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Upcoming Events1 At your earliest convenience, I need events for our members in the Midwest, Southwest and South Central areas. Note that the event at Plymouth, NC is the first opportunity we have ever had to field the USNLP as a crew at a 150th anniversary event. It is an all-battle weekend, so there is no need to bring any display articles. There aren’t many of these left, so we should take advantage of this one. Following is what has come in thus far:

2014 Schedule (W)=Midwestern crew; (E)=Eastern crew; (SW)=Southwestern crew; (A)=All; (I)=Individuals.

April 12 (E) Siena College, Loudonville, NY, Day of Living History April 26/27 (A) Plymouth, NC (battles, incl’g riverine; no living history) 150th Event, max effort Bring a tent, your gun, and plenty of rounds–a dry run for 2015 Sayler’s Creek! (Allen Mordica promises duty aboard Albemarle and/or other watercraft) May 17 (E) German Flats Town Park, NY: artillery certification May 31/June 1 (E) Troy, NY -and- Lynn, MA July ??? (E) Charlestown Navy Yard, Charlestown, MA (potential event; under discussion) July 12/13 (E) Doubleday Campground north of Cooperstown, NY (living history) July 19 (E) Cummington, MA encampment (living history) August 2/3 (E) Windham, NY (music) August 16/17 (E) Fort Ontario, Oswego, NY (battle/living history) September 12/14 (E) Congress Park, Saratoga Springs, NY (living history) September 27/28 (E) Look Park, Florence, MA (battles/living history) October 10-12 (W) Civil War Days at Columbus-Belmont State Park, 350 Park Road, Columbus, KY

About the Cover: The Great Naval Battle Opposite the City of Memphis, by Alexander Simplot, 1862. Alexander Simplot was a "special artist" who traveled with Union forces from 1861-1863. The painting shows the Union ironclad Monarch, one of five in the battle, in the foreground firing on Confederate Beauregard, which was a remodeled steamboat with cannons on the open-deck. Of the eight Confederate steamboats, all but one was lost. A pencil sketch of this naval battle, also by Simplot, was reproduced as an engraving in Harper's Weekly 28 June 1862.

Beat to Quarters! is the bi-monthly newsletter of the U.S. Naval Landing Party, a Civil War naval reenacting unit and member of the non-profit Navy

& Marine Living History Association (www.navyandmarine.org). Membership in the USNLP is $20 per year and includes a subscription to BTQ!, a copy of the 200pp unit Handbook, membership certificate, and the opportunity to share your interest in history with the public. Membership inquiries can be sent to USNLP at 41 Kelley Blvd, N. Attleboro, MA 02760; the unit web page is at www.usnlp.org and email may be sent from that page or directly to email@usnlp.org.

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The Undiscovered Story of Lewis A. Horton, USN, MoH © Chuck Veit, 2014

Of all his wartime experiences, winning the Medal of Honor would be the easiest for Ordinary Seaman Lewis A. Horton.

Eight months as a prisoner in Richmond and an accident that left him maimed were far more difficult to endure, but Horton overcame both in the years following the war.

••••• The opening months of the Civil War saw the U.S. Navy scrambling to acquire civilian ships that could quickly be

converted to the gunboats needed to make President Lincoln’s blockade a reality. One such vessel was the Massachusetts, owned by the Boston & Southern Steamship Company. She was an iron-hulled screw steamer, recently built at Boston in 1860, of 1155 tons and a maximum speed of eleven knots. Her owners sold her to Captain W. L. Hudson of the Navy for $172,500 on 3 May 1861; she was immediately taken to Charlestown Navy Yard for conversion to a warship. This process took only a few weeks, and USS Massachusetts, now armed with a 32 pdr smoothbore, 42 pdr pivot gun and four VIII-inch guns, was commissioned on 24 May.2

Three days later, on Monday 27 May, Commander Melancthon Smith conned Massachusetts out of Boston Harbor and set course for Fort Pickens in far-away Florida. His crew of 124 men was augmented by a hundred extra hands as well as a large amount of munitions for the ships of the fleet already on station.3 Among the permanent crew was Lewis Augustine Horton, who had turned nineteen the day before. Although enlisted from Taunton, Massachusetts, where his family currently lived, Horton was born in Plainfield, New Hampshire on 26 May, 1842. Described in the rendezvous report for New Bedford, Mass’tts for the week ending 25 May as being 5’ 7½” tall, with chestnut hair and a light complexion, Horton was rated an Ordinary Seaman–a rank not surprising in light of his nautical experience.4

While new to the Navy, which he had joined only on 20 May, Lewis Horton had grown up working with his father in the coasting trade, sailing from Taunton to points south along the eastern seaboard. In 1860, the elder Horton’s vessel, the Virginia, went down off the Bahamas; while no one was lost, the entire crew–including Lewis–spent 36 hours in an open boat before rescue by a party of salvors headed for Nassau.5

In the early days of the blockade, Union ships were spread thinly, but, if there were few blockaders, there were plenty of blockade runners to go around. Cdr Smith lost no time in making a name for USS Massachusetts. On 9 June he captured the British runner Perthshire with a cargo of cotton off Pensacola. Four days later he arrived off Head of Passes to interdict contraband traffic at the mouth of the Mississippi River. On 17 June, Smith snapped up Achilles near Ship Island; two days later, the brig Nahum Stetson was bagged off Pass a l’Outre. 6 This initial run of luck continued on 23 June, when Massachusetts had a most busy and productive day in the Gulf.

That morning, the Yankee gunboat spotted a runner standing close in shore. Smith steamed past Ship Island to cut her off, but on account of shoal water, could not approach closer than six miles, and dropped anchor in three fathoms. This left the way open for the rebel vessel to pass beyond the reach of Massachusetts’s guns, so Cdr Smith decided to cut her off with the ship’s boats. Forty-six crewmen were detailed to the small boats. At 10 A.M. Acting Master Sawyer led the three cutters and one small six-ton sailboat (a previous capture) toward the shoreline. Beyond small arms and cutlasses carried by the crews, the “squadron” boasted but a single six pounder signaling gun (a leftover from Massachusetts’s civilian career). Seeing the developing trap, the runner quickly got underweigh and steamed into Biloxi.7

Undeterred, Sawyer fell in with a schooner, which proved to be the Mexican ship Brilliante. He easily captured and sent her off to the Massachusetts. While the small boats pursued and fired upon another schooner, Brilliante’s papers were examined aboard the gunboat. She had been bound for New Orleans with a cargo of 600 barrels of flour, two dismounted guns and one gun carriage–and had been previously warned off by USS Brooklyn. Whereas Brooklyn’s boarding officer had allowed the Mexican schooner to turn around because the deadline for foreign ships to clear that port had only recently passed, the time for leniency was over, and she was now a legitimate target.8

Having been outrun by the large schooner, which, like the steamer, escaped into Biloxi, Acting Master Sawyer soon spotted the rebel mail steamer Oregon plying her route between New Orleans and Mobile. Smith saw her as well, and

2 Naval War Records Office. Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies in the War of the Rebellion, Vol. 1 (Washington: Government Printing

Office, 1894), index p. 138, and the Navy History & Heritage Command website at www.history.navy.mil/photos/sh-usn/usnsh-m/massach2.htm, accessed 4 January 2014.

3 “Naval Matters,” Boston Evening Transcript, 23 May 1861, and “Military and Naval Movements,” Springfield Republican, 28 May 1861. 4 Rendezvous report for New Bedford, Mass’tts for the week ending May 25th, 1861. 5 “Stories of Adventure: Captain Lewis Horton, a Man without Arms, Tells How he Met with Misfortune,” Boston Journal, 7 August 1893. 6 Ammen, Daniel. Our Navy in the Civil War, Vol. I, Chap. V: The Gulf Squadrons (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1883) and Naval History Division.

Civil War Naval Chronology 1861-1865 (Navy Department, Washington D.C., 1966) 7 “Exploits of the Blockading Squadron,” Boston Traveller, 15 July 1861. 8 Naval War Records Office. Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies in the War of the Rebellion, Vol. 16 (Washington: Government

Printing Office, 1903), p. 560.

