FAMOUS CONFEDERATE PRIVATEERS. -- THE "ALABAMA," THE
"SHENANDOAH," THE "NASHVILLE."
Let us now desert, for a time, the progress of the Union forces down
the Mississippi River, and turn our attention toward the true home of
the sailors,--the blue waters of the ocean. We have heard much, from
many sources, of the exploits of the Confederate commerce-destroyers,
privateers, or, as the Union authorities and the historians of the war
period loved to call them, the "Rebel pirates." In the course of this
narrative we have already dealt with the career of the "Sumter," one
of the earliest of these vessels. A glance at the career of the most
famous of all the Confederate cruisers, the "Alabama," will be
interesting.
This vessel was built in England, ostensibly as a merchant-vessel,
although her heavy decks and sides, and her small hatchways, might
have warned the English officials that she was intended for purposes
of war. Before she was finished, however, the customs-house people
began to suspect her character; and goaded on by the frequent
complaints of the United States minister, that a war-vessel was being
built for the Confederates, they determined to seize her. But
customs-house officials do things slowly; and, while they were getting
ready for the seizure, Capt. Semmes, who had taken command of the new
ship, duped them, and got his vessel safely out of English waters.
Private detectives and long-shore customs officers had been visiting
the ship daily on visits of examination; but, by the aid of champagne
and jolly good-fellowship, their inexperienced eyes were easily
blinded to the manifest preparations for a warlike cruise. But finally
came a retired naval officer who was not to be humbugged. A sailor on
board thus tells the story of his visit: "He was evidently a naval
officer, alert and resolute, and soon silenced the officer's
explanations. He looked at the hatchways, shot-racks, and magazines;
and, surveying the hammock-hooks on the berth-deck, said, 'You'll have
a large crew for a merchant-steamer.' We had taken on board some heavy
oak plank, that lay on the main deck; the officer remarked that they
were for anchor-stocks, and was shortly answered, 'Wouldn't make bad
gun-platforms, sir,' which, indeed, was just what they were intended
for. With a 'Good-morning, sir,' our visitor mounted the side and was
gone." This visit alarmed the Confederates; and immediate preparations
were made to run the ship, which still went by the name of the "No.
290," out of the British waters the next day. To disarm suspicion, a
large party of ladies and gentlemen were invited aboard; and the ship
started down the Mersey, ostensibly on her trial trip, with the sounds
of music and popping corks ringing from her decks. But peaceful and
merry as the start seemed, it was the beginning of a voyage that was
destined to bring ruin to hundreds of American merchants, and leave
many a good United States vessel a smoking ruin on the breast of the
ocean. When she was a short distance down the river, two tugs were
seen putting off from the shore; and in a moment the astonished guests
were requested to leave the ship, and betake themselves homeward in
the tugs. It is unnecessary to follow the voyage of the "No. 290" to
Nassau, and detail the way in which cannon, ammunition, and naval
stores were sent out from Portsmouth in a second vessel, and
transferred to her just outside of Nassau. It is enough to say that on
a bright, clear Sunday morning, in the latter part of August, 1862,
Capt. Rafael Semmes, late of the Confederate cruiser "Sumter," a
gentleman of middle height, wearing a uniform of gray and gold, his
dark mustache waxed to such sharp points that one would think him a
Frenchman rather than a Southerner, stood on the quarter-deck of the
"No. 290," with his crew mustered before him, reading out his
commission from Jefferson Davis, as commander of the Confederate
States' steam-sloop "Alabama." As he read, an old master's-mate,
standing at the peak-halyards, begins pulling at the ropes. The
British ensign, carried through the ship's anonymous days, comes
fluttering down, and in its place runs up the white naval ensign of
the Confederacy, with the starry Southern cross in the red field of
the corner. Then the reading is ended. Boom! goes the starboard
forecastle-gun. The band bursts forth with the stirring notes of
Dixie; and the sailors, after three ringing cheers, crowd forward to
wait for further developments. Soon the sailors are summoned aft
again, and Capt. Semmes addresses them. He tells them that, as the
"Alabama" is to be a ship-of-war, they are released from their
shipping contracts, but are invited to ship under the new plan. He
briefly details the purpose of the cruise. The "Alabama" is to be a
bird of passage, flitting from port to port, and hovering about the
highways of travel, to lie in wait for the merchant-vessels of the
North. Armed vessels she will avoid as much as possible, confining her
warfare to the helpless merchantmen. It is hardly a glorious
programme, but it seems to bear the promise of prize-money; and before
the day is over Capt. Semmes has shipped a crew of eighty men, and
with these the "Alabama" begins her cruise. The remainder of the
sailors are sent ashore, and the "Alabama" starts off under sail, in
search of her first capture.
