"R. SEMMES, Captain."
"Ha! Ha!" chuckled Winslow. "We're in for it, now. Hurray!" and he
hastened back to his ship to spread the glad tidings.
"My boys!" said he to his crew. "It is probable that the two ships
will engage on parallel lines, and, if defeated, the _Alabama_ will
seek for neutral waters. It is necessary, therefore, that we begin
this action several miles from the break-water. The _Alabama_ must
believe that she can win, or she would not fight us, for, if we sink
her, she cannot be replaced by the Confederate Government. As for
ourselves, let us never give up, and--if we sink--let us go down with
the flag flying!"
"Hear! Hear!" cried all. "We're with you, Captain. Never give up the
ship!"
"Clean decks, boys!" continued brave Winslow. "Get everything
ship-shape for the coming affair, for we're in for as tight a little
fight as e'er you entered upon."
Preparations were immediately made for battle, but no _Alabama_
appeared.
Thursday passed; Friday came; the _Kearsarge_ waited in the channel
with ports down; guns pivoted to starboard; the whole battery loaded;
and shell, grape, and canister ready to use in any method of attack or
defence,--but no _Alabama_ appeared. A French pilot-boat drifted near,
and the black-eyed skipper cried out,
"You fellers look out for ze _Alabama_. She take in much coal. Whew!
She take much of ze captured stuff ashore. Whew! She scrub ze deck.
Whew! She put ze sailors to ze business of sharpening ze cutlass and
ze dirk. Whew! You look out for ze great privateer! Whew!"
Captain Winslow only smiled.
"Zey have ze big feast," continued the Frenchman. "Zey dr-e-e-nk ze
wine. Zey stan' on ze chairs and zey say, 'We will seenk ze Yankee
dog.' Ta donc! Zey call you ze dog!"
And still Captain Winslow smiled. But, next day, his smile turned to
a frown.
It was Sunday, the nineteenth day of June. The weather was beautiful;
the atmosphere was somewhat hazy; the wind was light; and there was
little sea. At ten o'clock the _Kearsarge_ was drifting near a buoy
about three miles eastward from the entrance of Cherbourg break-water.
Her decks had been newly holy-stoned; the brass work had been cleaned;
the guns polished, and the crew had on their Sunday clothes. They had
been inspected, and dismissed--in order to attend divine service.
At 1.20 a cry rang out:
"She comes!"
The bell was tolling for prayers.
"The _Alabama_! The _Alabama_! She's moving, and heading straight for
us!"
All rushed to the deck; the drum beat to quarters. Captain Winslow
laid aside his prayer-book, seized his trumpet, ordered the boat
about, and headed seaward. The ship was cleared for action and the
battery was pivoted to starboard.
Yes, she was coming!
From the western entrance of the safe, little French seaport steamed
the long-bodied, low-hulled privateer: her rakish masts bending
beneath the spread of canvas: her tall funnel belching sepia smoke. A
French iron-clad frigate--the _Couronne_--accompanied her, flying the
pennant of the Commander-of-the-Port. In her wake plodded a tiny
fore-and-aft-rigged steamer-yacht: the _Deerhound_, showing the flag
of the Royal Mersey (British) Yacht Club. The frigate--having convoyed
the Confederate privateer to the limit of the French waters (three
marine miles from the coast)--put down her helm and ploughed back into
port. The steam yacht continued on, and remained near the scene of
action.
As the _Alabama_ had started upon her dash into the open, Captain
Semmes had mounted a gun-carriage, and had cried,
"Officers and Seamen of the _Alabama_:
"You have at length another opportunity of meeting the enemy--the
first that has been presented to you since you sank the _Hatteras_! In
the meantime you have been all over the world, and it is not too much
to say that you have destroyed, and driven for protection under
neutral flags, one-half of the enemy's commerce, which, at the
beginning of the war, covered every sea. This is an achievement of
which you may well be proud, and a grateful country will not be
unmindful of it. The name of your ship has become a household word
wherever civilization extends! Shall that name be tarnished by defeat?
