CHAPTER I.

[Illustration: BRITISH CROSSES & MEDALS, _see Key_]

BRITISH CROSSES AND MEDALS.—(_Coloured Frontispiece._)

1. MEDAL OF ELIZABETH. (DEFEAT OF THE ARMADA, 1588.)

2. CRIMEA MEDAL AND 5. NAVAL MEDAL OF 3. CHINA MEDAL WITH

NAVAL CLASP FOR COMMONWEALTH TWO NAVAL CLASPS

AZOFF (1854-6). (1650). (1857-58).

4. NAVAL WAR MEDAL 6. CONSPICUOUS GALLANTRY

RIBBON (1793, 1840). RIBBON (1854, 1874).

7. NAVAL MEDAL OF 8. NAVAL MEDAL OF 9. NAVAL MEDAL OF

COMMONWEALTH CHARLES II. COMMONWEALTH

(BLAKE’S VICTORIES (BLAKE’S VICTORIES

OVER THE DUTCH) OVER THE DUTCH)

(1653). (1653).

10. COLLAR OF THE ORDER OF THE BATH.

11. GOOD CONDUCT AND 12. BALTIC MEDAL (1854).

LONG-SERVICE MEDAL.

13. VICTORIA CROSS 15. ALBERT MEDAL (SEA).

WITH NAVAL RIBBON.

14. BADGE OF THE KNIGHTS OF THE BATH

(MILITARY AND NAVAL DIVISION).

[Illustration: Illustrated title page]

THE SEA

_Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, & Heroism._

BY

F. WHYMPER,

AUTHOR OF “TRAVELS IN ALASKA,” ETC.

_ILLUSTRATED._

CASSELL PETTER & GALPIN:

_LONDON, PARIS & NEW YORK_.

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED]

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

MEN-OF-WAR. PAGE

Our Wooden Walls—The _Victory_—Siege of Toulon—Battle of St. 4

Vincent—Nelson’s Bridge—Trafalgar’s Glorious Day—The Day for such

Battles gone—Iron _v._ Wood—Lessons of the Crimean War—Moral

Effect of the Presence of our Fleets—Bombardment of

Sebastopol—Red-hot Shot and Gibraltar—The Ironclad Movement—The

_Warrior_—Experiences with Ironclads—The _Merrimac_ in Hampton

Roads—A Speedily-decided Action—The _Cumberland_ sunk and

_Congress_ burned—The First Monitor—Engagement with the

_Merrimac_—Notes on Recent Actions—The _Shah_ and _Huascar_—An

Ironclad tackled by a Merchantman

CHAPTER II.

MEN OF PEACE.

Naval Life in Peace Times—A Grand Exploring Voyage—The Cruise of 28

the _Challenger_—Its Work—Deep-sea Soundings—Five Miles

down—Apparatus employed—Ocean Treasures—A Gigantic

Sea-monster—Tristan d’Acunha—A Discovery Interesting to the

Discovered—The Two Crusoes—The Inaccessible Island—Solitary

Life—The Sea-cart—Swimming Pigs—Rescued at Last—The Real Crusoe

Island to Let—Down South—The Land of Desolation—Kerguelen—The

Sealers’ Dreary Life—In the Antarctic—Among the Icebergs

CHAPTER III.

THE MEN OF THE SEA.

The Great Lexicographer on Sailors—The Dangers of the Sea—How 42

Boys become Sailors—Young Amyas Leigh—The Genuine Jack

Tar—Training-Ships _versus_ the old Guard-Ships—“Sea-goers and

Waisters”—The Training Undergone—Routine on Board—Never-ending

Work—Ship like a Lady’s Watch—Watches and “Bells”—Old Grogram and

Grog—The Sailor’s Sheet Anchor—Shadows in the Seaman’s Life—The

Naval Cat—Testimony and Opinion of a Medical Officer—An

Example—Boy Flogging in the Navy—Shakespeare and Herbert on

Sailors and the Sea

CHAPTER IV.

PERILS OF THE SAILOR’S LIFE.

The Loss of the _Captain_—Six Hundred Souls swept into Eternity 54

without a Warning—The Mansion and the Cottage alike

Sufferers—Causes of the Disaster—Horrors of the Scene—Noble

Captain Burgoyne—Narratives of Survivors—An almost Incredible

Feat—Loss of the _Royal George_—A Great Disaster caused by a

Trifle—Nine Hundred Lost—A Child saved by a Sheep—The Portholes

Upright—An Involuntary Bath of Tar—Rafts of Corpses—The Vessel

Blown up in 1839-40—The Loss of the _Vanguard_—Half a Million

sunk in Fifty Minutes—Admirable Discipline on Board—All Saved—The

Court Martial

CHAPTER V.

PERILS OF THE SAILOR’S LIFE (_continued_).

The Value of Discipline—The Loss of the _Kent_—Fire on Board—The 67

Ship Waterlogged—Death in Two Forms—A Sail in Sight—Transference

of Six Hundred Passengers to a Small Brig—Splendid Discipline of

the Soldiers—Imperturbable Coolness of the Captain—Loss of the

_Birkenhead_—Literally broken in Two—Noble Conduct of the

Military—A Contrary Example—Wreck of the _Medusa_—Run on a

Sand-bank—Panic on Board—Raft constructed—Insubordination and

Selfishness—One Hundred and Fifty Souls abandoned—Drunkenness and

Mutiny on the Raft—Riots and Murders—Reduced to Thirty

Persons—The Stronger Part massacre the Others—Fifteen

Left—Rescued at Last—Another Contrast—Wreck of the

_Alceste_—Admirable Conduct of the Crew—The Ironclad Movement—The

Battle of the Guns

CHAPTER VI.

ROUND THE WORLD ON A MAN-OF-WAR.

The Mediterranean—White, Blue, Green, and Purple 87

Waters—Gibraltar—Its History—Its First Inhabitants the

Monkeys—The Moors—The Great Siege preceded by Thirteen Others—The

Voyage of Sigurd to the Holy Land—The Third Siege—Starvation—The

Fourth Siege—Red-hot Balls used before ordinary Cannon-balls—The

Great Plague—Gibraltar finally in Christian Hands—A Naval Action

between the Dutch and Spaniards—How England won the Rock—An

Unrewarded Hero—Spain’s Attempts to regain it—The Great Siege—The

Rock itself and its Surroundings—The Straits—Ceuta, Gibraltar’s

Rival—The Saltness of the Mediterranean—“Going aloft”—On to Malta

CHAPTER VII.

ROUND THE WORLD ON A MAN-OF-WAR (_continued_).

MALTA AND THE SUEZ CANAL.

Calypso’s Isle—A Convict Paradise—Malta, the “Flower of the 98

World”—The Knights of St. John—Rise of the Order—The Crescent and

the Cross—The Siege of Rhodes—L’Isle Adam in London—The Great

Siege of Malta—Horrible Episodes—Malta in French and English

Hands—St. Paul’s Cave—The Catacombs—Modern Incidents—The

Shipwreck of St. Paul—Gales in the Mediterranean—Experiences of

Nelson and Collingwood—Squalls in the Bay of San Francisco—A Man

Overboard—Special Winds of the Mediterranean—The Suez Canal and

M. de Lesseps—His Diplomatic Career—Saïd Pacha as a Boy—As a

Viceroy—The Plan settled—Financial Troubles—Construction of the

Canal—The Inauguration Fête—Suez—Passage of the Children of

Israel through the Red Sea

CHAPTER VIII.

ROUND THE WORLD ON A MAN-OF-WAR (_continued_).

THE INDIA AND CHINA STATIONS.

The Red Sea and its Name—Its Ports—On to the India 117

Station—Bombay: Island, City, Presidency—Calcutta—Ceylon, a

Paradise—The China Station—Hong Kong—Macao—Canton—Capture of

Commissioner Yeh—The Sea of Soup—Shanghai—“Jack” Ashore

there—Luxuries in Market—Drawbacks: Earthquakes and Sand

Showers—Chinese Explanations of Earthquakes—The Roving Life of

the Sailor—Compensating Advantages—Japan and its People—The

Englishmen of the Pacific—Yokohama—Peculiarities of the

Japanese—Off to the North

CHAPTER IX.

ROUND THE WORLD ON A MAN-OF-WAR (_continued_).

NORTHWARD AND SOUTHWARD—THE AUSTRALIAN STATION.

The Port of Peter and Paul—Wonderful Colouring of Kamchatka 131

Hills—Grand Volcanoes—The Fight at Petropaulovski—A Contrast—An

International Pic-nic—A Double Wedding—Bering’s Voyages—Kamchatka

worthy of Further Exploration—Plover Bay—Tchuktchi

Natives—Whaling—A Terrible Gale—A Novel “Smoke-stack”—Southward

again—The Liverpool of the East—Singapore, a Paradise—New

Harbour—Wharves and Shipping—Cruelties of the Coolie Trade—Junks

and Prahus—The Kling-gharry Drivers—The Durian and its

Devotees—Australia—Its Discovery—Botany Bay and the Convicts—The

First Gold—Port Jackson—Beauty of Sydney—Port Philip and

Melbourne

CHAPTER X.

ROUND THE WORLD ON A MAN-OF-WAR (_continued_).

THE PACIFIC STATION.

Across the Pacific—Approach to the Golden Gate—The Bay of San 156

Francisco—The City—First Dinner Ashore—Cheap Luxury—San Francisco

by Night—The Land of Gold, Grain, and Grapes—Incidents of the

Early Days—Expensive Papers—A Lucky Sailor—Chances for English

Girls—The Baby at the Play—A capital Port for Seamen—Hospitality

of Californians—Victoria, Vancouver Island—The Naval Station at

Esquimalt—A Delightful Place—Advice to Intending

Emigrants—British Columbian Indians—Their Fine Canoes—Experiences

of the Writer—The Island on Fire—The Chinook Jargon—Indian

“Pigeon-English”—North to Alaska—The Purchase of Russian America

by the United States—Results—Life at Sitka—Grand Volcanoes of the

Aleutian Islands—The Great Yukon River—American Trading Posts

round Bering Sea

CHAPTER XI.

ROUND THE WORLD ON A MAN-OF-WAR (_continued_).

FROM THE HORN TO HALIFAX.