Let us look for a moment at this vessel, perhaps the most famous of
all cruisers. She was a fast screw-steamer, of a little more than a
thousand tons' burden. Her screw was so arranged that it could be
hoisted out of the water; and, as the saving of coal was a matter of
necessity, the "Alabama" did most of her cruising under sail. Her hull
was of wood, with no iron plating, and her battery consisted of but
eight light guns: two facts which made it necessary that she should
avoid any conflicts with the powerful ships of the United States navy.
Her lines were beautifully fine; and, as she sped swiftly through the
water, Capt. Semmes felt that his vessel could escape the Northern
cruisers as easily as she could overhaul the lumbering merchantmen.
The crew was a turbulent one, picked up in the streets of Liverpool,
and made up of men of all nationalities. Terrific rows would arise in
the forecastle, and differences between the sailors were often settled
by square stand-up fights. The petty officers seldom interfered; one
old boatswain remarking, when he heard the noise of blows in the
forecastle, "Blast them, let 'em slug one another's heads off; it will
keep 'em out of mischief." And it generally did, for the combatants
were usually fast friends the next day.
As soon as the new ship was cleaned up, and put in order, drill began.
The men were all green; and hard, steady work at the guns, and with
the cutlasses, was necessary to fit them for service. The decks
resounded with "right," "left," "head protect," "right overcut." The
men were slow in learning; but the officers were Southerners, devoted
to their cause, and were tireless in getting the crew into shape.
After several days of cruising and drill, a vessel was sighted which
was unmistakably American. One of the sailors tells the story of her
capture graphically. "On the morning of the 5th of September the cry
of 'ship ahoy!' from the masthead brought all hands on deck. Sure
enough, about two miles to the leeward of us was a fine barque, at
once pronounced a 'spouter' (whaler), and an American. In order to
save coal,--of which very essential article we had about three hundred
tons aboard,--we never used our screw unless absolutely necessary. We
were on the starboard tack, and with the fresh breeze soon came
alongside. We had the American flag set, and the chase showed the
stars and stripes. A gun was fired; and, as we came within hail, we
gave the order, 'Back your mainsail; I'll send a boat on board of
you.'
"'Cutter away,' and the boat came down from the davits, and we pulled
for our first prize. It soon became a vain thing, and tiresome; but
this our first essay was a novelty, and we made the stretches buckle
with our impatience to get aboard. The bowman hooked on to the chains,
and we went up the side like cats. When we got aft, the captain asked
in a dazed sort of manner, 'Why--why--what does this mean?' The
master, Fullam, replied, 'You are prize to the Confederate steamer
"Alabama," Capt. Semmes commanding. I'll trouble you for your papers.'
Now, this man had been four years out, and had no doubt heard of the
trouble at home; but he couldn't realize this, and he stared, and
said, 'Confederate government--Alabama--why, that's a State,' and then
was sternly told to get his papers. We were ordered to put the crew in
irons, and they, too, seemed utterly dumbfounded; and one poor fellow
said to me, 'Must I lose all my clothes?' I answered, 'Yes,' but
advised him to put on all he could, and if he had any money to slip it
in his boot. 'Money! I h'aint seen a dollar for three years; but I'm
obliged to ye all the same.'"
Then, after searching the vessel for valuables, the captives were
taken back to the "Alabama," while one boat's-crew remained behind to
fire the vessel.
"She was loaded with oil," writes sailor Haywood; "and, when it
caught, a high column of dense black smoke poured out of the
hatchways, and spread in vast involutions to the leeward. Soon the red
forked flames began to climb her masts, and her spars glowed with
light; with a crash her mainmast fell, carrying the foremast with it,
and sending a shower of sparks high in the air; her stout sides seemed
to burst open; and what was a stately ship was now a blackened hulk,
the rising sea breaking in white-caps over it, and at last, with a
surge and wallow, sinking out of sight." Alone, by one of the
lee-ports, the ruined American captain stood, looking sadly upon the
end of all his long four years' labor. For this he had borne the icy
hardships of the Arctic seas. The long, dreary four years of
separation from wife and home had been lightened by the thought, that
by a prosperous voyage he might bring home enough money to stay always
in the little shingled cottage in the narrow street of some New
England fishing-village; but now all that was over. When he should
arrive home he would be penniless, with nothing but the clothes on his
back, and all because of a war of the very existence of which he knew
nothing. It was hard to bear, but war brings nothing but affliction.
