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The destruction of the “Albemarle.”

by W. B. Cushing, commander, U. S. N.

Part of the smoke-stack of the “Albemarle.”

In September, 1864, the Government was laboring under much anxiety in regard to the condition of affairs in the sounds of North Carolina. Some months previous (April 19th) a rebel iron-clad had made her appearance, attacking and recapturing Plymouth, beating our fleet, and sinking the Southfield. Some time after (May 5th), this iron-clad, the Albemarle, had steamed out into the open sound and engaged seven of our steamers, doing much damage and suffering little. The Sassacus had attempted to run her down, but had failed, and had had her boiler exploded. [See p. 628.] The Government had no iron-clad that could cross Hatteras bar and enter the sounds,1 and it was impossible for any number of our vessels to injure the ram at Plymouth.

At this stage of affairs Admiral S. P. Lee2 spoke to me of the case, when I proposed a plan for her capture or destruction. I submitted in writing two plans. The first was based upon the fact that through a thick swamp the iron-clad might be approached to within a few hundred yards, whence India-rubber boats, to be inflated and carried upon men's backs, might transport a boarding-party of a hundred men; in the second plan the offensive force was to be conveyed in two very small low-pressure steamers, each armed with a torpedo and a howitzer. In the latter (which had my preference), I intended that one boat should dash in, while the other stood by to throw canister and renew the attempt if the first should fail. It would also be useful to pick up our men if the attacking boat were disabled. Admiral Lee believed that the plan was a good one, and ordered me to Washington to submit it to the Secretary of the Navy. Mr. Fox, Assistant Secretary of the Navy, doubted the merit of the project, but concluded to order me to New York to “purchase suitable vessels.”

Finding some boats building for picket duty, I selected two, and proceeded to fit them out. They were open launches, about thirty feet in length,3 with small engines, and propelled by a screw. A 12-pounder howitzer was fitted to the bow of each, and a boom was rigged out, some fourteen feet in length, swinging by a goose-neck hinge to the bluff of the bow. [See p. 636.] A topping lift, carried to a stanchion inboard, raised or lowered it, and the torpedo was fitted into an iron slide at the end. This was intended to be detached from the boom by means of a heel-jigger leading inboard, and to be exploded by another line, connecting with a pin, which held a grape shot over [635] a nipple and cap. The torpedo was the invention of Engineer Lay of the navy, and was introduced by Chief-Engineer Wood. Everything being completed, we started to the southward, taking the boats through the canals to Chesapeake Bay. My best boat having been lost in going down to Norfolk, I proceeded with the other through the Chesapeake and Albemarle canal. Half-way through, the canal was filled up, but finding a small creek that emptied into it below the obstruction, I endeavored to feel my way through. Encountering a mill-dam, we waited for high water, and ran the launch over it; below she grounded, but I got a flat-boat, and, taking out gun and coal, succeeded in two days in getting her through. Passing with but seven men through the canal, where for thirty miles there was no guard or Union inhabitant, I reached the sound, and ran before a gale of wind to Roanoke Island.

In the middle of the night I steamed off into the darkness, and in the morning was out of sight. Fifty miles up the sound I found the fleet anchored off the mouth of the river, and awaiting the ram's appearance. Here, for the first time, I disclosed to my officers and men our object, and told them that they were at liberty to go or not, as they pleased. These, seven in number, all volunteered. One of them, Mr. Howarth of the Monticello, had been with me repeatedly in expeditions of peril.4

The Roanoke River is a stream averaging 150 yards in width, and quite deep. Eight miles from the mouth was the town of Plymouth, where the ram was moored. Several thousand soldiers occupied town and forts, and held both banks of the stream. A mile below the ram was the wreck of the Southfield, with hurricane deck above water, and on this a guard was stationed. Thus it seemed impossible to surprise them, or to attack with hope of success.

Impossibilities are for the timid: we determined to overcome all obstacles. On the night of the 27th of October5 we entered the river, taking in tow a small cutter with a few men, whose duty was to dash aboard the wreck of the Southfield at the first hail, and prevent a rocket from being ignited.