The Dreaded Horn—The Land of Fire—Basil Hall’s Phenomenon—A 175

Missing Volcano—The South American Station—Falkland Islands—A

Free Port and Naval Station—Penguins, Peat, and Kelp—Sea

Trees—The West India Station—Trinidad—Columbus’s First View of

it—Fatal Gold—Charles Kingsley’s Enthusiasm—The Port of Spain—A

Happy-go-lucky People—Negro Life—Letters from a Cottage

Ornée—Tropical Vegetation—Animal Life—Jamaica—Kingston

Harbour—Sugar Cultivation—The Queen of the Antilles—Its

Paseo—Beauty of the Archipelago—A Dutch Settlement in the Heart

of a Volcano—Among the Islands—The Souffrière—Historical

Reminiscences—Bermuda: Colony, Fortress, and Prison—Home of Ariel

and Caliban—The Whitest Place in the World—Bermuda Convicts—New

York Harbour—The City—First Impressions—Its Fine

Position—Splendid Harbour—Forest of Masts—The Ferry-boats,

Hotels, and Bars—Offenbach’s Impressions—Broadway, Fulton Market,

and Central Park—New York in Winter—Frozen Ships—The Great

Brooklyn Bridge—Halifax and its Beauties—Importance of the

Station—Bedford Basin—The Early Settlers—The Blue Noses—Adieu to

America

CHAPTER XII.

ROUND THE WORLD ON A MAN-OF-WAR (_continued_).

THE AFRICAN STATION.

Its Extent—Ascension—Turtle at a Discount—Sierra Leone—An 202

Unhealthy Station—The Cape of Good Hope—Cape Town—Visit of the

Sailor Prince—Grand Festivities—Enthusiasm of the Natives—Loyal

Demonstrations—An African “Derby”—Grand Dock Inaugurated—Elephant

Hunting—The Parting Ball—The Life of a Boer—Circular Farms—The

Diamond Discoveries—A £12,000 Gem—A Sailor First President of the

Fields—Precarious Nature of the Search—Natal—Inducements held out

to Settlers—St. Helena and Napoleon—Discourteous Treatment of a

Fallen Foe—The Home of the Caged Lion

CHAPTER XIII.

THE SERVICE.—OFFICERS’ LIFE ON BOARD.

Conditions of Life on Ship-board—A Model Ward-room—An Admiral’s 214

Cabin—Captains and Captains—The Sailor and his Superior

Officers—A Contrast—A Commander of the Old School—Jack

Larmour—Lord Cochrane’s Experiences—His Chest curtailed—The

Stinking Ship—The First Command—Shaving under Difficulties—The

_Speedy_ and her Prizes—The Doctor—On Board a Gun-boat—Cabin and

Dispensary—Cockroaches and Centipedes—Other Horrors—The Naval

Chaplain—His Duties—Stories of an Amateur—The Engineer—His

Increasing Importance—Popularity of the Navy—Nelson always a

Model Commander—The Idol of his Colleagues, Officers, and

Men—Taking the Men into his Confidence—The Action between the

_Bellona_ and _Courageux_—Captain Falknor’s Speech to the Crew—An

Obsolete Custom—Crossing the Line—Neptune’s Visit to the

Quarter-deck—The Navy of To-day—Its Backbone—Progressive Increase

in the Size of Vessels—Naval Volunteers—A Noble

Movement—Excellent Results—The Naval Reserve

CHAPTER XIV.

THE REVERSE OF THE PICTURE—MUTINY.

Bligh’s Bread-fruit Expedition—Voyage of the 235

_Bounty_—Otaheite—The Happy Islanders—First Appearance of a

Mutinous Spirit—The Cutter stolen and recovered—The _Bounty_

sails with 1,000 Trees—The Mutiny—Bligh overpowered and

bound—Abandoned with Eighteen Others—Their Resources—Attacked by

Natives—A Boat Voyage of 3,618 Miles—Violent Gales—Miserable

Condition of the Boat’s Crew—Bread by the Ounce—Rum by the

Tea-spoonful—Noddies and Boobies—“Who shall have this?”—Off the

Barrier Reef—A Haven of Rest—Oyster and Palm-top Stews—Another

Thousand Miles of Ocean—Arrival at Coupang—Hospitality of the

Residents—Ghastly Looks of the Party—Death of Five of the

Number—The _Pandora_ dispatched to catch the Mutineers—Fourteen

in Irons—_Pandora’s_ Box—The Wreck—Great Loss of Life—Sentences

of the Court Martial—The Last of the Mutineers—Pitcairn Island—A

Model Settlement—Another Example: The Greatest Mutiny of

History—40,000 Disaffected Men at One Point—Causes—Legitimate

Action of the Men at First—Apathy of Government—Serious

Organisation—The Spithead Fleet ordered to Sea—Refusal of the

Crews—Concessions made, and the First Mutiny quelled—Second

Outbreak—Lord Howe’s Tact—The Great Mutiny of the Nore—Richard

Parker—A Vile Character but Man of Talent—Wins the Men to his

Side—Officers flogged and ducked—Gallant Duncan’s

Address—Accessions to the Mutineers—Parker practically Lord High

Admiral—His Extravagant Behaviour—Alarm in London—The Movement

dies out by Degrees—Parker’s Cause lost—His Execution—Mutinies at

Other Stations—Prompt Action of Lords St. Vincent and Macartney

CHAPTER XV.

THE HISTORY OF SHIPS AND SHIPPING INTERESTS.

The First Attempts to Float—Hollowed Logs and Rafts—The Ark and 258

its Dimensions—Skin Floats and Basket-boats—Maritime Commerce of

Antiquity—Phœnician Enterprise—Did they round the Cape?—The Ships

of Tyre—Carthage—Hanno’s Voyage to the West Coast of

Africa—Egyptian Galleys—The Great Ships of the Ptolemies—Hiero’s

Floating Palace—The Romans—Their Repugnance to Seafaring

Pursuits—Sea Battles with the Carthaginians—Cicero’s Opinions on

Commerce—Constantinople and its Commerce—Venice—Britain—The First

Invasion under Julius Cæsar—Benefits accruing—The Danish

Pirates—The London of the Period—The Father of the British

Navy—Alfred and his Victories—Canute’s Fleet—The Norman

Invasion—The Crusades—Richard Cœur de Lion’s Fleet—The Cinque

Ports and their Privileges—Foundation of a Maritime Code—Letters

of Marque—Opening of the Coal Trade—Chaucer’s Description of the

Sailors of his Time—A Glorious Period—The Victories at

Harfleur—Henry V.’s Fleet of 1,500 Vessels—The Channel

Marauders—The King-Maker Pirate—Sir Andrew Wood’s Victory—Action

with Scotch Pirates—The _Great Michael_ and the _Great

Harry_—Queen Elizabeth’s Astuteness—The Nation never so well

provided—“The Most Fortunate and Invincible Armada”—Its Size and

Strength—Elizabeth’s Appeal to the Country—A Noble

Response—Effingham’s Appointment—The Armada’s First

Disaster—Refitted, and resails from Corunna—Chased in the Rear—A

Series of _Contretemps_—English Volunteer Ships in Numbers—The

Fire-ships at Calais—The Final Action—Flight of the Armada—Fate

of Shipwrecked Spanish in Ireland—Total Loss to Spain—Rejoicings

and Thanksgivings in England

CHAPTER XVI.

THE HISTORY OF SHIPS AND SHIPPING INTERESTS (_continued_).

Noble Adventurers—The Earl of Cumberland as a Pirate—Rich 291

Prizes—Action with the _Madre de Dios_—Capture of the Great

Carrack—A Cargo worth £150,000—Burning of the _Cinco Chagas_—But

Fifteen saved out of Eleven Hundred Souls—The _Scourge of

Malice_—Establishment of the Slave Trade—Sir John Hawkins’

Ventures—High-handed Proceedings—The Spaniards forced to

purchase—A Fleet of Slavers—Hawkins sanctioned by “Good Queen

Bess”—Joins in a Negro War—A Disastrous Voyage—Sir Francis

Drake—His First Loss—The Treasure at Nombre de Dios—Drake’s First

Sight of the Pacific—Tons of Silver captured—John Oxenham’s

Voyage—The First Englishman on the Pacific—His Disasters and

Death—Drake’s Voyage Round the World—Blood-letting at the

Equator—Arrival at Port Julian—Trouble with the Natives—Execution

of a Mutineer—Passage of the Straits of Magellan—Vessels

separated in a Gale—Loss of the _Marigold_—Tragic Fate of Eight

Men—Drake driven to Cape Horn—Proceedings at Valparaiso—Prizes

taken—Capture of the Great Treasure Ship—Drake’s Resolve to

change his Course Home—Vessel refitted at Nicaragua—Stay in the

Bay of San Francisco—The Natives worship the English—Grand

Reception at Ternate—Drake’s Ship nearly wrecked—Return to

England—Honours accorded Drake—His Character and Influence—Sir

Humphrey Gilbert’s Disasters and Death—Raleigh’s Virginia

Settlements

[Illustration]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

British Crosses & Medals

Examining a “Haul” on Board the _Challenger_ _Frontispiece._

The _Victory_ at Portsmouth 5

Rocks near Cape St. Vincent 9

The _Victory_ at Close Quarters with the 12

_Redoubtable_

The Siege of Gibraltar 17

The Original _Merrimac_ 21

Engagement between the _Merrimac_ and _Monitor_ 25

The Peruvian Ironclad _Huascar_ attacked by two

Chilian Ironclads

The Peruvian Ironclad _Huascar_

Objects of Interest brought Home by the _Challenger_ 32

The _Challenger_ in Antarctic Ice 33

The “Accumulator” 35

The _Challenger_ at Juan Fernandez 36

The _Challenger_ made fast to St. Paul’s Rocks (South

Atlantic)

