Up to the day of Alonzo Cushing's death, the reputation of his
younger brother William kept pretty even pace with his own. William's
judgment in moments of imminent peril seemed to be unerring, so that
a venture with him appeared to his companions to have but one chance
of failure--the death of the adventurer himself. But this had been
challenged with so many styles of defiance, as to cause the more
superstitious among the sailors to believe him invulnerable. They were
always ready and anxious to accompany him on those of his expeditions
that appeared the most desperate. The unlimited devotion of his men
and under-officers is one of the most valuable assets of a military
or naval officer. This, with his other qualities, procured for him a
commission as lieutenant on July 16, 1862, nearly four months before he
attained the age of twenty years.
William was thereupon given the position of second officer on the
gunboat "Perry," on the North Carolina coast, at an age when a
midshipman or master's mate, or even a lieutenant, is usually content
to play a very subordinate part in warfare.
Soon after this (September following), his superior officer,
Lieutenant-Commander Flusser, was ordered up the Blackwater River
with his own and two other boats to co-operate with a land force in
preventing the escape of about seven thousand Confederates stationed at
Franklin, with Norfolk as their ultimate object. The naval contingent
was at the rendezvous at the agreed time; that from the army failed to
make connection. It was an unpleasant predicament for the boats, but
they fought their way back, down the narrow channel of the river, the
banks of which for many miles were lined with infantry and artillery.
At one point, when the decks were being swept by the enemy's bullets,
and a boarding party was making a dash for the "Perry," Cushing called
a half dozen of his men to help him get a howitzer into position, to
meet the boarders with canister. When his volunteers were all killed or
disabled, he took the gun alone and trained it upon the assailants with
such effect that they ran away. In Flusser's report of the affair he
took occasion to say:
I desire to mention as worthy of praise for great gallantry,
Lieutenant W. B. Cushing, who ran the field-piece out amid a storm
of bullets, took a sure and deliberate aim at the rebels and sent a
charge of canister among them that completely silenced their fire
at that point.
On October 26, 1862, Admiral S. P. Lee reports:
Lieutenant W. B. Cushing has been put in command of the gunboat
Ellis, and is increasing his reputation by active operations.
On October 18, William had written to his cousin:
I am alone, inside the outer bar. The nearest friendly vessel or
citizen is forty miles away. Three miles off, up the inlet, is the
rebel town of Swansboro. I am going to run up and take possession
in a few days, when I have burned up enough coal to lighten my
vessel so I can cross the other bar. * * * You see I have a sort of
roving commission and can run around to suit myself. * * * If under
these circumstances I can not stir the rebels up in more places
than one, it will be strange indeed.
He ran up to Swansboro in due time and burned the "Adelaide" with a
$100,000 cargo, besides destroying salt works. On November 23, he
worked his vessel to Jacksonville, a depot for blockade runners, and
on the way caused a ship loaded with turpentine to be burned. At the
town he captured a lot of guns and other public property, and started
back. About 5 o'clock p. m. he found and shelled a camp of Confederate
troops on the river bank, and came to anchor at nightfall, staying all
night with his prizes, two large schooners.
The next morning Cushing moved on. Reaching a difficult passage in the
river, he was attacked by shore artillery, but replied so vigorously
that the gunners on shore were driven away, and he passed along.
Shortly after, however, the "Ellis" ran aground and had to be burned,
but not before her outfit had been mostly removed to one of the
schooners, amid some hours of fighting. Then Cushing and his companions
escaped in a small boat to the schooner which, with its companion, was
taken back to open water.
He asked for a court of inquiry on account of the loss of his gunboat,
but the admiral said there was no need, and the Navy Department at
Washington approved, saying, "We don't care for the loss of a vessel
when fought so gallantly as that."
A much thicker volume than this would be required to tell the stories
of the young sailor's various adventures during the ensuing year.
The reader must be content with relations of occasional adventures,
sometimes in Cushing's own language. Our hero was now given command of
the "Commodore Barney," a steamer of five hundred and thirteen tons
with a very powerful battery, and, according to his own statement,
a good crew of over one hundred men and thirteen officers. He
continues, in his letter (written April 5) to his cousin, Mrs. Smith,
at East Troy: "Of course I am as proud as a peacock at being the only
lieutenant in the regular navy who has a [separate] command."