We passed within thirty feet of the pickets without discovery, and neared the vessel. I now thought that it might be better to board her, and “take her alive,” having in the two boats twenty men well armed with [636] revolvers, cutlasses, and hand-grenades. To be sure, there were ten times our number on the ship and thousands near by; but a surprise is everything, and I thought if her fasts were cut at the instant of boarding, we might overcome those on board, take her into the stream, and use her iron sides to protect us afterward from the forts. Knowing the town, I concluded to land at the lower wharf, creep around, and suddenly dash aboard from the bank; but just as I was sheering in close to the wharf, a hail came, sharp and quick, from the iron-clad, and in an instant was repeated. I at once directed the cutter to cast off, and go down to capture the guard left in our rear, and, ordering all steam, went at the

Fig. 2. Cushing's torpedo — Sectional view.

Fig. 1. Cushing's launch and torpedo — showing methods of working. A long spar A (Fig. 1) was pivoted by means of a universal joint on its inboard end into the bracket B, the bracket being securely fastened to the outside of the boat. The spar was raised or lowered by means of a halliard e, which passed through a block at the head of the stanchion C, and thence down to the drum of a small windlass D, situated in the bottom of the boat, directly abaft the stanchion. On the outboard end of the spar was a socket, or head, which carried the shell. The shell was held in place only by a small pin g, which passed through a lug h, protruding from the lower side of the shell, and thence through an inclined plane i, which was attached to the socket. The lug and pin are clearly shown in Fig. 2. To detach the shell the pin g was pulled, and the shell forced gently out of the socket. This was accomplished by a lanyard j, which led from the boat to the head of the socket, passing back of the head of the shell through the lugs a a, so that when the lanyard was tautened it would force the shell out. A smaller lanyard l, leading to the pin g, was spliced to the lanyard j in such a manner that when the lanyard j was pulled, first the pin and then the shell would come out.

The shell (Fig. 2) contained an air chamber X and a powder chamber Z. The result of this arrangement was that when the shell was detached it assumed a vertical position, with the air chamber uppermost, and, being lighter than its volume of water, it floated gradually toward the surface. At the top of its central shaft or tube was a grape-shot, held in place by a pin p, to which was attached the lanyard s. The pin was a trigger, and the lanyard was known as the trigger-line. Upon pulling the lanyard the pin came out, the shot fell by its own weight upon the nipple, which was covered by a percussion-cap and connected directly with the powder chamber, whereupon the torpedo exploded.

When the spar was not in use it was swung around by means of a stern line, bringing the head of the spar to the stern of the boat. To use the apparatus, the shell was put in place and the spar was swung around head forward; it was then lowered by means of the halliard e to the required depth; the lanyard j was pulled, with-drawing the pin g, and forcing out the shell; finally, when the floating shell had risen to its place, the trigger-line s was pulled and the torpedo fired.

dark mountain of iron in front of us. A heavy fire was at once opened upon us, not only from the ship, but from men stationed on the shore. This did not disable us, and we neared them rapidly. A large fire now blazed upon the bank, and by its light I discovered the unfortunate fact that there was a circle of logs around the Albemarle, boomed well out from her side, with the very intention of preventing the action of torpedoes. To examine them more closely, I ran alongside until amidships, received the enemy's fire, and sheered off for the purpose of turning, a hundred yards away, and going at the booms squarely, at right angles, trusting to their [637] having been long enough in the water to have become slimy — in which case my boat, under full headway, would bump up against them and slip over into the pen with the rain. This was my only chance of success, and once over the obstruction my boat would never get out again. As I turned, the whole back of my coat was torn out by buckshot, and the sole of my shoe was carried away. The fire was very severe.

In a lull of the firing, the captain hailed us, again demanding what boat it was. All my men gave comical answers, and mine was a dose of canister from the howitzer. In another instant we had struck the logs and were over, with headway nearly gone, slowly forging up under the enemy's quarter-port. Ten feet from us the muzzle of a rifle gun looked into our faces, and every word of command on board was distinctly heard.

My clothing was perforated with bullets as I stood in the bow, the heel-jigger in my right hand and the exploding-line in the left. We were near enough then, and I ordered the boom lowered until the forward motion of the launch carried. the torpedo under the ram's overhang. A strong pull of the detaching-line, a moment's waiting for the torpedo to rise under the hull, and I hauled in the left hand, just cut by a bullet.6

The explosion took place at the same instant that 100 pounds of grape, at 10 feet range, crashed among us, and the dense mass of water thrown out by the torpedo came down with choking weight upon us.

