At last the "Constellation" came abreast the after-ports of the Frenchman, and Truxton, throwing her off a little, so that all his broadside would bear in a diagonal direction, loudly shouted the order to fire.

The telling broadside was delivered, and the battle was on in earnest.

To those aloft the crash of the long eighteens into the hull of the enemy at every other downward roll of the "Constellation" showed how well the American gunners had learned to shoot, while the short bark of the cannonades and the shrieks in the brief pauses from the decks of the Frenchman told of the terrible effects of the fire among the enemy. The guns of the Frenchman were well served and rapidly fired, but they were aiming on the upward roll of the sea, and their shots went high. Several b.a.l.l.s from the smaller pieces had lodged in the foremast and mainmast, and one had struck just below the futtock-band of the maintop, where Jarvis was, and sent the splinters flying up and all about him. Yard-arm to yard-arm they sailed for three long, b.l.o.o.d.y hours, until the firing of the Frenchman gradually slackened and then stopped almost altogether.

The Americans had suffered less on the decks than aloft, and Jarvis's topmen were employed most of the time in splicing and re-reeving gear.

The discharge of the "Constellation's" broadside-guns did not diminish for a moment, and so fast was the firing that many of the guns became overheated, and the men had to crawl out of the exposed ports to draw up buckets of water to cool them.

At about midnight Truxton managed to draw ahead of his adversary in the smoke, and, taking a raking position, sent in such a broadside that the Frenchman was silenced completely.

Jarvis and the men in the maintop had little time to use their muskets.

Several long shots had struck the mast, and almost every shroud and backstay had been carried away. As the "Constellation" bore down upon her adversary to deal her the death-blow, the mast began swaying frightfully.

There was a cry from the men at Jarvis's side, and the marines and topmen began dropping through the lubber's-hole, swinging themselves down the sides of the swaying mast by whatever gear they could lay their hands to.

Jarvis did not move. One of the older seamen took him by the shoulder and urged him to go below. The mast was going, he said, and it meant certain death to stay aloft.

Little Jarvis smiled at him. "This is my post of duty," he replied, "and I am going to stay here until ordered below."

At this moment a terrific crackling was heard, and the old man-o'-warsman went over the edge of the top. All the strain was on one or two of the shrouds, and, just as he reached the deck, with a tremendous crash the great mast went over the side.

Jarvis had kept his promise to stay by his mast whether it was up or down.

The Frenchman, not so badly injured aloft, took advantage of the condition of the "Constellation," and, slowly making sail before the wreck was cleared away, faded into the night. It was afterwards discovered that she was the "Vengeance," of fifty-two guns. She succeeded in reaching Curacoa in a sinking condition.

When the news of the fight reached home, Congress gave Truxton a medal and a sword, and prize money to the officers and crew.

For little Jarvis, the midshipman, who preferred to die at his post, Congress pa.s.sed a special resolution, which read:

"_Resolved_, That the conduct of James Jarvis, a midshipman in said frigate, who gloriously preferred certain death to an abandonment of his post, is deserving of the highest praise, and that the loss of so promising an officer is a subject of national regret."

History does not show an instance of n.o.bler self-sacrifice, and no such honor as this special act of Congress was received by a boy before or since.

CUSHING AND THE "ALBEMARLE"

Although the Civil War furnished many instances of conspicuous gallantry, so many that most of them remain to-day comparatively unknown, none was more notable than the torpedo exploit of Lieutenant William Barker Cushing. There have been several similar expeditions in our naval history. Before Tripoli, Richard Somers made the ill-fated attempt with the "Intrepid," and in the war with Spain, Richmond Hobson sunk the "Merrimac." There is no question that the personal and sentimental aspects of these three hazardous enterprises are similar. All three men were young, and each one knew that he took his life in his hands. Somers, rather than be captured with his powder, destroyed both his ship and himself. Hobson sunk the "Merrimac," but did not succeed in getting her athwart the channel. Cushing, in a torpedo-launch, went under the guns of the enemy, and escaped both death and imprisonment. On the enemy the moral effect of all three exploits must have been the same. Professionally, Cushing's exploit has just this distinction: he was successful. Like Decatur in the recapture of the "Philadelphia," he carried out in every detail the plans he had made. And upon his success the way was opened for the Union fleet, and the hopes of the Confederates fled, for only two seaports in the South--Charleston and Wilmington--remained open to them.