The Naturalist’s Room on Board the _Challenger_ 37

Dredging Implements used by the _Challenger_ 38

The _Chichester_ Training-ship 45

Instruction on Board a Man-of-war 49

The _Captain_ in the Bay of Biscay 56

The Wreck of the _Royal George_ 61

The Loss of the _Vanguard_ _To face page_ 63

The Loss of the _Kent_ 64

H.M.S. _Vanguard_ at Sea

The _Vanguard_ as she appeared at Low Water 65

Falmouth Harbour 72

The Loss of the _Birkenhead_ 73

The Raft of the _Medusa_ 76

On the Raft of the _Medusa_—a Sail in sight 81

Section of a First-class Man-of-war 84

The _Warrior_ 85

The Rock of Gibraltar from the Mainland _To face page_ 87

Gibraltar: the Neutral Ground 89

Moorish Tower at Gibraltar 93

Malta 96

The Defence of Malta by the Knights of St. John 100

against the Turks in 1565

Catacombs at Citta Vecchia, Malta 101

M. Lesseps 105

Bird’s-eye View of Suez Canal 109

Map of the Suez Canal 111

Opening of the Suez Canal (Procession of Ships) _To face page_ 113

The Suez Canal: Dredges at Work 113

Catching Pelicans on Lake Menzaleh 116

Jiddah, from the Sea 117

Cyclone at Calcutta 120

Macao 124

Vessels in the Port of Shanghai 125

Yokohama 128

The Fusiyama Mountain 129

A Tea Mart in Japan 133

Petropaulovski and the Avatcha Mountain 137

Whalers at Work 140

Our “Patent Smoke-stack” 141

View in the Straits of Malacca 145

Junks in a Chinese Harbour 148

Island in the Straits of Malacca _To face page_ 149

Chinese Junk at Singapore 149

Singapore, looking Seawards 152

Looking down on Singapore 153

A Timber Wharf at San Francisco 156

The Bay of San Francisco 160

The British Camp: San Juan 165

The Port of Valparaiso 173

Cape Horn 176

The Landing of Columbus at Trinidad 177

View in Jamaica 180

Kingston Harbour, Jamaica 181

Havana 184

The _Centaur_ at the Diamond Rock, Martinique _To face page_ 187

Bermuda, from Gibbs Hills 188

The North Rock, Bermuda 189

The Bermuda Floating Dock 192

Voyage of the _Bermuda_ 193

Map of New York Harbour 195

Brooklyn Bridge 196

Ferry Boat, New York Harbour 197

The Island of Ascension 200

Tristan D’Acunha 201

Sierra Leone 204

Cape Town 205

The _Galatea_ passing Knysna Heads 209

St. Helena 213

On Deck a Man-of-war, Eighteenth Century _To face page_ 214

Between Decks of a Man-of-war, Eighteenth Century 217

Naval Officers and Seamen, Eighteenth Century 221

Engine Room of H.M.S. _Warrior_ 225

Fight between the _Courageux_ and the _Bellona_ 229

The _Great Harry_ and _Great Eastern_ in contrast 233

The Crew of H.M.S. _Bounty_ landing at Otaheite 236

The Mutineers seizing Captain Bligh 237

Bligh cast adrift 240

Map of the Islands of the Pacific 245

H.M.S. _Briton_ at Pitcairn Island 248

Pitcairn Island

The Mutiny at Portsmouth _To face page_ 251

Admiral Duncan addressing his Crew 253

Lord St. Vincent 257

Fleet of Roman Galleys 261

Approach of the Danish Fleet 265

Ships of William the Conqueror 268

Crusaders and Saracens 269

Duel between French and English Ships 272

Reverse of the Seal of Sandwich 274

Sir Andrew Wood’s Victory 277

Old Deptford Dockyard 280

The Defeat of Sir A. Barton _To face page_ 280

The First Shot against the Armada 285

The Fire-ships attacking the Armada 288

Drake’s First View of the Pacific _To face page_ 289

Queen Elizabeth on her way to St. Paul’s 289

The Earl of Cumberland and the _Madre de Dios_ 293

On the Coast of Cornwall 297

Sir John Hawkins 300

Hawkins at St. Juan de Ulloa 301

Oxenham embarking on the Pacific 304

Sir F. Drake 309

Drake’s Arrival at Ternate 312

The Death of Sir Humphrey Gilbert 317

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

THE SEA.

One can hardly gaze upon the great ocean without feelings akin to awe and

reverence. Whether viewed from some promontory where the eye seeks in vain

another resting-place, or when sailing over the deep, one looks around on

the unbounded expanse of waters, the sea must always give rise to ideas of

infinite space and indefinable mystery hardly paralleled by anything of

the earth itself. Beneficent in its calmer aspect, when the silvery moon

lights up the ripples and the good ship scuds along before a favouring

breeze; terrible in its might, when its merciless breakers dash upon some

rock-girt coast, carrying the gallant bark to destruction, or when, rising

mountains high, the spars quiver and snap before the tempest’s power, it

is always grand, sublime, irresistible. The great highway of commerce and

source of boundless supplies, it is, notwithstanding its terrors,

infinitely more man’s friend than his enemy. In how great a variety of

aspects may it not be viewed!

The poets have seen in it a “type of the Infinite,” and one of the

greatest(1) has taken us back to those early days of earth’s history when

God said—

“‘Let there be firmament

Amid the waters, and let it divide

The waters from the waters.’ ...

So He the world

Built on circumfluous waters calm, in wide

Crystalline ocean.”

“Water,” said the great Greek lyric poet,(2) “is the chief of all.” The

ocean covers nearly three-fourths of the surface of our globe. Earth is

its mere offspring. The continents and islands have been and _still are

being_ elaborated from its depths. All in all, it has not, however, been

treated fairly at the hands of the poets, too many of whom could only see

it in its sterner lights. Young speaks of it as merely a

“Dreadful and tumultuous home

Of dangers, at eternal war with man,

Wide opening and loud roaring still for more,”

ignoring the blessings and benefits it has bestowed so freely, forgetting

that man is daily becoming more and more its master, and that his own

country in particular has most successfully conquered the seemingly

unconquerable. Byron, again, says:—

“Roll on, thou dark and deep blue ocean—roll!

Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;

Man marks the earth with ruin—his control

Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain

The wrecks are all thy deeds.”

And though this is but the exaggerated and not strictly accurate language

of poetry, we may, with Pollok, fairly address the great sea as “strongest

of creation’s sons.” The first impressions produced on most animals—not

excluding altogether man—by the aspect of the ocean, are of terror in

greater or lesser degree. Livingstone tells us that he had intended to

bring to England from Africa a friendly native, a man courageous as the

lion he had often braved. He had never voyaged upon nor even beheld the

sea, and on board the ship which would have safely borne him to a friendly

shore he became delirious and insane. Though assured of safety and

carefully watched, he escaped one day, and blindly threw himself headlong

into the waves. The sea terrified him, and yet held and drew him,

fascinated as under a spell. “Even at ebb-tide,” says Michelet,(3) “when,

placid and weary, the wave crawls softly on the sand, the horse does not

recover his courage. He trembles, and frequently refuses to pass the

languishing ripple. The dog barks and recoils, and, according to his

manner, insults the billows which he fears.... We are told by a traveller

that the dogs of Kamtschatka, though accustomed to the spectacle, are not

the less terrified and irritated by it. In numerous troops, they howl

through the protracted night against the howling waves, and endeavour to

outvie in fury the Ocean of the North.”

The civilised man’s fear is founded, it must be admitted, on a reasonable

knowledge of the ocean, so much his friend and yet so often his foe. Man

is not independent of his fellow-man in distant countries, nor is it

desirable that he should be. No land produces all the necessaries, and the

luxuries which have begun to be considered necessaries, sufficient for

itself. Transportation by land is often impracticable, or too costly, and

the ocean thus becomes the great highway of nations. Vessel after vessel,

fleet after fleet, arrive safely and speedily. But as there is danger for

man lurking everywhere on land, so also is there on the sea. The world’s

wreck-chart for one year must, as we shall see hereafter, be something

appalling. That for the British Empire alone in one year has often

exceeded 1,000 vessels, great and small! Averaging three years, we find

that there was an annual loss during that period of 1,095 vessels and

1,952 lives.(4) Nor are the ravages of ocean confined to the engulfment of

vessels, from rotten “coffin-ships” to splendid ironclads. The coasts

often bear witness of her fury.

The history of the sea virtually comprises the history of adventure,

conquest, and commerce, in all times, and might almost be said to be that

of the world itself. We cannot think of it without remembering the great

voyagers and sea-captains, the brave naval commanders, the pirates,

rovers, and buccaneers of bygone days. Great sea-fights and notable

shipwrecks recur to our memory—the progress of naval supremacy, and the

means by which millions of people and countless millions of wealth have

been transferred from one part of the earth to another. We cannot help

thinking, too, of “Poor Jack” and life before the mast, whether on the

finest vessel of the Royal Navy, or in the worst form of trading ship. We

recall the famous ships themselves, and their careers. We remember, too,

the “toilers of the sea”—the fishermen, whalers, pearl-divers, and

coral-gatherers; the noble men of the lighthouse, lifeboat, and coastguard

services. The horrors of the sea—its storms, hurricanes, whirlpools,

waterspouts, impetuous and treacherous currents—rise vividly before our

mental vision. Then there are the inhabitants of the sea to be

considered—from the tiniest germ of life to the great leviathan, or even

the doubtful sea-serpent. And even the lowest depths of ocean, with their

mountains, valleys, plains, and luxurious marine vegetation, are full of

interest; while at the same time we irresistibly think of the submerged

treasure-ships of days gone by, and the submarine cables of to-day. Such

are among the subjects we propose to lay before our readers. THE SEA, as

one great topic, must comprise descriptions of life on, around, and in the

ocean—the perils, mysteries, phenomena, and poetry of the great deep. The

subject is too vast for superfluous detail: it would require as many

volumes as a grand encyclopædia to do it justice; whilst a formal and

chronological history would weary the reader. At all events, the present

writer purposes to occasionally gossip and digress, and to arrange facts

in groups, not always following the strict sequence of events. The voyage

of to-day may recall that of long ago: the discovery made long ago may be

traced, by successive leaps, as it were, to its results in the present

epoch. We can hardly be wrong in believing that this grand subject has an

especial interest for the English reader everywhere; for the spirit of

enterprise, enthusiasm, and daring which has carried our flag to the

uttermost parts of the earth, and has made the proud words “Britannia

rules the waves” no idle vaunt, is shared by a very large proportion of

her sons and daughters, at home and abroad. Britain’s part in the

exploration and settlement of the whole world has been so pre-eminent that

there can be no wonder if, among the English-speaking races everywhere, a

peculiar fascination attaches to the sea and all concerning it. Countless

thousands of books have been devoted to the land, not a tithe of the

number to the ocean. Yet the subject is one of almost boundless interest,

and has a special importance at the present time, when so much intelligent

attention and humane effort is being put forth to ameliorate the condition

of our seafarers.

CHAPTER I.

MEN-OF-WAR.

Our Wooden Walls—The _Victory_—Siege of Toulon—Battle of St.

Vincent—Nelson’s Bridge—Trafalgar’s glorious Day—The Day for such

Battles gone—Iron _v._ Wood—Lessons of the Crimean War—Moral

Effect of the Presence of our Fleets—Bombardment of

Sebastopol—Red-hot Shot and Gibraltar—The Ironclad Movement—The

_Warrior_—Experiences with Ironclads—The _Merrimac_ in Hampton

Roads—A speedily decided Action—The _Cumberland_ sunk and

_Congress_ burned—The first Monitor—Engagement with the

_Merrimac_—Notes on recent Actions—The _Shah_ and _Huascar_—An

Ironclad tackled by a Merchantman.