Twice refusing to surrender, I commanded the men to save themselves; and, throwing off sword, revolver, shoes, and coat, struck out from my disabled and sinking boat into the river. It was cold, long after the frosts, and the water chilled the blood, while the whole surface of the stream was plowed up by grape and musketry, and my nearest friends, the fleet, were twelve miles away; but anything was better than to fall into rebel hands, so I swam for the opposite shore. As I neared it a man [Samuel Higgins, fireman], one of my crew, gave a great gurgling yell and went down.

The rebels were out in boats, picking up my men; and one of the boats, attracted by the sound, pulled in my direction. I heard my own name [638] mentioned, but was not seen. I now “struck out” down the stream, and was soon far enough away again to attempt landing. This time, as I struggled to reach the bank, I heard a groan in the river behind me, and, although very much exhausted, concluded to turn and give all the aid in my power to the officer or seaman who had bravely shared the danger with me.

The blowing-up of the “Albemarle.”

Swimming in the night, with eye at the level of the water, one can have no idea of distance, and labors, as I did, under the discouraging thought that no headway is made. But if I were to drown that night, I had at least an opportunity of dying while struggling to aid another. Nearing the swimmer, it proved to be Acting Master's Mate Woodman, who said that he could swim no longer. Knocking his cap from his head, I used my right arm to sustain him, and ordered him to strike out. For ten minutes at least, I think, he managed to keep afloat, when, his physical force being completely gone, he sank like a stone.

Again alone upon the water, I directed my course toward the town side of the river, not making much headway, as my strokes were now very feeble, my clothes being soaked and heavy, and little chop-seas splashing with choking persistence into my mouth every time I gasped for breath. Still, there was a determination not to sink, a will not to give up; and I kept up a sort of mechanical motion long after my bodily force was in fact expended. At last, and not a moment too soon, I touched the soft mud, and in the excitement of the first shock I half raised my body and made one step forward; then fell, and remained half in the mud and half in the water until day-light, unable even to crawl on hands and knees, nearly frozen, with my brain in a whirl, but with one thing strong in me — the fixed determination to escape. [639]

As day dawned I found myself in a point of swamp that enters the suburbs of Plymouth, and not forty yards from one of the forts. The sun came out bright and warm, proving a most cheering visitant, and giving me back a good portion of the strength of which I had been deprived before. Its light showed me the town swarming with soldiers and sailors, who moved about excitedly, as if angry at some sudden shock. It was a source of satisfaction to me to know that I had pulled the wire that set all these figures moving, but as I had no desire of being discovered my first object was to get into a dry fringe of rushes that edged the swamp; but to do this required me to pass over thirty or forty feet of open ground, right under the eye of a sentinel who walked the parapet.

Watching until he turned for a moment, I made a dash to cross the space, but was only half-way over when he again turned, and forced me to drop down right between two paths, and almost entirely unshielded. Perhaps I was unobserved because of the mud that covered me and made me blend with the earth; at all events the soldier continued his tramp for some time while I, flat on my back, lay awaiting another chance for action. Soon a party of four men came down the path at my right, two of them being officers, and passed so close to me as almost to tread upon my arm. They were conversing upon the events of the previous night, and were wondering “how it was done,” entirely unaware of the presence of one who could give them the information. This proved to me the necessity of regaining the swamp, which I did by sinking my heels and elbows into the earth and forcing my body, inch by inch, toward it. For five hours then, with bare feet, head, and hands, I made my way where I venture to say none ever did before, until I came at last to a clear place, where I might rest upon solid ground. The cypress swamp was a network of thorns and briers that cut into the flesh at every step like knives; frequently, when the soft mire would not bear my weight, I was forced to throw my body upon it at length, and haul myself along by the arms. Hands and feet were raw when I reached the clearing, and yet my difficulties were but commenced. A working-party of soldiers was in the opening, engaged in sinking some schooners in the river to obstruct the channel. I passed twenty yards in their rear through a corn furrow, and gained some woods below. Here I encountered a negro, and after serving out to him twenty dollars in greenbacks and some texts of Scripture (two powerful arguments with an old darkey), I had confidence enough in his fidelity to send him into town for news of the ram.