After this capture, the "Alabama" had a lively season for several
weeks, capturing often two or three vessels a day. Generally they met
with no resistance; but occasionally the blood of some old sea-dog
would boil, and he would do the best in his power to injure his
captors. A story of one such incident was thus told by one of the
"Alabama's" crew:--
[Illustration: Looting a Prize.]
"When we ran around in search of whalers, we came upon a Yankee
skipper who didn't know what surrender meant. We were just well to the
west of the stormy cape, when one morning after breakfast we raised a
whaler. He was headed up the coast, and about noon we overhauled him.
He paid no attention to the first shot, and it was only when the
second one hulled him that he came into the wind. It was then seen
that he had fifteen or sixteen men aboard, and that all were armed
with muskets, and meant to defend the ship. The lieutenant was sent
off with his boat; but no sooner was he within fair musket-range, than
the whaler opened on him, killing one man, and wounding two, at the
first volley. The officer pushed ahead, and demanded a surrender;
but he got another volley, and the reply that the whaler 'would go to
the bottom before he would surrender to a Rebel!'
"The boat was recalled, and our gunners were instructed to hull the
whaler with solid shot. We approached him within rifle-range, and
opened fire. Every one of the balls plumped through his side at and
above the water-line, and he answered with his muskets, severely
wounding two men. He was repeatedly hailed to surrender, but in reply
he encouraged his men to maintain their fire. We soon had the sea
pouring into his starboard side through a dozen holes; and when it was
seen that he would soon go down, we ceased firing, and again demanded
his surrender. I can remember just how he looked as he sprang upon the
rail,--tall, gaunt, hair flying, and eyes blazing,--and shouted in
reply,--
"'The 'Ben Scott' don't surrender! Come and take us--if you can.'
"Five minutes later his craft settled down, bow first. We lowered the
boats to save his crew, and, strangely enough, not a man was lost.
When we brought them aboard, the Yankee skipper walked up to Semmes,
bareheaded, barefooted, and coatless, and said,--
"'If I'd only have had one old cannon aboard, we'd have licked ye out
of yer butes! Here we are, and what are ye going to do with us?'
"He was voted a jolly good fellow, and the crew were better treated
than any other ever forced aboard. In order to give them their
liberty, the very next capture we made was bonded, and they were put
aboard to sail for home."
But now the decks of the "Alabama" were getting rather uncomfortably
crowded with prisoners, and it became necessary to put into some port
where they could be landed. Accordingly the ship was headed for
Martinique, and soon lay anchored in the harbor of that place, where
she began coaling. While she lay there, a Yankee schooner put into the
port, and was about to drop anchor near the dangerous cruiser, when
some one gave the skipper a hint; and, with a startled "b'gosh," he
got his sails up, and scudded out to sea. The "Alabama" lay in port
some days. The first set of the sailors who received permission to go
ashore proceeded to get drunk, and raised so great a disturbance, that
thereafter they were obliged to look on the tropical prospect from the
deck of the vessel. The next day a United States war-vessel was seen
standing into the harbor, and Capt. Semmes immediately began to make
preparations to fight her. But as she came nearer she proved to be
the "San Jacinto," a vessel mounting fourteen heavy guns, and
altogether too powerful for the "Alabama." So thinking discretion the
better part of valor, the Confederate ship remained safe in the
neutral harbor. The "San Jacinto" quietly remained outside, thinking
that at last the fox was caught. But that same night, with all lights
extinguished, and running under full steam, the "Alabama" slipped
right under the broadside of her enemy, getting clean away, so quietly
that the "San Jacinto" remained for four days guarding the empty trap,
while the "Alabama" was off again on another voyage of destruction,
and the tuneful souls in the forecastle were roaring out the chorus,--
"Oh, our jolly privateer
Has left old England's shore!
Lord, send us lots of prizes,
But no Yankee man-of-war."