[Illustration]

If the reader should at any time find himself a visitor to the first naval

port of Great Britain—which he need not be told is Portsmouth—he will

find, lying placidly in the noble harbour, which is large enough to

accommodate a whole fleet, a vessel of modern-antique appearance, and

evidently very carefully preserved. Should he happen to be there on

October 21st, he would find the ship gaily decorated with wreaths of

evergreen and flags, her appearance attracting to her side an unusual

number of visitors in small boats from the shore. Nor will he be surprised

at this when he learns that it is none other than the famous _Victory_,

that carried Nelson’s flag on the sad but glorious day of Trafalgar, and

went bravely through so many a storm of war and weather. Very little of

the oft-shattered hulk of the original vessel remains, it is true—she has

been so often renewed and patched and painted; yet the lines and form of

the old three-decker remain to show us what the flag-ship of Hood, and

Jervis, and Nelson was in general appearance. She towers grandly out of

the water, making the few sailors and loiterers on deck look like

marionettes—mere miniature men; and as our wherry approaches the

entrance-port, we admire the really graceful lines of the planks,

diminishing in perspective. The triple battery of formidable guns, peeping

from under the stout old ports which overshadowed them, the enormous

cables and spare anchors, and the immensely thick masts, heavy shrouds and

rigging, which she had in old times, must have given an impression of

solidity in this good old “heart of oak” which is wanting even in the

strongest-built iron vessel. Many a brave tar has lost his life on her,

but yet she is no coffin-ship. On board, one notes the scrupulous order,

the absolute perfection of cleanliness and trimness; the large guns and

carriages alternating with the mess-tables of the crew. And we should not

think much of the man who could stand emotionless and unmoved over the

spots—still pointed out on the upper deck and cockpit below—where Nelson

fell and Nelson died, on that memorable 21st, off Trafalgar Bay. He had

embarked, only five weeks before, from the present resting-place of his

brave old ship, when enthusiastic crowds had pressed forward to bless and

take one last look at England’s preserver. “I had their hurrahs before,”

said the poor shattered hero; “now I have their hearts!” And when, three

months later, his body was brought home, the sailors divided the leaden

coffin into fragments, as relics of “Saint Nelson,” as his gunner had

termed him.

[Illustration: THE “VICTORY” AT PORTSMOUTH.]

The _Victory_ was one of the largest ships of war of her day and

generation. She was rated for 100 guns, but really carried 102, and was

classed first-rate with such ships as the _Royal Sovereign_ and

_Britannia_, both of 100, carrying only two in excess of the “brave old

_Téméraire_”—made still more famous by Turner’s great picture—and the

_Dreadnought_, which but a few years back was such a familiar feature of

the reach of the Thames in front of Greenwich. She was of 2,164 tons

burden, and, having been launched in 1765, is now a good 112 years of age.

Her complement was 841 men. From the first she deserved her name, and

seemed destined to be associated with little else than success and

triumph. Nelson frequently complains in his journals of the

unseaworthiness of many of his vessels; but this, his last flag-ship, was

a veritable “heart of oak,” and endured all the tests that the warfare of

the elements or of man could bring against her.

The good ship of which we have spoken more particularly is now enjoying a

well-earned repose, after passing nearly unscathed through the very thick

of battles inscribed on the most brilliant page of our national history.

Her part was in reality a very prominent one; and a glance at a few of the

engagements at which she was present may serve to show us what she and

other ships like her were made of, and what they were able to effect in

naval warfare. The _Victory_ had been built nearly thirty years when, in

1793, she first came prominently to the front, at the occupation and

subsequent siege of Toulon, as the flag-ship of Lord Hood, then in command

of a large fleet destined for the Mediterranean.

France was at that moment in a very revolutionary condition, but in Toulon

there was a strong feeling of loyalty for the Bourbons and monarchical

institutions. In the harbour a large French fleet was assembled—some

seventeen vessels of the line, besides many other smaller craft—while

several large ships of war were refitting and building; the whole under

the command of the Comte de Trogoff, an ardent Royalist. On the appearance

of the British fleet in the offing, two commissioners came out to the

flag-ship, the _Victory_, to treat for the conditional surrender of the

port and shipping. The Government had not miscalculated the disaffection

existing, and the negotiations being completely successful, 1,700 of our

soldiers, sailors, and marines were landed, and shortly afterwards, when a

Spanish fleet appeared, an English governor and a Spanish commandant were

appointed, while Louis XVII. was proclaimed king. But it is needless to

say that the French Republic strongly objected to all this, and soon

assembled a force numbering 45,000 men for the recapture of Toulon. The

English and their Royalist allies numbered under 13,000, and it became

evident that the city must be evacuated, although not until it should be

half destroyed. The important service of destroying the ships and

magazines had been mainly entrusted to Captain Sir Sidney Smith, who

performed his difficult task with wonderful precision and order, and

without the loss of one man. Shots and shells were plunged into the very

arsenal, and trains were laid up to the magazines and storehouses; a

fire-ship was towed into the basin, and in a few hours gave out flames and

shot, accompanied by terrible explosions. The Spanish admiral had

undertaken the destruction of the shipping in the basin, and to scuttle

two powder-vessels, but his men, in their flurry, managed to ignite one of

them in place of sinking it, and the explosion which occurred can be

better imagined than described. The explosion shook the _Union_ gunboat to

pieces, killing the commander and three of the crew; and a second boat was

blown into the air, but her crew were miraculously saved. Having completed

the destruction of the arsenal, Sir Sidney proceeded towards the basin in

front of the town, across which a boom had been laid, where he and his men

were received with such volleys of musketry that they turned their

attention in another direction. In the inner road were lying two large

74-gun ships—the _Héros_ and _Thémistocle_—filled with French prisoners.

Although the latter were greatly superior to the attacking force, they

were so terrified that they agreed to be removed and landed in a place of

safety, after which the ships were destroyed by fire. Having done all that

man could do, they were preparing to return, when the second

powder-vessel, which should only have been scuttled by the Spaniards,

exploded. Wonderful to relate, although the little _Swallow_, Sir Sidney’s

tender, and three boats were in the midst of the falling timbers, and

nearly swamped by the waves produced, they escaped in safety. Nowadays

torpedoes would settle the business of blowing up vessels of the kind in a

much safer and surer manner. The evacuation was effected without loss,

nearly 15,000 Toulonese refugees—men, women, and children—being taken on

board for removal to England. Fifteen French ships of war were taken off

as prizes, while the magazines, storehouses, and shipping were destroyed

by fire. The total number of vessels taken or burned by the British was

eighteen of the line, nine frigates, and eleven corvettes, and would have

been much greater but for the blundering or treachery of the Spaniards,

and the pusillanimous flight of the Neapolitans. Thus the _Victory_ was

the silent witness of an almost bloodless success, so far as our forces

were concerned, in spite of the noise and smoke and flame by which it was

accompanied. A little later, she was engaged in the siege of Bastia,

Corsica, which was taken by a naval force numbering about one-fourth of

their opponents; and again at Calvi, where Nelson lost an eye and helped

to gain the day. In the spring of 1795 she was again in the Mediterranean,

and for once was engaged in what has been described as a “miserable

action,” although the action, or want thereof, was all on the part of a

vice-admiral who, as Nelson said, “took things too coolly.” Twenty-three

British line-of-battle ships, whilst engaging, off the Hyères Isles, only

seventeen French, with the certainty of triumphant results, if not,

indeed, of the complete annihilation of the enemy, were signalled by

Admiral Hotham to discontinue the fight. The disgust of the commanders in

general and Nelson in particular can well be understood. The only prize

taken, the _Alcide_, blew up, with the loss of half her crew, as if in

very disgust at having surrendered, and we can well believe that even the

inanimate timbers of the _Victory_ and her consorts groaned as they were

drawn off from the scene of action. The fight off the Hyères must be

inscribed in black, but happily the next to be recorded might well be

written with letters of gold in the annals of our country, although its

glory was soon afterwards partially eclipsed by others still greater.

When Sir John Jervis hoisted his flag on board the _Victory_ it marked an

epoch not merely in our career of conquest, but also in the history of the

navy as a navy. Jervis, though then over sixty years of age, was hale and

hearty, and if sometimes stern and severe as a disciplinarian, should long

be remembered as one who honestly and constantly strove to raise the

character of the service to its highest condition of efficiency, and he

was brave as a lion. As the Spanish fleet loomed through the morning fog,

off Cape St. Vincent, it was found that Cordova’s force consisted of

twenty-nine large men-of-war, exclusive of a dozen 34-gun frigates,

seventy transports, and other vessels. Jervis was walking the quarter-deck

as the successive reports were brought to him. “There are eighteen sail of

the line, Sir John.” “Very well, sir.” “There are twenty sail, Sir John.”

“Very well, sir.” “There are twenty-seven sail of the line, Sir John;

nearly double our own.” “Enough, sir, no more of that, sir; if there are

fifty I’ll go through them.” “That’s right, Sir John,” said Halliwell, his

flag-captain, “and a jolly good licking we’ll give them.”

The grand fleet of Spain included six ships of 112 guns each, and the

flag-ship _Santissima Trinidada_, a four-decker, carrying 130. There were,

besides, twenty-two vessels of eighty and seventy-four guns. To this large

force Jervis could only oppose fifteen vessels of the line, only two of

which carried 100 guns, three of ninety-eight guns, one of ninety, and the

remainder, with one exception, seventy-four each. Owing to gross

mismanagement on the part of the Spaniards, their vessels were scattered

about in all directions, and six(5) of them were separated wholly from the

main body, neither could they rejoin it. The English vessels advanced in

two lines, compactly and steadily, and as they neared the Spaniards, were

signalled from the _Victory_ to tack in succession. Nelson, on the

_Captain_, was in the rear of the line, and he perceived that the

Spaniards were bearing up before the wind, either with the intention of

trying to join their separated ships, or perhaps to avoid an engagement

altogether. By disobeying the admiral’s signal, he managed to run clear

athwart the bows of the Spanish ships, and was soon engaged with the great

_Santissima Trinidada_, four other of the larger vessels, and two smaller

ones. Trowbridge, in the _Culloden_, immediately came to the support, and

for nearly an hour the unequal contest continued, till the _Blenheim_

passed between them and the enemy, and gave them a little respite, pouring

in her fire upon the Spaniards. One of the Spanish seventy-fours struck,

and Nelson thought that the _Salvador_, of 112 guns, struck also.