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opened with Massachusetts’s guns. Unfortunately, the Yankee shells fell short, and were “disregarded” by the mail boat, which proceeded “saucily” on–“with her Secession flag at the fore, and the American at the main, union down.” While busy thumbing their noses at the Federal warship, the crew of Oregon were surprised by a salvo from Acting Master Sawyer’s small gun. The mail did not get through that day, as the Southerners came quickly about and steamed back towards the lakes of Louisiana! That Sawyer’s “boat howitzer” had not had more effect is not surprising, as, having no appropriate ammunition for the small signal gun, “projectiles used on this occasion consisted of grapeshot wound with rope yarns, and milk cans filled with canister shot, manufactured on board.” Cdr Smith wryly opined that, “with proper missiles the steamer might have been reached and captured.”9

Turnabout being fair play, a new “high pressure” steamer appeared from Shildeburg Bay and made a dash to cut off Sawyer’s squadron. Her course brought her too close to Massachusetts, which opened fire and drove her away. As the afternoon wore on, Massachusetts and her band of small boats grabbed four more schooners in quick succession: the Trois Freres, carrying salt and oats; Olive Branch, with 100 barrels of turpentine; Fanny, laden with 602 bars of railroad iron for the Mobile Railroad; and Biloste (or Basilde), loaded with 30,000 bricks. All the cargoes were contraband, and three of the ships sailed under Confederate licenses. As the sun set, all five prizes rode at anchor alongside the Massachusetts.10

Two days later, on 25 June, Cdr Smith–now returned to station off Pass l’Outre–informed his superiors that the captured ships had been sent to the naval base at Key West, “under charge of Lieutenant George L. Selden and Acting Master Sawyer, with prize crews numbering 25 men.” 11 Among the sailors detailed to the captured schooners were Ordinary Seaman Lewis Horton and several other sailors who had enlisted with him at New Bedford.12 The ships’ cargoes were intact, and their original crews came along as prisoners.

On Monday, 1 July 1861, four of the vessels (Trois Freres, Olive Branch, Fanny, and Biloste) appeared off Cedar Keys, Florida. Surprised to find them still there the next morning, rebel General M. Whit Smith loaded two companies of infantry aboard the steamer Madison and put to sea. Heavily outnumbered and becalmed, the Yankee sailors did not put up a fight. Nineteen seamen and an undoubtedly very chagrined Lieut. Selden went in the bag, while “fourteen white men and one Negro” of the original crews were freed. The fifth schooner, Brilliante, “had left the squadron some days previous, the Lieut[enant] says, against his orders.”13 On Saturday, 6 July, Acting Master Sawyer sailed her into Key West.14 On that same day, the captured “Lincoln vassals,” as the Tallahassee News labelled the Union sailors, arrived in that city. The enlisted men were confined in the county jail while Selden was free to roam about on his parole of honor. All awaited orders from the Governor, who was temporarily “absent the capital.” 15

The local paper ended its report on the capture and incarceration of the Federals with the following plea–a wish that, at least in Horton’s case, would not be fulfilled:

We have one suggestion to make in regard to the prisoners. While we would not have any of them “lionized,” we do hope that the largest possible scope of liberty, compatible with their safe-keeping, will be granted them while they are here. We should not like to see our authorities aping the Lincoln hordes in any of their acts of cruelty. We believe in setting them an example, giving their assertions of our barbarity the lie, and exhibiting to the world that the “rebels” are a civilized and humane people.

From Tallahassee, the Union sailors were moved to Charleston, South Carolina, where they remained for “quite a stay,”

as Horton described it years later. In reality, the group could not have long remained, since they left Charleston “shackled together like convicts, two by two,” and arrived in Richmond about 23 July 1861.16 “Marched through the streets of that city in a drenching rain,” Horton and his shipmates were delivered to Liggon’s tobacco factory.17 It would be Horton’s “home” for the next seven months.

While the food shortages that would later mean near-starvation for prisoners in Richmond were not yet severe in the summer and fall of 1861, life at Libby was made a living hell by the depravities of one of its officers, Lieutenant David Todd–who was half-brother to President Lincoln’s wife. As one prisoner recorded,

9 Official Records, Vol. 16, p. 560 and “Exploits,” Boston Traveller. 10 Official Records, Vol. 16, p. 560 and “Exploits,” Boston Traveller, and “Prizes Captured off Cedar Keys,” Macon Telegraph, 12 July 1861. 11 Official Records, Vol., p. 560. 12 Based on a cross-reference of names on the Naval Rendezvous sheet and later prison records for Richmond, these included George B. Clapp, Daniel B.

Fox, Philip Gartside, Daniel Hall, Josiah H. Horton, Thomas Mellen, Homer A. Nash, and Peleg Whitmore. 13 “Prizes,” Macon Telegraph. 14 “Exploits,” Boston Traveller. 15 “Prizes,” Macon Telegraph. 16 “His Bravery Rewarded,” Boston Globe, March 7, 1898. Horton is quoted in this article as claiming he arrived in Richmond “two days after the second

battle of Bull Run,” but this is impossible, as he was at sea aboard USS Rhode Island when that battle was fought. A date two days after the first battle of Bull Run (21 July) therefore seems accurate.

17 “Bravery Rewarded,” Boston Globe.

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Lieutenant Todd was singularly vicious and brutal in his treatment of the prisoners, and seldom entered the prison without grossly insulting some of them. He invariably entered with a drawn sword in his hand. His voice and manner, as he addressed the prisoners, always indicated a desire to commit some cruel wrong. . . It has even been asserted that he sanctioned the shooting of some of the prisoners by the guards; for, while there is no testimony to that effect, a sentinel was never known to be reprimanded or removed from duty for such violation of military decency.18

Such an incident took place on 21 September 1861, when Cpl William C. Beck of the 79th New York was shot and killed

by a guard as he stood at a window shaking out his blanket to dry. Pvt R. Gleason of the 11th New York and two others were wounded in a similar fashion. Reporting directly to Todd was the “Dutch Sergeant,” Henry Wirz, who at times “showed a most brutal disposition.” Wirz, would go on to be commandant of Andersonville Prison; on this day, he had threatened to “order the guard to shoot every damn Yankee who looks out of the window.”19

Taking pot shots at prisoners seems to have been an approved pastime:

The prisoners were allowed to visit, by twos, an outhouse in the prison yard. As Private C. W. Tibbetts and a companion were going thither, with the consent of the guard, a sentinel on the opposite side deliberately raised his gun and fired at them. Tibbetts was killed, and his companion badly wounded in the arm. All covered with blood, the unfortunate man’s body was hastily thrown into a rough coffin and carried by Negroes to the Negro grave-yard for burial.20

Todd himself took part in random atrocities: “Todd, when upon the street near our windows one day, overheard some

conversation that did not suit him. He drew his sword and, rushing upstairs, stabbed the first man he came across, wounding him so that he had to be removed to the hospital.”21 Horton recalled another incident, when “I saw him saber a poor fellow one day because the prisoner had a small bit of lighted candle in order to see to dress his wound. He cut him to the bone.”22

The attitude of their Southern jailers towards the sailors was not improved by the political flare-up over privateering. In June and July, the Navy had taken the privateers Savannah, Jefferson Davis and Petrel. Because the Lincoln administration considered the war to be an insurrection, it held that its opponents had no rights as formal belligerents; therefore, it did not recognize the letters of marque issued by the authorities at Richmond. Subsequently, the crews of the three vessels would be treated as pirates, and would be hung as such. The case of Savannah went to trial in late October, and one of its crew, a Mr. Smith, was soon sentenced to death.

