship for sea. On deck, the pilothouse view slits were caulked shut. There was no doubt that the ocean was going to roll across her low deck and right up the angled sides of the pilothouse. The deck lights over the officers' quarters and the Wardroom had their iron covers secured in place. Every opening on deck would be inspected and secured before the ship head out to sea. The Monitor was under tow of the 236 foot, side wheel steamer U.S.S. Rhode Island. They were part of a four-ship flotilla along with the U.S.S. State of Georgia and the new ironclad U.S.S. Passaic.
Chip was serving at his captain's side at the helm when the storm clouds came. He could see them forming to the starboard side. They all knew the waters off Cape Hatteras were known to experience extremely inclement weather conditions, but Chip had never before seen storm clouds like these. They looked like gigantic, black demons approaching the ship, cracking out lightening and booming thunder, until Chip had to cover his ears. He could feel the whole ship shake, uncontrollably, when the thunder erupted, and, when the rains began to fall, it was as if the seas had been turned upside down upon them. About eight o'clock, while Chip was taking a message from the captain to the engineer, he saw the water pouring in through the coalbunkers in sudden volumes as it swept over the deck. About that time the engineer reported that the coal was too wet to keep up steam, which had run down from its usual pressure of eighty pounds to twenty. The water in the vessel was gaining rapidly over the small pumps, and Chip heard the captain order the chief engineer to start the main pump, a very powerful one of new invention. The was done, and Chip saw a stream of water eight inches in diameter spouting up from beneath the waves like the blow from a whale.
About half-past eight, the first signals of distress to the Rhode Island were sent by lantern. She lay to, and the Monitor rode the sea more comfortably than when it was being towed. The Rhode Island was obliged to turn slowly ahead to keep from drifting upon the smaller ship and to prevent the towlines from being caught in her wheels. At one time, when she drifted close alongside, Captain Selfridge shouted through his trumpet that his ship was sinking and asked the steamer to send her boats to rescue the crew. The Monitor steamed ahead again with renewed difficulties, and Chip was ordered to leave the helm, and he was ordered by Selfridge to be his messenger. The chief engineer reported that the coal was so wet that he could not keep up steam, and Chip heard the captain order the engineer to slow down and put all steam that could be spared upon the pumps. As there was a danger of being towed under by the Rhode Island, the tow-lines were ordered to be cut, and Chip saw James Fenwick, quarter-gunner, swept from the deck and carried by a heavy sea, leeward and out of sight. Fenwick was attempting to obey the captain's order. The daring boatswain's mate, John Stocking, then succeeded in reaching the bows of the vessel, and Chip then saw him, too, swept by a heavy sea far away into the darkness. It was as if some hidden sea monster, with powerful tentacles, were grasping these brave men and pulling them away from the ship!
About half-past ten o'clock the Monitor's anchor was let go with all the cable, and it struck bottom in about sixty fathoms of water; this brought the ship out of the trough of the sea, and it rode more comfortably. The fires could no longer be kept up because of the wet coal. The small pumps were choked up with water, or, as the engineer reported, were "drowned," and the main pump had almost stopped working from lack of power. This was all reported to Captain Selfridge, and he ordered Chip to see if there was any water in the wardroom. This was the first time Chip had been below the berth-deck in the storm. He went forward and saw the water running in through the hawse-pipe, and eight-inch hole, in full force, as in dropping the anchor the cable had torn away the packing that had kept this ship tight. Chip reported to his captain, and at the same time he heard the chief engineer report that the water had reached the ash-pits and was gaining very rapidly. The captain ordered the engineer to stop the main engine and turn all steam on the pumps, which, Chip noticed, soon began to work again.
The clouds now began to separate, a moon about half size beamed out upon the sea, and the Rhode Island, now a mile away, became visible. Signals were being exchanged, and Chip felt that the Monitor would be saved, or at least that the captain would not leave his ship until there was no hope of saving her. Chip was sent below again to see how the water stood in the wardroom. He went forward to the cabin and found the water just above the soles of his shoes, which indicated that there must be more than a foot in the vessel. Chip returned to the bridge and reported this to Captain Selfridge, who ordered all hands to begin baling out the water, and it seemed they were baling out the entire ocean, but the goal was to employ the men, as there now seemed to be danger of panic among them. Chip kept working most of the time, taking the buckets from through the hatchway on top of the turret. The buckets seemed to have no more than a pint of water in them, however, the balance having been spilled in the passing from one man to the other.
Although the weather was clear, the sea did not cease rolling, and the Rhode Island, with the two lines wound up in her wheel, was tossing at the mercy of the sea, and she finally came drifting against the sides of the little Monitor. A boat that had been lowered was caught between the vessels and was crushed and lost. Some of the seaman aboard the Monitor bravely leaped down on deck to guard the ship's sides, and lines were thrown to them from the deck of the Rhode Island, which now lay her whole length against the ironclad, floating off astern, but not a man would be the first to leave his ship, although the captain had given orders to do so. Chip was sent again to examine the water in the wardroom, which he found to be more than two feet above the deck, and he realized he was the last person to see Engineer S. A. Lewis, as he lay seasick in his bunk, apparently watching the water as it grew deeper and deeper around him. He called to Chip, as the boy passed the door, and asked if the pumps were working.
