Sinking of the Greyhound by Southern Saboteurs - No Lives Lost - Suspicious Characters Seen Lurking On Board Before the Blast

From Fortress Monroe, Virginia.
Saturday, December 6, 1864.
The following is the New-York Times' special account of the explosion and sinking of the Greyhound on the James River near Bermuda Hundred that occurred November 27, 1864.

It has now been determined beyond a reasonable doubt that the boiler explosion and subsequent sinking of Major General Benjamin F. Butler's headquarters ship, Greyhound, was a nefarious act of Confederate sabotage.  Sources say the violent explosion was caused by an "infernal machine," also known as a "coal shell" or "coal torpedo," that was inadvertently shoveled into the ship's fire box by an unsuspecting crewman.  The bomb was a hollow, cast iron device loaded with black powder and cleverly covered with coal dust.  It was deliberately made by southern operatives to look like an ordinary lump of coal, and was apparently tossed into the ship's coal bunker just prior to the explosion.

Rear Admiral David D. Porter, Commander of the North Atlantic Blockading Squadron had been invited aboard by General Butler for a conference.  A number of suspicious-looking characters had been noticed by the Admiral loitering about the ship's lounge.  The suspicious civilians were put ashore at Porter's insistence just minutes prior to the eruption of the Greyhound's boiler as she was cruising downriver, six miles below Bermuda Hundred.  The mysterious explosion blew open the furnace door, scattering burning coals throughout the ship.  The machinery was instantly stopped and the stricken vessel drifted with the tide toward the flats.  Pumps were applied as the crew courageously battled the fire, but the flames were soon out of control.  The vessel was quickly enveloped and sank within twenty minutes of the blast.  Admiral Porter was seen putting a shoulder to the captain's gig, helping the steward put it over the side.  Porter, General Butler, Ohio Congressman Robert C. Shenck, and all hands escaped with their lives but, unfortunately, the General's valuable horses perished in the conflagration.

The sinking of the Greyhound is eerily reminiscent of the boiler explosion that occurred on board the USS Chenango on April 15 of this year.  Thirty-three sailors were scalded to death when the boiler exploded on the gunboat's maiden voyage out of New York harbor, though the side-wheeler, herself, was saved and is currently undergoing repairs.  Investigators strongly suspected sabotage in the Chenango affair, as well as in this case, the destruction of the Greyhound.  Although foul play has been determined to be the most likely cause, Admiral Porter has made it known that he blames General Butler for the disaster, noting the absence of security on board his headquarters vessel.  For his part,  General Butler hinted that, perhaps, the Admiral was just expressing his disappointment with the loss of a very fast ship he coveted, adding further that Porter despises his own flagship, the slow-moving Malvern.  

The British-built Greyhound was a former blockade runner previously captured by the Navy and purchased by the U. S. Government.  At the time of her capture, the Greyhound was carrying an important passenger:  the notorious rebel spy, Belle Boyd, who was attempting to deliver military dispatches to England.   The 320-ton, iron-hulled side-wheel steamer was then purchased by Mr. George H. Powers of Hudson, New York, and later commandeered by Butler as his floating headquarters.  She was widely known as one of the fastest ships afloat.

Both the Navy and Army have been ordered to guard all coal supplies with greater vigilance.  Any unauthorized person seen placing or taking an object on or near the government's coal piles is to be shot on sight.

- H. J. W.        

[For more information, see:  The Second Admiral: A Life of David Dixon Porter by Richard S. West, Jr.; Confederate Goliath: The Battle of Fort Fisher by Rod Gragg]

NEW JERSEY BUREAU. Naval Rendezvous at Swedesboro - Van Amburg's Menagerie Draws a Crowd

A temporary naval recruiting station was established in the historic village of Swedesboro amidst great pageantry and fanfare on September 27, 1864.  While the local businessmen and town folk held their annual street festival last Saturday with many food vendors and hucksters of all sorts selling their wares, naval officer, Bruce Tucker, Boatswain's Mate, Dan Cashin, and sailors, George McDowell and William Myers, all of the USS Lehigh, attempted to enlist men and boys for duty with the Navy.  The Seamen pitched their tent in the dusty street in front of the stately home of Doctor Charles Garrison, a prominent and well-respected physician of this town.  It was something of a homecoming for the shipmates of the Lehigh, their vessel having been constructed in 1863 in the shipyard at Chester, Pennsylvania, just across the Delaware from this place.

Despite the lure of potential prize money from captured blockade runners and the guarantee of immunity from conscription into the Army, few stepped forward to sign on, although many young boys, apparently eager for an adventurous life at sea, tried to enlist as cabin boys without their parents' consent.  Gone for good, apparently, are the days of the press gangs scouring the waterfront for unwary recruits.  Boatswain's Mate Cashin attributed the lack of recruiting success to the area's pacifism, thought to be engendered from a strong Quaker influence within the County of Gloucester.  The community is not, however, bereft of noble military heroes: Lieutenant Commander William N. Jeffers, formerly the skipper of the famed Monitor and now assigned to duty with the Navy's Bureau of Ordnance, was born here, as was Brigadier General Charles G. Harker, recently killed heroically leading a charge at Kennesaw Mountain, Georgia, July 27, 1864.  These men are just two among the many who have volunteered from Swedesboro and Gloucester County to serve in their country's hour of need. In fact, Mr James Plummer, the proprietor of the well-appointed Plummer's Hotel (the best accommodations in Swedesboro), where this journalist had recently taken a room, has not seen his son since the Battle of Chancellorsville, where the young man was reported missing from the ranks of the 12th New Jersey Volunteers, a regiment made up largely of men from this region.  It must also be said that a draft was just held in Camden on September 23, and that the Township's complement of soldiers is made up.  Uncertain rumors of distant peace are being bandied about, as well, making service in any branch of the service less attractive at this late date in the war.  Still the US Navy is always in need of able-bodied men.