The Davis government responded by ordering the selection of the highest-ranking prisoner in Richmond, to be held “for execution in the same manner as may be adopted by the enemy for the execution of the prisoner of war Smith.” Another thirteen high-ranking prisoners were chosen to stand as hostages for the remainder of Savannah’s crew.23 While the jury deadlocked and the Federal government eventually conceded PoW status to the privateers, November was a tense time for the Union soldiers and sailors in Liggon’s. Horton believed, “had they been hanged, I doubt if one of our men would have escaped alive.”24

Over the fall and winter, many prisoners were sent deeper into the South; among these were some of the men from USS Massachusetts. Possibly due to a severe attack of typhoid fever, Lewis Horton was not among these. He remained in Liggon’s Factory until exchanged in late February 1862.25 Horton was sent to Boston in March, and ordered to report back to his ship. Since USS Massachusetts was at that time out of commission and undergoing conversion to a transport and supply ship at the New York Navy Yard, Horton was sent on to Boston.26 Discharged on 15 May 1862 after his one-year enlistment expired, he signed up for another one-year tour on 30 May, and was assigned to USS Rhode Island.27

Commissioned by the Navy a week after Horton had arrived in Richmond, Rhode Island, under Cdr Stephen D. Trenchard, served as a supply ship to the blockading squadrons along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts. Her voyages out of New

18 Jeffrey, Wm H. Richmond Prisons 1861-1862. (St. Johnsbury: The Republican Press, 1893), pp. 14-15. 19 Ibid., pp. 112, 115. 20 Ibid., pp. 21-22. 21 Ibid., p. 111. 22 “Bravery Rewarded,” Boston Globe. 23 Jeffrey, p. 40. 24 “Bravery Rewarded,” Boston Globe. 25 Jeffrey, p. 89, 268-9 and “Bravery Rewarded,” Boston Globe. 26 Official Records, Vol. 1, index p. 138. 27 Rendezvous report for Boston, Mass’tts for the week ending May 31st, 1862.

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York or Philadelphia lasted about five weeks, during which she typically provisioned a hundred or more vessels with ammunition, foodstuffs, spare parts, personnel and mail.28 In May 1862, under orders from Flag-Officer Farragut, she was assigned to carry a different kind of cargo: rebel prisoners from the 24 April engagement at Head of Passes. Accordingly, Rhode Island had aboard 27 naval and a dozen army prisoners when she departed New Orleans on 8 May 1862.29 Cdr Trenchard’s instructions brought him to Boston, where his “guests” were deposited in Fort Warren on 23 May.30 A week later, Lewis Horton reenlisted and was placed as an Ordinary Seaman aboard the supply ship.

After her voyage to Boston, Rhode Island was assigned specifically to the Gulf squadrons, which she continued to supply into mid-December 1862. At that time she was temporarily transferred to the North Atlantic Blockading Squadron, under Rear Admiral S. P. Lee, in preparation for offensive operations against Wilmington.31 To support the attack, Lee was also given the ironclads Passaic, Montauk–and Monitor. On 24 December, the admiral instructed Cdr Trenchard to tow Monitor from Hampton Roads to Beaufort, North Carolina, for which Rhode Island set course on the 29th.32 As a result of this voyage, Monitor would be lost–and Lewis Horton’s family would receive frightening news.

When off Cape Hatteras on the night of 30 December, Rhode Island and Monitor ran into a storm. While the 1517 ton supply ship was able to ride out the gale, Monitor’s design as a riverine ironclad left her vulnerable to the tempest. The rate at which she began taking on water soon exceeded the abilities of her pumps. Eventually, the water soaked the coal supply and snuffed out the boiler fires. Seeing the signals of distress, Trenchard lowered two boats in an attempt to rescue Monitor’s crew. Acting Master’s Mate D. Rodney Browne was in charge of the first cutter, which was well-crewed by experienced sailors: Charles H. Smith, coxswain; Morris Wagg, coxswain; Hugh Logan, captain of the afterguard; John Jones, landsman; Luke M. Griswold, ordinary seaman; George Moore, seaman; and Lewis A. Horton, ordinary seaman.33

Browne’s cutter made two trips to Monitor, each time bringing off more men from the doomed ship. His captain afterwards wrote to Adm. Lee that Browne “deserves special credit for the skillful manner in which he managed his boat.” As the distance between the vessels increased, Trenchard lowered a third boat, while Browne came about to make his third attempt at Monitor. Trenchard hailed him and ordered him to lie on his oars or drop astern and be towed, “as the Rhode Island would steam for the Monitor, as soon as the men could be got on board from the boats alongside.” But Browne, perhaps not hearing or understanding the order, bore off for Monitor’s red light, which was still visible from her turret. By the time the tow ship was ready to get underweigh, that light had disappeared. So, too, had Browne and the crew of the first cutter.34

Trenchard spent the 31st cruising between Cape Hatteras and its shoals, hoping to catch sight of the cutter, but without success. He returned to Hampton Roads, arriving on 3 January. In his report to Adm. Lee, he expressed the hope that, as “the boat was buoyant, had a good crew, and no doubt well managed . . . I entertain hope that her daring crew have been saved by some passing vessel.”35 Lee forwarded word of Monitor’s loss to Washington; his telegram included a list of her crewmen who did not survive, and included the nine men of Rhode Island’s first cutter. This telegram arrived at 9:30 P.M. on 3 January.36 The papers in Washington as well as New York ran the story the next day, but Horton’s family was spared until 5 January before the announcement appeared in newspapers in Massachusetts. Lewis’s father could not have helped but think of their earlier experience of being lost at sea in an open boat–but there was a world of difference between Cape Hatteras in winter and the Bahamas.

Unlike the episode in the Caribbean, which had lasted 36 hours, Horton and his shipmates ended up “lost” for only about ten hours–the Navy just didn’t know it for several days. Browne reported that, on his third trip to Monitor, he had come within a quarter mile of the foundering ironclad when the red distress light had disappeared; when he reached what he assumed was her last position, all that remained was an eddy in the water. Browne remained in the area for a time, looking for survivors, but found none. He came about and headed for Rhode Island, which he could see by her lights, but eventually lost sight of the ship in the storm. Hoping then to encounter one of the many vessels plying the coast, he had his crew pull to the northwest. All through the night, the sailors rowed to overcome the northeast current that tried to push them out to sea.37

28 Dictionary of American Naval Fighting Ships, on the Navy History & Heritage Command website at www.history.navy.mil/danfs/r5/rhode_island-

i.htm, accessed 7 January 2014. 29 Naval War Records Office. Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies in the War of the Rebellion, Vol. 18 (Washington: Government

Printing Office, 1904), p. 441. 30 Official Records, Vol. 18, p. 300. 31 Naval War Records Office. Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies in the War of the Rebellion, Vol. 8 (Washington: Government

Printing Office, 1899), p. 301. 32 Official Records, Vol. 8, pp. 317 and 337. 33 Ibid., p. 340. Horton appears with the rank of “Seaman” in this list, but reenlisted as an “Ordinary Seaman”–a step above Seaman. 34 Ibid., p. 351. 35 Ibid. 36 Ibid., p. 340. 37 Ibid., p. 357.

