A Man Devoid of Fear--William Barker Cushing--Some of His Exploits--The
Blowing Up of the _Albemarle_--His Sad Death.
If ever man lived who knew not the meaning of fear, he was William
Barker Cushing, born in Wisconsin in 1842. He entered the Naval Academy
in 1857, remained four years, received his appointment from the State of
New York, but claiming Pennsylvania as his residence. He was wild and
reckless, and resigned in March, 1861, when even his closest friends saw
little hope of his success in life.
Many heroes are referred to as fearless, but that man is reckoned brave
who knows the full extent of the danger facing him, and yet does not
hesitate to meet it; but Cushing was a youth who really seemed to love
danger for its own sake, and never flinched while death was on every
hand, but went unhesitatingly forward, when it would have been no
reflection upon his courage had he turned about and run.
The breaking out of the Civil War offered so fascinating a field for him
that he could not resist the temptation. The Secretary of the Navy
always had a tender spot in his heart for the daring fellow, and when
Cushing promised that if he would give him a chance he would prove
himself worthy of the Secretary's confidence, that official consented
and attached him to the North Atlantic Blockading Squadron. At the very
first opportunity Cushing displayed the wonderful personal intrepidity
which was soon to make him the most famous naval officer of his age.
In the expedition against Franklin, Va., in the autumn of the year, he
was placed in command of the gunboat _Ellis_, and showed such skill and
bravery that he was recommended by the acting admiral to the Navy
Department. Some weeks later he steamed into New River Inlet, with the
object of capturing Jacksonville and destroying the salt works. He was
successful, secured three vessels and drove the enemy from two pieces of
artillery with which they were firing on him at short range. All was
going well, but while still close to the abandoned works Cushing's
little steamer ran aground, and, despite every effort, he could not work
her free.
He saw it was useless to try to get the boat off. He therefore took
everything out of her, excepting the pivot gun and ammunition, and,
placing them on board one of the captured schooners, ordered the crew to
leave. Knowing the enemy would soon return in overwhelming numbers, he
asked for six volunteers to stay with him and fight with the single gun
to the last. The response was prompt, for his daring spirit was
infectious, and he instructed the others, in the event of him and his
comrades being attacked, to make no attempt to help them.
Just as he anticipated, the Confederates opened upon the doomed steamer
at daylight, firing from so many different points that the defenders
were helpless. As fast as the gun could be loaded, it was pointed here,
there and everywhere, for, no matter in what direction it was aimed, it
was pretty sure to hit some of the enemy; but a single gun against a
score could accomplish nothing, and the lieutenant had to decide whether
to remain, with the certainty of every man being shot to pieces, of
surrendering, or of rowing in an open boat for more than a mile through
the murderous fire. With scarcely a moment's hesitation, he resolved
upon the last plan, which looked as suicidal as remaining on the
steamer.
The gun was loaded to the muzzle and trained upon the enemy, so as to go
off when heated, the steamer set on fire in several places, and,
dropping into the smaller boat, the men pulled with might and main for
the schooner. Fortune favors the brave, and they reached it in safety,
and soon after arrived at Beaufort.
This exploit won for Cushing the commendation of the Navy Department
for "his courage, coolness and gallantry."
His restless spirit would not allow him to remain idle. He was
continually engaging in some daring enterprise, in which it must not be
supposed he displayed nothing more than headlong recklessness. That
quality was supplemented by coolness and skill, without which he never
could have attained the remarkable success that attended his career.
Among the numerous achievements the following will serve as an
illustration of the young man's disposition:
Lieutenants Lamson and Cushing had command of a number of gunboats that
were sent to the aid of General Peck, stationed at Norfolk. In the
latter part of April it was learned that a Union boat had been decoyed
ashore by the display of a white handkerchief and then fired upon. The
angered Cushing asked for and received the privilege of retaliating for
this treacherous act. In charge of seven boats, manned by ninety
sailors, he set out and landed under the protection of the fire of the
vessels. Leaving a part of his force to protect the boats, he started
inland, taking a 12-pounder howitzer with him.