After the great success of the "Merrimac" in Hampton Roads, the Confederates determined to construct a vessel of similar design for use in the Southern rivers and sounds. Under great difficulties they built the "Albemarle" on the Roanoke River, and carried her into action almost before the last rivet was driven. She was a formidable craft in those days, and the shots from the vessels of the Northern fleet went harmlessly against her iron sides to break and fly into a thousand pieces. On the 5th of May the "Albemarle" had another fight with a larger fleet of Union vessels, which had gathered to hem in and disable her. During the action the "Sa.s.sacus" saw an opportunity to ram her, and, going ahead at full speed, struck the ram a terrific blow amidships. The bow of the "Sa.s.sacus"

was literally torn to pieces by the impact, and the "Albemarle," though heeling over and in danger of sinking for a time, finally righted and pulled out of the action uninjured, but by no means disabled. All of the vessels of the squadron kept up a heavy fire upon her, but she went on to her anchorage up the river, where a few repairs made her as good as ever.

It looked to the Unionists as though the story of the "Merrimac" with the "Congress" and the "c.u.mberland" was about to be repeated; that the "Albemarle" in course of time would come down at her leisure and destroy all Northern vessels in those waters. To make matters worse, the Unionists learned that another vessel of a similar type was nearly completed, and that the two vessels would attack at the same time,--a combination which, with their consorts, seemed irresistible. Something had to be done if the command of the sounds of the Carolinas was to remain with the navy of the North.

But during the summer of 1864 two steam launches rigged up as torpedo-boats, the invention of Engineer J. L. Long, were fitted out at New York and brought down through the ca.n.a.ls to Albemarle Sound. The bows of the boats were cut under and decked over, and the engines were so built that when covered and moving at a low rate of speed they made little or no noise. A spar ten or fifteen feet long, which carried a torpedo and a firing attachment, projected forward over the bow, and a small howitzer was also mounted forward where it would be useful to repel attack.

The government had decided to make a night attempt on the "Albemarle,"

and the honor of the command of the expedition was bestowed on Lieutenant Cushing, who had half a dozen times before received the thanks of the secretary of the navy for gallantry in action off Cape Fear River.

The expedition was favored by the inactivity of the Confederates. The "Albemarle" lay alongside the dock at Plymouth awaiting the completion of her sister-ship, but this needless delay gave Cushing the opportunity he wanted.

The Confederates were fully aware of the plans of the Unionist's navy, and a thousand soldiers remained to guard the "Albemarle" from land attack as well as to act as sentries for a distance along the river bank. To provide against torpedoes, a line of great cypress logs was boomed off her sides at a distance of twenty to thirty feet, so that it seemed impossible to come within striking distance. Besides this, the smaller guns of the ram were trained up and down the river,--which here was but one hundred and fifty yards wide,--to sweep the entire area over which the attacking party had to pa.s.s.

But Cushing, like Decatur, rejoiced at obstacles. He was only twenty-one, but he carried a man's head on his broad shoulders, and the planning of such an expedition down to the smallest detail was a task which he entered into with judgment and enthusiasm, ingredients as rare as they are necessary in such a desperate enterprise.

After a week spent in preparation and experiment, the gunboat "Otsego"

brought the launch to the mouth of the river, where Cushing cast off and pointed his bow toward Plymouth, towing a cutter full of armed men, who were to capture, if possible, a Confederate guard,--which had been set in a schooner near the sunken "Southfield,"--to prevent their giving the alarm. But the expedition started badly, for the launch ran aground on a bar. Before Cushing could float her again it was too late to make the attempt. Cushing and his boat's crews then returned to the "Otsego."