When he returned, and there was no longer doubt that she had gone down, I went on again, and plunged into a swamp so thick that I had only the sun for a guide and could not see ten feet in advance. About 2 o'clock in the afternoon I came out from the dense mass of reeds upon the bank of one of the deep, narrow streams that abound there, and right opposite to the only road in the vicinity. It seemed providential, for, thirty yards above or below, I never should have seen the road, and might have struggled on until, worn out and starved, I should find a never-to-be-discovered grave. As it was, my fortune had led me to where a picket party of seven soldiers were posted, [640] having a little flat-bottomed, square-ended skiff toggled to the root of a cypress-tree that squirmed like a snake in the inky water. Watching them until they went back a few yards to eat, I crept into the stream and swam over, keeping the big tree between myself and them, and making for the skiff. Gaining the bank, I quietly cast loose the boat and floated behind it some thirty yards around the first bend, where I got in and paddled away as only a man could whose liberty was at stake.

Hour after hour I paddled, never ceasing for a moment, first on one side, then on the other, while sunshine passed into twilight and that was swallowed up in thick darkness only relieved by the few faint star rays that penetrated the heavy swamp curtain on either side. At last I reached the mouth of the Roanoke, and found the open sound before me. My frail boat could not have lived in the ordinary sea there, but it chanced to be very calm, leaving only a slight swell, which was, however, sufficient to influence my boat, so that I

The wreck of the “Albemarle.” from a photograph.

was forced to paddle all upon one side to keep her on the intended course.

After steering by a star for perhaps two hours for where I thought the fleet might be, I at length discovered one of the vessels, and after a long time got within hail. My “Ship ahoy!” was given with the last of my strength, and I fell powerless, with a splash, into the water in the bottom of my boat, and awaited results. I had paddled every minute for ten successive hours, and for four my body had been “asleep,” with the exception of my arms and brain. The picket-vessel, Valley City, upon hearing the hail, at once got under way, at the same time lowering boats and taking precaution against torpedoes. It was some time before they would pick me up, being convinced that I was the rebel conductor of an infernal machine, and that Lieutenant Cushing had died the night before. At last I was on board, had imbibed a little brandy and water, and was on my way to the flag-ship.

As soon as it became known that I had returned, rockets were thrown up and all hands were called to cheer ship; and when I announced success, all the commanding officers were summoned on board to deliberate upon a plan of attack. In the morning I was well again in every way, with the exception of hands and feet, and had the pleasure of exchanging shots with the batteries that I had inspected the day before. I was sent in the Valley City to report to Admiral Porter at Hampton Roads, and soon after Plymouth and the whole district of the Albemarle, deprived of the iron-clad's protection, fell an easy prey to Commander Macomb and our fleet.7

Note on the destruction of the “Albemarle.”

by her Captain, A. F. Warley, C. S. N.
When I took command of the Confederate States iron-clad Albemarle I found her made fast to the river bank nearly abreast of the town of Plymouth. She was surrounded by a cordon of single cypress logs chained together, about ten feet from her side. There was no reason why the place might not be recaptured any day: the guns commanding the river were in no condition for use, and the troops in charge of them were worn down by ague, and were undrilled and worthless.

When I had been about a month at Plymouth the troops were relieved by a new set. On the day of their arrival I heard of a steam-launch having been seen in the river, and I informed the officer [642] in command of the fact, and at the same time told him that the safety of the place depended on the Albemarle, and the safety of the Albemarle depended on the watchfulness of his pickets.

The crew of the Albemarle numbered but sixty, too small a force to allow me to keep an armed watch on deck at night and to do outside picketing besides. Moreover, to break the monotony of the life and keep down ague, I had always out an expedition of ten men, who were uniformly successful in doing a fair amount of damage to the enemy.

The officer in command of the troops was inclined to give me all assistance, and sent a picket of twenty-five men under a lieutenant; they were furnished with rockets and had a field-piece. This picket was stationed on board of a schooner about gun-shot below the Albemarle, where an attempt was being made to raise a vessel (the Southfield sunk at the time of Commander Cooke's dash down the river. Yet on the night of the 27th of October Cushing's steam-launch ran alongside the schooner unobserved by the picket, without a sound or signal, and then steamed up to the Albemarle.

It was about 3 A. M. The night was dark and slightly rainy, and the launch was close to us when we hailed and the alarm was given — so close that the gun could not be depressed enough to reach her; so the crew were sent in the shield with muskets, and kept up a heavy fire on the launch as she slowly forced her way over the chain of logs and ranged by us within a few feet. As she reached the bow of the Albemarle I heard a report as of an unshotted gun, and a piece of wood fell at my feet. Calling the carpenter, I told him a torpedo had been exploded, and ordered him to examine and report to me, saying nothing to any one else. He soon reported “a hole in her bottom big enough to drive a wagon in.” By this time I heard voices from the launch: “We surrender,” etc., etc., etc. I stopped our fire and sent out Mr. Long, who brought back all those who had been in the launch except the gallant captain and three of her crew, all of whom took to the water. Having seen to their safety, I turned my attention to the Albemarle and found her resting on the bottom in eight feet of water, her upper works above water.