Soon after leaving Martinique, the "Alabama" made a capture which
embarrassed the captain not a little by its size. It was Sunday (which
Capt. Semmes calls in his journal "the 'Alabama's' lucky day"), when a
bit of smoke was seen far off on the horizon, foretelling the approach
of a steamer. Now was the time for a big haul; and the "Alabama's"
canvas was furled, and her steam-gear put in running order. The two
vessels approached each other rapidly; and soon the stranger came near
enough for those on the "Alabama" to make out her huge walking-beam,
see-sawing up and down amidships. The bright colors of ladies' dresses
were visible; and some stacks of muskets, and groups of blue-uniformed
men, forward, told of the presence of troops. The "Alabama" came up
swiftly, her men at the guns, and the United States flag flying from
the peak,--a rather dishonorable ruse habitually practised by Capt.
Semmes. In a moment the stranger showed the stars and stripes, and
then the "Alabama" ran up the white ensign of the Confederacy, and
fired a blank cartridge. But the stranger had no thought of
surrendering, and crowded on all steam and fled. The "Alabama" was no
match for her in speed, so a more peremptory summons was sent in the
shape of a shell that cut the steamer's foremast in two. This hint was
sufficient. The huge paddles ceased revolving, and a boat's-crew from
the "Alabama" went aboard to take possession. The prize proved to be
the mail steamer "Ariel," with five hundred passengers, besides a
hundred and forty marines and a number of army and navy officers. Now
Capt. Semmes had an elephant on his hands, and what to do with that
immense number of people he could not imagine. Clearly the steamer
could not be burned like other captures. For two days Capt. Semmes
kept the prize near him, debating what was to be done, and then
released her; exacting from all the military and naval officers their
paroles that they would not take up arms against the Confederacy.
After this exploit the "Alabama" went into port for a few days, and
then headed into the Gulf of Mexico. Here she steamed about, capturing
and burning a few United States merchantmen, until on the 11th of
January she found herself off the port of Galveston, where a strong
blockading fleet was stationed. And here she fought her first battle.
About four o'clock of a clear afternoon, the lookout in the cross
trees of the United States sloop-of-war "Hatteras," stationed off the
port of Galveston, hailed the officer of the deck, and reported a
steamer standing up and down outside. The stranger was watched closely
through marine glasses, and finally decided to be a blockade-runner
trying to make the port; and the "Hatteras" immediately set out in
pursuit. This was just what Capt. Semmes desired. He knew that the
ships stationed off Galveston were not heavily armed, and he felt sure
that if he could entice one away from the rest of the fleet he would
be able to send her to the bottom. Accordingly he steamed away slowly,
letting the "Hatteras" gain on him, but at the same time drawing her
out of the reach of any aid from her consorts. When about twenty miles
away from the fleet, the "Alabama" slowed down and finally stopped
altogether, waiting for the "Hatteras" to come up. The latter vessel
came within two hundred yards, and hailed, "What ship's that?"--"Her
Majesty's ship 'Petrel,'" answered Semmes, pursuing the course of
deception that brings so much discredit on his otherwise dashing
career. The captain of the "Hatteras" answered that he would send a
boat aboard; but, before the boat touched the water, a second hail
announced, "We are the Confederate ship 'Alabama,'" and in an instant
a heavy broadside crashed into the "Hatteras." Every one of the shots
took effect; and one big fellow from the one hundred and five pounder
rifle peeled off six feet of iron plating from the side of the
"Hatteras," and lodged in the hold. Dazed by this unexpected fire, but
plucky as ever, the blue-jackets sprang to their guns and returned
the fire. The two ships were so close together that a good shot with a
revolver could have picked off his man every time, and the sailors
hurled taunts at each other between the volleys. Not a shot missed the
"Hatteras:" in five minutes she was riddled with holes, and on fire,
and a minute or two later the engineer came up coolly and reported,
"Engine's disabled, sir;" followed quickly by the carpenter, who
remarked, "Ship's making water fast; can't float more than ten
minutes, sir." There was nothing for it but surrender, and the flag
came down amid frantic yells from the "Alabama" sailors. Semmes got
out his boats with wonderful rapidity, and picked up all the men on
the "Hatteras;" and the defeated vessel sank in ten minutes. One of
the strange things about this battle was the small number of men
injured. Nothing but shells were fired, and they searched every part
of the vessels; yet when the fight was over the "Alabama" had but one
man wounded, while the "Hatteras" had two men killed and three
wounded. The shells played some strange pranks in their course. One
ripped up a long furrow in the deck of the "Alabama," and knocked two
men high in the air without disabling them. Another struck a gun full
in the mouth, tore off one side of it, and shoved it back ten feet,
without injuring any of the crew. One man who was knocked overboard by
the concussion was back again and serving his gun in two minutes. A
shell exploded in the coal of the "Hatteras," and sent the stuff
flying all about the vessel, without injuring a man.