_William's Letter to His Mother_
On the 15th he writes his mother a letter which is given here nearly
in full, for it indicates better than almost anything else some of
the prominent traits of his character as developed at that time, when
boyish impulses were mixed with striking elements of manliness. He
talks with the intimate frankness of a son who is still in love with
his mother and wishes her to share in his triumph:
Another fight and another victory! Again I have passed through the
ordeal of fire and blood, and again I thank God for being safe in
life and limb. Suffolk is besieged by the enemy, thirty thousand
strong, and contains an army of fifteen thousand to defend it.
The town is situated on this river (the Nansemond) and its water
communication must remain open or our force will be in a desperate
position. Who do you suppose was selected to perform the dangerous
task of guarding the rear, and preventing the crossing of ten
thousand of the flower of the southern army? Who but your son,
that ex-midshipman, ex-master's mate, hair-brained, scapegrace,
Will Cushing! Yes, it is even so. I am senior officer commanding
in the Nansemond river. I have my vessel and two others now. I had
two more, but they were disabled in action, and have been towed
to Hampton Roads. I am six miles from the city, at a place called
Western Branch, the point most desired by the enemy. I draw too
much water to go up further, but sent my light boats up above.
Yesterday morning, as they were on their way down, they encountered
a battery at a distance of three hundred yards, and swarms of
riflemen in the bushes on the banks. A sharp action ensued, in
which two of the boats were disabled, and but one left uninjured,
but the captain of her, like a brave fellow as he is, got them
around the point out of range, and we managed to get them as far
as the bar here when one, the Mount Washington, got aground. The
rebels soon appeared in force, bent upon driving us and crossing
the river. They opened with artillery from two positions a
cross-fire, and their seven pieces sent a hail of shot and shell
around us.
I had but two vessels afloat, but I silenced their fire in an hour.
In a short time they again went into action; this time unmasking
a regularly constructed battery not five hundred yards from us,
and so situated as to rake the narrow channel completely. It was
impossible to get our disabled steamer off from the bar until high
water, five hours ahead, and I determined to fight on the spot as
long as the Barney [his own vessel] was above the water. I sent the
light steamer down to guard another coveted point, and was soon
exchanging death calls with the enemy.
Well, it was a hard fight and at close quarters most of the time;
so close that their infantry riddled the two vessels with bullets.
Crash! go the bulkheads; a rifle shell was exploded on our deck,
tearing flesh and woodwork. A crash like thunder is our reply--and
our heavy shell makes music in the air, and explodes among our
traitor neighbors with a dull, sullen roar of defiance. Up goes the
battle-flag and at once the air is filled with the smoke of furious
battle, and the ear thrills with the unceasing shriek and whistle
of all the shell and rifled bolts that sinful man has devised to
murder his fellow creatures. Crash! Crash! Splinters are flying in
the air; great pools of blood are on the deck, and the first cry
of wounded men in agony rises on the soft spring air. The dead can
not speak, but there they lie motionless, lifeless and mangled,
who a moment ago smiled on the old flag that floated over them, and
fought for its glory and honor. Sprinkle ashes over the slippery
deck; the work must still go on. The rifled gun--my best--is
disabled, for three shots have struck it; the muzzle is gone, the
elevator is carried away and the carriage is broken.
Steady, men, steady; fill up the places of the killed and wounded.
Don't throw a shot away. The wheel of the howitzer is torn off
by the shell and the gun rendered useless. Never mind; work the
remaining guns with a will, for we can and must be victorious. And
so the time wore away until the rising river promised to release
the imprisoned steamer, when I signaled to the light steamer to
move up and take her in tow. This duty was gallantly performed, and
the old Barney remained alone under the rebel cannon. * * *
My vessel is riddled with cannon balls and bullets, and I have lost
three killed and nine wounded--four of them mortally--men who lost
legs and arms. The loss on the other vessels is proportionally
severe. I am no braggart, but I challenge the world to furnish a
more determined fight, or a victory more richly earned. The enemy
shall not cross here. I will not give way an inch. Even now the
thickets on the banks are alive with their sharpshooters, and
as I write, the quick whirr of the rifle bullet is often heard,
sent from the bank five hundred yards ahead in the vain hope of
injuring the hated Yankee. A good providence seems to watch over
my fortunes, tho' I do not deserve its protection. I may go
into action again at any moment, probably tomorrow. I have every
confidence in my gallant crew and officers and do not doubt the
result if my life is spared. Love to all.