Van Amburg's Traveling Menagerie was also on hand to draw in the crowds from the surrounding communities.  Upwards of twenty large circus wagons were parked up and down Main Street as white circus tents had sprouted up over the previous night like giant mushrooms.  Several lions and two large elephants were on display.  The largest pachyderm, "Hannibal," weighs 15,000 pounds and was at times during the day very ferocious.  (Perhaps, some of the local men, having already seen the elephant, no longer desired to "see the elephant," as the expression goes.)  In addition to the wild beasts there were acrobats, jugglers, sword-swallowers, and a human giant, purportedly eight feet, two inches tall in his stocking feet, plus a dwarf and his normal-sized wife among other singular curiosities, all for the paying customers' viewing pleasure.   One of those curious exhibits was a seemingly normal, down-to-earth Negro from Mississippi, who had once been a slave, laboring in the tenches during the famous siege of Vicksburg.  The fortunate fellow, whose name is Abraham, was literally blown over to freedom with the explosion of one ton of black powder placed  underneath a salient in the rebel line by General Grant's soldiers, who had been endeavoring for weeks to blast their way into the Confederate stronghold.  The resulting battle in the huge crater that was caused by the detonation of the mine was a flat failure, but Abraham was blown sky high over to General John A. Logan's part of the federal line, about 250 yards distant, where he landed among the astonished Yankees.  The former slave certainly took an unusual route to emancipation, but was otherwise unhurt, and only a little shaken.  When a certain Times' reporter asked Abraham if he remembered about how high he had flown, the sable young man replied with all candor, "I's a blown up about t'ree mile, I was, suh!"

This particular story was enlivened and perhaps given added credibility by the purchase of hard apple cider, known locally as "Red Stingo," a town staple, and according to Dr. Garrison, of great medicinal value.  Despite the apple harvest being some weeks away, there was plenty of the home-brewed concoction available for purchase, much to the delight of townsmen and visiting sailors, alike.  A near brawl that followed a baseball game played on the fairgrounds just outside of Swedesboro was probably fueled by the imbibing of too much Red Stingo.

- H. J. W.

Captain Tucker, a tall circus performer, and a N-Y Times' reporter at Swedesboro Day.  Photo courtesy of William Myers.

[Editor's note: The phrase, "Seeing the elephant," is old soldier slang for green troops who have witnessed their first battle and lived to tell about it.  For further information, see:  Personal Memoirs by Ulysses S. Grant; The Diary of Charles Garrison, M.D. - Swedesboro and the Civil War (1861 - 1865)]
             

Early's Raid on Washington - The President Under Fire! - Attack on Fort Stevens Repulsed.

Rebel General Jubal Early with 15,000 battle-hardened veterans of Lee's army advanced on Washington but were summarily turned back at the gates of the city.  Unsubstantiated reports of Rebel numbers and rumors of atrocities were greatly exaggerated, causing many citizens to flee in panic.  On July 9th Early's thrust across the Potomac had been heroically delayed by a scratch force of national troops pulled together at the Monocacy River under the command of General Lew Wallace.  Consequently, Early and his marauders did not reach the formidable fortifications on the outskirts of Washington City until the eleventh.  Once reinforcements from General Grant's army arrived, the game was up, and Early was forced to retreat back to the Valley of Virginia.  (But not before maliciously burning to the ground the house of Postmaster General Montgomery Blair at Silver Spring.)  This gave rise to the humorous observation that when the rebels arrived to capture Washington City, "Early was late!"  Not to be outdone, the profane General Early is reported to have exclaimed, "We may not have taken Washington, but we scared Old Abe like h---!"

Far from being "scared," the President, a few senators and members of the Cabinet, notably Secretary of the Navy, Gideon Welles, came out to Fort Stevens to have a first-hand look at the progress of the battle from the ramparts.  Heavy skirmishing was occurring beyond the fort's walls as Union infantry advanced to meet the rebel attack.  Sharpshooters firing from trees and abandoned houses threatened the President and his entourage as they stood upon the parapet.  After a surgeon standing right beside the President was hit and severely wounded, General Wright ordered the Commander-in-Chief down from the works.  One officer nearby, perhaps not recognizing the President, was reported to have shouted, "Get down, you fool!"  Mr. Lincoln reluctantly complied and sought a safer place to view the battle.  It is believed to have been the first and only time an American President has come under hostile enemy fire that didn't emanate from the opposition press.  Whether or not rebel marksmen specifically targeted the President may never be known.