With her prisoners stowed away in all available places about her
decks, the "Alabama" headed for Jamaica, and cast anchor in the harbor
of Port Royal. There were several English men-of-war there, and the
officers of the victorious ship were lionized and feasted to their
hearts' content. The prisoners were landed, the "Alabama's" wounds
were bound up, and she was made ready for another cruise.
[Illustration: Sinking of the "Alabama."]
After five days in port, she set out again on her wanderings about the
world. Week after week she patrolled the waters in all parts of the
globe where ships were likely to be met. Sometimes she would go a
fortnight without a capture, and then the men in the forecastle would
grow turbulent and restive under the long idleness. Every bit of
brass-work was polished hour after hour, and the officers were at
their wits' end to devise means for "teasing-time." The men made
sword-knots and chafing-gear enough to last the whole navy, and
then looked longingly at the captain's mustache, as the only thing
left in which a "Turk's head" could be tied. Music enlivened the hours
for a time; but the fiddler was soon voted a bore, and silenced by
some one pouring a pint of molasses into the _f_-holes of his
instrument. The enraged musician completed the job by breaking it over
the head of the joker. After several weeks, they put into Cape Town.
Here the practical joker of the crew made himself famous by utterly
routing an inquisitive old lady, who asked, "What do you do with your
prisoners?" The grizzled old tar dropped his voice to a confidential
whisper, and, with a look of the utmost frankness, replied, "We biles
'em, mum. We tried a roast, but there ain't a hounce of meat on one o'
them Yankee carkages. Yes, mum, we biles 'em." The startled old lady
gasped out, "Good lordy," and fled from the ship.
Putting out from Cape Town, the "Alabama" continued her weary round of
cruising. Many vessels were captured, and most of them were burned.
One Yankee captain proved too much for Semmes, as his story will show.
His ship was chased by the "Alabama" in heavy weather all day, and
occasionally fired upon. When the steamer was abeam, "she closed up
with us," the captain says, "as near as safety would permit, and,
hailing us, asked where we were bound, and demanded the surrender of
the ship to the Confederate Government. I answered through my trumpet,
'Come and take me.' Conversation being too straining for the lungs
amid the howling of the wind and rolling of the huge billows, and the
proximity of the vessels too dangerous, we separated a little, and had
recourse to blackboards to carry on our conversation. Semmes asked
where we were bound. I answered, without a blush, 'Melbourne,'
thinking that possibly he might try to intercept me if he knew that I
was to pass through the Straits of Sunda. Then he had the cheek to
order me to 'haul down your flag and surrender, escape or no
escape,'--on a kind of parole, I suppose he meant. I wrote on the
board: 'First capture, then parole,' This answer vexed him, I am sure,
for he immediately wrote: 'Surrender, or I will sink you.' I wrote:
'That would be murder, not battle.'--'Call it what you will, I will do
it,' he wrote. 'Attempt it, and by the living God, I will run you
down, and we will sink together,' I wrote in reply. I knew his threat
was vain; for in that heavy sea, rolling his rails under, he did not
dare to free his guns, which were already double lashed. They would
have carried away their tackles, and gone through the bulwarks
overboard. Conscious that he had made empty threats, we said no more,
but doggedly kept on our course. Sail was still further reduced on
both vessels, as the wind kept increasing and was now blowing a gale.
We were now gradually and surely drawing ahead of the steamer. It was
growing dark. Rejoicing at my fortunate escape, I gave the valiant
Semmes a parting shot by hoisting the signal 'Good-by.' Dipping the
star-spangled banner as a salute, I hauled it down, and the steamer
was soon lost to sight in the darkness.... I never saw her after our
escape; but, indirectly, she forced me to sell my ship in China soon
after."