In haste, Your affectionate son,
WILL.
_After Gettysburg_
When General Lee crossed the Potomac on his way to Gettysburg, William
was called to Washington to be ready for action in defense of the
capital, should it need defense. Hearing of his brother's death on
the night of its occurrence, he obtained permission and left for the
battlefield, intending to ask the privilege of handling Alonzo's
guns, which undoubtedly he was perfectly capable of doing. Those guns
were out of the business, however, and he had to satisfy himself with
looking through the field, of which he said long afterwards, "My mind
fails to bring up any picture that is so grand, or solemn, or so
mournful as that great theater of death."
A month afterwards, William was in command of the "Shoboken," a former
ferry boat made over into a vessel well-adapted to the shallow waters
of the Carolina coasts. With her he destroyed the blockade runner
"Hebe," after a fight with a land battery.
A few nights later he took a crew of six men in a dingey, to a
point on the beach four miles from the mouth of the inlet which was
separated from the waters outside by a long and very narrow stretch
of sandbank. Here he and his men carried the boat across the neck of
land, and proceeded with it up the inlet to the anchorage of another
blockade runner, where he took ten prisoners, burned the vessel and
some valuable salt works, threw the shore armament into the water, and
returned by the same route, regaining the "Shoboken" without loss of
any kind.
The next day, William rejoined the squadron outside, which was engaged
with a shore battery. Landing with twenty men, he captured the battery
and took two rifled cannon back with him to the squadron.
_The Destruction of the "Albemarle"_
As it is impossible to crowd into this sketch any considerable
proportion of the adventures of Lieutenant Cushing, it seems best in
illustration of the extraordinary quality of his bravery, to proceed
at once to the narrative of his famous exploit in the destruction of
the Confederate ironclad "Albemarle," which earned for him further
promotion, the engrossed thanks of Congress, and congratulatory
addresses from civic bodies in every part of the North.
This ironclad was built on the lines of the old "Merrimac," and like
the latter had met the fire of our biggest guns without injury. In
April, 1864, she had attacked and recaptured the town of Plymouth,
situated near the head of Albemarle Sound, eight miles above the place
where the Sound receives the waters of Roanoke River. She had beaten
off our fleet at that place, sunk its principal boat, the "Southfield,"
and killed the commander, Flusser, of whom we have spoken in connection
with an earlier conflict. In May, the "Albemarle" steamed out into the
Sound and simultaneously engaged seven of our vessels, destroying the
"Sassacuse," which had unsuccessfully tried to overwhelm her by ramming
beneath the water-line. The Union ironclads were not light enough to
cross the bar in front of the entrance to the Sound, and the officers
of our fleet were much puzzled as to how to be rid of the annoyance.
Cushing finally submitted two plans to Admiral Lee, either of which
had, he thought, a fair chance of success. One was for him to take a
hundred men, with India-rubber boats ready for inflation, lead them
through the dense thickets of the swamps adjoining Plymouth, and after
inflating the boats turn the sailors into a boarding party that should
overpower the "Albemarle's" crew. The other was the one adopted,
although with many misgivings on the part of the admiral and of the
assistant secretary of the navy, Mr. Fox. It looked like a modern
repetition of the dramatic episode of David and Goliath, and they
permitted themselves to hope that this youth of twenty-one might have
as good fortune as his Biblical predecessor. In brief, it was arranged
that William should proceed to New York and select two very small,
low-pressure steamers, each carrying a howitzer and a torpedo. These he
was secretly to convey along the coast to the Sound and there attack
the big ironclad by night, in such manner as might appear best when the
time was ripe for action.