His objective point was a village three miles away, where several
hundred cavalry were stationed. Advancing boldly, he drove in the
pickets, and coming across a span of mules hitched to a cart, he tied
the rope of the howitzer to the rear, lashed the animals to a gallop and
went clattering into the village to the loud shouts of "Forward, double
quick!"
Just as they entered the formidable body of cavalry were discerned,
galloping down the street toward them, swinging their sabres and
shouting at the top of their voices. In a twinkling the howitzer was
unlimbered, and the charge of grape which was poured into the
approaching horsemen was supplemented by a volley of musketry. The
racket terrified the mules, which broke into a gallop, dragging the cart
and ammunition after them, and never paused until they were among the
ranks of the enemy. With a shout, Cushing was after them, followed by
his men, and mules and ammunition were recovered in a twinkling. By this
time the demoralized cavalry had fled, and Cushing, after retaining
possession of the village until dusk, leisurely made his way back to the
boats.
The war having proven the immeasurable value of ironclads of the
_Merrimac_ type, the Confederates strained every nerve to build them,
often succeeding under the most trying conditions. One of the most
formidable of these craft was the _Albemarle_, upon which work was
begun early in 1863, at Edward's Ferry, several miles up the Roanoke
River. Iron was so scarce that the country was scoured for miles in
every direction for bolts, bars and metal. As stated by Maclay, the keel
was laid in an open cornfield, and an ordinary blacksmith's outfit
formed the plant for building; but the makers persevered and completed a
craft 122 feet over all, with 45 feet beam and drawing 8 feet of water.
The casemate was 60 feet long, constructed of massive timbers, covered
with 4-inch planking, over which were placed two layers of 2-inch iron.
The motive power was furnished by twin screws operated by engines of 200
horse-power each. Her armament consisted of an Armstrong 100-pounder in
the bow and another in the stern, the casemate being so pierced that the
guns could be used at broadside or quarter.
At midnight, April 19, 1864, the _Albemarle_ gave a proof of her
prodigious power of destruction. On the preceding two days the
Confederates had made a determined attack on Plymouth, held by the Union
forces, and the ironclad now set out to render assistance. The wooden
gunboats _Miami_ and _Southfield_ offered just the sort of targets the
monster fancied. Under a full head of steam, the _Albemarle_ rammed her
iron beak clean into the fire room of the _Southfield_. The latter was
skewered upon the projection and began slowly sinking. The snout was so
entangled with the _Southfield_ that the victim could not be shaken off,
and as she sank she carried her foe with her. The bow of the ironclad
dipped below the surface, and a most extraordinary and inglorious end
seemed inevitable, when the _Southfield_ touched bottom, rolled over and
freed itself from the bow of the ram, which popped up again.
Meanwhile the _Miami_ was pounding the iron hide of the monster, which
shed the missiles as the _Merrimac_ shed the broadsides from the
_Cumberland_ and _Congress_. When only a few feet from the _Albemarle_,
Lieutenant Flusser, standing directly behind a gun of the _Miami_, let
fly with a heavy shell, which, striking the armor of the _Albemarle_,
was shivered into a thousand fragments, most of which rebounding,
instantly killed the officer and wounded a dozen men. The _Miami_
retreated, and the next day Plymouth surrendered to the Confederates.
In May, the _Albemarle_ steamed down into the Sound and attacked the
Union gunboats, which made a heroic defence. The monster received
broadside after broadside and was repeatedly rammed, but suffered no
material damage, while she killed 4, wounded 25 and caused the scalding
of 13, through piercing the boiler of one of her assailants.
It will be seen that this ironclad had become a formidable menace to the
Union arms, not only in the immediate neighborhood, but further north.