The thing is impossible! Remember that you are in the English Channel,
the theatre of so much of the naval glory of our race, and that the
eyes of all Europe are, at this moment, upon you. The flag that floats
over you is that of a young Republic, which bids defiance to her
enemies whenever and wherever found! Show the world that you know how
to uphold it! Go to your quarters!"
A wild yell had greeted these stirring expressions.
The shore was black with people, for the word had been passed around
that the two sea-warriors were to grapple in deadly embrace. Even a
special train had come from Paris to bring the sober townsfolk to
Cherbourg, where they could view the contest. They were chattering
among themselves, like a flock of magpies.
"Voila!" said a fair damsel, whose eyes were fairly shining with
excitement. "Oh, I hope zat ze beeg gray fellow weel win."
She meant the _Alabama_, for the Confederates dressed in that sober
color.
"Zis ees ze naval Waterloo!" whispered a veteran of the Crimean War.
It was 10.50 o'clock. The _Kearsarge_ had been steaming out to sea,
but now she wheeled. She was seven miles from shore and one and
one-quarter miles from her opponent. She steered directly for her, as
if to ram her and crush through her side. The _Alabama_ sheered off
and presented her starboard battery. The _Kearsarge_ came on, rapidly,
and--at 10.57 was about eighteen hundred yards from her
enemy--then--_Crash! Roar!_ A broadside thundered from the Confederate
privateer, while the solid shot screamed through the rigging of the
Yankee man-of-war.
On! On! came Captain Winslow's gallant craft, while a second and a
third broadside crashed into her. The rigging tore and swayed, but she
was little injured. She was now within nine hundred yards.
"Sheer! Sheer!" cried the Union Commander.
The _Kearsarge_ spun off and broke her long silence with the
starboard battery. _Crash! Roar!_ the shells pounded around the great
privateer, and, with a full head of steam, the corsair of the Southern
Confederacy swept onward. _Crash! Roar!_ she answered with shell, and
the bursting iron shivered the foremast of her doughty opponent.
Captain Winslow was fearful that the enemy would make for the shore,
so he spun over his helm to port in the endeavor to run under the
_Alabama_'s stern and rake her. But she sheered off, kept her
broadside to him, and pounded away like a pugilist. The ships were a
quarter of a mile (440 yards) away from each other. They were circling
around in a wide arc, plugging away as fast as they could load. The
spectators cheered, for it was as good a show as they had ever
witnessed.
"Eet ees fine!" said the veteran of the Crimea. "Eet remin' me of ze
battaile at Balaklava!"
Suddenly a wild cheer rose from the deck of the United States cruiser.
A shot had struck the spanker-gaff on the enemy and her ensign had
come down on the run.
"Hurray!" shouted the seamen. "That means we'll win, sure!"
The fallen ensign re-appeared at the mizzen, while firing from the
_Alabama_ became rapid and wild. The gunners of the _Kearsarge_ had
been cautioned against shooting without direct aim, and had been told
to point their heavy guns below, rather than above the water-line.
Captain Winslow was busy with his orders.
"Clear the enemy's deck with the light guns!" he shouted. "Sink the
Confederate with the heavy iron!"
Cheer succeeded cheer from his sailors. Caps were thrown into the air,
or overboard. Jackets were tossed aside. Now, certain of victory, the
men were shouting wildly, as each projectile took effect.
"That's a good one!"
"Down, boys, down!"
"Give her another like the last!"
"Now--we have her!"
The vessels continued to swing around each other in wide circles,
and--at this moment--a sixty-eight pound Blakely shell passed through
the starboard bulwarks of the _Kearsarge_ below the main rigging,
exploded on the quarter-deck, and wounded three of the crew of the
after pivot-gun. The three unfortunate men were speedily taken below,
but the act was done so quietly, that--at the termination of the
fight--a large number of the crew were unaware that any of their
comrades were injured.