But we cannot follow the "Alabama" in her career about the world. A
full account of her captures would fill volumes; and in this narrative
we must pass hastily by the time that she spent scouring the ocean,
dodging United States men-of-war, and burning Northern merchantmen,
until, on the 11th of June, she entered the harbor of Cherbourg,
France, and had hardly dropped anchor when the United States
man-of-war "Kearsarge" appeared outside, and calmly settled down to
wait for the Confederate to come out and fight. Capt. Semmes seemed
perfectly ready for the conflict, and began getting his ship in shape
for the battle. The men, too, said that they had had a "plum-pudding
voyage" of it so far, and they were perfectly ready for a fight. The
forecastle poet was set to work, and soon ground out a song, of which
the refrain was,--
"We're homeward bound, we're homeward bound!
And soon shall stand on English ground;
But, ere our native land we see,
We first must fight the 'Kearsargee.'"
This was the last song made on board the "Alabama," and the poet was
never more seen after the fight with the "Kearsargee."
[Illustration: Rescue of Capt. Semmes.]
The "Kearsarge" had hardly hove in sight when Capt. Semmes began
taking in coal, and ordered the yards sent down from aloft, and the
ship put in trim for action. Outside the breakwater, the "Kearsarge"
was doing the same thing. In armament, the two vessels were nearly
equal; the "Alabama" having eight guns to the "Kearsarge's" seven, but
the guns of the latter vessel were heavier and of greater range. In
the matter of speed, the "Kearsarge" had a slight advantage. The great
advantage which the "Kearsarge" had was gained by the forethought of
her commander, who had chains hung down her sides, protecting the
boilers and machinery. Semmes might easily have done the same thing
had the idea occurred to him.
It was on Sunday, June 19, that the "Alabama" started out to the duel
that was to end in her destruction. Though Sunday was Capt. Semmes's
lucky day, his luck this time seemed to have deserted him. The
"Alabama" was accompanied in her outward voyage by a large French
iron-clad frigate. The broad breakwater was black with people waiting
to see the fight. The news had spread as far as Paris, and throngs had
come down by special trains to view the great naval duel. A purple
haze hung over the placid water, through which could be seen the
"Kearsarge," with her colors flying defiantly, steaming slowly ahead,
and ready for the "Alabama" to come up. Small steamers on every side
followed the "Alabama," as near the scene of conflict as they dared.
One English yacht, the "Deerhound," with her owner's family aboard,
hung close to the combatants during the fight. No duel of the age of
chivalry had a more eager throng of spectators.
Now the "Alabama" has passed the three-mile line, and is on the open
sea. The big French iron-clad stops; the pilot-boats, with no liking
for cannon-balls, stop too. The "Deerhound" goes out a mile or so
farther, and the "Alabama" advances alone to meet the antagonist that
is waiting quietly for her coming. The moment of conflict is at hand;
and Capt. Semmes, mustering his men on the deck, addresses them
briefly, and sends them to their quarters; and now, with guns shotted,
and lanyards taut, and ready for the pull, the "Alabama" rushes toward
her enemy. When within a distance of a mile, the first broadside was
let fly, without avail. The "Kearsarge," more cool and prudent, waits
yet awhile; and, when the first shot does go whizzing from her big
Dahlgren guns, it strikes the "Alabama," and makes her quiver all
over. Clearly it won't do to fight at long range; and Capt. Semmes
determines to close in on his more powerful antagonist, and even try
to carry her by boarding, as in the glorious days of Paul Jones. But
the wary Winslow of the "Kearsarge" will have none of that; and he
keeps his ship at a good distance, all the time pouring great shot
into the sides of the "Alabama." Now the two vessels begin circling
around each other in mighty circles, each trying to get in a raking
position. The men on the "Alabama" began to find that their gunpowder
was bad and caky; while at the same moment one of the officers saw two
big solid shot strike the "Kearsarge" amidships, and fall back into
the water, revealing the heretofore unsuspected armor. This was
discouraging. Then came a big shot that knocked over the pivot-gun,
and killed half its crew. One sailor saw a shot come in a port, glide
along the gun, and strike the man at the breach full in the breast,
killing him instantly.
The "Kearsarge," too, was receiving some pretty heavy blows, but her
iron armor protected her vulnerable parts. One shell lodged in her
sternpost, but failed to explode. Had it burst, the "Kearsarge's"
fighting would have been over.
After an hour the officers of the "Alabama" began coming to Capt.
