The Sea Hunters

by Clive Cussler

  Maffitt untied the rope around his waist and rose to his feet, swaying weakly as his officers, who had stuck to their stations throughout the chase, surrounded him. "Gentlemen," he said, smiling broadly, "if our supply of rum wasn't destroyed, I propose we indulge ourselves."

  Then, staggering unsteadily to the helm, he shook the hand of James Billups, who had courageously steered the ship through the maelstrom of shot and shell. "My congratulations, Billups. You're a brave man."

  "You don't know how happy I am to have been of service, sir."

  "Mind the channel buoys and take her around Fort Morgan. We'll anchor there."

  Maffitt ordered the engines reduced to slow speed as Florida proudly steamed into Mobile Bay, her flag taut in an offshore breeze.

  The men manning the guns of Fort Morgan gave her a mighty cheer as she limped past. Then the cannon began thundering as they gave the battered little ship a twenty-one-gun salute. Maffitt and his crew had achieved the impossible. Honors and tributes poured in from all over the South. England rang with praise for the ship they had built.

  People everywhere admired the underdog who beat the odds. Even enemies to the north could not help but be fascinated. Tough, hard-bitten Union Admiral David Porter was impressed with Maffitt's unparalleled audacity. He stated, "There was never a case where a man, under all the attending circumstances, displayed more energy or more bravery."

  It took three and a half months to repair the more than fourteen hundred different injuries inflicted on Florida. Not until January 16, 1863, did Maffitt slip out of Mobile Bay during a rainstorm and thread his way through the Yankee blockading fleet. She then began her first cruise as a raider, which added a grand chapter to naval annals.

  "She's flying the stars and stripes," Maffitt said, studying the graceful lines of a clipper ship under full sail. "Fire a shot across her bow."

  A puff of smoke was followed by a loud blast, and a shell flew from the muzzle of the twelve-pound howitzer and splashed in the water fifty yards in front of the clipper ship's bow.

  "Her captain got the message," said Lieutenant Charles Morris, Maffitt's second in command. "He's bringing her into the wind."

  "She appears heavily laden," observed Maffitt.

  As Florida pulled closer, a lone seaman on the deck of the merchant ship hoisted a white flag. "No chase this time," Maffitt said cheerfully.

  He turned to Morris. "Board her and recover the manifest."

  "Very well, sir." Morris quickly assembled a crew and lowered the shore boat into the rolling waves. As he rowed over to the Yankee ship, he read the name lettered in gold on her port bow. The clipper was called the Jacob Bell. Bad luck, having a man's name, he thought.

  Captain Charles Frisbee, a crusty New Englander, met Morris as the Confederate stepped onto the deck. "I won't say, 'Welcome aboard," damn you," said Jacob Bell's captain.

  "I am Lieutenant Charles Morris of the C.S.S. Florida, captained by John Maffitt," said Morris in an official tone. "We are taking your ship as a prize."

  "I have heard of your devil ship," snapped the New Englander, "and I've heard of Maffitt."

  "May I have your cargo list, please?"

  The captain handed Morris a sheaf of papers. "I knew you'd be asking for it."

  Morris scanned the manifest. "I see you're carrying a full cargo of tea." Jacob Bell's captain nodded. "Over a million and a half dollars' worth.

  Morris's eyes widened at the incredibly high figure. "A great pity it will never see tea cups."

  "You're not providing me with the opportunity to post bond in a foreign port to get her back?"

  "Sorry, captain, the risk of being intercepted by a Union warship is too great."

  "You intend to sink her?" the captain muttered in outrage.

  "We intend to burn her."

  After food stores and any objects of value were transferred to the Confederate raider, Jacob Bell was set to the torch. John Maffitt was deeply saddened by the sight of the flames consuming such a beautiful clipper ship. An old sea dog, he hated to see a ship, any ship, die.

  The fact that the Jacob Bell was to be the most valuable prize taken by any of the Confederate raiders during the entire war did not console him.

  Florida's first cruise was successful beyond expectations.

  Maffitt had an uncanny knack at finding and capturing Union merchant vessels. In just six months he captured twenty-five cargo ships, whose combined cargo values approached $5 million. He set a record that was broken only by Raphael Semmes and his Alabama.

  Two of the captured ships were given prize crews and operated as satellite raiders. One was commanded by the ubiquitous Charles Read, who had fought Farragut at the battle of New Orleans and manned the stern gun battery on Arkansas. Read captured twenty-one ships before he was caught during a daring raid in a New England harbor.

  By August of 1863, Florida's engines were badly in need of an overhaul, and her hull required the removal of several inches of marine growth. Although Maffitt preferred the work be done in a British shipyard, the political conflict between the United States and Britain made it impossible. So he sailed his ship into the French port of Brest.

  The repairs on the raider were expected to take only eighteen days, but complications with the French stretched it to five months.

  During this time, Maffitt became ill with a variety of ailments caused in part by recurring symptoms from his bout with yellow fever.

  He asked the Secretary of the Confederate Navy to be relieved.