Two shots now crashed through the port-holes occupied by the
thirty-two pounders; one exploded in the hammock-netting; the other
shrieked through the opposite port; yet no one was hurt. Fire blazed
from the deck; the alarm calling for fire-quarters was sounded, and
the men who had been detailed for this emergency put it out. The rest
stayed at the guns.
[Illustration: "THE MEN WERE SHOUTING WILDLY, AS EACH PROJECTILE TOOK
EFFECT."]
The eleven-inch shells were doing terrible execution upon the
quarter-deck of the _Alabama_. Three of them crashed into the
eight-inch pivot-gun port; the first swept off the forward part of
the gun's crew; the second killed one man and wounded several others;
the third struck the breast of the gun-carriage and spun around on the
deck until one of the men picked it up and threw it overboard. The
ship was careening heavily to starboard, while the decks were covered
with the dead and dying. A shell plunged into the coal bunker and a
dense cloud of coal dust arose. Crippled and torn, the hulking
privateer began to settle by the stern. Her guns still spat and
growled, and her broadsides were going wild. She was fast weakening.
"Any one who silences that after pivot-gun will get one hundred
dollars!" cried Captain Semmes, as he saw the fearful accuracy of its
fire.
_Crash!_ a whole broadside from the privateer spat at this particular
piece. It was in vain.
Around and around circled the belching _Kearsarge_. Seven times she
had swooped about the weakening gladiator of the sea, and her fire was
more and more accurate. She was like a great eagle closing in for a
deaththrust. Captain Semmes was in a desperate situation.
"Hoist the fore-trysail and jibs!" he called out above the din of
cannon. "Head for the French coast!"
As the sailors scrambled to obey, the _Alabama_ presented her port
battery to the _Kearsarge_. She showed gaping sides and only two guns
were bearing.
At this moment the chief engineer came up on the deck of the
privateer.
"The fires are all out and the engines will not work!" he reported to
Captain Semmes.
The doughty seaman turned to his chief executive officer, Mr. Kell.
"Go below, sir," he shouted, "and see how long the ship can float!"
In a few moments the sailor had returned from his inspection.
"Captain!" cried he, saluting. "She will not stay on the sea for ten
minutes."
The face of the Confederate was ashen, as he answered,
"Then, sir, cease firing, shorten sail, and haul down the colors. It
will never do in this Nineteenth Century for us to go down with the
decks covered with our gallant wounded!"
As he ceased speaking, a broadside roared from the side of his sinking
vessel. The ensign of the _Kearsarge_ had been stopped (rolled up and
tied with a piece of twine) and, as a shell crashed through her
rigging, a piece hit the flag-halyards--parted them--and unstopped the
flag. It unfurled itself gallantly in the breeze, and, as its
beautiful striping waved aloft, the sailors upon the deck gave a loud
cheer, for this was the omen of Victory.
At this moment, two of the junior officers upon the _Alabama_ swore
that they would never surrender, and, in a spirit of mutiny, rushed to
the two port guns and opened fire upon the Union vessel.
"He is playing us a trick!" shouted Winslow. "Give him another
broadside!"
Again the shot and shell went crashing through the sides of the
Confederate cruiser. The _Kearsarge_ was laid across her bows for
raking, and, in a position to use grape and canister.
A white flag was then shown over the stern of the _Alabama_ and her
ensign was half-masted; Union down.
"Cease firing!" shouted Captain Winslow.
The great fight was over. It had lasted one hour and two minutes.
_Chugety, plug, splash!_ The boats were lowered from the _Alabama_,
and her Master's mate rowed to the _Kearsarge_, with a few of his
wounded.
"We are sinking," said he. "You must come and help us!"
"Does Captain Semmes surrender his ship?" asked Winslow.
"Yes!"
"All right. Then I'll help you!"
Fullam grinned.
"May I return with this boat and crew in order to rescue the
drowning?" he asked. "I pledge you my word of honor that I will then
come on board and surrender."