The boats were secured. Each was about thirty feet long and carried
a 12-pound howitzer, with a torpedo fastened to the end of a boom
at the bow, the boom being fourteen feet long and supplied with a
"goose-neck" hinge where it rested on the bow. One of the boats was
lost before reaching Norfolk; but with the other Cushing went through
the Chesapeake and Albemarle Canal to the Sound.
Starting at midnight, he found the Union fleet fifty miles up the
Sound, expecting a visit from the enemy's ironclad. Here he explained
the daring plan to his officers and men, and told them they were at
liberty to go with him or not, as they might choose. All wished to go,
and a few from other vessels also volunteered. On the night of October
27, the party steamed up the river.
What happened thereafter, is told so tersely by Cushing himself, in
his formal report to Admiral Porter, that it seems fair to use his own
words. Under date of October 30, he writes:
Sir: I have the honor to report that the rebel ironclad Albemarle
is at the bottom of the Roanoke river.
On the night of the 27th, having prepared my steam launch, I
proceeded up towards Plymouth with thirteen officers and men,
partly volunteers from the squadron. The distance from the mouth of
the river to the ram is about eight miles, the stream averaging in
width some two hundred yards, and lined with the enemy's pickets.
A mile below the town was the wreck of the Southfield, surrounded
by some schooners, and it was understood that a gun was mounted
there to command the bend. I therefore took one of the Shamrock's
cutters in tow, with orders to cast off and board at that point if
we were hailed.
Our boat succeeded in passing the pickets, and even the Southfield
within twenty yards without discovery, and we were not hailed until
by the lookouts on the ram. The cutter was cast off and ordered
below, however, while we made for our enemy under a full head of
steam.
The rebels sprang their rattles, rang the bell and commenced
firing, at the same time repeating their hail and seeming much
confused. The light of a fire ashore showed me the ironclad, made
fast to the wharf, with a pen of logs around her, about 30 feet
from her side. Passing her closely, we made a complete circle so as
to strike her fairly, and went into her, bows on.
By this time the enemy's fire was very severe, but a dose of
canister at short range served to moderate their zeal and disturb
their aim. Paymaster Swan of the Otsego was wounded near me, but
how many more I know not. Three bullets struck my clothing and
the air seemed full of them. In a moment we had struck the logs,
just abreast the quarter port, breasting them in some feet, and
our bows resting on them. The torpedo boom was then lowered, and
by a vigorous pull I succeeded in driving the torpedo under the
overhang, and exploded it at the same time that the Albemarle's
gun was fired. A shot seemed to go crashing through my boat, and a
dense mass of water rushed in from the torpedo, filling the launch
and completely disabling her. The enemy then continued his fire
at fifteen feet range, and demanded our surrender which I twice
refused, ordering the men to save themselves, and removing my own
coat and shoes. Springing into the river, I swam with others into
the middle of the stream, the rebels failing to hit us. The most of
our party were captured, some drowned, and only one escaped besides
myself, and he in a different direction.
Acting Master's Mate Woodman, of the Commodore Hull, I met in the
water half a mile below the town and assisted him as best I could,
but failed to get him ashore. Completely exhausted, I managed to
reach the shore, but was too weak to crawl out of the water until
just at daylight, when I managed to creep into the swamp, close
to the fort. While hiding a few feet from the path two of the
Albemarle's officers passed, and I judged from their conversation
that the ship was destroyed.
Some hours traveling in the swamp served to bring me out well below
the town, when I sent a negro in to gain information, and found
the ram was truly sunk. Proceeding through another swamp, I came to
a creek and captured a skiff belonging to a picket of the enemy,
and with this by 11 o'clock the next night made my way out to the
Valley City. Acting Master's Mate William Howarth of the Monticello
showed as usual conspicuous bravery. He is the same officer who
has been with me twice in Wilmington harbor. I trust he may be
promoted when exchanged, as well as Acting Third Assistant Engineer
Stotesbury, who, being for the first time under fire, handled his
engine promptly and with coolness. All the officers and men behaved
in the most gallant manner. I will furnish their names to the
Department as soon as they can be procured.