The next night was black and squally, with occasional showers of rain.

They could only make out the loom of the sh.o.r.e by straining their eyes into the darkness. Cushing was as cool as though taking sh.o.r.e-liberty. As he shook hands with the "Otsego's" officers he paused at the gangway to say, with a laugh,--

"Well, here goes for another stripe or a coffin."

They crept slowly up the river, keeping close to the bank, under the shadow of the reeds and trees. The little engine, covered with tarpaulins, made so little sound that the men in the cutter towing astern could hardly hear it. There was not a sound except the plashing of the gusts of rain and the ripple of the water as the little craft moved steadily on. Cushing knew he must be pa.s.sing some of the pickets now, so not a word even in whispers was spoken. Every man had his duty and knew when to do it. Acting Ensign William Howarth was aft at Cushing's side. Acting Master's Mate John Woodman, who knew the river, was next to him. The other officers were Acting Master's Mate Thomas S. Gay, Acting a.s.sistant-Paymaster Francis H.

Swan, and Acting Third-a.s.sistant-Engineers Charles L. Steever and William Stotesbury.

By half-past two A.M., about a mile below Plymouth, where the "Albemarle"

lay, they came upon the submerged "Southfield," and could just make out the lines of the guard-schooner. The machinery of the launch was slowed, almost stopped, for Cushing had decided to get by her if he could without a fight. It was a moment of utmost anxiety, and every man was prepared for the attack. But there was no sign of discovery from the schooners, and in ten minutes the little expedition had pa.s.sed up the river in safety.

But only the first danger of discovery was over. Between the "Southfield"

and Plymouth the bank was guarded by a double line of sentries, and the men in the boats, now moving more quickly, could see the red glare of the smouldering fires reaching all the way to town. As they came to the point beyond which the ram was lying, they found, to their delight, that the fires which should have been brightly burning were smouldering in the rain. There was no sign of a man to be made out anywhere, and Cushing pushed on directly for the "Albemarle," which he could now see plainly as she lay at the wharf, grim and menacing, but without a sign of life.

Suddenly from the sh.o.r.e there came the sharp bark of a dog. To the ears of Cushing and his men in the deep silence and anxiety of the moment it sounded like the report of a Dahlgren. There was a cry from a sentry and a challenge, followed by a musket-shot, and the bullet flew over the boats and struck the water fifty feet away with a vicious _ping_ that sounded not less loud than the report itself. There was another challenge, and in a moment the cries came from everywhere. Other dogs began barking, and it seemed as though the whole town was aroused. The sentries on both sides of the stream threw inflammable material on the smouldering fires, and in a moment the river was as bright as day.

Realizing that further concealment was useless, Cushing himself cast off the towline of the cutter, and telling the men in her to row for their lives, gave the engineer the order, "Four bells, ahead full speed,"

setting the nose of the launch directly for the ram. The sparks flew up from her stack, and the dark water churned up in ma.s.ses of foam under her stern, as like a sentient thing she leaped forward on her deadly mission.

It was then that Cushing discovered for the first time the line of torpedo booms which guarded the ram. In facing the musketry-fire and the great guns of their enormous adversary the task of getting close enough to reach her seemed impossible.

Cushing knew that if he was to get over the log booms he must strike them fair; then perhaps he could slide over within striking distance. He shifted his helm, and making a wide sweep out into the stream, gathered all the headway he could and came down into the very jaws of the great monster. A tremendous volley from the shot-guns and muskets of the sentries greeted them, and Paymaster Swan was wounded. Cushing received a charge of buckshot in the back of his coat and had the sole of his shoe torn off, but these were the only shots which took effect.

Cushing here shouted, in a loud voice, "Leave the ram; we're going to blow you up!" hoping to create a panic. But the Confederates continued firing, and succeeded in getting in two howitzer-shots, one of which felled a man by Cushing's side. At this moment, Gay, up forward in the launch, took careful aim with the howitzer, and sent a charge in the midst of the Confederate crew. Then with a slight jar the sled-like bow rose on the boom. She balanced a second, and slid over within the enclosure, half full of water, but within reaching distance.