President Abraham Lincoln under rebel fire at Fort Stevens, July 12, 1864.  (Bas-relief by Schwizer in Jubal Early's Raid on Washington, 1864 [p. 142])

Mr. Lincoln had been highly displeased upon learning that Gustavus V. Fox, the Assistant Secretary of the Navy, had ordered two or three gunboats up the Potomac to stand by with steam up in case the present emergency required that the President be evacuated.  However, President Lincoln was not content to ride out the storm confined to the White House.  Instead he and Mrs. Lincoln, in the presidential carriage, rode out the Seventh Street Road to Fort Stevens to watch the battle in progress on two successive days, July11th and 12th.

Ultimately, Fort Stevens with its heavy artillery and the other forts that form a protective ring around the Capital proved their worth, even undermanned as they were, as the works were just too strong for a raiding party the size of Early's force to invest and overrun.  The ordnance at Fort Stevens alone boasted four 24-pounder seacoast cannon firing in barbette; six 24-pounder siege guns in an embrasure; two 8-inch siege howitzers; five 30-pounder Parrott guns, plus a 10-inch siege and a 24-pounder Coehorn mortar.  The Confederates' plan to siphon off troops and relieve Lee's army besieged at Petersburg, succeeded to some degree, but not enough to materially alter the strategic situation there.  We daily await the news that General Grant's troops will have breached the works at Petersburg, the so-called "Backdoor to Richmond," and sent the rebels flying.                        

- H. J. W.

Members of the 6th Independent Battery, New York Artillery at Fort Stevens [i.e., Parker Press Park, Woodbridge, NJ] prepare to fire as President Lincoln and an unidentified lady look on.  Photo courtesy of William Myers.

[Editor's note:  For more information, see B. F. Cooling's Jubal Early's Raid on Washington, 1864]

Stono River Expedition in South Carolina - Union Navy Supports Army Demonstration in Front of Charleston - Failure of Attack on Fort Johnson - Fort Sumpter [sic] Pummeled by Federal Batteries - Union Flotilla Covers Withdrawal of the Army

USS Lehigh in the Stono River, 1864.  Image taken from Konstam A, Union Monitor 1861 - 65.

A large scale assault was conducted 2 - 10 July 1864 by Federal forces in the Department of the South at several points southwest of Charleston, South Carolina.  The operation has just concluded without significant results.  Federal infantry to the number of 5,000 troops under the command of Major-General John Foster failed to cut the rail line from Savannah to Charleston.  Union Brigadier-General Alexander Schimmelfennig demonstrated on James Island with another 1,000 soldiers, supported by Rear-Admiral John Dahlgren's flotilla along the Stono River. Although the main effort was directed against the railroad, it was also rumored that the Confederate Navy had planned to sortie with its ironclad rams against the blockade of Charleston Harbor.  Our sources revealed that the Federal offensive was conducted as a preemptive strike, in part to counter this impending threat to the blockaders; however, the rumored Rebel attack on the fleet proved illusory.

General Foster's diversionary assault got underway at dawn on 2 July.  General Schimmelfennig landed at Legareville on the eastern end of James Island with Colonel Alfred Hartwell in immediate command of the demonstrating force.  These troops included the 54th and 55th Massachusetts, the former regiment of Fort Wagner fame (the battle having been fought almost a year ago on Morris Island [18 July 1863]), the 103rd NewYork, and the 33rd USCT.  This force assaulted the Rebel works in two columns, with the gunboats protecting the left flank of the infantry.  The attackers were following along nearly the same route the British took on their way to capturing Charleston in 1780.  Hartwell's soldiers were supported by Union ships shelling the Rebel works on both sides of the narrow Stono River, each projectile throwing up great clods of earth.  The flotilla consisted of the monitors USS Lehigh and USS Montauk, gunboats USS Pawnee and USS McDonough, along with the mortar schooners USS Para and USS Racer.  The flotilla was preceded by USS Dai Ching, sweeping the Stono Inlet for torpedoes.

Schimmelfennig's troops gallantly carried a portion of the Rebel line, but stiff Rebel resistance and the intense heat combined to impede further advance. The temperature reached 110 degrees on the afternoon of 2 July as recorded in the ship's log of the Lehigh.  Ashore the extreme heat felled more soldiers than Rebel bullets with over 50 men in the 54th regiment alone suffering heat prostration. Captain Jones, while directing the Federal skirmish line, was overcome by sunstroke and had to be borne to the rear on a stretcher, raving in delirium.

The Federal diversion managed to achieve one intended aim as the Confederates shifted troops and guns to the besieged works on James Island, leaving Battery Simkins and Fort Johnson in a weakened condition. Consequently a night assault on those works was planned for 3 July.  Twenty open boats carrying 500 men under the command of Colonel Henry Holt [i.e., Hoyt] got underway.  Federal planning apparently failed to account for the receding tide, which caused innumerable delays as the boats approaching the forts through salt marshes continually grounded on the mud flats.  As night became day, the Union soldiers finally landed some fifty yards from Fort Johnson.  The enemy fired just one volley when some unknown Federal officer evidently panicked and gave the order to retreat. Fortunately, when the enemy opened up with their heavy artillery and musketry, the defenders generally fired high as the boats were so close to shore the Rebels could not depress their pieces far enough to hit the attackers.  Inexplicably, only three of the boats had landed with the result that about 140 Union soldiers, including their commander, were soon captured as the other boats pulled away.  It is believed that their were only 150 Confederates at that time defending Fort Johnson.