It was the intention of her commander to clear out the fleets at the
mouth of the river, and then make an excursion up the coast, somewhat
like that which Secretary Stanton once believed the _Merrimac_ was about
to undertake. General Grant was pressing his final campaign against
Richmond, and the _Albemarle_ threatened to interfere with his plans,
for if she made the diversion of which she was capable, she was likely
to postpone indefinitely the wind up of the war.
Ah, if some daring scheme could be perfected for destroying the
_Albemarle_! What a feat it would be and how vast the good it would
accomplish! There was one young officer in the American navy who
believed the thing could be done, and he volunteered to undertake it.
Well aware that the Unionists would neglect no means of blowing up the
_Albemarle_, the Confederates used every possible precaution. At the
wharf in Plymouth, where she was moored, a thousand soldiers were on
guard, and her crew, consisting of sixty men, were alert and vigilant.
To prevent the approach of a torpedo boat, the ram was surrounded by a
boom of cypress logs, placed a considerable distance from the hull, and
a double line of sentries was stationed along the river. What earthly
chance was there under such conditions of any possible harm coming to
her?
The picket boat in which Lieutenant Cushing undertook to destroy the
rebel ram was built at New York under his supervision, and taken to
Norfolk by way of the canals, and thence to Albemarle Sound again by
canal. He made his preparations with great care, and on the night of
October 27, which was dark and stormy, he started in his picket boat. He
was accompanied by eight men and the following officers: Acting Ensign
William L. Howarth, Acting Master's Mates Thomas S. Gay and John
Woodman, Acting Assistant Paymaster Francis H. Swan, Acting Third
Assistant Engineers Charles L. Steever and William Stotesbury.
Cushing took in tow a small cutter, in which he intended to capture the
Confederate guard, that was in a schooner anchored near the wrecked
_Southfield_, and prevent their sending up an alarm rocket as a warning
to the sentinels above of the approach of danger. He stationed himself
at the stern, his plan being to land a little way below the ram and
board her from the wharf. A sudden dash promised her capture by
surprise, when she could be taken down stream. If this scheme could not
be carried out, he intended to blow her up with a torpedo as she lay at
the dock.
The launch crept along the river bank as silently as an Indian canoe
stealing into a hostile camp. The distance to be passed was fully eight
miles, and the peril began almost from the moment of starting. The
necessary commands were spoken in whispers, and the waiting men scarcely
moved as they peered into the deep gloom and listened to the almost
inaudible rippling of the water from the bow. Speed was reduced as they
drew near Plymouth, in order to lessen the soft clanking of the engine
or the motion of the screw.
They were still a mile below Plymouth when the shadowy outlines of the
wrecked _Southfield_ loomed dimly to view. The Confederates had raised
her so that her hurricane deck was above the surface. Within a few yards
of the wreck a schooner was anchored containing a guard of twenty men
with a field piece and rocket, provided for precisely such danger as now
drew near. But on this night, of all others, the sentinels were dozing,
for had they been vigilant they must have seen the little craft whose
crew saw theirs and were on the _qui vive_ to board on the instant of
discovery.
The good fortune encouraged all hands, and as the schooner and wreck
melted into the darkness the launch swept around a bend in the river and
caught the glimmer of the camp fires along the banks, partly
extinguished by the falling rain. Still creeping cautiously on, the
outlines of the prodigious ram gradually assumed form in the gloom. It
looked as if the surprise would be complete, when a dog, more watchful
than his masters, began barking. He had discovered the approaching
danger, and the startled sentinels challenged, but no reply was made. A
second challenge bringing no response, several muskets flashed in the
night. Other dogs joined in barking, alarm rattles were sprung and wood
flung upon the fires, which, flaring up, threw their illumination out on
the river and revealed the launch and cutter. The hoarse commands of
officers rang out, and the soldiers, springing from sleep, caught up
their guns and rushed to quarters.
Amid the fearful din and peril Cushing cut the tow line and ordered the
cutter to hasten down the river and capture the guard near the
_Southfield_. At the same moment he directed the launch to go ahead at
full speed. He had changed his plan. Instead of landing he determined
to blow up the ram. When close to it he learned for the first time of
the cordon of logs which surrounded the _Albemarle_, but, believing they
were slippery enough from remaining long in the water to be passed, he
sheered off, made a sweep of a hundred yards and again charged under
full steam for the obstruction.