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At dawn, the effects of the storm continued to be felt, as the sea was “very irregular and coming from all quarters.” Browne spotted a steamer some four or five miles distant, but she soon stood way. After losing sight of her, he saw a second ship which he approached closely enough to discern the men on her deck, but it passed him by without notice. Despairing of being picked up at sea, Browne decided at about 9:30 A.M. to make for land, which he estimated to be about 40 miles distant. An hour later, he spied a schooner to leeward. Using the oars and the men’s coats to make an impromptu sail, Browne ran down upon the schooner and reached her at 11 A.M. She was the A. Colby, under Captain H. D. Harriman, out of Bucksport, Maine, bound for Fernandina, Florida with a cargo of bricks for the government. Harriman received Browne and his crew “with the greatest degree of kindness and attention.”38

Browne asked Harriman to land them at Beaufort, which the captain agreed to do, even though it would seriously delay his run to Florida. Being “without observation” due to the recent storm, Harriman ran for the coast to ascertain his position. In doing so, he struck on outer Diamond Shoal, “causing the schooner to leak very badly.” By the time the ship had crossed bar into the Sound, her pumps were being worked at the rate of 2000 strokes per hour just to keep ahead of the incoming water. Harriman brought the A. Colby to anchor that evening “under the land near Hatteras Inlet.”39

The following day, 1 January, the leak was so bad that Harriman sent up a distress signal. Fortunately, USS Miami was lying in the inlet that day, and Acting Lieutenant Robert Townsend sent a steam tug in response. The tug took Browne back to Miami, where he reported the survival of his crew and the condition of the A. Colby. Townsend sent a dozen men back to Harriman’s ship to assist it with the pumps and, at sunset, overtook the schooner and took her in tow for Beaufort. Both ships (as well as Rhode Island’s first cutter, which had been hauled aboard the A. Colby) arrived in Beaufort the following day, 2 January.40 Mr. Browne reported to Captain P. Drayton, and requested that he and his men be allowed to remain on board the A. Colby “to aid the captain in keeping his vessel afloat until a certain amount of her cargo could be removed.” The men from the Rhode Island stayed with Harriman and his crew until 8 January.41 On the 9th, the Rhode Island steamed into port, and Browne and his men reported back to their ship. The following day, Cdr Trenchard wrote to Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles with “great satisfaction” of the recovery of the missing sailors.42

At the end of the month, Rhode Island was transferred to the West Indies Squadron under Rear Admiral J. L. Lardner to take part in the search for the rebel steamers Alabama and Oreto. No longer a supply ship, her battery of four 32pdr smoothbore guns was augmented by the addition of two VIII inch guns and two 12 pdr rifled guns.43 For the rest of 1863, she cruised the Caribbean and Atlantic coast of the North America, but never caught sight of the rebel raiders. In May and August, she added to her count of enemy ships by taking the Margaret and Jessie and Cronstadt, respectively.44 There were other episodes, for Horton recalled “many exciting experiences with rebel privateers and blockade runners.”45 In November 1863 came one final event that would change Horton’s life forever.

Acting as temporary flagship to Adm. Lardner, Rhode Island returned to Cape Haitien, which acted as a base and coaling station for the West Indies Squadron. She was returning from a cruise to Guadeloupe and St. Thomas, and pulled into port on the third.46 In answer to the salute of a Spanish frigate in the harbor, Rhode Island fired a series of guns. Lewis Horton, acting as loader, rammed a charge down the barrel. Hot embers from the previous round had evidently not been extinguished by wet sponging, which, with dry sponging, preceded loading. The embers ignited the fresh powder and the subsequent blast tore Horton’s arms off below the elbow; he was thrown twenty feet into the water.47 Despite a

38 Ibid., p. 357. 39 Ibid. 40 Ibid., p. 355, 357. 41 The Navy took good care of Captain Harriman and his ship. On 10 January, Trenchard wrote to Welles: “I would respectfully commend to the

consideration of the Department the noble conduct of Captain Harriman, of the schooner A. Colby, Bucksport, Me., in rescuing our men, in which service his vessel sustained serious injury by getting on Diamond Shoal.” (ORN 8_356). Adm. Lee followed this up with a note saying, “I would respectfully call the attention of the Department to the humane conduct of Captain Harriman, as narrated in the enclosed, and to the injuries his vessel sustained, and to the serious delay he incurred in his efforts to place the officer and boat's crew of the Rhode Island in a place of safety. I have written to the commanding officer of the storeship there to ascertain officially how the repairs of this vessel were made, at whose and what expense, and what steps, if any, were taken at Beaufort toward securing Master H. D. Harriman from loss.” (ORN 8_356). Lee also assured Harriman that “I have instructed the naval officers at Beaufort to afford you every assistance in their power to enable you to repair your injuries.” (ORN v8, p. 358) Harriman deserved whatever the Navy could do to help him, as he had risked all to help Browne, who recorded, “I can not say too much in praise of Captain Harriman, who did all that could be done, and thought nothing of the trouble to which we necessarily put him by so altering his original voyage, and although all he possesses was in the schooner, yet he told me when she struck that he would willingly lose all to save any one, and that if he should lose vessel and cargo he would never regret having taken us on board.” (ORN8, p. 358)

42 Official Records, Vol. 8, p. 356. 43 Official Records, Vol. 1, p.192 and Dictionary of American Naval Fighting Ships, on the Navy History & Heritage Command website at

www.history.navy.mil/danfs/r5/rhode_island-i.htm, accessed 7 January 2014. 44 Dictionary of American Naval Fighting Ships, on the Navy History & Heritage Command website at www.history.navy.mil/danfs/r5/rhode_island-

i.htm, accessed 7 January 2014 45 “Bravery Rewarded,” Boston Globe. 46 Naval War Records Office. Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies in the War of the Rebellion, Vol. 2 (Washington: Government

Printing Office, 1894), pp. 166, 492. 47 “Stories of Adventure,” Boston Journal.

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dislocated shoulder, Horton made his way to the surface and, in response to calls from his shipmates, treaded water until they could lower a boat and rescue him.48

The ship’s doctor, Assistant Surgeon S. G. Webber, amputated Horton’s arms above the elbows. Webber did not expect Horton to live, and wrote to his parents. For the second time, his family endured terrible news. But Horton did not die, and, when he found out what the doctor had done, he dictated a letter home “and told them that I was not only going to live, but that I would be with them before long.”49

Getting home was a bit of a problem, however. With the need to keep sufficient forces on remote station on the lookout for rebel raiders, even vessels in need of repair were refused orders to return to American harbors. All of Lardner’s ships had problems, but the worst, USS Santiago de Cuba, was only allowed to steam north once a replacement ship arrived at the end of the month (28 November). With a hospital ticket to Chelsea Naval Hospital made out by Dr. Webber, Horton was placed aboard her. His ticket, made out to Dr. Joseph Beale, itemized the clothing sent with him: 2 jackets, 3 blue pants, 2 white pants, 4 blue shirts, 3 white shirts, 3 under shirts, 1 boots, 1 shoes, 3 stockings, 1 drawers, 1 handkerchief, 2 caps, and 3 yards of canvas duck; Horton’s hammock, mattress and two blankets completed his kit.50

The Santiago de Cuba arrived in Boston on 6 December, and Horton was transferred to the hospital in Chelsea, where he was confined “for quite a while.” Here Lewis Horton began to come to grips with the pain that would endure for the remainder of his life, “especially in damp weather.”51 Five months shy of his 22nd birthday, Horton, now a pensioner receiving “the paltry sum of eight dollars a month” from the government, seemingly had few prospects.52 Life, however, was not yet done with the indomitable Lewis A. Horton.

Only weeks after Horton’s discharge from the hospital, the Springfield (Massachusetts) Daily Republican of 30 March carried a short article:

A marriage took place at Newburyport last week in which the ceremony of joining hands was entirely omitted, the bridegroom, Lewis A. Horton of Plainfield, NH, having no hands to use. He enlisted in the navy at the commencement of the war, and, after undergoing every kind of hardship, had his arms blown off at the shoulder by a powder explosion, not even stumps remaining to which artificial arms can be attached.53

Clergyman Randolph Campbell officiated at the wedding of Horton to Frances Ellen Carr Goodwin of Newburyport on 24 March.54 Frances was seventeen years old; Lewis recorded his occupation as “mariner.”55 To help take care of Lewis, the newlyweds moved next door to the Goodwin family; Frances’s brother-in-law, Willis Whitmore, also a mariner, lived with the newlyweds.56 Horton, who had not lost his love of the sea despite his experiences, must have enjoyed the view of the Merrimack River looking over the busy port as he sat in the house on Federal Street.

The years in Horton’s story immediately after the war are opaque. An 1866 Newburyport city directory shows the young couple still living next to Frances’s family, with no occupation listed for Lewis. Unless they were being supported by her father–which is doubtful, given that his occupation is listed as “watchman” in that year–the eight dollar government pension would not go far. At the time, for comparison, a farm laborer in Massachusetts earned $38.94 per month.57 However, the Hortons might have received a monetary boost by payment of prize money for the blockade runners taken by Massachusetts and Rhode Island while Lewis served aboard those ships.