Likewise the attempt to cut the Charleston and Savanna Railroad ended in abject failure.  The whole operation got off to a sluggish start and bogged down completely in the swamps of the North Edisto River.  The only thing that prevented this affair from becoming a complete disaster was the minimal number of casualties suffered by General Foster's army.

Meanwhile Federal batteries on Morris Island intensified their bombardment of Fort Sumpter [sic] on 7 July.  New breaches in the walls of the fort became visible as the artillery began to methodically destroy this defiant symbol of the Rebellion.  On 10 July a second futile attempt by the Federals to take Fort Johnson was handily repulsed by the Rebels.

Operations on the Stono having concluded with mixed results, Dahlgren's vessels ably covered the withdrawal of the Army from James Island.  General Schimmelfennig sent a highly complimentary letter to Admiral Dahlgren on 9 July praising the conduct of the flotilla.  An excerpt from the missive follows:

"I take pleasure in informing you of the excellent practice by your gunboats and monitors on Stono River yesterday.  They drove the enemy out of his rifle pits and prevented him from erecting an earthwork which he had commenced.  As I shall probably have to occupy that line again before long, this fire of your monitors will undoubtedly save many lives on our side, for which I desire to express to them my thanks."

The fire of the Rebel forts on James island was also quite accurate, as the numerous dents on the iron turret of the Lehigh well attest.  One well-aimed shot fired by the enemy took the leg off a sailor and wounded another onboard the Montauk, the flotilla's only casualties.

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(Editor's note:  General Schimmelfennig came to the United States in 1853 after formerly serving as an engineer officer in the Prussian Army.   He promptly offered his services to the Union when the Civil War began, serving in the XIth Corps, Army of the Potomac, before requesting a transfer to South Carolina. He is probably best remembered as the general officer who spent two days hiding in a pigsty to avoid capture by the Confederates at Gettysburg.  For further study, see Browning RM, Success Is All That Was Expected: The South Atlantic Blockading Squadron During the Civil War;  Scharf JT, History of the Confederate States Navy; and Warner EJ, Generals in Blue: Lives of the Union Commanders.)

Sharp Skirmish at Lambertville - Federals Defeated by Superior Rebel Force - Union Gunboat Saves the Day - "Angel" on the Battlefield - Soldier Drummed out of Camp

A severe skirmish was waged on the grounds of the old Holcombe farmstead near the outskirts of Lambertville, last Sunday, 8 June 1864.  It was actually the second day of skirmishing, the antagonists picking up the bitter struggle where they had left off the previous afternoon.  The strategic importance of the village due to its close proximity to the railroad, which both armies coveted, was the impetus for the fight.  A small Union force that included the 15th New Jersey Volunteer Infantry Regiment, backed up by a battalion of US Marines, launched an attack against a much larger force of Confederates, their numbers indeterminate. The Rebels were surprised in their camps but soon rallied to push the Federals back.  The fighting was so severe, that all the officers and non-commissioned officers of the Marine detachment became casualties, leaving Corporal Andrew Tomlin of Goshen, New Jersey, in sole command of the survivors.

The inferior Federal force made a brave stand until the Rebels succeeded in flanking our boys, opening a withering fire, enfilading our line, which forced the Unionists to exit the field posthaste.  All might have been lost but for a sudden eruption of heavy naval artillery fire from a Union gunboat steaming upriver to the rescue.  When the USS Signal opened up with her two nine-inch Dahlgrens [sic], quickly gaining the range despite firing blindly over the trees, the Rebels could not stand it.  They gave up their pursuit and beat a hasty retreat of their own.  It seems the Rebels have no stomach for the Navy's large caliber shells, which the enemy respectfully describe as "lamp-posts."

USS Signal.  Photo courtesy of William Myers, Coal Heaver/Photographer 

At the height of this desperate battle, as death-dealing leaden missiles filled the air, a most signal and unusual circumstance occurred that almost borders on the miraculous.  Through the smoke and din of battle, your correspondent viewed with the aid of his telescope, a Nun of some religious order, on the field, a place hotter than the fires of hell (a place where surely she should not have been), rendering tender assistance to one of our fallen soldiers, heedless to the danger surrounding her.  Remarkably, this "Angel of the Battlefield" was seen to walk over to where the wounded man had dropped his musket, and proceeded to drag the gun over to its prostrate owner.  Enveloping gun smoke and the precipitate retreat of the Federal line prevented this reporter from observing any further the brave Sister, arrayed in her black and white habit, and the desperately wounded soldier, whose main concern appeared to be the retrieval of his weapon.  (The irony of a Nun on the battlefield, dragging a rifle to a wounded soldier so that he could continue the fight, perhaps to fire one last round to kill or maim the enemy, was not lost on this reporter.)  Despite my inquiries afterwards, what became of her, or the wounded soldier, I was unable to discern.   It was as if she were a heavenly vision that lingered for a time then soon evaporated before my eyes like the billowing smoke of battle.  Stranger sights, I suppose, have oft been witnessed on a such a killing field as this.

Map of the "Battle of Jimison Creek" as sketched on the field by H. J. Winser for the New-York Times.