As he drew near the guards fired a volley which riddled Cushing's coat
and tore off the sole of his shoe.
At the same moment he heard the vicious snapping of the primers of the
huge guns, which showed they had missed fire.
"Leave the ram!" he shouted. "We're going to blow you up!"
The Confederates, however, did not follow the advice and the launch
fired her howitzer. Then she glided over the slimy logs and paused in
front of the muzzle of a loaded cannon which could be almost reached
with the outstretched hand. Still cool and self-possessed amid the
horrible perils, Cushing stood erect, lowered the torpedo spar, shoved
it under the overhang, waited a moment for it to rise until he felt it
touch the bottom of the ram, when he gave a quick, strong pull on the
trigger line. A muffled, thunderous explosion followed, an immense
column of water rose in the air and the tremendous tipping of the
_Albemarle_ showed she had received a mortal hurt.
It was accomplished at the critical second, for the rifled gun, filled
with 100 pounds of canister and pointed at the launch ten feet away, was
immediately discharged. The careening of the ram deviated the aim just
enough to prevent the crew from being blown to fragments, but confident
that not a man could escape, the Confederates twice called upon their
assailants to surrender, and several did so, but Cushing was not among
them. With the same marvelous coolness he had displayed from the first
he took off his coat and shoes, flung his sword and revolver aside and
shouted:
"Every man save himself!"
Then he leaped into the water and began swimming with might and main
down stream, the bullets skipping all about him, but he soon passed
beyond sight and was still swimming when he heard a plashing near him.
It was made by one of the acting master's mates, John Woodman, who was
exhausted. Cushing helped him until he himself had hardly an ounce of
strength left, when he was obliged to let go, and the poor fellow,
calling good-by, sank from sight.
When unable to struggle longer, Cushing let his feet drop and they
touched bottom. He managed to reach land, where he sank down so worn
out that he lay motionless until daylight. Then he crawled into a swamp,
where he remained hidden until a friendly negro appeared, who extended
every possible kindness to him. From him Cushing learned that the
_Albemarle_ had been destroyed and was at the bottom of the river. It
was thrilling news, and the following night, after he had thoroughly
rested and been fed by his dusky friend, he moved down the river, found
a skiff and in it made his way to the fleet, bringing the first news of
the success of an exploit which it is safe to say has never been
surpassed in the history of our navy. Even the captain of the
_Albemarle_ declared that "a more gallant thing was not done during the
war."
While conceding to Lieutenant Hobson the full credit for his daring
achievement in sinking the _Merrimac_ in the channel of Santiago harbor,
on June 3, 1898, it was by no means the equal of that of Lieutenant
Cushing, thirty-four years before.
For his superb work Cushing received a vote of thanks from Congress and
was promoted to the rank of lieutenant commander. He led a division of
sailors in the second and what proved to be the successful attack upon
Fort Fisher, in January, 1865. It was a desperate fight and none
displayed more heroism than the young officer who had destroyed the
_Albemarle_.
Hon. J.T. Headley, the biographer of Cushing, in an article written
immediately after the close of the Civil War, used these words: "Still a
young man, he has a bright future before him, and if he lives will
doubtless reach the highest rank in the navy. Bold, daring and
self-collected under the most trying circumstances--equal to any
emergency--never unbalanced by an unexpected contingency, he possesses
those great qualities always found in a successful commander. No man in
our navy, at his age, has ever won so brilliant a reputation, and it
will be his own fault if it is not increased until he has no superior."
And yet Commander Cushing's reputation was not increased nor was it
through any fault of his own. It was not long after the war that his
friends were pained to observe unmistakable signs of mental unsoundness
in the young hero. These increased until his brain was all askew, and he
died in an insane asylum in 1874.