During the war, Northern papers cynically claimed that the Navy was motivated by “Three P’s,” namely, “Pride, Patriotism and Pocket.” Certainly, the capture of a blockade runner could be very lucrative. Once a captured vessel was determined by a Federal court to actually be a runner, the ship itself and 50% of the value of her cargo went to the government. The remaining half of the value went to the commander of the regional blockading squadron (5%), the local commodore (1%), and the crews of the capturing ship(s) (44%). This 44% was divided into 20 shares, of which the captain(s) received 3 shares, officers and midshipmen 10 shares (to be divided equally), and the enlisted men 7 shares (to be divided among them). This could amount to a significant amount. Rear Admiral Lee, under whom Horton served while aboard Rhode Island, banked almost $110,000 over the two years he was in charge of the North Atlantic Blockading Squadron; Admiral David Porter pocketed $91,500 for just two months’ duty on a more active station. Despite their smaller shares, enlisted men benefitted as well: the crew of the tugboat Eolus received $3000 apiece for the captures of

48 “Bravery Rewarded,” Boston Globe. 49 Ibid. 50 Form G Hospital Ticket, 26 November 1863, from Webber to Beale. 51 “Bravery Rewarded,” Boston Globe. 52 “A Sad Case,” Boston Herald, 8 February 1864. 53 Springfield Daily Republican, 30 March 1864. 54 “Marriages,” Salem Observer, 2 April 1864. 55 Massachusetts, Town and Vital Records, 1620-1988; Newburyport Births, Marriages and Deaths. Accessed via Ancestry.com on 8 January 2014. 56 Massachusetts state census for Newburyport, 1865. 57 Blodgett, James. Wages of Farm Labor in the United States: Results of Twelve Statistical Investigations, 1866-1902. (Washington: Government

Printing Office, 1903), p. 14.

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the Hope and the Lady Sterling in the space of two days. While the captures made by Massachusetts in the Gulf had been mostly small ones, they were numerous–and whether Horton counted as a member of her crew while he was in prison is unknown.

Whatever were Horton’s sources of income, he and his wife felt confident enough by 1867 to start a family. Their first child, Florence, was born in 1868, to be followed by Luella in 1873 and Aubin in 1875. A year after the birth of Florence, Lewis and Frances moved away from Federal Street to a house on Ashland Street–still overlooking the Merrimack River, but two miles upstream near a local ship yard. This was on the fringe of Newburyport, far from the bustle of downtown and the docks, and so may have been an affordable structure for a young couple trying to get on their feet. A small shot in the arm came from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts as well, when the Legislature, in response to an 11 March 1869 petition from Lewis for a State pension, in late June voted him a $100 award.58 The Hortons may have been making ends meet by renting or subletting rooms in their house, as the 1870 census includes a real estate dealer and a store clerk as living with them.

When Lewis again surfaces in official records in 1873, he is shown living at 38 Pleasant Street in Newburyport–back downtown–and is listed under the business heading of “Fruit & Confectionery.” His name appears under this heading through 1876, first on Pleasant and later on Market Street (#42 and then #44), so for at least three, possibly six years, this seems to be the business that kept the Hortons afloat. From 1877 through 1879, however, the Hortons are listed in a nearby house (39 Market), but no occupation is recorded for Lewis.59 The following year, they moved again, this time to 35 Market Street, and Lewis’s trade is listed as “clerk in the custom’s house.”60 This may be a mistake or euphemism for his real job, which, based on subsequent employment, was probably watchman. His father-in-law’s occupation in 1866 is listed as “watchman,” and Lewis may have gotten such a job through connections.61

Sometime between 1880 and 1882, the Hortons moved to Dorchester, Massachusetts, as indicated in an 1882 city directory for Newburyport: “removed to Boston.”62 The family lived first on Midland Street and then Savin Hill; from this time on, Lewis’s occupation is listed as “watchman” and his place of business is 177 State Street in Boston–the Customs House, where he still worked in 1910.63 He was described as a “general favorite at the custom house. He has a sunny temperament and, for an armless man, gets along remarkably well.” In fact, Horton seems never to have allowed his injuries to hold him back. Although absent hands, he learned to write by holding a pen in his mouth, and did so incredibly well, being characterized as “an expert penman.” 64 Perhaps even more surprisingly, Lewis returned to the sea:

Another accomplishment that Mr. Horton’s friends feel proud of is his ability to sail a yacht. He is one of the most popular members of the Savin Hill yacht club, and is an expert figurer at yacht reckonings.65

By 1900, Lewis owned their house outright, with no mortgage, and employed an Irish maid, Mary Murray.66 His

financial situation was certainly helped by passage of the Disability and Dependent Pension Act of 1890, which provided additional monies to disabled veterans and their families. In fact, this may be what allowed the Hortons to move from their original home on Midland Street to Savin Hill Avenue in Dorchester, where they resided by 1895. Several years later, the Boston Herald published a list of New England pensioners; Lewis is one of only three to receive the highest monthly payment of $100.67

A decade later, Lewis, now 67, was still going strong, working as a watchman and indicating “none” in the census column asking for how many weeks a person was out of work. For the first time, the government also asked whether someone had been in the Civil War, on which side and in what organization they had served. Lewis’s entry records “UN”–Union Navy.68 The pride he felt in his service was evidenced from the very beginning: his name figures prominently in reports of parades in Newburyport in 1867 and 1870.69

58 “Legislature,” Boston Traveller, 11 March 1869, and 1869 Chap. 0466. An Act In Further Addition To An Act Making Appropriations To Meet Certain

Expenditures Authorized The Present Year, And For Other Purposes (Boston: Secretary of the Commonwealth, 1869), p. 787. 59 Newburyport City Directories for 1873, 1874, 1876, 1877, and 1879. 60 Federal Census for 1880. 61 Newburyport City Directory for 1866. 62 Newburyport City Directory for 1882. 63 The Boston directory containing the city record, a directory of the citizens, and business directory: for the year commencing July 1, 1885 and 1905.

(Sampson, Murdock & Co., 1885 and 1905.) 64 “Bravery Rewarded,” Boston Globe. 65 Ibid. 66 Federal Census for 1900. 67 “New England Pensioners,” Boston Herald, 8 January 1898. 68 Federal Census for 1910. 69 “Parade in Honor of Gen. Sheridan,” Boston Herald, 8 October 1867, and “At Newburyport,” Boston Traveller, 30 May 1870.

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But of his wartime experience, “he preferred to forget it, as far as possible.”70 In fact, so humble was Horton that his story might well have been lost, were it not for the determination of a reporter on the Boston Globe who, “after the hardest sort of persuasion,” managed to get Lewis to share the main points in 1898.71 Why did the aging sailor relent after all those years? It may have had something to do with the act that he had only recently learned he had earned the Medal of Honor.