Just a few hours prior to the battle described above, a dress parade, assembly, and court-martial of a soldier were held back in the Federal camp.  A field musician of the 125th New York Regiment was convicted of gambling, fisticuffs, and injuring a fellow soldier and was promptly drummed out of the service to the tune of the Rogue's March.  Apparently, this young man was a recalcitrant, repeat offender, for the punishment of drumming a soldier out of camp is usually reserved only for those charged and convicted of cowardice in the face of the enemy.  But this soldier, Private Alexander, apparently had committed one offense too many, his latest indiscretion finally becoming the straw that broke the camel's back.  Alexander was caught cheating after betting heavily on the lice races.  It was discovered by a fellow soldier that Alexander was secretly heating his tin plate, giving his louse unfair advantage - a clear violation of the rules of good sportsmanship.  (For the uninitiated, the race is won when the vermin is first to exit a soldier's plate, and a champion is declared.)  When confronted by the soldier with this damning information, Alexander struck the poor fellow flush in the face, causing him to fall backwards into a kettle of boiling water, scalding his posterior end.  Alexander was arrested and implacable military justice was swiftly enforced.

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(A few notes on the USS Signal:  She began life as a wooden-hulled, stern-wheel steamer formerly known as the ferryboat, Splash.  The Federal Navy purchased the vessel in 1862, and thus she began her career endeavoring to keep the Union waterways under Federal control.  Known as a tinclad, she served as a troop transport and gunboat.  The Signal was armed with two 30-pounder Parrott rifles [Winser is in error when he writes that the ship fired two 9-in. Dahlgrens] and four 24-pounder howitzers. - Ed.)

For further reading, see:  Ships of the Civil War by KJ Dougherty; and Hard Tack and Coffee by John D. Billings

Memorial Service and Celebration in Mt. Salem in Rockford Park United Methodist Church

Yesterday, Sunday, May 25, 1864 [2014], a special memorial service was held at Mt. Salem Church in Wilmington, Delaware, to honor our fallen soldiers and sailors interred at Mt. Salem Cemetery.  The services were presided over by the Reverend John F. Holden, Pastor, who relinquished the pulpit to keynote speaker, Major Andrew Werner, Chaplain of the 72nd Troop Command, Delaware Army National Guard.  Chaplain Werner delivered a thoughtful oration to the congregation, which included many family members and loved ones of the honored deceased, and several dignitaries.  Among the distinguished guests present was Samuel Francis duPont Bayard, Esq. [great grand], nephew of Rear Admiral Samuel Francis Du Pont.  

Also evident at the service among the church members and visiting soldiers and sailors were several convalescing veterans in the crowd.  During the traditional  "Passing of the Peace (of God)," this reporter clasped hands with one particular wounded warrior who offered his remaining stump of a right hand without evident embarrassment, in the spirit of true Christian fellowship.  The scripture lesson that followed was taken from I Corinthians 11:23-36, which reads, in the words of Saint Paul:  "I have already told you what the Lord Jesus did on the night he was betrayed...."  (During this hellacious rebellion that has taken so many lives on both sides, one can't help but think of the "betrayal" of the errant southern states in leaving our sacred Union and causing so much bloodshed.)

After singing the final congregational hymn,  How Great Thou Art, and following Pastor Holden's prayer for peace and thanksgiving, a benediction was read in unison by the congregants to conclude the service.  There immediately followed a procession to the cemetery led by an honor guard composed of soldiers of the 2nd Delaware Regiment, and sailors of the USS Lehigh, carrying the National Flag and naval ensign, respectively.

At the cemetery gate, Boatswain's Mate, Daniel J. Cashin, gave a pipe salute followed by a proclamation read by Mr. DuPont honoring his namesake, Admiral Du Pont, and his fifty years of distinguished service to his country.  The Call to Order was delivered by Ship's Surgeon, Donald Fischer, which read:

"Today we remember and honor our Civil War and other veterans, especially those buried here.  We also recognize the brave men [and women] who serve today in our Country's military who have taken their places in the ranks of the patriots who came before them.  Through the great sacrifices that they and their families have made and are making, our freedoms have been established and defended."

Bells of Remembrance were solemnly tolled at the reading of the names of each fallen serviceman and wreaths were placed at several tombstones.  A rifle salute and taps were immediately followed by the closing prayer and recitation of Psalm 23 led again by Surgeon Fischer. 

The solemn ceremony concluded, a sumptuous picnic luncheon was given by the ladies of Mt. Salem in the fellowship hall, and outside under the trees.  The ceremony and festivities were blessed by beautiful sunny weather, further evidence of God's blessing upon us and our glorious Union.

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The New-York Times Interviews Admiral David G. Farragut, Victor of the Battle of New Orleans, at the "Spirit of the Jerseys" State History Fair, 10 May 1864 [2014].

N-Y Times:  Admiral Farragut, at the beginning of the Rebellion, why were you so determined to stand by the Old Flag when so many of your compatriots - southern naval officers - went South?

Admiral Farragut:  The Union has always been of paramount importance to me.  Despite my well-documented southern birth and associations, I could not countenance the dismantling of our sacred Union and the rabid insults to our country's flag.  After 50 years of service in the Old Navy, including the War of 1812 and the Mexican War, my first allegiance was to the insoluble Union.

N-Y Times:  Your well-deserved promotion to Rear Admiral in July 1862 was for your stunning success in opening up the Mississippi all the way to Vicksburg.  What difficulties did you surmount in order to capture the City of New Orleans?