The cutter of the Shamrock boarded the Southfield, but found no
gun. Four prisoners were taken there. The ram is now completely
submerged, and the enemy has sunk three schooners in the river to
obstruct the passage of our ships. I desire to call the attention
of the admiral and the Department to the spirit manifested by the
sailors on the ships in these sounds. But few men were wanted, but
all hands were eager to go into the action, many offering their
chosen shipmates a month's pay to resign in their favor.
I am, sir, very respectfully your obedient servant,
W. B. CUSHING,
_Lieutenant United States Navy_.
So much by way of requisite and necessary formality from an inferior
officer who does something, to a superior who has the right to know all
about what the other has been doing. Still, the young man who has not
yet attained the maturity of twenty-two years discloses the ability
on his part to say clearly and concisely what conveys his meaning,
although not always in strict conformity with rhetorical rules. Of
course he does not present himself as a candidate for honors in a
class in rhetoric; but he does possess the essential of success in
that direction also, if he cares for it. The language that is for use,
rather than for ornament, is the language of lasting character.
But from motives of modesty and discipline combined, the lieutenant
did not tell his superiors in office all the items of fact that other
people would like to know. Matters of interest omitted in the formal
report, are noted in many cases in Cushing's private journal, and that
document was handed over to Mrs. Harriet Prescott Spofford for use in
an extended magazine article.[7] From that and other sources I will
add somewhat to the story told officially to the admiral.
[7] _Harper's Monthly_, June, 1874.
Cushing had a way of rapidly and judiciously thinking for himself. On
approaching near enough to the "Albemarle" to make out her presence,
he concluded to board her and take her down the river to the Union
lines, trusting to the confusion of a night surprise to help the daring
scheme to a successful issue. His view was correct; but just as he was
about to put it into execution a challenge rang out from the ironclad,
followed by the rattle of musketry from the guards who stood at their
stations. Luckily for the assailants, the flame of a bonfire of pine
knots and other light-wood flared upward, and Cushing saw what without
it he would have been unable to see--a surrounding semicircular boom of
logs, fastened end-to-end by iron links and hooks, making futile any
attempt at boarding.
He was standing on the deck, in full view of the enemy, who were doing
their best to kill him; but the whistling bullets could not disturb the
quickness and accuracy of his judgment. In front of him lay two signal
lines, one of which was attached to the engineer's ankle, and one to
the arm of the officer in charge of the torpedo beam--besides other
lines, one of which was arranged to push the torpedo under the vessel
to be attacked, while still another was to explode the torpedo at the
supreme moment. A mistake in relation to either of these would have
been fatal to the undertaking.
But Cushing made no mistake. On being signaled, the engineer below
backed the boat out into the stream, and then headed straight on to
the middle of the line of logs, carrying the bow of the launch partly
over, so that the torpedo when let down would be within reach of the
ironclad. The officer in charge of the sweep was then signaled, and
lowered the torpedo boom, which Cushing caused to be crowded under the
"Albemarle's" side. Then he pulled a cord that released a suspended
iron ball, which in its turn fell upon a percussion cap, thus exploding
the infernal machine and blowing a hole through the side of the ram. To
me, this perfection of action in the midst of death-dealing missiles,
seems almost beyond the scope of mere human endeavor.
Plenty of men in both armies could, without flinching, march up
to the mouths of cannon and into a storm of bullets; but under
such circumstances as surrounded young Cushing when destroying the
"Albemarle," such an exhibition of coolness absolutely imperturbable
was neither seen nor imagined by me, in what I saw of the War. I doubt
much if there ever was a parallel instance. Possibly the exploits of
the elder brother, Alonzo, at Gettysburg, were as remarkable; but if
so, they lacked a minute chronicler. With the latter, no complicated
calculations nor deliberate weighing of comparative probabilities were
apparently necessary to be employed, in order to accomplish what he
wanted to do. Although among the bravest of the brave, it is not shown
that Alonzo was in every respect as unquestionably the complete master
in battle, of the lesser, equally with the greatest, of his mental
faculties as was the case with his younger brother. William was as
alert, resourceful, indefatigable as he might have been at a game of
whist, or in the solution of a mathematical problem in the quietude of
his chamber.