  Command was eventually given to his loyal officer Charles Morris.

  With a new and inexperienced crew, Morris sailed out of Brest in February of 1864 and launched Florida on her second voyage. The pickings were slim because most of the ships of American registry were kept in their home ports by the high insurance premiums caused by Florida and Alabama, which was now also raiding the seas. After seizing thirteen ships, Lieutenant Morris sailed into the port of Bahia, Brazil, to take on supplies and coal.

  Unfortunately for Morris and Florida, a Union warship was also at anchor in port, the U.S.S. Wachusctt, captained by Commander Napoleon Collins.

  "We would have to run into that devil in a neutral port," Collins said to the United States consul at Bahia, Thomas F. Wilson, who had rowed out to the Yankee warship.

  "Can't you blow her out of the water when she sails from port?" asked Wilson.

  Commander Collins studied Florida through a pair of binoculars.

  "Her speed is superior to mine. If she sneaks out on a moonless night, she'll be impossible to chase down."

  "A damned crime, if you ask me," Wilson growled. "We fail to destroy her, and God only knows how many innocent merchant ships she and her crew of pirates will burn and plunder."

  Collins did not reply. He seemed lost in his thoughts.

  "You've got to take action before she escapes."

  "What do you suppose Brazil would do to us if we attacked Florida here and now?" Collins asked.

  "They'd probably threaten to blow you out of the water," answered Wilson. "But I doubt they would actually try it. Beyond that, I'd be recalled to Washington and censured, and you'd be court-martialed for creating an international incident."

  Collins lowered his binoculars and smiled shrewdly. "A pity.

  She'd be easy enough to take. Most of her officers and crew have gone ashore.

  I hear Commander Morris and his officers are attending the opera."

  "We have been presented with a golden opportunity, commander.

  Regardless of personal consequences, our duty is clear."

  Collins turned to his first officer. "Mr. Rigsby."

  "sir?"

  "Please find our chief engineer and order him to get up steam."

  Rigsby stared at his captain, respect glowing in his eyes.

  "You're going after Florida? Sir?"

  "I intend to ram and sink her on the spot."

  A shifty grin crossed Wilson's face. "I'll be more than happy to defend your
claim that it was an unfortunate accident."

  Collins nodded toward the helm. "Just so they know who to hang, I'll steer us in myself with you at my side."

  "I'd consider it an honor," Consul Wilson said without hesitation.

  Before dawn the following morning, Wachuseu quietly raised her anchors and steamed toward Florida, moored slightly more than a half mile away behind a Brazilian warship placed between the two enemy warships to discourage just such a situation. With Collins himself at the helm, Wachusett slipped around the Brazilian ship and headed on a collision course toward the unsuspecting Florida. A seaman standing deck watch sighted the Yankee ship looming from the predawn darkness, and gave the alarm. The cry came too late. Before the crew could spring from their hammocks and load the guns, Wachusett struck Florida on her starboard quarter, smashing her railings and bulwarks while shattering her mizzenmast and main yard.

  In the darkness, Collins had misjudged. Instead of ramming his bow through Florida's hull amidships and sending her to the bottom of Bahia harbor, he merely grazed her, causing minimal damage. As his marines sprayed the raider's deck with small-arms musketry, two of his broadside guns were fired in the heat of the action without his express orders. Taking advantage of the mistake, he shouted for Florida's crew to surrender or be blown to pieces.

  Lieutenant Thomas Porter, commander of the Confederate raider while Morris was on shore, had no choice but to concede defeat. His guns were unloaded, less than half the crew were on board, and Wachusett's marines were shooting down anyone who moved. He conferred with the few officers who hadn't gone ashore, and all agreed that any defense could only result in a waste of lives. Reluctandy, Porter lowered the Confederate flag for the final time.

  Collins ordered a hawser attached to the helpless Florida, and within minutes she was being towed out of the harbor. Alerted by the sound of gunfire, the Brazilian warship came to investigate. When its captain discovered the foul plan in gross violation of his nation's neutrality laws, he ordered his gun crews to fire at Wachusett.

  Collins ignored the inconsequential protest and refused to return a broadside. With the sun creeping over the horizon, he made the open sea, pulling his captive along in his wake.

  Consul Wilson remained on Wachusett until it reached the United States. Fortunately for him, the decision to keep him on board was a sound one. Enraged by the wanton violation of neutrality, a Brazilian mob ransacked and burned the U.S. Consulate in Bahia. Had he remained behind, Wilson would have no doubt been strung up under a convenient light post.

  Wachusett towed the illegally captured Florida into Hampton Roads and moored her off Newport News. Not long afterward, the Confederate raider mysteriously sank while at anchor. Rumors circulated blaming an army transport that rammed her in the dead of night. The true story didn't come out until one summer's evening in 1872, when John Maffitt was invited to Admiral Porter's home in Washington for dinner.

  While enjoying brandy and cigars on the old sea dog's veranda, Maffitt looked at Porter and asked, "Admiral, will you give me a true account of the sinking of the Florida?"