Admiral Farragut:  The forts guarding the southern approach to the city had either to be reduced or bypassed.  After giving the Rebels a severe bombardment from the mortar schooners, my officers and I elected to run our ships past the forts at night [24 April 1862] to minimize casualties and limit damage to the fleet.

N-Y Times:  How effective was Commander David Dixon Porter's bombardment of Forts Jackson and St. Phillip?

Admiral Farragut:  Well, when it appeared after a time that the firing by the enemy's forts had not been silenced, I had my signal officer climb the mizzen mast to judge where the shells were falling.  A tally was made of the shots that landed inside the forts, and also the shots that were landing outside the works. The "outs" far surpassed the "ins," so I said, 'David, there's the score.  I guess we'll go up the river tonight.'

N-Y Times:  How would you describe your relationship with Commander Porter?

Admiral Farragut:  David is my foster brother.  He and I got along famously at New Orleans, though, of course, we did not always see eye to eye.   The value of mortar work during the campaign, for instance, we did not agree upon.

N-Y Times:  In your estimation, how important was the fall of New Orleans to the Union war effort?

Admiral Farragut:  Now you're asking me to toot my own horn, Sir!  Though, I must say, the importance of New Orleans to the South's economy, with its large population, industry, shipyards, and munitions factories cannot be overstated.  By taking the city we tightened the noose [i.e., the naval blockade] several notches and eliminated a major port for the Rebels.  Our victory interdicted the flow of commerce along the river and also served to frustrate any Confederate hopes of foreign intervention, particularly on the part of France.

N-Y Times:  Was there ever a moment during the campaign that you despaired of its eventual success?

Admiral Farragut:  No, no I never doubted the final outcome of our efforts.  However, if the truth be told, I must say there was one moment when I thought it was all up for me and the Hartford [the Admiral's flagship].  In sailing upriver past Fort Jackson under a heavy fire, and while still under the guns of Fort St. Philip, we grounded on a shoal.   It took awhile to back her off, all the while a tug of the rebel fleet had pushed a fire raft up against our port quarter, and holding it fast, set our sails and rigging aflame. This was indeed a crisis!  It was then I noticed my flag officer on his knees in an apparent appeal for Heaven's intervention.  I remember shouting, 'Come on Mr. Osbon, this is no time for prayer!'  But it soon became apparent to me that Osbon was not in an attitude of prayer, but was busily engaged in uncapping two 20-lb. shells.  He proceeded to roll them over the side, whereupon the shells exploded, tearing a hole in the fire raft, sending it to the bottom.  Meanwhile the professionalism of our sailors was much in evidence that night as they doused the flames and we slowly backed off the mud bank and continued upriver.

N-Y Times:  Isn't it true, Sir, that you were nearly hit by a shell while you were perched aloft in the ship's rigging?

Admiral Farragut:  I had merely climbed the mizzen rigging to get a better view of our position in all the smoke and confusion of the battle.  My officers repeatedly implored me to come down, and just as I was descending from my vantage point, a shot fired by the enemy tore through the rigging in the very spot I had just vacated only moments before.  But, you well know the saying:  'A miss is as good as a mile!'

N-Y Times:   How much of a threat to your ships was the dreaded ram, CSS Manassas, and the so-called 'Mosquito Fleet?'

Admiral Farragut:  The Manassas was a hum-bug as far as I was concerned, although she did manage to inflict some damage by ramming a couple of our vessels before running aground and blowing herself up. The real threat was running the gauntlet past the heavy guns of the forts and floating batteries.  Once we cut the chain boom and passed the forts, we dispersed the motley Rebel fleet, and nothing stood between us and the prize [i.e., New Orleans].

N-Y Times:  How do you account for the relatively low number of casualties among the fleet?

Admiral Farragut:  We had a plan to keep moving and, by and large, we stuck to it.  With the darkness of the hour and the smoke and fog upon the river, the enemy batteries generally fired high as we ran the forts. We only lost one ship to enemy fire, although three other gunboats in our fleet were forced to turn back.

N-Y Times:  How were you able to receive the surrender of the city before the arrival of the Union Army?

Admiral Farragut:  When Rebel forces evacuated the city's defenses upon our approach, city functionaries had no recourse but to surrender to our fleet as we came to anchor at the wharf at the foot of Laurel Street.  Though there was, naturally, a great hue and cry throughout, the citizens soon realized that their rebellious city had thus far been spared destruction and it was clearly in their best interests to cooperate with the United States Navy.  While negotiations carried on at City Hall, General [Benjamin F.] Butler and his troops were landed to receive the surrender of Forts Jackson and St. Philip below. When this was accomplished, part of the army was left to garrison the forts and another part was transported upriver to occupy the city.

N-Y Times:  Is it true that a certain citizen of New Orleans of the female persuasion, certainly no lady, brazenly emptied the contents of her chamber pot upon your head as you walked along the street below?

Admiral Farragut:  No, that was Butler, poor fellow!

N-Y Times:  In your opinion, had Admiral Du Pont employed the same tactics at Charleston in April 1863 as you did here at New Orleans, would that infamous port be closed today?

Admiral Farragut:  Admiral Du Pont is a fine officer and a colleague.  His situation in South Carolina was entirely different than mine.  The Navy may not have captured Charleston, but the city is now effectively closed to blockade runners for all intents and purposes.