On 22 June 1865, with the war finally over, the Navy Department published a list of those men who “have distinguished themselves by their gallantry in action, by extraordinary heroism in the line of their profession, or by other commendable qualities,” and announced their receipt of the Medal of Honor. Included in the list were the men who had manned Rhode Island’s first cutter on the stormy night of 31 December 1862, and who had saved a number of sailors from the sinking Monitor.72

At the time, it was expected that recipients of this honor would travel to Washington to obtain their medal–but word never reached Lewis or his parents. So, inscribed with his name, the award sat in the Navy Department for thirty-three years. Finally, in 1898, mention of it was made in a dispatch sent out from Washington, which caught the eye of Joseph O’Hare, who worked in the appraiser’s department with Horton in the Boston Customs House. O’Hare shared the article with Horton, remarking “that there was a similarity of names between Mr. Horton’s name and the man who had been awarded a medal for saving the crew of the famous Monitor.”73

Mr. Horton became interested. “By Jove,” said he, “it may be for me. I was one of the volunteers that went out in the Rhode Island’s cutter and saved the crew of the Monitor.74

While interested, Horton was not moved to contact the Navy Department, believing that “if there

was a medal . . . waiting for him, it was the duty of the officials to send it to him.” Undoubtedly in stunned disbelief, Horton’s good friend, Rideout, who was “cigar examiner” at the Customs House, persuaded Lewis (“after talking the matter over for some time”) to allow him to write to his personal friend, Secretary of the Navy John D. Long. The letter got an immediate response, and only a few days after receipt of Rideout’s notification, Lewis Horton’s Medal of Honor arrived with a letter of commendation.75 Perhaps allowing himself a small measure of glory, the old sailor pinned it to his coat (at least for one subsequent interview).76

Lewis Augustine Horton passed away, “suddenly,” on 8 June 1916. Notice of his death was contained in a spare four lines, between losses in the Hinckley and Leadbetter families. No mention of his naval service was provided.77 Ever humble, Lewis would probably have preferred this.78

70 “Stories of Adventure,” Boston Journal. 71 “Bravery Rewarded,” Boston Globe. 72 “The Navy,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 31 July 1865. 73 “Bravery Rewarded,” Boston Globe. 74 Ibid. 75 Ibid. 76 “Waited Thirty-six Years for a Medal” New York American, 10 March 1898. 77 “Deaths,” Boston Herald and Boston Journal, 10 June 1916. 78 Horton’s tombstone in Forest Hills Cemetery in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts gives only his name and birth and death dates. The bronze plaque later

placed by the VA is the only indication that he is a Medal of Honor recipient.

Sketch of Lewis Horton from 1898

“Fac simile” of Horton’s Medal of Honor, 1898.

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Reminiscences of Two Years in the United States Navy. By John M. Batten, B.E., M.D.

Late Acting Assistant Surgeon United States Navy, Pittsburgh, Pa. “The only excuse I offer for publishing this little book of reminiscences is that

a story half told is better than a story not told at all.

Continued from BTQ92

THE HERALD DESPATCHES.

[Mr. Galen H. Osborn's Despatch ]

"FORTRESS MONROE, VA., November 1, 1864.

"The United States steamer Valley City arrived at Hampton Roads from the blockading squadron of the Sounds of North Carolina, this morning. She brings the glorious tidings of the destruction of the rebel iron-clad ram Albemarle. The terror of the Sounds is at the bottom of Roanoke river. She was blown up by a torpedo early on the morning of the 28th ultimo; and her destruction is due to the personal heroism and reckless daring of Lieut. W. B. Cushing, of the Navy. All the particulars I have been able to collect concerning this feat, which stands prominently forth as one of the most gallant of the war, I hasten to forward for the information of the Heralds readers.

"On the night of Thursday, October 27, Lieutenant Cushing, who has on several previous occasions especially distinguished himself, manned a steam launch with a party of thirteen officers and men, mostly volunteers, and proceeded, under cover of the darkness, up the river towards Plymouth. Eight miles from the mouth of the stream the Albemarle lay, surrounded by a pen of logs and timber, established to prevent her destruction by torpedoes.

"As he approached this framework, Lieut. Cushing was discovered by the officers of the ram, who hailed him. He gave no answer, the enemy meantime maintaining against him a severe and galling fire, to which he replied effectively with frequent doses of canister. Finding that he could not approach the ram as he desired, a complete circle was made by the Lieutenant, and the launch was again brought fairly against the "crib," bows on, pushing back a portion of it, and leaving the bows of the launch resting on the broken timbers.

"At this moment, by a most vigorous effort, Lieut. Cushing succeeded in driving a torpedo under the over-hang of the ram, and exploded it. Simultaneously with the explosion, one of the Albemarle's guns was fired, and the shot went crashing through the launch. At the same instant a dense volume of water from the torpedo came rushing into the launch, utterly disabling her.

"Lieut. Cushing then ordered his men to save themselves. He himself threw off his coat and shoes and sprang into the water. Several of his men were captured and some were drowned, but I have not been able to ascertain his exact loss. Lieut. Cushing, taking to the swamp, managed to secrete himself from the enemy's pickets, and brought up alongside of the steamer Valley City at about 11 o'clock the next night, in a small skiff which he discovered and appropriated on his way.

"The steamer Valley City brought Lieutenant Cushing as a passenger, and he reported in person to the Admiral the accomplishment of the daring mission he was specially selected to perform. Though much fatigued by the severities of his recent task, he is yet in good health and spirits, and is at this moment the hero of the squadron. He is the same officer that went to Smithville and captured General Whiting's chief of staff, while a regiment of troops was quartered in the buildings on the opposite side of the way. It was he who took a small boat up the Wilmington river, past the forts and batteries, landed and captured a rebel mail, staid three days in the enemy's country, and finally came away in safety with his trophies. But this last act of his stamps him as one of the most daring men in the service. To attack an iron-clad like the Albemarle, with a launch and a baker's dozen of men, would seem the height of reckless folly; but to have succeeded in such an enterprise, is to have earned a life lease of glory.

"In the affair, paymaster Swann, of the Otsego, is known to have been wounded, and master's mate Howarth, of the Monticello, captured. Lieut. Cushing speaks very highly of the conduct of all who were with him.

"The destruction of the ram was not definitely known until the following day, the 29th, when Negroes sent to gain information returned with the glorious news. Reports from other quarters corroborated this intelligence, and finally a reconnoissance by the Valley City revealed the Albemarle resting on the bottom, with only her smoke-stack visible above the water.

"The yellow fever is said not to have entirely disappeared from Newbern, although the succession of sharp frosts in that vicinity has somewhat dispelled it. The steamer John Farron left for that port yesterday, taking an immense mail, and a number of officers who have been congregating here for some time, waiting for the sickly season to terminate."

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[Mr. Oscar G. Sawyer's Despatch ]

"HAMPTON ROADS, VA., NOVEMBER 1, 1864. "The most audacious, brilliant and successful affair of the war, occurred in the waters of North Carolina last week, in which, after the briefest contest, but one as it will prove of the best results, the rebel iron-clad ram Albemarle was effectually destroyed and sent to the bottom by a torpedo discharged by Lieutenant William B. Cushing, of the Navy. The great mailed monster that has so long excited the apprehensions of the Navy Department, and held in the Sound a force greatly in excess of that which was usually stationed there, now lies quietly at the bottom of the Roanoke river, a subject of curious contemplation and dread to the fish that frequent these waters. In the squadron every one feels a sense of relief in realizing the fact that the Albemarle is no longer afloat, or capable of doing further damage; for it is no secret that she was one of the toughest customers for wooden vessels to confront that has yet floated. Her raid on the flotilla, on the 5th of last May, proved that fact beyond a shadow of a doubt. She then encountered and fought to great advantage three heavily armed double-enders —the Sassacus, Mattabessett and Wyalusing—and retired, after a long contest, but slightly damaged. While she floated, no post held by us and accessible to her was safe. She could go her way as she chose, in spite of the efforts of our wooden vessels, unless some accident occurred to her which should prevent her steaming. None of the light-draft monitors were ready to confront her, and she threatened to clear our forces out of the State of North Carolina.

"Such was the state of affairs subsequent to the 5th of May. Our squadron in Albemarle Sound had been largely increased by the addition of several light draught, heavily-armed vessels; but, even with these, it was somewhat doubtful whether the possession of the Sound was insured us; so it was determined to get rid of the monster in some more expeditious and certain way.

"Lieutenant William B. Cushing, a young officer of great bravery, coolness and resource, submitted a project to Admiral Lee, in June last, by which he hoped, if successfully carried out, to rid the Sound of the Albemarle, and insure us its possession. Admiral Lee entered warmly into the scheme, as did the Navy Department, which immediately detached Lieutenant Cushing from the Monticello, and placed him on special duty, at the same time giving him every facility to carry out the object in view.