That is the way the Albemarle was destroyed, and a more gallant thing was not done during the war. After her destruction, failing to convince the officer in command of the troops that he could not hold the place, I did my best to help defend it. Half of my crew went down and obstructed the river by sinking the schooner at the wreck, and with the other half I had two 8-inch guns commanding the upper river put into serviceable order, relaid platforms, fished out tackles from the Albemarle, got a few shells, etc., and waited. I did not have to wait long. The fleet steamed up to the obstructions, fired a few shells over the town, steamed down again, and early next morning rounding the island were in the river and opened fire.

The two 8-inch guns worked by Mr. Long and Mr. Shelley did their duty, and I think did all that was done in the defense of Plymouth. The fire of the fleet was concentrated on us, and one at least of the steamers was so near that I could hear the orders given to elevate or depress the guns. When I felt that by hanging on I could only sacrifice my men and achieve nothing, I ordered our guns spiked and the men sent round to the road by a ravine. The crew left me by Captain Maffitt were good and true men, and stuck by me to the last.

1 Several light-draught monitors were in course of construction at this time, but were not yet completed.--editors.

2 On September 5th, 1862, Acting Rear-Admiral S. P. Lee relieved Rear-Admiral Goldsborough of the command of the North Atlantic Squadron; he in turn was relieved by Rear-Admiral D. D. Porter, October 12th, 1864.--editors.

3 According to Engineer-in-Chief W. W. Wood the launches were “45 to 47 feet long, 9 feet 6 inches beam. . . . Draught of water about 40 to 42 inches.”--editors.

4 Cushing had already obtained a unique reputation in the service. His first notable exploit was a successful raid in November, 1862, up New River Inlet, in North Carolina, in the tugboat Ellis. In January, 1863, he captured by surprise an earth-work at Little River, his force consisting of 25 men in three cutters. In April he commanded the flotilla in the Lower Nansemond. (See “Closing operations in the James River,” to follow.) Two important raids were made in Cape Fear River. The first was in February, 1864. Its object was to capture General Hebert at Smithville. Taking two boats and twenty men, Cushing rowed past Fort Caswell in the darkness, landed at the town, and, concealing his men, took a small party with him to Hebert's headquarters. The general happened to be away, but one of his staff-officers was taken prisoner and carried to the boats. In June Cushing took one cutter with fifteen men and went up nearly to Wilmington. Hiding his men during the day in a swamp, at night he embarked and made a reconnoissance of the obstructions below the city. At daybreak he landed again, and taking a party through the woods to the high road between Fort Fisher and Wilmington, he captured the courier with the mail from the fort. His third night was devoted to an examination of the Confederate gun-boat Raleigh, which was found to have been destroyed. On his way out he found a large force of guard-boats. His coolness and good judgment enabled him to elude them, and he returned without losing a man. On the strength of these exploits the Department intrusted him with the expedition against the Albemarle.--editors.

5 The first attempt was made on the previous night, but the launch grounded.--editors.

6 In considering the merits of Cushing's success with this exceedingly complicated instrument, it must be remembered that nothing short of the utmost care in preparation could keep its mechanism in working order; that in making ready to use it, it was necessary to keep the end of the spar elevated until the boat had surmounted the boom of logs, and to judge accurately the distance in order to stop the boat's headway at the right point; that the spar had then to be lowered with the same precision of judgment; that the detaching lanyard had then to be pulled firmly, but without a jerk; that, finally, the position of the torpedo under the knuckle of the ram had to be calculated to a nicety, and that by a very gentle strain on a line some twenty-five or thirty feet long the trigger-pin had to be withdrawn. When it is reflected that Cushing had attached to his person four separate lines, viz., the detaching lanyard, the trigger-line, and two lines to direct the movements of the boat, one of which was fastened to the wrist and the other to the ankle of the engineer; that he was also directing the adjustment of the spar by the halliard; that the management of all these lines, requiring as much exactness and delicacy of touch as a surgical operation, where a single error in their employment, even a pull too much or too little, would render the whole expedition abortive, was carried out directly in front of the muzzle of a 100-pounder rifle, under a fire of musketry so hot that several bullets passed through his clothing, and carried out with perfect success, it is safe to say that the naval history of the world affords no other example of such marvelous coolness and professional skill as were shown by Cushing in the destruction of the Albemarle.--J. R. Soley.