N-Y Times:  What is next for Admiral Farragut and the U S Navy?

Admiral Farragut:  Of course, I am not at liberty to say; however, I will say this:  the Rebellion is all played out, and I want to be there at the finish.

N-Y Times:  Thank you, Admiral, for your time and your candid remarks.

Admiral Farragut:  My pleasure, Sir.

"Henry J. Winser" (left) interviewing Admiral Farragut (far right [portrayed by Bruce Tucker]) and Captain John Worden (center [portrayed by Sandy Werfel]) at the 2014 New Jersey State History Fair.  Photo courtesy of William Myers.

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[Ed note:  Bradley Sillick Osbon was a journalist and an experienced sailor.  He was hired as chief naval correspondent by a rival newspaper, the New York Herald.   Admiral Farragut recognized Osbon's experience and appointed him as his Signal Officer aboard Hartford.]

For more information, see:  Dufour CL, The Night the War Was Lost, and Hearn CG, The Capture of New Orleans 1862.

 

Life On Board a Monitor of the South Atlantic Blockading Squadron

Your reporter was recently granted special permission to visit a monitor-type vessel in the performance of her duty, namely, interdicting the flow of commerce in and out of the Port of Charleston, South Carolina, now the infamous "Cradle of Secession."  This correspondent was given a grand tour of one of the Navy's newest and most formidable vessels, the USS Lehigh, Captain Bryson commanding.  She is a single screw steamer of the Passaic class of sea-going ironclads, mounting one massive 15-inch Dahlgren smoothbore in her revolving turret alongside a powerful eight-inch Parrott rifle.  Despite her slow rate of fire, the Lehigh packs a devastating one-two punch as the crumbling ramparts of Fort Sumter can well attest.  Yet, like a lumbering pugilist, the unwieldy Lehigh must cut off the ring of fire, as it were, to close with the enemy fort before delivering her dreaded "haymakers," all the while absorbing blows from the enemy's guns that would have surely knocked out a vulnerable wooden gunboat.  Thus the Lehigh with her shallow draught and her sister monitors are positioned at the forefront of the blockade in depth, closest to the entrance of the harbor, and closest to the enemy.

Even when relieved from her station, life on board the Lehigh is no walk in Central Park for her complement of 75 officers and men.  The crew must endure the extreme heat of a southern summer encased in iron, much of the time confined in close quarters below the main deck.  Although she is 200 feet long and 46 feet abeam, descending to the berth deck of the Lehigh is like a descent into the nether regions, especially upon approaching the engine room aft, where shirtless coal heavers and sweating firemen toil like begrimed demons to keep the ship moving forward at a top speed of seven knots. Although your correspondent has grown rather accustomed to finding himself in "tight spots" since the commencement of the Rebellion, the confining atmosphere below left him feeling somewhat disoriented and slightly light-headed.  Surrounded by boilers, gears, wheels, vibrating engines and clanking machinery of all types, as well as an endless tangle of steam pipes running fore and aft, this writer was frankly bewildered by the intricate, inner workings of the Lehigh, submerged as we were well below the surface of the sea, and with the afternoon temperature recorded in the ship's log at 98 degrees fahrenheit. The extra racks for solid shot with explosive ordnance packed into every available corner of the vessel added to the general feeling of claustrophobia.  With what little ventilation that could be discerned coming down from the turret and hatchways, one begins to ponder one's lung capacity and the ability of the blowers to keep enough oxygen circulating for the entire crew plus one invited guest.  Gladly ascending a ladder to the main deck, one is immediately greeted by a sweet draught of much-welcomed fresh air; however, the iron deck is not a safe place for a journalist or any other landlubber to linger when the ship is underway as the deck plates are almost completely awash by even a moderately choppy sea.

The pilot house atop the turret is cramped with room only for the Captain, helmsman, and pilot.  And there is certainly no available space for a nosey reporter.  Communication with the engine room and turret below is achieved through means of a speaking tube.  The revolving gun turret immediately below the pilot house is the monitor's most visible and distinguishing feature.  Inside it is a dark and foreboding place with dim light entering only through two gun portals.  When aiming, the gunner must sight his guns by peering out through a small peephole.  When fired, the deafening concussion of the guns is felt throughout the entire ship as the turret fills with sulfurous, choking smoke.

The only place of relative comfort to be found on an ironclad is the Captain's cabin and the wood-paneled ward room where the officers commune and take their meals. Despite the elegant furnishings, the heat encroaches upon officers and crew alike, making all unbearably miserable.

Despite her shortcomings and the hardships endured by her brave sailors, the Lehigh is one of the newest and most sophisticated vessels in the Navy's arsenal of warships.  She is most feared in "Rebeldom" as the Confederates have no ironclad ram capable of standing toe-to-toe with our armored heavyweight.  Instead, the enemy must rely upon disintegrating forts, obstructions, and the dreaded infernal torpedoes to keep the Union fleet at arm's length.  It is only a matter of time for the crushing blockade to sever the rebels' tenuous supply line of foreign aid, and the birthplace of the rebellion will ingloriously fall like a rotten peach.