“Collingwood,” wrote Nelson, “disdaining the parade of taking possession

of beaten enemies, most gallantly pushed up, with every sail set, to save

his old friend and messmate, who was, to appearance, in a critical

situation,” for the _Captain_ was being peppered by five vessels of the

enemy’s fleet, and shortly afterwards was rendered absolutely

incapable—not a sail, shroud, or rope left, with a topmast and the

steering-wheel shot away. As Dr. Bennett sings(6)—

“Ringed round by five three-deckers, she had fought through all the

fight,

And now, a log upon the waves, she lay—a glorious sight—

All crippled, but still full of fight, for still her broadsides roared,

Still death and wounds, fear and defeat, into the Don she poured.”

Two of Nelson’s antagonists were now nearly _hors de combat_, one of them,

the _San Nicolas_, in trying to escape from Collingwood’s fire, having got

foul of the _San Josef_. Nelson resolved in an instant to board and

capture _both_—an unparalleled feat, which, however, was accomplished,

although

“To get at the _San Josef_, it seemed beyond a hope;

Out then our admiral spoke, and well his words our blood could stir—

‘In, boarders, to their seventy-four! We’ll make a bridge of her.’”

The “bridge” was soon taken; but a steady fire of musketry was poured upon

them from the _San Josef_. Nelson directed his people to fire into the

stern, and sending for more boarders, led the way up the main-chains,

exclaiming, “Westminster Abbey or victory!” In a few moments the officers

and crew surrendered; and on the quarter-deck of a Spanish first-rate he

received the swords of the vanquished, which he handed to William Fearney,

one of his bargemen, who tucked them, with the greatest _sang-froid_, in a

perfect sheaf under his arm. The _Victory_ came up at the moment, and

saluted the conquerors with hearty cheers.

It will be hardly necessary here to point out the altered circumstances of

naval warfare at the present day. A wooden vessel of the old type, with

large and numerous portholes, and affording other opportunities for

entering or climbing the sides, is a very different affair to the modern

smooth-walled iron vessel, on which a fly would hardly get a foothold,

with few openings or weak points, and where the grappling-iron would be

useless. Apart from this, with heavy guns carrying with great accuracy,

and the facilities afforded by steam, we shall seldom hear, in the future,

of a fight at close quarters; skilful manœuvring, impossible with a

sailing vessel, will doubtless be more in vogue.

[Illustration: ROCKS NEAR CAPE ST. VINCENT.]

Meantime, the _Victory_ had not been idle. In conjunction with two of the

fleet, she had succeeded in silencing the _Salvador del Mundi_, a

first-rate of 112 guns. When, after the fight, Nelson went on board the

_Victory_, Sir John Jervis took him to his arms, and insisted that he

should keep the sword taken from the Spanish rear-admiral. When it was

hinted, during some private conversation, that Nelson’s move was

unauthorised, Jervis had to admit the fact, but promised to forgive any

such breach of orders, accompanied with the same measure of success.

The battle had now lasted from noon, and at five p.m. four Spanish

line-of-battle vessels had lowered their colours. Even the great

_Santissima Trinidada_ might then have become a prize but for the return

of the vessels which had been cut off from the fleet in the morning, and

which alone saved her. Her colours had been shot away, and she had hoisted

English colours in token of submission, when the other ships came up, and

Cordova reconsidered his step. Jervis did not think that his fleet was

quite equal to a fresh conflict; and the Spaniards showed no desire to

renew the fight. They had lost on the four prizes, alone, 261 killed, and

342 wounded, and in all, probably, nearly double the above. The British

loss was seventy-three killed, and 227 wounded.

Of Trafalgar and of Nelson, both day and man so intimately associated with

our good ship, what can yet be said or sung that has gone unsaid,

unsung?—how when he left Portsmouth the crowds pressed forward to obtain

one last look at their hero—England’s greatest hero—and “knelt down before

him, and blessed him as he passed;”(7) that beautiful prayer, indited in

his cabin, “May the great God whom I worship grant to my country, and for

the benefit of Europe in general, a great and glorious victory, and may no

misconduct in any one tarnish it, and may humanity after victory be the

predominant feature of the British fleet,” or the now historical signal

which flew from the mizen top-gallant mast of that noble old ship, and

which has become one of the grand mottoes of our tongue, are facts as

familiar to every reader as household words.

The part directly played by the _Victory_ herself in the battle of

Trafalgar was second to none. From the very first she received a raking

fire from all sides, which must have been indeed severe, when we find the

words extorted from Nelson, “This is too warm work to last long,”

addressed to Captain Hardy. At that moment fifty of his men were lying

dead or wounded, while the _Victory’s_ mizen-mast and wheel were shot

away, and her sails hanging in ribbons. To the terrible cannonading of the

enemy, Nelson had not yet returned a shot. He had determined to be in the

very thick of the fight, and was reserving his fire. Now it was that

Captain Hardy represented to Nelson the impracticability of passing

through the enemy’s line without running on board one of their ships; he

was coolly told to take his choice. The _Victory_ was accordingly turned

on board the _Redoubtable_, the commander of which, Captain Lucas, in a

resolute endeavour to block the passage, himself ran his bowsprit into the

figurehead of the _Bucentaure_, and the two vessels became locked

together. Not many minutes later, Captain Harvey, of the _Téméraire_,

seeing the position of the _Victory_ with her two assailants, fell on

board the _Redoubtable_, on the other side, so that these four ships

formed as compact a tier as though moored together. The _Victory_ fired

her middle and lower deck guns into the _Redoubtable_, which returned the

fire from her main-deck, employing also musketry and brass pieces of

larger size with most destructive effects from the tops.

“_Redoubtable_ they called her—a curse upon her name!

’Twas from her tops the bullet that killed our hero came.”

Within a few minutes of Lord Nelson’s fall, several officers and about

forty men were either killed or wounded from this source. But a few

minutes afterwards the _Redoubtable_ fell on board the _Téméraire_, the

French ship’s bowsprit passing over the British ship. Now came one of the

warmest episodes of the fight. The crew of the _Téméraire_ lashed their

vessel to their assailants’ ship, and poured in a raking fire. But the

French captain, having discovered that—owing, perhaps, to the sympathy

exhibited for the dying hero on board the _Victory_, and her excessive

losses in men—her quarter-deck was quite deserted, now ordered an attempt

at boarding the latter. This cost our flag-ship the lives of Captain Adair

and eighteen men, but at the same moment the _Téméraire_ opened fire on

the _Redoubtable_ with such effect that Captain Lucas and 200 men were

themselves placed _hors de combat_.

In the contest we have been relating, the coolness of the _Victory’s_ men

was signally evinced. “When the guns on the lower deck were run out, their

muzzles came in contact with the sides of the _Redoubtable_, and now was

seen an astounding spectacle. Knowing that there was danger of the French

ship taking fire, the fireman of each gun on board the British ship stood

ready with a bucketful of water to dash into the hole made by the shot of

his gun—thus beautifully illustrating Nelson’s prayer, ‘that the British

might be distinguished by humanity in victory.’ Less considerate than her

antagonist, the _Redoubtable_ threw hand-grenades from her tops, which,

falling on board herself, set fire to her, ... and the flame communicated

with the foresail of the _Téméraire_, and caught some ropes and canvas on

the booms of the _Victory_, risking the destruction of all; but by immense

exertions the fire was subdued in the British ships, whose crews lent

their assistance to extinguish the flames on board the _Redoubtable_, by

throwing buckets of water upon her chains and forecastle.”(8)

Setting aside, for the purpose of clearness, the episode of the taking of

the _Fougueux_, which got foul of the _Téméraire_ and speedily

surrendered, we find, five minutes later, the main and mizen masts of the

_Redoubtable_ falling—the former in such a way across the _Téméraire_ that

it formed a bridge, over which the boarding-party passed and took quiet

possession. Captain Lucas had so stoutly defended his flag, that, out of a

crew of 643, only 123 were in a condition to continue the fight; 522 were

lying killed or wounded. The _Bucentaure_ soon met her fate, after being

defended with nearly equal bravery. The French admiral, Villeneuve, who

was on board, said bitterly, just before surrendering, “_Le Bucentaure a

rempli sa tâche; la mienne n’est pas encore achevée_.”

Let the reader remember that the above are but a few episodes of the most

complete and glorious victory ever obtained in naval warfare. Without the

loss of one single vessel to the conqueror, more than half the ships of

the enemy were captured or destroyed, while the remainder escaped into

harbour to rot in utter uselessness. Twenty-one vessels were lost for ever

to France and Spain. It is to be hoped and believed that no such contest

will ever again be needed; but should it be needed, it will have to be

fought by very different means. The instance of four great ships locked

together, dealing death and destruction to each other, has never been

paralleled. Imagine that seething, fighting, dying mass of humanity, with

all the horrible concomitants of deafening noise and blinding smoke and

flashing fire! It is not likely ever to occur in modern warfare. The

commanders of steam-vessels of all classes will be more likely to fight at

out-manœuvring and shelling each other than to come to close quarters,

which would generally mean blowing up together. It would be interesting to

consider how Nelson would have acted with, and opposed to, steam-frigates

and ironclads. He would, no doubt, have been as courageous and far-seeing

and rapid in action as ever, but hardly as reckless, or even daring.

[Illustration: THE “VICTORY” AT CLOSE QUARTERS WITH THE “REDOUBTABLE.”]

“And still, though seventy years, boys,

Have gone, who, without pride,

Names his name—tells his fame

Who at Trafalgar died?”

May we always have a Nelson in the hour of national need!

The day for such battles as this is over; there may be others as

gloriously fought, but never again by the same means. Ships, armaments,

and modes of attack and defence are, and will be, increasingly different.

Those who have read Nelson’s private letters and journals will remember

how he gloried in the appreciation of his subordinate officers just before

Trafalgar’s happy and yet fatal day, when he had explained to them his

intention to attack the enemy with what was practically a wedge-formed

fleet. He was determined to break their line, and, Nelson-like, he did.

But that which he facetiously christened the “Nelson touch” would itself

nowadays be broken up in a few minutes and thrown into utter confusion by

any powerfully-armed vessel hovering about under steam. Or if the wedge of

wooden vessels were allowed to form, as they approached the apex, a couple

of ironclads would take them in hand coolly, one by one, and send them to

the bottom, while their guns might as well shoot peas at the ironclads as

the shot of former days.

Taking the _Victory_ as a fair type of the best war-ships of her day (a

day when there was not that painful uncertainty with regard to naval

construction and armament existing now, in spite of our vaunted progress),

we still know that in the presence of a powerful steam-frigate with heavy

guns, or an 11,000-ton ironclad, she would be literally nowhere. She was

one of the last specimens, and a very perfect specimen, too, of the

_wooden_ age. This is the age of iron and steam. One of the largest

vessels of her day, she is now excelled by hundreds employed in ordinary

commerce. The Royal Navy to-day possesses frigates nearly three times her

tonnage, while we have ironclads of five times the same. The monster

_Great Eastern_, which has proved a monstrous mistake, is 22,500 tons.