"Lieutenant Cushing at once proceeded to New York and in conjunction with Admiral Gregory, Captain Boggs, and Chief Engineer Wm. W. W. Wood, fitted one of the new steam picket boats, which is about the size of a frigate launch, with a torpedo arrangement, and then took her down into the Sound for duty. Having made several reconnoissances up the Roanoke river, which gave him some valuable information, and having perfected his arrangements, on the night of the 27th ultimo he got under way from the squadron off the mouth of the river, and steamed boldly up stream. In the steam launch were Lieutenant Cushing, Paymaster T. H. Swann, a volunteer from the Otsego, Master's Mate W. L. Howorth, of the gunboat Monticello, and Third Assistant Engineer Stolsbury, in charge of the engine, with a crew of ten men, nearly all of whom volunteered for the service. An armed cutter of the Shamrock, with an officer and ten men, was towed along for the purpose of attending to some of the minor details of the work. It was known that the enemy had pickets along the river banks, and on the wreck of the gunboat Southfield sunk by the Albemarle last spring, and which lay about a mile below the town of Plymouth. The pickets, who were in the habit of stationing themselves on the hurricane deck of the Southfield—the only portion of the wreck above water—were to be turned over to the care of the Shamrock's cutter when the proper time came, whilst those along the river were to be passed in silence, and without giving alarm, if possible.

"At about midnight the little picket-boat entered the narrow river, and steamed silently and cautiously up without giving the least alarm. The Southfield and three schooners alongside of her, engaged in raising her up, were passed at a short distance— almost within biscuit-toss—without challenge or hail. It was not till Lieutenant Cushing reached within pistol-shot of the Albemarle, which lay alongside of the dock at Plymouth, that he was hailed, and then in an uncertain sort of way, as though the lookouts doubted the accuracy of their vision. He made no reply, but continued to press towards the rebel monster, and was for the second time hailed. He paid no attention to the challenge, but kept straight on his way, first detaching the Shamrock's cutter, to go below and secure the rebel pickets on the Southfield.

"In another instant, as he closed in on the ram Albemarle, the rebel Captain Walley, in a very dignified, pompous, studied manner, shouted, 'What boat is that?' The reply was an invitation for him to go to! Thereupon arose a terrible clamor.

The rattle was vigorously sprung, the bells on the ship were sharply rung, and hands were called to quarters, evidently in great consternation and some confusion. A musketry fire was immediately opened on the torpedo-boat, and a charge of canister was fired, injuring some of the crew. Along the dock to which the Albemarle was tied, were a large number of soldiers, evidently stationed there to guard against a landing of our force after a surprise; and in front of their lines blazed cheerily up a number of their camp fires, which threw a strong light on the rebel vessel and the bosom of the river. By the aid of this glare Lieutenant Cushing discovered the raft of floating timbers which surrounded the ram on the accessible sides, to guard against the approach of rams and torpedoes; and by the aid of the same light he plainly saw the large body of soldiers thronging to the wharf and blazing away at his boat. To quiet these fellows, he brought the bow of his boat

13

around a little, and discharged a heavy stand of canister into them from his twelve-pounder howitzer mounted at the bow, and sent them flying. Making a complete circle under a scorching musketry fire, at less than thirty yards, he came around, bow on, at full steam, and struck the floating guard of timbers, pressing them towards the hull of the ram. His boat soon lost headway, and came to a standstill, refusing to back off or move ahead. The moment for decisive action had now arrived. The enemy fired muskets and pistols almost in his face, from the ports of the ram, and from the hundred small arms on shore. Several of his men were injured, and Paymaster Swann had fallen severely wounded. The officers and crew of the Albemarle cried out: 'Now we've got him! Surrender! surrender! or we will blow you to pieces!' The case looked desperate, indeed; but Lieutenant Cushing was as cool and determined at that moment as one could be under the most agreeable circumstances. He knew that the decisive moment had come, and he did not allow it to glide from his hands. He seized the lanyard to the torpedo and the line of the spar, and crowding the spar until he brought the torpedo under the over-hang of the Albemarle, he detached it by one effort, and the next second he pulled the lanyard of the torpedo, and exploded it under the vessel on her port side, just below the port-hole of the two-hundred-pounder Brooke's rifle, which at that moment was discharged at the boat. An immense volume of water was thrown out by the explosion of the torpedo, almost drowning all in the steam-launch; and to add to the peril of the moment, the heavy shell from the enemy's gun had gone through the bottom of the boat, knocking the splinters about in a terrible style. She at once began to sink in the most rapid manner, and Lieutenant Cushing ordered all hands to save themselves as best they might. He divested himself of his coat and shoes, and plunged into the river, followed by those of his men who were able to do so. All struck for the middle of the river under a hot fire of musketry, the balls perforating their clothing and striking all about them, and in two or three instances, it is feared, so badly wounding the swimmers that they sunk before boats from shore could reach them. Lieutenant Cushing heard the rebels take to boats and push after the survivors, demanding their surrender. Many gave up, but two of his seamen were drowned near by him—whether from wounds received or exhaustion, he could not state. Paymaster Swann was wounded and is a prisoner; but how many others fell into the rebel hands has not as yet been ascertained. Lieutenant Cushing swam down the river half a mile, until, exhausted and chilled by the cold water, he was compelled to struggle to the shore, which he reached about daybreak. After lying in the weeds along the river bank for some time, he recovered his strength sufficiently to crawl into the swamp further, till daylight found him lying in the swamp grass, between two paths, and in speaking distance of the enemy's fort. While lying there but partially screened by the low sedge, he saw rebel officers and men walk by, and heard their conversation, which was entirely devoted to the affair of the morning. From their remarks he learned that the torpedo had done its work effectively and thoroughly, and that his great object was accomplished. He did not learn any of the details of the sinking, but heard it stated that the ram had gone down by her dock, and was a complete loss. He also learned of the capture of the paymaster and some others of his crew from the same source.

"Finding that there was great danger of his detection if he remained in his exposed position all day, lying within a few yards of two frequented paths, and so near the river, he began to move slowly away towards the swamp. He was obliged to move cautiously, so he lay on his back, and by pushing his heels into the ground, he slowly pushed himself along, and after a long and exhausting effort, passed over the sixty yards of ground that lay between him and better cover. Once concealed, he laid up for the day and rested himself. He was fortunate enough before midnight to get hold of a Negro, whom he sent into town to learn the extent of his success. The Negro obeyed his instructions, and reported that the Albemarle was out of sight—‘clar gone sunk.’

"At night, Lieutenant Cushing struck through the swamp, and after the greatest and most exhausting toil and pain—as he was in his stocking-feet, and continually plunging over roots, briers, logs, oyster-shells, and lacerating his flesh severely—he reached a point four miles below the town, where he discovered a skiff used by a picket. Watching his chance, he seized this, and, with a single paddle, paddled off to the squadron, four miles distant, which he reached in safety. Only one besides himself—William Holton, a sailor on the Chicopee, who had volunteered on the occasion—returned to the squadron. He was picked up by the Valley City, the following day, nearly exhausted.

"Lieutenant Cushing immediately came here on the special despatch-boat Valley City, and reported to Admiral D. D. Porter. To-night he will go to Washington and report to the Department. He is worn out and in need of rest, which we hope he will be permitted to enjoy.

"This last brave and gallant action of his is likely to gain him an advance of one grade in his rank, and it will also, if the law is rightly construed, be a great financial success, which is somewhat more substantial. His share of the prize-money from the Albemarle, if she is fairly placed at a valuation, would be in the neighborhood of fifty thousand dollars, an acceptable sum to any one. Lieutenant Cushing has been ordered to the command of the gun-boat Monticello, which will await him until his return from a short leave.

"The destruction of the Albemarle will release the large squadron of powerful light-draught vessels which have, since her debut last May, been maintained in the Sound. They can go elsewhere now.

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"On a reconnoissance by the Valley City, to within a mile of Plymouth, it was discovered that the enemy had sunk the schooners which were engaged in attempting to raise the Southfield, directly across the channel, thus temporarily blockading the river. Although the town was in sight, not a trace could be seen of the rebel ram; and it is proved in other ways, beyond a doubt, that she lies in thirty feet of water, from which it will be impossible to raise her again.