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Ed. note:  The USS Lehigh was built by Reaney, Son, & Archibold, Chester, Pa., and launched 17 January 1863.  She was subsequently commissioned at the Philadelphia Navy Yard 15 April 1863.

(For more information, see:  Konstam A. Union Monitor 1861 - 65;  Field R. Confederate Ironclad vs Union Ironclad;  and Hunter AF. A Year on a Monitor and the Destruction of Fort Sumter.)

Photos: Hill, Jim Dan.  The Civil War Sketchbook of Charles Ellery Stedman.  Presidio Press, San Rafael CA, 1976.

Henry Jacob Winser brief bio

Henry Jacob Winser (1833 - 1896) began his journalistic career as a proofreader for Henry Raymond's New York Times shortly after the newspaper was established in 1851.  Winser then become a reporter covering a local beat before resigning at the commencement of the Rebellion to assist Colonel Elmer Ellsworth recruit a regiment of zouaves from the fire companies of New York City.  As Ellsworth's private secretary, Winser accompanied the Colonel and his men, the 11th New York Infantry Regiment, to Washington City and thence across the Potomac to Alexandria, Virginia.  There on May 24, 1861, Ellsworth was gunned down by the enraged proprietor of the Marshall House for tearing down a large secessionist flag from the rooftop of his establishment.  Colonel Ellsworth was struck full in the chest by a blast from both barrels of James Jackson's shotgun as he was descending a narrow stairway.  Mortally wounded, Ellsworth collapsed into the arms of Henry Winser.

Returning to the newspaper after Ellsworth's shocking and sudden demise, Winser was dispatched by the Times to cover the joint Army-Navy expedition to capture Port Royal, South Carolina, during the autumn of 1861.  Perhaps because his father had served as an officer in England's Royal Navy, Winser seemed to gravitate toward news coverage of naval affairs.  Consequently, Winser sailed with the Federal fleet to chronicle Flag Officer Samuel F. Du Pont's warships demolishing the rebel-held Fort Walker at Hilton Head Island.  This uplifting triumph for the Union secured an important coaling station critical for the maintenance of the Federal blockade along the South Atlantic coast.

Following the Navy's victory at Port  Royal, Winser scored one of the great journalistic coups of the war with his incisive and timely reporting on the Battle of New Orleans in April 1862.  Observing from a skiff borrowed from the USS Owasco, Winser witnessed Commodore David Dixon Porter's mortar schooners rain fire upon Fort Jackson and Fort St. Philip, the nearly impregnable masonry works on opposite sides of the lower Mississippi River.  These forts guarded the approaches to the South's most populace and, arguably, most important city.  Winser watched as Admiral David G. Farragut's gunboats sailed upstream past the forts, dodged the menacing fire rafts, and dispersed the Confederate "Mosquito Fleet" on its way to demand and receive the surrender of the Crescent City.

Although other correspondents from rival newspapers were with the fleet at New Orleans, Winser scooped them all by paddling 50 miles downstream in a leaky dugout canoe to the Southwest Pass at the mouth of the mighty Mississippi.   There he delivered his dispatches to a steamship bound for Havana, Cuba.  From Havana, Winser's report of the battle was taken to New York and printed in the Times a full 24 hours before any other account of Farragut's great victory hit the streets.

Winser's next report was not as joyfully received at the North as the Navy failed in its attempt to reduce Fort Sumter and sail past the obstructions into Charleston Harbor.  Despite having nine powerful ironclads at his command, Admiral Du Pont's attack went awry from the beginning.  After an ineffective three-hour bombardment, the flotilla steamed slowly back out of range after absorbing a severe pounding from the rebel batteries.  All the ships reported extensive damage while the experimental, double-turreted Keokuk sank in shallow waters the next day.  Before she foundered, Winser had climbed aboard the damaged vessel and wrote that "she was leaking badly through several shot holes just at the water line." Charleston would defy all attempts at capture until the final months of the Civil War.

Winser reported from dry land as well as from the sea.  Winser followed as the Army of the Potomac grappled with Lee's veterans of the Army of Northern Virginia during General Grant's Overland Campaign in the spring and summer of 1864.  At Cold Harbor, Winser was near enough to the fighting to have his horse shot out from under him.  The well-travelled Winser also covered the opening stages of the Petersburg campaign, reporting from the field with the Army of the James, as General Martindale's Division attacked the city's extensive earthworks from the northeast on June 15, 1864.

Perhaps Winser's most compelling report covered the entire front page of the New York Times on November 26, 1864.  In that edition Winser described the intense suffering of Union prisoners released from Andersonville prison and exchanged on the Savannah River in November 1864.  Winser described the heart-wrenching plight of hundreds of sick, emaciated, tattered Union prisoners recently liberated from the infamous prison pen.  Winser wrote one of the first reliable accounts of the horrific conditions endured by Union POWs at Andersonville, which shocked and outraged readers at the North.

Civil War correspondent Henry J. Winser had a colorful and eventful career covering the war for the Times.  Winser risked his life to report the truth for his readers on the home front and was even briefly incarcerated by the Federal government for allegedly violating rules of censorship.  This blog is dedicated to his memory as well as to the invaluable contributions of the U. S. Navy in winning the war for the Union.

(For further reading, see:  Andrews JC.  The North Reports the Civil War;  Lande N.  Dispatches From the Front;  Perry JM.  A Bohemian Brigade.)