Semmes with grave faces, and reporting serious accidents. At last the
first lieutenant reported the ship sinking, and the order was given to
strike the flag. She was sinking rapidly, and the time had come for
every man to save himself. The "Kearsarge" was shamefully slow in
getting out her boats; and finally when the "Alabama," throwing her
bow high in the air, went down with a rush, she carried most of her
wounded with her, and left the living struggling in the water. Capt.
Semmes was picked up by a boat from the yacht "Deerhound," and was
carried in that craft to England away from capture. For so escaping,
he has been harshly criticised by many people; but there seems to be
no valid reason why he should refuse the opportunity so offered him.
Certain it is, that, had he not reached the "Deerhound," he would have
been drowned; for none of the boats of the "Kearsarge" were near him
when he was struggling in the water.
So ended the career of the "Alabama." Her life had been a short one,
and her career not the most glorious imaginable; but she had fulfilled
the purpose for which she was intended. She had captured sixty-four
merchant-vessels, kept a large number of men-of-war busy in chasing
her from one end of the world to the other, and inflicted on American
commerce an almost irreparable injury.
Although the "Alabama" was by all means the most noted and the most
successful of all the Confederate cruisers, there were others that
entered upon the career of privateering, and followed it for a while
with varying degrees of success. Some were captured revenue-cutters,
which the Confederates armed with a single heavy gun, and turned loose
on the ocean in search of Yankee schooners. Others were merely tugs
or pilot-boats. Generally their careers were short. In one instance a
fine privateer, from which the Confederates expected great things,
attempted to capture a United States man-of-war, under the delusion
that it was a merchant-vessel. The captain of the man-of-war saw the
mistake under which the Confederate labored, and allowed the privateer
to come up within short range, when, with a sudden broadside, he sent
her to the bottom, abruptly terminating her career as a commerce
destroyer. Some quite formidable iron-clad cruisers were built abroad;
but in most cases all the diplomacy of the Confederate agents proved
unavailing to prevent the confiscation of the ships by the neutral
governments in whose territory they were built. Two iron-clad rams
built at Liverpool, ostensibly for private parties, but really for the
Confederate Government, were seized by the British authorities. Six
splendid vessels were built in France, but only one succeeded in
getting away to join the Confederate service. This one was a ram with
armored sides, and was named the "Stonewall." The war was nearly over
when she was put in commission, and her services for the Confederacy
amounted to nothing. She made one short cruise, during which she fell
in with two United States men-of-war, that avoided a fight with her on
account of her superior strength. At the end of her cruise the war was
over, and she was sold to the Mikado of Japan, whose flag she now
carries.
[Illustration: The End of a Privateer.]
The "Nashville" was an old side-wheel passenger-steamer, of which the
Confederates had made a privateer. Her career was a short one. She
made one trip to England as a blockade-runner, and on her return
voyage she burned three or four United States merchantmen. She then
put into the Great Ogeechee River, where she was blockaded by three
Union men-of-war. The Confederates protected her by filling the river
with torpedoes, and anchoring the ship at a point where the guns of a
strong fort could beat back all assailants. Here she lay for several
weeks, while the men on the blockaders were fuming at the thought that
they were to be kept idle, like cats watching a rat-hole. At last
Capt. Worden, who was there with his redoubtable monitor "Montauk,"
determined to destroy the privateer, despite the torpedoes and the big
guns of the fort. He accordingly began a movement up the river,
picking his way slowly through the obstructions. The fort began a
lively cannonade; but Worden soon found that he had nothing to fear
from that quarter, as the guns were not heavy enough to injure the
iron sides of the little monitor. But, as he went up the river, the
"Nashville" took the alarm and fled before him; and it seemed that the
most the Union fleet could do would be to keep her from coming down
again, for with her light draught she could keep well out of range of
the monitor's guns. But one morning Worden perceived a strange
commotion on the "Nashville;" and, looking carefully through his
glass, he saw that she was aground. Now was his time; and at once he
pushed forward to a point twelve hundred yards from her, and directly
under the guns of Fort MacAllister. From this point he began a
deliberate fire upon the doomed privateer. The great guns of the fort
were roaring away, and their shells came crashing against the sides of
the "Montauk;" but to this Worden paid no heed. It was splendid long
distance practice for his gunners; and, when they got the range, not a
shot missed the stranded Confederate vessel. From his pilot-house
Worden could see the crew of the "Nashville" escaping in boats,
leaping into the water over the sides,--doing anything to escape from
that terribly destructive fire. All the time the great fifteen-inch
shells were dropping into the vessel with fearful precision. By and by
a heavy fog fell upon the scene; but the gunners on the "Montauk" knew
where their enemy was, and kept up their steady fire, though they
could see nothing. When the fog lifted, they saw the "Nashville" a
mass of flames; and in a moment she blew up, covering the placid
surface of the river with blackened fragments. Then the "Montauk"
returned to her consorts, well satisfied with her day's work.