Captain Winslow granted his request.
With less generosity, the victorious Commander could have detained the
officers and men, supplied their places with his own sailors, and
offered equal aid to the distressed. His generosity was abused. Fullam
pulled to the midst of the drowning; rescued several officers; went to
the yacht _Deerhound_, and cast his boat adrift; leaving a number of
men struggling in the water.
The _Alabama_ was settling fast.
"All hands overboard!" cried Mr. Kell. "Let every man grab a
life-preserver, or a spar."
As the sailors plunged into the sea, Captain Semmes dropped his sword
into the waves and leaped outward, with a life-preserver around his
waist. Kell followed, while the _Alabama_ launched her bows high in
the air, and--graceful, even in her death throes--plunged
stern-foremost into the deep. A sucking eddy of foam, spars, and
wreckage marked where once had floated the gallant ship.
Thus sank the terror of the merchantmen--riddled through and
through--and no cheer arose as her battered hulk went down in
forty-five fathoms of water. Her star had set.
The _Deerhound_ had kept about a mile to windward of the two
contestants, but she now steamed towards the mass of living heads,
which dotted the surface of the sea. Her two boats were lowered, and
Captain Semmes was picked up and taken aboard, with forty others. She
then edged to the leeward and steamed rapidly away.
An officer quickly approached Captain Winslow.
"Better fire a shot at the yacht," he said, saluting. "She's got
Captain Semmes aboard and will run off with him."
Winslow smiled.
"It's impossible," said he. "She's simply coming around!"
But the _Deerhound_ kept on.
Another officer approached the commander of the _Kearsarge_.
"That beastly yacht is carrying off our men," said he. "Better bring
her to, Captain!"
"No Englishman who carries the flag of the Royal Yacht Squadron can so
act!" Winslow replied,--somewhat pettishly. "She's simply coming
around."
But she never "came around," and Captain Raphael Semmes was soon safe
upon British soil. He had fought a game fight. The superior gunnery of
the sailors of the _Kearsarge_ had been too much for him. Nine of his
crew were dead and twenty-one wounded, while the _Kearsarge_ had no
one killed and but three wounded; one of whom died shortly afterwards.
Thus,--the lesson is:
If you want to win: Learn how to shoot straight!
* * * * *
Captain Raphael Semmes died quietly at Mobile, Alabama, August 30th,
1877. His ill-fated _Alabama_ had inflicted a loss of over seven
million dollars upon the commerce of the United States.
A number of wise men met, many years afterwards, in Geneva,
Switzerland, and decided, that, as the British Government had allowed
this vessel to leave their shores, when warned by the American
minister of her character and intention to go privateering, it should
therefore pay for all the vessels which the graceful cruiser had
destroyed. England had broken the neutrality laws.
John Bull paid up.
But,
--Boys--
it
hurt!
EL CAPITAN
"There was a Captain-General who ruled in Vera Cruz,
And what we used to hear of him was always evil news:
He was a pirate on the sea--a robber on the shore,
The Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.
"There was a Yankee skipper who round about did roam;
His name was Stephen Folger,--Nantucket was his home:
And having sailed to Vera Cruz, he had been _skinned_ full sore
By the Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.
"But having got away alive, though all his cash was gone,
He said, 'If there is vengeance, I will surely try it on!
And I do wish that I may be hung,--if I don't clear the score
With Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.'
"He shipped a crew of seventy men--well-armed men were they,
And sixty of them in the hold he darkly stowed away;
And, sailing back to Vera Cruz, was sighted from the shore
By the Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.
"With twenty-five soldados, he came on board, so pleased,
And said '_Maldito_, Yankee,--again your ship is seized.
How many sailors have you got?' Said Folger, 'Ten--no more,'
To the Captain Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.
"'But come into my cabin and take a glass of wine,
I do suppose, as usual, I'll have to pay a fine:
I've got some old Madeira, and we'll talk the matter o'er--
My Captain Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.'