Lieutenant Cushing was a brother of Lieutenant Alonzo H. Cushing, 4th U. S. Artillery, a West Point officer, who was killed at Gettysburg (see Vol. III., p. 390) at the age of twenty-two, having there displayed the greatest gallantry.--editors.

7 The list of officers and men on board Picket-boat No. 1, on the expedition of October 27th, 1864, with the vessels to which they were officially attached, was as follows: Lieutenant William B. Cashing, commanding, Monticello; Acting Assistant Paymaster Francis H. Swan, Otsego; Acting [641] Ensign William L. Howarth, Monticello; Acting Master's Mate John Woodman, Commodore Hull; Acting Master's Mate Thomas S. Gay, Otsego; Acting Third Assistant Engineer William Stotesbury, Picket-boat; Acting Third Assistant Engineer Charles L. Steever, Otsego; Samuel Higgins, first-class fireman, Picket-boat; Richard Hamilton, coal-heaver, Shamrock; William Smith, ordinary seaman, Chicopee; Bernard Harley, ordinary seaman, Chicopee; Edward J. Houghton, ordinary seaman, Chicopee; Lorenzo Deming, landsman, Picket-boat; Henry Wilkes, landsman, Picket-boat; Robert H. King, landsman, Picket-boat. Cushing and Howarth, together with those designated as attached to the “Picket-boat,” were the original seven who brought the boat down from New York. Cushing and Houghton escaped, Woodman and Higgins were drowned, and the remaining eleven were captured.

For his exploit Lieutenant Cushing received the congratulations of the Navy Department, and also the thanks of Congress, and was promoted to the grade of lieutenant-commander.

The Albemarle was afterward raised, towed to Norfolk, and in 1867 there stripped and sold. Editors.

Lieutenant Cushing reached the Valley City about midnight on the night of October 28th-29th. On the next day, the 29th, at 11:15 A. M., Commander Macomb got under way, and his fleet proceeded up the Roanoke River. Upon the arrival of the fleet at the wreck of the Southfield, after exchanging shots with the lower batteries, it was found that the enemy had effectually obstructed the channel by sinking schooners alongside the wreck, and the expedition was therefore compelled to return.

On the next day, Commander Macomb, having ascertained from a reconnoissance by the Valley City that Middle River offered a clear passage, determined to approach Plymouth by that route. The expedition threaded the channel, shelling Plymouth across the woods on the intervening neck of land on its way up, until it reached the head of Middle River and passed into the Roanoke, where it lay all night.

At 9:30 on the morning of the 31st of October the line was formed, the Commodore Hull being placed in advance, as her ferry-boat construction enabled her to fire ahead. The Whitehead, which had arrived with stores just before the attack, was lashed to the Tacony, and the tugs Bazley and Belle to the Shamrock and Otsego, to afford motive power in case of accident to the machinery. Signal was made to “Go ahead fast,” and soon after 11 the fleet was hotly engaged with the batteries on shore, which were supported by musketry from rifle-pits and houses. After a spirited action of an hour at

Captain Alexander F. Warley, C. S. N.

short range, receiving and returning a sharp fire of shell, grape, and canister, the Shamrock planted a shell in the enemy's magazine, which blew up, whereupon the Confederates hastily abandoned their works. In a short time Plymouth was entirely in possession of the Union forces. The casualties on the Union side were six killed and nine wounded.

The vessels engaged were as follows: Doubleenders: Shamrock, Commander W. H. Macomb, commanding division, Lieutenant Rufus K. Duer, executive officer; Otsego, Lieutenant-Commander H. N. T. Arnold; Wyalusing, Lieutenant-Commander Earl English; Tacony, Lieutenant-Commander W. T. Truxtun. Ferry-boat: Commodore Hull, Acting Master Francis Josselyn. Gun-boat: Whitehead, Acting Master G. W. Barrett. Tugs: Belle, Acting Master James G. Green; Bazley, Acting Master Mark D. Ames. The Chicopee, Commander A. D. Harrell, and Valley City, Acting Master J. A. J. Brooks, were not present at the second and final demonstration.--J. R. Soley.

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