But size is by no means the only consideration in constructing vessels of

war, and, indeed, there are good reasons to believe that, in the end,

vessels of moderate dimensions will be preferred for most purposes of

actual warfare. Of the advantages of steam-power there can, of course, be

only one opinion; but as regards iron _versus_ oak, there are many points

which may be urged in favour of either, with a preponderance in favour of

the former. A strong iron ship, strange as it may appear, is not more than

half the weight of a wooden vessel of the same size and class. It will, to

the unthinking, seem absurd to say that an iron ship is more buoyant than

one of oak, but the fact is that the proportion of actual weight in iron

and wooden vessels of ordinary construction is about six to twenty. The

iron ship, therefore, stands high out of the water, and to sink it to the

same line will require a greater weight on board. From this fact, and the

actual _thinness_ of its walls, its carrying capacity and stowage are so

much the greater. This, which is a great point in vessels destined for

commerce, would be equally important in war. But these remarks do not

apply to the modern armoured vessel. We have ironclads with plates

eighteen inches and upwards in thickness. What is the consequence? Their

actual weight, with that of the necessary engines and monster guns

employed, is so great that a vast deal of room on board has to be

unemployed. Day by day we hear of fresh experiments in gunnery, which keep

pace with the increased strength of the vessels. The invulnerable of

to-day is the vulnerable of to-morrow, and there are many leading

authorities who believe in a return to a smaller and weaker class of

vessel—provided, however, with all the appliances for great speed and

offensive warfare _at a distance_. Nelson’s preference for small,

easily-worked frigates over the great ships of the line is well known, and

were he alive to-day we can well believe that he would prefer a

medium-sized vessel of strong construction, to steam with great speed, and

carrying heavy, but, perhaps, not the heaviest guns, to one of those

modern unwieldy masses of iron, which have had, so far, a most disastrous

history. The former might, so to speak, act while the latter was making up

her mind. Even a Nelson might hesitate to risk a vessel representing six

or seven hundred thousand pounds of the nation’s money, in anything short

of an assured success. We have, however, yet to learn the full value and

power of our ironclad fleet. Of its cost there is not a doubt. Some time

ago our leading newspaper estimated the expense of construction and

maintenance of our existing ironclads at £18,000,000. Mr. Reed states that

they have cost the country a million sterling per annum since the first

organisation of the fleet. Warfare will soon become a luxury only for the

richest nations, and, regarding it in this light, perhaps the very men who

are racking their powers of invention to discover terrible engines of war

are the greatest peacemakers, after all. They may succeed in making it an

impossibility.

“Hereafter, naval powers prepared with the necessary fleet will be able to

transport the base of operations to any point on the enemy’s coast, turn

the strongest positions, and baffle the best-arranged combinations. Thanks

to steam, the sea has become a means of communication more certain and

more simple than the land; and fleets will be able to act the part of

movable bases of operations, rendering them very formidable to powers

which, possessing coasts, will not have any navy sufficiently powerful to

cause their being respected.”(9) So far as navy to navy is concerned, this

is undoubtedly true; yet there is another side to the question. A fort is

sometimes able to inflict far greater damage upon its naval assailants

than the latter can inflict upon it. A single shot may send a ship to the

bottom, whilst the fire from the ship during action is more or less

inaccurate. At Sebastopol, a whole French fleet, firing at ranges of 1,600

to 1,800 yards, failed to make any great impression on a fort close to the

water’s edge; while a wretched earthen battery, mounting only five guns,

inflicted terrible losses and injury on four powerful English men-of-war,

actually disabling two of them, without itself losing one man or having a

gun dismounted; while, as has been often calculated, the cost of a single

sloop of war with its equipment will construct a fine fort which will last

almost for ever, while that of two or three line-of-battle ships would

raise a considerable fortress. Whilst the monster ironclad with heavy guns

would deal out death and destruction when surrounded by an enemy’s fleet

of lighter iron vessels or wooden ones as strong as was the _Victory_, she

would herself run great risk in approaching closely-fortified harbours and

coasts, where a single shot from a gun heavy enough to pierce her armour

might sink her. Her safety would consist in firing at long ranges and in

steaming backwards and forwards.

The lessons of the Crimean war, as regards the navy, were few, but of the

gravest importance, and they have led to results of which we cannot yet

determine the end. The war opened by a Russian attack on a Turkish

squadron at Sinope, November 20th, 1853.(10) That determined the fact that

a whole fleet might be annihilated in an hour or so by the use of large

shells. No more necessity for grappling and close quarters; the iron age

was full in view, and wooden walls had outlived their usefulness, and must

perish.

But the lesson had to be again impressed, and that upon a large English

and French fleet. Yet, in fairness to our navy, it must be remembered that

the Russians had spent every attention to rendering Sebastopol nearly

impregnable on the sea-side, while a distinguished writer,(11) who was

present throughout the siege, assures us that until the preceding spring

they had been quite indifferent in regard to the strength of the

fortifications on the land-side. And the presence of the allied fleets was

the undeniable cause of one Russian fleet being sunk in the harbour of

Sebastopol, while another dared not venture out, season after season, from

behind stone fortresses in the shallow waters of Cronstadt.(12) A great

naval authority thinks that, while England was, at the time, almost

totally deficient in the class of vessels essential to attacking the

fleets and fortifications of Russia, the fact that the former never dared

“to accept the challenge of any British squadron, however small, is one

the record of which we certainly may read without shame.” But of that

period it would be more pleasant to write exultingly than apologetically.

When the Allies had decided to commence the bombardment of Sebastopol, on

October 17th, 1854, it was understood that the fleet should co-operate,

and that the attack should be made by the line-of-battle ships in a

semicircle. They were ready at one p.m. to commence the bombardment. Lyons

brought the _Agamemnon_, followed by half a dozen other vessels, to within

700 yards of Fort Constantine, the others staying at the safer distances

of 1,800 to 2,200 yards. The whole fleet opened with a tremendous roar of

artillery, to which the Russians replied almost as heavily. Fort

Constantine was several times silenced, and greatly damaged; but, on the

other hand, the Russians managed to kill forty-seven and wound 234 men in

the English fleet, and a slightly smaller number in the French. They had

an unpleasant knack of firing red-hot shot in profusion, and of hitting

the vessels even at the distance at which they lay. Several were set on

fire, and two for a time had to retire from the action. These were

practical shots at our wooden walls. This naval attack has been

characterised as “even a greater failure than that by land”—meaning, of

course, the first attack.

Here we may for a moment be allowed to digress and remind the reader of

the important part played by red-hot shot at that greatest of all great

sieges—Gibraltar. As each accession to the enemy’s force arrived, General

Elliott calmly built more furnaces and more grates for heating his most

effective means of defence. Just as one of their wooden batteries was on

the point of completion, he gave it what was termed at the time a dose of

“cayenne pepper;” in other words, with red-hot shot and shells he set it

on fire. When the ordnance portable furnaces for heating shot proved

insufficient to supply the demands of the artillery, he ordered large

bonfires to be kindled, on which the cannon-balls were thrown; and these

supplies were termed by the soldiers “hot potatoes” for the enemy. But the

great triumph of red-hot shot was on that memorable 13th of September,

1782, when forty-six sail of the line, and a countless fleet of gun and

mortar boats attacked the fortress. With all these appliances of warfare,

the great confidence of the enemy—or rather, combined enemies—was in their

floating batteries, planned by D’Arcon, an eminent French engineer, and

which had cost a good half million sterling. They were supposed to be

impervious to shells or red-hot shot. After persistently firing at the

fleet, Elliott started the admiral’s ship and one of the batteries

commanded by the Prince of Nassau. This was but the commencement of the

end. The unwieldy leviathans could not be shifted from their moorings, and

they lay helpless and immovable, and yet dangerous to their neighbours;

for they were filled with the instruments of destruction. Early the next

morning eight of these vaunted batteries “indicated the efficacy of the

red-hot defence. The light produced by the flames was nearly equal to

noonday, and greatly exposed the enemy to observation, enabling the

artillery to be pointed upon them with the utmost precision. The rock and

neighbouring objects are stated to have been highly illuminated by the

constant flashes of cannon and the flames of the burning ships, forming a

mingled scene of sublimity and terror.”(13) “An indistinct clamour, with

lamentable cries and groans, arose from all quarters.”(14)

When 400 pieces of artillery were playing on the rock at the same moment,

Elliott returned the compliment with a shower of red-hot balls, bombs, and

carcases, that filled the air, with little or no intermission. The Count

d’Artois had hastened from Paris to witness a capitulation. He arrived in

time to see the total destruction of the floating batteries and a large

part of the combined fleet. Attempting a somewhat feeble joke, he wrote to

France:—“_La batterie la plus effective était ma batterie de cuisine_.”

Elliott’s cooking-apparatus and “roasted balls” beat it all to nothing.

Red-hot shot has been entirely superseded in “civilised” warfare by

shells. It was usually handled much in the same way that ordinary shot and

shell is to-day. Each ball was carried by two men, having between them a

strong iron frame, with a ring in the middle to hold it. There were two

heavy wads, one dry and the other slightly damped, between the powder and

ball. At the siege of Gibraltar, however, matters were managed in a much

more rough-and-ready style. The shot was heated at furnaces and wheeled

off to the guns in wheelbarrows lined with sand.

[Illustration: THE SIEGE OF GIBRALTAR]

The partial failure of the navy to co-operate successfully with the

land-forces, so far as bombardment was concerned, during the Crimean war,

has had much to do with the adoption of the costly ironclad floating

fortresses, armed with enormously powerful guns, of the present day. The

earliest form, indeed, was adopted during the above war, but not used to

any great extent or advantage. The late Emperor of the French(15) saw that

the coming necessity or necessary evil would be some form of

strongly-armoured and protected floating battery that could cope with

fortresses ashore, and this was the germ of the ironclad movement. The

first batteries of this kind, used successfully at Kinburn, were otherwise

unseaworthy and unmanageable, and were little more than heavily-plated and

more or less covered barges.

The two earliest European ironclads were _La Gloire_ in France and the

_Warrior_ in England—the latter launched in 1860. Neither of these vessels

presented any great departure from the established types of build in large

ships of war. The _Warrior_ is an undeniably fine, handsome-looking

frigate, masted and rigged as usual, but she and her sister-ship, the

_Black Prince_, are about the only ironclads to which these remarks

apply—every form and variety of construction having been adopted since. As

regarded size, she was considerably larger than the largest frigate or

ship of the line of our navy, although greatly exceeded by many ironclads

subsequently built. She is 380 feet in length, and her displacement of

more than 9,100 tons was 3,000 tons greater than that of the largest of

the wooden men-of-war she was superseding. The _Warrior_ is still among

the fastest of the iron-armoured fleet. Considered _as_ an ironclad,

however, she is a weak example. Her armour, which protects only

three-fifths of her sides, is but four and a half inches thick, with

eighteen inches of (wood) backing, and five-eighths of an inch of what is

technically called “skin-plating,” for protection inside. The remote

possibility of a red-hot shot or shell falling inside has to be

considered. Her bow and stern, rudder-head and steering-gear, would, of

course, be the vulnerable points.