One of the great guns of the "Albemarle," a hundred-pounder, protruded from a broadside port directly in front of them, and they could see the gun-crew frantically training the gun and trying to depress the muzzle enough to bear on them. It was a matter of seconds now. Who would fire first? Cushing had lowered the torpedo-spar, and as soon as he had it well under the overhang he detached it, then waited until he heard the torpedo strike the hull, when he pulled the trigger-line. He was not a fraction of a second too soon, for the two concussions were almost simultaneous.

There was a m.u.f.fled roar from below the great vessel, and a column of water shot out from under her as she lifted on the wave. The shock of the hundred-pounder was terrific, and it seemed as if the frail launch had been blown to pieces. But Cushing had been too quick for them. The charge of canister pa.s.sed a few feet over their heads and scattered in the river beyond.

The work of the gallant crew was done. Cushing had made a hole in the "Albemarle" large enough to have driven a wagon through. The great wave of the torpedo rose and went completely over the launch, swamping her alongside and throwing her men into the water. All of them got to the booms safely. Here Cushing paused a moment to throw off his outer clothing, while the Confederates on the banks were shouting to the men to surrender. Several of them, being unable to swim, did so; but Cushing, calling to the others to follow him, plunged boldly into the water and struck off down the stream. He was a powerful swimmer, but the night was cold, and he knew that he could not keep up very long. But he swam for half an hour, and he came upon Woodman in the middle of the stream, almost exhausted. Though almost entirely f.a.gged out himself, he tried to help the mate towards the sh.o.r.e. Finding that he was being pulled down and unable to save the other, Cushing struggled on, and reached the shoal water more dead than alive. Here he lay among the reeds until dawn, when he learned from a negro how complete had been his success. At last, after almost twenty-four hours' exposure, he succeeded in finding one of the enemy's deserted picket-skiffs, and managed under cover of the second night to pull off to the Federal "Valley City," which he reached at eleven o'clock at night, and was hauled aboard completely exhausted from his labor and exposure. Only one other of his crew reached a place of safety. Woodman and Samuel Higgins, the fireman, were drowned. The others went ash.o.r.e and surrendered or were captured.

This service, because of the great benefit to the Union cause and the daring manner in which it had been performed, made Cushing the hero of the year. Congress pa.s.sed a vote of thanks and promoted him to the rank of lieutenant-commander, which he held until 1872, when he became a commander.

He did not long enjoy his honors, for two years later he died of brain fever, in Washington, at the age of thirty-two. Had he lived he would have been but fifty-six years of age at the outbreak of the war with Spain, and would have been one of the ranking officers in active service of the new navy.

SOMERS AND THE "INTREPID"

Among the young officers of Commodore Preble's squadron before Tripoli there was a tall, dark, melancholy-looking fellow of about twenty-five.

His name was Richard Somers and his command was the "Nautilus," a little schooner of twelve guns and a hundred men. He had been with Decatur and Stewart, a junior officer on Commodore Barry's "United States" in the war with Spain, and the friendship formed in those early days had been cemented by a score of thrilling adventures which had drawn them more closely together than brothers. Charles Stewart, before Decatur's promotion to post-captain, had been the second in command to Preble, and his vessel, the "Siren," had taken a prominent part in all the many actions with the Tripolitan forts and gunboats. He was a year or so older than his companions and had drifted a little away from them. But Decatur and Somers were inseparable. Some bond outside of mere professional sympathy and environment existed between them, and there seemed to be no thought of the one that the other did not share. The difference in their temperaments was marked. Decatur was bold, domineering, and impetuous.

Somers was quiet, mild, and ever avoided the quarrel which Decatur too often sought. But under the quiet exterior men had found a will like iron and the willingness to dare and do anything that came within the province of his profession. He was thoughtful, but not so quiet that he could not enter into the gayety of the mess; he was mild, but not so mild that he would overlook shortcomings among his men or brook any slight upon his office or his reputation.