  Quite relaxed, Porter smiled shrewdly. "Certainly. Time enough has passed under the bridge."

  "Then it was no accident?"

  "No accident." Porter shook his head. "President Lincoln was quite upset about receiving a storm Of Protests from the nations of Europe over Collins's deceitful capture of the ship in Brazil. Lincoln insisted that we release Florida and return her to Bahia and the Confederates to avoid the reparation demanded by the Brazilian government. During the dispute, Secretary of State Henry Seward called me to his office."

  Porter went on to relate the events leading to the demise of Florida.

  "Seward paced the floor, his Machiavellian mind trying to find a way out that would appease the European community. 'To let loose this fearful scourge upon our commerce again would be terrible. It must be avoided." " 'What do you suggest, Mr. Secretary?" I asked.

  " 'I wish she was at the bottom of the sea!" " 'Do you mean it, sir?" " Seward nodded grimly. 'I do, from my soul " 'Then it shall be done," I promised him. The next morning I sent an engineer under cover of night to the stolen steamer. My instructions were to open the sea cocks before midnight and not to leave the engine room until the water was up to his chin. At sunrise that rebel craft must be a thing of the past, resting on the bottom of the river." Porter paused to exhale a cloud of smoke into the humid Virginia evening. "I thought it Poetic justice to scuttle her over the spot where Merrimack rammed and sank Cumberland.

  Maffitt listened in silence, staring at the brandy in his glass as if seeing his once proud ship resting in the eternal gloom at the bottom of the James River, where she would no more plague United States merchant shipping. No more would she haunt the navy that could only stop her with devious subterfuge. She would be enshrined in history along with her sister ship, Alabama, as the high water mark of the Confederate Navy.

  So ended the final chapter of the Florida. All that was left was her epilogue.

  Where Did They Go?

  April 1980 iie more manifestation of Cussler's law, "Every man knows the location of a shipwreck that isn't there."

  Sadly, it seems, man does not live by reason alone. All too often we live by drippy intuition and foggy reasoning with no sound basis in fact. You have to be on your guard to keep the two from gaining the upper hand. I've never known a shipwreck that was found through divine revelation or down-home guesswork.

  Because they were known to lie within less than a mile of each other, I decided to combine Cumberland and Florida into one expedition.

  What I assumed would be a relatively simple search project, because the ships were reportedly in a fairly compact area, turned out to be a very complicated and difficult affair. Although Congress had exploded and burned to her waterline, she was immediately eliminated as a possible target because she was raised in September of 1865 and her hulk towed to the Norfolk Navy Yard, where she was sold and broken up.

  Why Florida and Cumberland were elusive for so many years is a mystery. Both were known to have sunk between the James River channel and the shore along Newport News. Accounts of her epic battle and the final resting place of Cumberland varied widely. Like witnesses at an auto accident or murder, none give the same account. Though a number of investigators looked into the enigma and accumulated a stack of data from 1904 until 1980, no one individual or group had actively searched for the wreck sites.

  I began working with researchers Bob Fleming and Dr. Chester Bradley, who was an authority on the sinking of Cumberland, Florida, and Congress. Salvage accounts, eyewitness reports, correspondence, and newspaper articals were assembled and studied.

  Research revealed that after the war George B. West, the son of a farmer whose waterfront property was close to where the vessels sank, used to fish in and around the wrecks while they were being salvaged.

  West described how salvage divers attempted to find in the paymaster's stateroom of Cumberland an iron chest that reportedly contained $40,000 in gold coin. I frankly never bought the story of the treasure.

  Never have I heard of a soldier, sailor, or airman, from the Revolutionary War to Desert Storm, being paid in gold. Impossible to believe our benevolent government paid their fighting men in anything other than paper money or silver coin. Incredibly, the safe was found and raised ten years after the war, in 1875, by Clements Brown, but newspaper reports state that only $25 or $30 was discovered inside.

  I've always found it interesting that two weeks after a ship sinks, any ship, be it a tugboat or an ocean liner, there is a rumor that it was carrying $10,000 in cash somewhere in its bowels. Twenty years later the rumor mill has increased it to $100,000 in silver. At one hundred years, the figure has grown to $1 million in gold. After two hundred years, salvors and treasure hunters will swear the ship was carrying ten tons of gold and sackfuls of precious jewels, all valued at no less than $500 million. Such is the mesmerizing lure of treasure. ' The facts are that, despite
the occasional big strikes like Atocha and Central America, more money has been thrown into the sea searching for riches than has ever been recovered.

  George West located the site where he had observed the divers working on Florida as "off Pier 1 and Pier 2" near the Newport News beach front. He then described Cumberland as being sunk off Pier 6 about the middle of the channel."

  I then calculated possible sites by overlaying a transparency from an old 1870 chart on top of the most modern chart. By comparing the landmarks from West's accounts I could see that Pier 6 now corresponded with the Virginia Port Authority's Pier C, while the Home Brothers Shipyard pier now stood over what had once been Piers 1 and 2.