"Captain Walley, who had assumed command of the ship only three weeks ago—relieving Captain Cook, who commanded her in the action of May last —began his duties in a very bombastic style. He mustered his officers and men, and assured them that in three weeks he could again attack the enemy and sink and scatter his fleet, and then he would re-take Newbern and drive the Yankees from every foot of North Carolina soil. With the Albemarle and their aid, with the cooperation of the gallant army, he would, before the new year, regenerate the state, and leave not a trace of a Yankee within its borders.

"It is not improbable that he might have effected a good deal of damage, and perhaps have endangered for the time being our tenure of Newbern and Roanoke Island, as he was nearly ready for his raid. Thanks, however, to the gallant Cushing and his brave comrades, through whose coolness, courage, and skill the coup de main was so admirably administered to the mailed monster, all danger has passed, and another destructive blow has been given to the declining rebel navy.

"A meed of credit and praise should be awarded to Chief Engineer William W. W. Wood, of the navy, to whose inventive abilities and experience in submarine warfare we owe the contrivance of the torpedo and the successful arrangement by which it is handled and exploded. The one fired by Lieutenant Cushing contained but fifty pounds of powder; but it did its work to a charm. There was no chance of its failing in his hands. The entire arrangement is exceedingly ingenious, and it would be manifestly improper to describe at this time.

"The cutters of the Shamrock, we omitted to mention, captured four rebel soldiers on picket on the Southfield, and brought them along safely to the squadron.

"THE ALBEMARLE.

"The Albemarle was an iron-clad vessel, similar in general features to the Merrimac and Tennessee, but much stronger. It is said her iron mail was twelve inches in thickness, and backed by several feet of solid timber. She was armed with two two hundred pound Brooke's rifles, and was perfectly shot-proof. Her weak point proved to be below. She could have been captured only by ramming, and for that purpose much heavier vessels were needed than any that could be got into the Sound. The torpedo was the only means of destroying her, and that proved successful when tried.

"The Albemarle is probably the last formidable vessel that the rebels have in the inland waters of North Carolina, and they will hardly have an opportunity of building more."

THE HERO OF THE ALBEMARLE IN WASHINGTON.

WASHINGTON, NOV. 2, 1864.

Lieutenant Cushing arrived here to-day, bringing with him the official report of the particulars attending his destruction of the rebel ram Albemarle. This act relieves all the sounds of North Carolina from floating enemies, and thus leaves them free to the operations of our fleet. Lieutenant Cushing is a citizen of, and was appointed from, the State of New York. He is satisfied that a large number of lives must have been lost by the blowing up, as the Albemarle's guns were all manned. The Secretary of the Navy will recommend to Congress a vote of thanks, and he will be promoted to a Lieutenant Commander."

After landing Captain Wm. B. Cushing aboard the flag-ship of the fleet, the Valley City the same day, at 2½ p. m., weighed anchor, and proceeded to Norfolk, Va., and from thence to the United States Navy Yard at Gosport, Va., and was put the on the dry dock for repairs. After the repairs of the Valley City were finished, on Sunday, November 27, at 4 p. m., we got under weigh, and arrived at Hampton Roads, Va., at 8½ o'clock p. m. On Monday, November 28th, at 11½ o'clock, a. m., we weighed anchor, and arrived at Hatteras Inlet at 9½ o'clock a. m., Tuesday, November 29. At 2 o'clock a. m., on Wednesday, November 30, the Valley City arrived at Plymouth, and at 2¼ o'clock of the same morning the Valley City was ordered to Newbern: we weighed anchor and proceeded towards Newbern. We arrived at Roanoke Island at 11 o'clock a.m. Our orders were then countermanded, and at 2 p. m. the Valley City steamed towards Plymouth, where we arrived at IO. p m.

During the month of November, 1864, whilst the Valley City was absent at Norfolk, the remainder of the fleet, commanded by Commander Wm. H. Macomb, steamed up the Roanoke river, then across through Middle river, and then up the Cashie river to Roanoke river, down which it steamed and made an attack on Plymouth, which, after a hot action, fell into the hands of the Federals. The ram Albemarle was soon afterwards raised by the United States government.

On Thursday, December 1, I went ashore at Plymouth, and observed the ram Albemarle as she lay at the bottom of the river. At 12:15 p. m, we went Plymouth, and arrived at off Edenton at 2 p. m., and at 4 p. m., the Valley City weighed

15

anchor for Roanoke Island, where we arrived at 8 o'clock, a. m., December 2, and at 9½ o'clock p. m. the Valley City left Roanoke Island, arrived at Newbern at 1 o'clock p. m., Saturday, December 3d; Sunday, December 4, I attended church at Newbern.

Monday, December 5, I visited the graves of Captain Charles W. Flusser and Acting Assistant-Surgeon George W. Wilson. The latter died after two hours' sickness, of yellow fever. He was stationed, at the time, on the United States steamer Hetzel, off Newbern, and was the surgeon of that vessel when he contracted the disease. He was a young man, and was expecting soon to return North and visit his aged parents, and also a betrothed young lady. They waited, but he never came.

On Tuesday, December 6th, at 4 o'clock p. m., we left Newbern, with Commander W. H. Macomb and his son on board, and on Wednesday, December 7, at 8¼o'clock a. m., we arrived off Roanoke Island. The Valley City left Roanoke Island at 12 o'clock m., and arrived at Plymouth at 10 p. m. On Thursday, December 8, at 12 o'clock p. m., we left Plymouth and arrived at Edenton at 2½ o'clock p. m. We left Edenton at 8 o'clock p. m., and anchored at 10 o'clock p. m., at the mouth of the Roanoke river, where the U. S. steamer Ceres and a schooner were anchored. On Friday, December 9, at 9 o'clock a. m., the Valley City weighed anchor and proceeded to Plymouth, where she arrived at 10 o'clock a. m.

–Continued in BTQ94

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Gleanings from the Papers THE REPUBLICAN FARMER (CT), FRIDAY, MAY 27, 1864

STINK POTS.

A Baltimore correspondent of the N. Y. World, recently wrote a long description of the condition and defences of Richmond. In concluding he gave the following particulars of a new offensive agent to be employed in the defence of the Confederate capital:

“Before leaving the defences of Richmond I must mention a new and novel invention by Captain Holden of the rebel army. It is nothing more or less than a stink-ball designed to be fired into the works of besiegers to stink them out. About the middle of April, I was one of several civilians who, upon invitation, accompanied a party of officers to Atlee’s, a station on the Central Railroad some ten miles from Richmond to witness some experiments from this ball. The ball is an iron shell containing combustible and destructive material, as well as odiferous matter, and in appearance is similar to the stink ball in use many years ago. It is designed to be thrown by mortars, but in the tests on the occasion referred, the fuse was lighted and the shells allowed to fulminate where they were placed. The stench which followed the explosion was the most fetid and villainous that ever outraged the olfactories of man. Coleridge said that he counted in Cologne seventy-seven “well-defined and several stinks.” But if he had been at Atlee’s on the day of the experiment alluded to, he would have recognized them all, and seventy-seven thousand more. The concentrated stink of all the skunks, pole-cats, pitch, sulphur, rasped horses and horses hooves, burnt in fire, assafœtida, ferula, and bug-weeds in the world could not equal the smell emitted by these balls. But not only is the smell in itself intolerable, but it provokes sneezing and coughing, and produces nausea, rendering it impossible for men to do duty within reach of it. A single ball will impregnate the atmosphere for fifty yards round, and the fetid compound, entering everything it touches, emits the stench for a long time. The opinion of all who witnessed the experiments was that the ball was a fair offset to Greek fire, and Gen. Winder and several other officers of rank who were present, expressed the belief that it would prove more effective for driving off besiegers than anything ever invented. Be this as it may, if Richmond is ever threatened by siege, the sneezers, as the inventor facetiously calls his balls, will form a prominent feature in the defensive operations.”

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