From this small beginning—one armoured vessel—our ironclad fleet has grown

with the greatest rapidity, till it now numbers over sixty of all

denominations of vessels. The late Emperor of the French gave a great

impetus to the movement; and other foreign nations speedily following in

his wake, it clearly behoved England to be able to cope with them on their

own ground, should occasion demand. Then there was the “scare” of invasion

which took some hold of the public mind, and was exaggerated by certain

portions of the press, at one period, till it assumed serious proportions.

Leading journals complained that by the time the Admiralty would have one

or two ironclads in commission, the French would have ten or twelve. Thus

urged, the Government of the day must be excused if they made some

doubtful experiments and costly failures.

But apart from the lessons of the Crimea, and the activity and rivalry of

foreign powers, attention was seriously drawn to the ironclad question by

the events of the day. It was easy to guess and theorise concerning this

new feature in warfare, but early in 1862 practical proof was afforded of

its power. The naval engagement which took place in Hampton Roads, near

the outset of the great American civil war, was the first time in which an

ironclad ship was brought into collision with wooden vessels, and also the

first time in which two distinct varieties of the species were brought

into collision with each other.

The Southerners had, when the strife commenced, seized and partially

burned the _Merrimac_, a steam-frigate belonging to the United States

navy, then lying at the Norfolk Navy-yard. The hulk was regarded as nearly

worthless,(16) until, looking about for ways and means to annoy their

opponents, they hit on the idea of armouring her, in the best manner

attainable at the moment; and for awhile at least, this condemned wreck,

resuscitated, patched up, and covered with iron plates,(17) became the

terror of the enemy. She was provided with an iron prow or ram capable of

inflicting a severe blow under water. Her hull, cut down to within three

feet of the water-line, was covered by a bomb-proof, sloping-roofed house,

which extended over the screw and rudder. This was built of oak and pine,

covered with iron; the latter being four and a half inches thick, and the

former aggregating twenty inches in thickness. While the hull was

generally iron-plated, the bow and stern were covered with steel. There

were no masts—nothing seen above but the “smoke-stack” (funnel),

pilot-house, and flagstaff. She carried eight powerful guns, most of them

eleven-inch. “As she came ploughing through the water,” wrote one

eyewitness of her movements, “she looked like a huge half-submerged

crocodile.” The Southerners re-christened her the _Virginia_, but her

older name has clung to her. The smaller vessels with her contributed

little to the issue of the fight, but those opposed to her were of no

inconsiderable size. The _Congress_, _Cumberland_, _Minnesota_, and

_Roanoake_ were frigates carrying an aggregate of over 150 guns and nearly

2,000 men. They, however, were wooden vessels; and although, in two cases

in particular, defended with persistent heroism, had no chance against the

ironclad, hastily as she had been prepared. There is little doubt that the

officers of the two former vessels, in particular, knew something of the

nature of the “forlorn hope” in which they were about to engage, when she

hove in sight on that memorable 8th of March, 1862. It is said that the

sailors, however, derided her till she was close upon them—so close that

their laughter and remarks were heard on board. “That Southern Bugaboo,”

“that old Secesh curiosity,” were among the milder titles applied to her.

[Illustration: THE ORIGINAL “MERRIMAC.”]

The engagement was fought in the Hampton Roads, which is virtually an

outlet of the James River, Virginia. The latter, like the Thames, has

considerable breadth and many shallows near its mouth. The _Merrimac_ left

Norfolk Navy-yard (which holds to the James River somewhat the position

that Sheerness does to the Thames) hurriedly on the morning of the 8th,

and steamed steadily towards the enemy’s fleet, accompanied by some

smaller vessels of war and a few tug-boats.

“Meanwhile, the shapeless iron mass

Came moving o’er the wave,

As gloomy as a passing hearse,

As silent as the grave.”

The morning was still and calm as that of a Sabbath-day. That the

_Merrimac_ was not expected was evidenced by the boats at the booms, and

the sailors’ clothes still hanging in the rigging of the enemy’s vessels.

“Did they see the long, dark hull? Had they made it out? Was it ignorance,

apathy, or composure that made them so indifferent? or were they provided

with torpedoes, which could sink even the _Merrimac_ in a minute?” were

questions mooted on the Southern side by those watching on board the boats

and from the shore.

As soon, however, as she was plainly discerned, the crews of the

_Cumberland_, _Congress_, and other vessels were beat to quarters, and

preparations made for the fight. “The engagement,” wrote the Confederate

Secretary of the Navy, “commenced at half-past three p.m., and at four

p.m. Captain Buchanan had sunk the _Cumberland_, captured and burned the

_Congress_, disabled and driven the _Minnesota_ ashore, and defeated the

_St. Lawrence_ and _Roanoake_, which sought shelter under the guns of

Fortress Monroe. Two of the enemy’s small steamers were blown up, and the

two transport steamers were captured.” This, as will be seen, must, as

regards time, be taken _cum grano salis_, but in its main points is

correct.

The _Merrimac_ commenced the action by discharging a broadside at the

_Congress_, one shell from which killed or disabled a number of men at the

guns, and then kept on towards the _Cumberland_, which she approached with

full steam on, striking her on the port side near the bow, her stem

knocking two of the ports into one, and her ram striking the vessel under

the water-line. Almost instantaneously a large shell was discharged from

her forward gun, which raked the gun-deck of the doomed ship, and killed

ten men. Five minutes later the ship began to sink by the head, a large

hole having been made by the point of the ram, through which the water

rushed in. As the _Merrimac_ rounded and rapidly came up again, she once

more raked the _Cumberland_, killing or wounding sixteen more men.

Meantime the latter was endeavouring to defend herself, and poured

broadside after broadside into the _Merrimac_; but the balls, as one of

the survivors tells us, bounced “upon her mailed sides like india-rubber,

apparently making not the least impression except to cut off her

flagstaff, and thus bring down the Confederate colours. None of her crew

ventured at that time on her outside to replace them, and she fought

thenceforward with only her pennant flying.”(18) Shortly after this, the

_Merrimac_ again attacked the unfortunate ship, advancing with her

greatest speed, her ram making another hole below the water-line. The

_Cumberland_ began to fill rapidly. The scene on board is hardly to be

described in words. It was one of horrible desperation and fruitless

heroism. The decks were slippery with human gore; shreds of human flesh,

and portions of the body, arms, legs, and headless trunks were scattered

everywhere. Below, the cockpit was filled with wounded, whom it would be

impossible to succour, for the ship was sinking fast. Meantime the men

stuck to their posts, powder was still served out, and the firing kept up

steadily, several of the crew lingering so long in the after shell-room,

in their eagerness to pass up shell, that they were drowned there. The

water had now reached the main gun-deck, and it became evident that the

contest was nearly over. Still the men lingered, anxious for one last

shot, when their guns were nearly under water.

“Shall we give them a broadside, my boys, as she goes?

Shall we send yet another to tell,

In iron-tongued words, to Columbia’s foes,

How bravely her sons say ‘Farewell?’”

The word was passed for each man to save himself. Even then, one man, an

active little fellow, named Matthew Tenney, whose courage had been

conspicuous during the action, determined to fire once more, the next gun

to his own being then under water, the vessel going down by the head. He

succeeded, but at the cost of his life, for immediately afterwards,

attempting to scramble out of the port-hole, the water suddenly rushed in

with such force that he was washed back and drowned. Scores of poor

fellows were unable to reach the upper deck, and were carried down with

the vessel. The _Cumberland_ sank in water up to the cross-trees, and went

down _with her flag still flying from the peak_.(19) The whole number lost

was not less than 120 souls. Her top-masts, with the pennant flying far

above the water, long marked the locality of one of the bravest and most

desperate defences ever made

“By men who knew that all else was wrong

But to die when a sailor ought.”

The _Cumberland_ being utterly demolished, the _Merrimac_ turned her

attention to the _Congress_. The Southerners showed their chivalric

instincts at this juncture by not firing on the boats, or on a small

steamer, which were engaged in picking up the survivors of the

_Cumberland’s_ crew. The officers of the _Congress_, seeing the fate of

the _Cumberland_, determined that the _Merrimac_ should not, at least,

sink their vessel. They therefore got all sail on the ship, and attempted

to run ashore. The _Merrimac_ was soon close on them, and delivered a

broadside, which was terribly destructive, a shell killing, at one of the

guns, every man engaged except one. Backing, and then returning several

times, she delivered broadside after broadside at less than 100 yards’

distance. The _Congress_ replied manfully and obstinately, but with little

effect. One shot is supposed to have entered one of the ironclad’s

port-holes, and dismounted a gun, as there was no further firing from that

port, and a few splinters of iron were struck off her sloping mailed roof,

but this was all. The guns of the _Merrimac_ appeared to have been

specially trained on the after-magazine of the _Congress_, and shot after

shot entered that part of the ship. Thus, slowly drifting down with the

current, and again steaming up, the _Merrimac_ continued for an hour to

fire into her opponent. Several times the _Congress_ was on fire, but the

flames were kept under. At length the ship was on fire in so many places,

and the flames gathering with such force, that it was hopeless and

suicidal to keep up the defence any longer. The national flag was sadly

and sorrowfully hauled down, and a white flag hoisted at the peak. The

_Merrimac_ did not for a few minutes see this token of surrender, and

continued to fire. At last, however, it was discerned through the clouds

of smoke, and the broadsides ceased. A tug that had followed the

_Merrimac_ out of Norfolk then came alongside the _Congress_, and ordered

the officers on board. This they refused, hoping that, from the nearness

of the shore, they would be able to escape. Some of the men, to the

number, it is believed, of about forty, thought the tug was one of the

Northern (Federal) vessels, and rushed on board, and were, of course, soon

carried off as prisoners. By the time that all the able men were off

ashore and elsewhere, it was seven o’clock in the evening, and the

_Congress_ was a bright sheet of flame fore and aft, her guns, which were

loaded and trained, going off as the fire reached them. A shell from one

struck a sloop at some distance, and blew her up. At midnight the fire

reached her magazines, containing five tons of gunpowder, and, with a

terrific explosion, her charred remains blew up. Thus had the _Merrimac_

sunk one and burned a second of the largest of the vessels of the enemy.