[Illustration: The "Nashville" burning a Prize.]
The last of the Confederate privateers to ravage the ocean was the
"Shenandoah," originally an English merchant-vessel engaged in the
East India trade. She was large, fast, and strongly built; and the
astute agent of the Confederacy knew, when he saw her lying in a
Liverpool dock, that she was just calculated for a privateer. She was
purchased by private parties, and set sail, carrying a large stock of
coal and provisions, but no arms. By a strange coincidence, a second
vessel left Liverpool the same day, carrying several mysterious
gentlemen, who afterwards proved to be Confederate naval officers. The
cargo of this second vessel consisted almost entirely of remarkably
heavy cases marked "machinery." The two vessels, once out of English
waters, showed great fondness for each other, and proceeded together
to a deserted, barren island near Madeira. Here they anchored side by
side; and the mysterious gentlemen, now resplendent in the gray and
gold uniform of the Confederacy, stepped aboard the "Shenandoah." Then
the cases were hoisted out of the hold of the smaller vessel; and,
when the "machinery" was mounted on the gun-deck of the "Shenandoah,"
it proved to be a number of very fine steel-rifled cannon. Then the
crew was mustered on the gun-deck, and informed that they were manning
the new Confederate ship "Shenandoah;" and with a cheer the flag was
hoisted at the peak, and the newly created ship-of-war started off in
search of merchantmen to make bonfires of. From Madeira the cruiser
made for the Southern Ocean,--a fresh field not yet ravaged by any
Confederate vessel. This made the hunting all the better for the
"Shenandoah," and she burned vessels right and left merrily. In the
spring of 1865, she put into the harbor of Melbourne, Australia, where
her officers were lavishly entertained by the citizens. Thence she
proceeded to the northward, spending some time in the Indian Ocean,
and skirting the Asiatic coast, until she reached Behrings Straits.
Here she lay in wait for returning whalers, who in that season were
apt to congregate in Behrings Sea in great numbers, ready for the long
voyage around Cape Horn to their home ports on the New England coast.
Capt. Waddell was not disappointed in his expectations, for he reached
the straits just as the returning whalers were coming out in a body.
One day he captured eleven in a bunch. With one-third his crew
standing at the guns ready to fire upon any vessel that should attempt
to get up sail, Waddell kept the rest of his men rowing from ship to
ship, taking off the crews. Finally all the prisoners were put aboard
three of the whalers, and the eight empty ships were set afire. It was
a grand spectacle. On every side were the towering icebergs, whose
glassy sides reflected the lurid glare from the burning ships. Great
black volumes of smoke arose from the blazing oil into the clear blue
northern sky. The ruined men crowded upon the three whalers saw the
fruits of their years of labor thus destroyed in an afternoon, and
heaped curses upon the heads of the men who had thus robbed them. What
wonder if, in the face of such apparently wanton destruction as this,
they overlooked the niceties of the law of war, and called their
captors pirates! Yet for the men of the "Shenandoah" it was no
pleasant duty to thus cruise about the world, burning and destroying
private property, and doing warfare only against unarmed people. More
than one has left on record his complaint of the utter unpleasantness
of the duty; but all felt that they were aiding the cause for which
their brothers at home were fighting, and so they went on in their
work of destruction.
For two months more Waddell continued his depredations in the northern
seas. Many a stout bark from New London or New Bedford fell a prey to
his zeal for a cause that was even then lost. For the Confederacy had
fallen. The last volley of the war had been discharged three months
before. Of this Capt. Waddell was ignorant, and his warlike operations
did not end until the captain of a British bark told him of the
surrender of Lee and Johnston, and the end of the war. To continue his
depredations longer would be piracy: so Capt. Waddell hauled down his
Confederate flag, and heading for Liverpool surrendered his ship to
the British authorities, by whom it was promptly transferred to the
United States. So ended the last of the Confederate privateers.
[Illustration: "Shenandoah" burning Whalers.]