"And, as over the Madeira the Captain-General boozed,
It seemed to him as if his head were getting quite confused;
For, it happened that some morphine had travelled from 'the Store'
To the glass of Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.
"'What is it makes the vessel roll? What sounds are these I hear?
It seems as if the rising waves were beating on my ear!'
'Oh, it is the breaking of the surf--just that, and nothing more,
My Captain Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador!'
"The Governor was in a sleep, which muddled up his brains;
The seventy men had caught his 'gang' and put them all in chains;
And, when he woke the following day, he could not see the shore,
For he was away out on the sea--the Don San Salvador.
"'Now do you see the yard-arm--and understand the thing?'
Said rough, old Folger, viciously--'for this is where you'll swing,
Or forty thousand dollars you shall pay me from your store,
My Captain Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador!'
"The Captain he took up a pen--the order he did sign--
'O my, but Senor Yankee! You charge great guns for wine!'
Yet it was not until the draft was paid, they let him go ashore,
El Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.
* * * * *
"The greater sharp will some day find another sharper wit;
It always makes the Devil laugh to see a biter bit;
It takes two Spaniards, any day, to comb a Yankee o'er--
Even two like Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador."
RETROSPECT
The curtain falls, the plays are done,
To roar of shell and shock of gun;
The scuttled shipping bobs and sways,
In grime and muck of shallow bays.
The tattered ensigns mould'ring lie,
As diving otters bark and cry;
While--in the lee of crumbling piers,
The rotting hulk its decking rears.
Gray, screaming kestrels wheel and sheer,
Above the wasted steering gear.
In moulding kelp and mackerel's sheen,
The blighted log-book hides unseen.
Red flash the beams of northern blaze.
Through beaded clouds of Elmo's haze;
While dim, unkempt, the ghostly crew
Float by, and chant the lesson true!
Sons of the fog-bound Northland; sons of the blinding seas,
If ye would cherish the trust which your fathers left,
Ye must strive--ye must work--without ease.
Strong have your good sires battled, oft have your fathers bled,
If ye would hold up the flag which they've never let sag,
Ye must plod--ye must creep where they've led.
The shimmering icebergs call you; the plunging screw-drums scream,
By shallowing shoals they haul you, to the beat of the walking
beam.
The twisting petrels chatter, as ye drift by the waiting fleet,
In your towering grim, gray Dreadnought,--a king who sneers at
defeat.
While the silken pennons flutter; as the frozen halyards strain;
Comes the growling old-world mutter, the voice of the million
slain:
_Keep to your manly war games; keep to your warrior's play._
_Though the dove of peace is dancing to the sounding truce harp's
lay._
_Arbitrate if you have to; smooth it o'er if you must,_
_But, be prepared for battle, to parry the war king's thrust._
_Don't foster the chip on the shoulder; don't hasten the slap in
the face._
_But, burnish your sword, ere you're older,--the blade of the
ancient race._
_Hark to the deeds of your fathers; cherish the stories I've told,_
_Then--go and do like, if you have to--and die--like a Hero of Old._
Transcriber's Note
Punctuation errors have been repaired. Hyphenation has been made
consistent within the main text. There is some archaic and variable
spelling, which has been preserved as printed.
The following amendments have also been made:
Page 3--repeated book title deleted.
Page 77--omitted word 'to' added after row--"... jumped
into two small wherries in order to row to the lugger."
Page 156--pedlers amended to peddlers--"There are
tinkers, tailors, haymakers, peddlers, fiddlers, ..."
Page 178--Huzza amended to Huzzah--""... Huzzah for
Fortunatus Wright!""
Page 226--envolle amended to envole--""Sapristi!
L'oiseau s'est envole.""
Page 248--manoever amended to manoeuver--"... had simply
followed my manoeuver of wearing around under easy
helm ..."
Illustrations have been moved slightly where necessary so that they
are not in the middle of a paragraph. The frontispiece and advertising
matter have been moved to follow the title page.