Having settled the fate of these two ships, the _Merrimac_ had, about 5

o’clock in the afternoon, started to tackle the _Minnesota_. Here, as was

afterwards proved, the commander of the former had the intention of

capturing the latter as a prize, and had no wish to destroy her. He,

therefore, stood off about a mile distant, and with the _Yorktown_ and

_Jamestown_, threw shot and shell at the frigate, doing it considerable

damage, and killing six men. One shell entered near her waist, passed

through the chief engineer’s room, knocking two rooms into one, and

wounded several men; a shot passed through the main-mast. At nightfall the

_Merrimac_, satisfied with her afternoon’s work of death and destruction,

steamed in under Sewall’s Point. “The day,” said the Baltimore _American_,

“thus closed most dismally for our side, and with the most gloomy

apprehensions of what would occur the next day. The _Minnesota_ was at the

mercy of the _Merrimac_, and there appeared no reason why the iron monster

might not clear the Roads of our fleet, destroy all the stores and

warehouses on the beach, drive our troops into the fortress, and command

Hampton Roads against any number of wooden vessels the Government might

send there. Saturday was a terribly dismal night at Fortress Monroe.”

But about nine o’clock that evening Ericsson’s battery, the _Monitor_,(20)

arrived in Hampton Roads, and hope revived in the breasts of the

despondent Northerners. She was not a very formidable-looking craft, for,

lying low on the water, with a plain structure amidships, a small

pilot-house forward, and a diminutive funnel aft, she might have been

taken for a raft. It was only on board that her real strength might be

discovered. She carried armour about five inches thick over a large part

of her, and had practically two hulls, the lower of which had sides

inclining at an angle of 51° from the vertical line. It was considered

that no shot could hurt this lower hull, on account of the angle at which

it must strike it. The revolving turret, an iron cylinder, nine feet high,

and twenty feet in diameter, eight or nine inches thick everywhere, and

about the portholes eleven inches, was moved round by steam-power. When

the two heavy Dahlgren guns were run in for loading, a kind of pendulum

port fell over the holes in the turret. The propeller, rudder, and even

anchor, were all hidden.

This was a war of surprises and sudden changes. It is doubtful if the

Southerners knew what to make of the strange-looking battery which steamed

towards them next morning, or whether they despised it. The _Merrimac_ and

the _Monitor_ kept on approaching each other, the former waiting until she

would choose her distance, and the latter apparently not knowing what to

make of her queer-looking antagonist. The first shot from the _Monitor_

was fired when about one hundred yards distant from the _Merrimac_, and

this distance was subsequently reduced to fifty yards; and at no time

during the furious cannonading that ensued were the vessels more than two

hundred yards apart. The scene was in plain view from Fortress Monroe, and

in the main facts all the spectators agree. At first the fight was very

furious, and the guns of the _Monitor_ were fired rapidly. The latter

carried only two guns, to its opponent’s eight, and received two or three

shots for every one she gave. Finding that she was much more formidable

than she looked, the _Merrimac_ attempted to run her down; but her

superior speed and quicker handling enabled her to dodge and turn rapidly.

“Once the _Merrimac_ struck her near midships, but only to prove that the

battery could not be run down nor shot down. She spun round like a top;

and as she got her bearing again, sent one of her formidable missiles into

her huge opponent.

“The officers of the _Monitor_ at this time had gained such confidence in

the impregnability of their battery that they no longer fired at random

nor hastily. The fight then assumed its most interesting aspect. The

_Monitor_ went round the _Merrimac_ repeatedly, probing her sides, seeking

for weak points, and reserving her fire with coolness, until she had the

right spot and the right range, and made her experiments accordingly. In

this way the _Merrimac_ received three shots.... Neither of these three

shots rebounded at all, but appeared to cut their way clear through iron

and wood into the ship.”(21) Soon after receiving the third shot, the

_Merrimac_ made off at full speed, and the contest was not renewed. Thus

ended this particular episode of the American war.

[Illustration: ENGAGEMENT BETWEEN THE “MERRIMAC” AND “MONITOR.”]

Lieutenant Worden was in the pilot-house of the _Monitor_ when the

_Merrimac_ directed a whole broadside at her, and was, besides being

thrown down and stunned by the concussion, temporarily blinded by the

minute fragments of shells and powder driven through the eye-holes—only an

inch each in diameter—made through the iron to enable them to keep a

look-out. He was carried away, but, on recovering consciousness, his first

thoughts reverted to the action. “Have I saved the _Minnesota_?” said he,

eagerly. “Yes; and whipped the _Merrimac_!” was the answer. “Then,”

replied he, “I don’t care what becomes of me.” The concussion in the

turret is described as something terrible; and several of the men, though

not otherwise hurt, were rendered insensible for the time. Each side

claimed that they had seriously damaged the other, but there seems to have

been no foundation for these assertions in facts.

But although this, the original _Monitor_, was efficient, if not

omnipotent, in the calm waters at the mouth of the James River, she was,

as might be expected with her flat, barge-like bottom, a bad sea-boat, and

was afterwards lost. Her ports had to be closed and caulked, being only

five feet above the water, and she was therefore unable to work her guns

at sea. Her constructor had neglected Sir Walter Raleigh’s advice to

Prince Henry touching the model of a ship, “that her ports be so laid, as

that she may carry out her guns all weathers.” She plunged

heavily—completely submerging her pilot-house at times, the sea washing

over and into her turret. The heavy shocks and jars of the armour, as it

came down upon the waves, made her leaky, and she went to the bottom in

spite of pumps capable of throwing 2,000 gallons a minute, which were in

good order and working incessantly.

[Illustration: THE PERUVIAN IRONCLAD _HUASCAR_ ATTACKED BY TWO CHILIAN

IRONCLADS.]

Since the conclusion of the American war, the ironclad question has

assumed serious aspects, and many facts could be cited to show that they

have not by any means always confirmed the first impressions of their

strength and invulnerability. Two recent cases will be fresh in the

memories of our readers. The first is the recent engagement off Peru

between the Peruvian ironclad turret-ship _Huascar_ and the British

unarmoured men-of-war _Shah_ and _Amethyst_. With the political aspect of

the affair we have nothing, of course, to do, in our present work. It was

really a question between the guns quite as much as between the vessels.

The _Huascar_ is only a moderately-strong armoured vessel, her plates

being the same thickness as those of the earliest English ironclad, the

_Warrior_, and her armament is two 300-pounders in her turret, and three

shell-guns. On the other hand, the _Shah_, the principal one of the two

British vessels, is only a large iron vessel sheathed in wood, and not

armoured at all; but she carries, besides smaller guns, a formidable

armament in the shape of two 12-ton and sixteen 6½-ton guns. An eyewitness

of the engagement states(22) that, after three hours’ firing, at a

distance of from 400 to 3,000 yards, the only damage inflicted by the

opposing vessels was a hole in the _Huascar’s_ side, made by a shell, the

bursting of which killed one man. “One 9-in. shot (from a 12-ton gun) also

penetrated three inches into the turret without effecting any material

damage. There were nearly 100 dents of various depths in the plates, but

none of sufficient depth to materially injure them. The upper works—boats,

and everything destructible by shell—were, of course, destroyed. Her

colours were also shot down.” According to theory, the _Shah’s_ two larger

guns should have penetrated the _Huascar’s_ sides when fired at upwards of

3,000 yards’ distance. The facts are very different, doubtless because the

shots struck the armour obliquely, at any angles but right ones. The

_Huascar_ was admirably handled and manœuvred, but her gunnery was so

indifferent that none of the shots even struck the _Shah_, except to cut

away a couple of ropes, and the latter kept up so hot a fire of shells

that the crew of the former were completely demoralised, and the officers

had to train and fire the guns. She eventually escaped to Iquique, under

cover of a pitchy-dark night. The same correspondent admits, however, that

the _Shah_, although a magnificent vessel, is not fitted for the South

American station, since Peru has three ironclads, Chili two, and Brazil

and the River Plate Republics several, against which no ordinary English

man-of-war could cope, were the former properly handled.

[Illustration: THE PERUVIAN IRONCLAD _HUASCAR_.]

The recent story of the saucy Russian merchantman,(23) which not merely

dared the Turkish ironclad, but fought her for five hours, and inflicted

quite as much damage as she received, will also be remembered, although it

may be taken just for what it is worth. One Captain Baranoff, of the

Imperial Russian Navy, had, in an article published in the _Golos_, of St.

Petersburg, recommended his Government to abandon ironclads, avoid naval

battles, and confine operations at sea to the letting loose of a number of

cruisers against the enemy’s merchantmen. Where a naval engagement was

inevitable, he “preferred fighting with small craft, making up by agility

and speed what they lacked in cuirass, and if the worst came to the worst,

easily replaced by other specimens of the same type.” The article created

much notice; and at the beginning of the present war, the author was given

to understand by the Russian Admiralty that he should have an opportunity

of proving his theories by deeds. The _Vesta_, an ordinary iron steamer of

light build, was selected; she had been employed previously in no more

warlike functions than the conveyance of corn and tallow from Russia to

foreign ports. She was equipped immediately with a few 6-in. mortars, her

decks being strengthened to receive them, but no other changes were made.

On the morning of the 23rd of July, cruising in the Black Sea, Captain

Baranoff encountered the Turkish ironclad _Assari Tefvik_, a formidable

vessel armoured with twelve inches of iron, and carrying 12-ton guns, and

nothing daunted by the disproportion in size and strength, immediately

engaged her. Both vessels were skilfully manœuvred, the ironclad moving

about with extraordinary alertness and speed. She was only hit three times

with large balls; the second went through her deck, “kindling a fire which

was quickly extinguished;” the third was believed to have injured the

turret. Meantime, the _Vesta_ was herself badly injured, a grenade hitting

her close to the powder-magazine, which would have soon blown up but for

the rapid measures taken by her commander. Her rudder was struck and

partially disabled, but still she was not sunk, as she should have been,

according to all theoretical considerations. She eventually steamed back

again to Sebastopol—after two other vessels had come to the ironclad’s

assistance—covered with glory, having for five hours worried, and somewhat

injured, a giant vessel to which, in proportion, she was but a weak and

miserable dwarf.

It will be obvious that from neither of the above cases can any positive

inferences be safely drawn. In the former case, the weaker vessel had the

stronger guns, and so matters were partially balanced; in the second

example, the ironclad ought to have easily sunk the merchantman by means

of her heavy guns, even from a great distance—but she didn’t. The ironclad

question will engage our attention again, as it will, we fear, that of the

nation, for a very long time to come.