"Yes, for now," said Chip.
"Is there any hope?" asked Lewis, who was almost as young as Chip, and whose fate was in the balance.
Chip felt moved at seeing this young white man, as innocent as Chip had been before his duty aboard this ship, so he tried to give the fireman something to live for, "As long as there's life there's hope," Chip said.
"Hope and hang on when you're wrecked," said Lewis, repeating an old saying among sailors.
Chip left the wardroom and learned that the water had gained so much as to choke up the main pump. As he was crossing the berth deck, Chip saw the ensign, Mr. Fredrickson, hand a watch to Master's Mate Williams, saying, "Here, this is yours. I may be lost." The watch and chain were both of unusual value.
Williams received them, then, with a hesitating glance down at the timepiece he said, "This thing may be the means of sinking me," and he threw it down on the deck. There were three or four cabin boys, pale and prostrate with seasickness, and the cabin cook, old Robbins, an African Negro, who was under great stress.
"You men are crazy!" Robbins shouted, picking up the watch and giving it back to its owner. "Go about your duty, and don't be crazy!"
As Chip climbed up the turret ladder, the sea broke over the ship and came pouring down the hatchway with so much force that it took him off his feet. At the same moment, the steam broke from the boiler-room, as the water had reached the fires, and for an instant, Chip seemed to realize that all was lost. The Monitor's fires were now out, and Chip could hear the water blowing out the boilers, so he ran up to report this to Captain Selfridge. As he was doing this, he saw a boat pull alongside. Selfridge again gave the orders for the men to leave the ship, and fifteen, all of whom were seamen and men in whom Chip had placed his confidence, at one time or another, but now they were the ones who crowded the first boat to leave the ship. Chip was disgusted to witness such a cowardly scramble, and, not feeling in the least alarmed, resolved that he, a freed slave, would stick to the ship as long as the officers did. It was then Chip saw three of these cowardly seam
en swept from the deck and carried leeward on the swift current, never to be seen again.
Baling was again resumed, and Chip occupied the turret all along, and he passed the buckets from the lower hatchway to the man on the top of the turret. He took off his coat—one that he had received from home only a few days before—and, rolling it up with his boots, drew the tampion from one of the huge guns, placed them inside, and replaced the tampion. A black cat was sitting on the breech of one of the guns, howling one of those hoarse and solemn tunes that no one can appreciate who is not filled with the superstitions, which Chip had been taught by the sailors, who are always afraid to kill a cat aboard ship. Chip would as soon touch a ghost, but he caught her, and, placing her in the other gun to be safe, he replaced the wad and tampion. But Chip could still hear that distressing yowl. As he raised his last bucket to the upper hatchway, no one was there to take it, so, Chip scrambled up the ladder and found that he had been deserted. He shouted to those on the berth-deck, "Come up! The officers have left the ship. A boat is alongside!"
As Chip reached the top of the turret, he saw a boat made fast on the weather quarterdeck, filled with men. Three others were standing on deck trying to get on board. One man was floating leeward, shouting in vain for help. Another, who ran by Chip and jumped down from the turret, was immediately swept off by a breaking wave and never rose. Chip was excited, feeling that it was his only chance to be saved. So, he made a loose line fast to one of the stanchions, and he let himself down from the turret, the ladder having been washed away. The moment he struck the deck, the sea broke over it and swept Chip, as he had seen it sweep his shipmates. He grasped one of the smokestack braces and, hand-over-hand, crawled up, to keep his head above water. It required all his youthful strength to keep the sea from tearing him away. As the smokestack brace swept out from the vessel, Chip found himself dangling in the air nearly at the top of the smokestack. He let himself fall and succeeded in reaching the lifeline that encircled the deck by means of short stanchions, and to which the boat was attached. The sea again broke over the ship, lifting Chip upward, and he still clung, in desperation, to the lifeline. He thought he had measured the ocean, but when he felt the ship turn, as his head rose above the water, Chip was somewhat dazed from being so nearly drowned, and he spouted up, it seemed, more than a gallon of water from his lungs. Chip was about twenty feet from the other men, whom he saw to be the captain and one seaman. The other man had been washed overboard and was now struggling in the water. The men in the boat were pushing back on their oars to keep the boat from being washed onto the Monitor's deck, so that the boat had to be hauled in by the painter about ten or twelve feet. First Lieutenant Greene, and then other officers in the boat, were shouting, "Is the captain on board?" and, with severe struggles to have their voices heard above the roar of the wind and the sea, they were shouting, "No," and trying to haul in the boat, which was finally accomplished.