EDITORIAL

When compared to the number of deaths in the Union Army, the total war deaths, through all causes, in the Union Navy stand at a little over 4,500. This may seem as a very insignificant number, however, the fact remains that every one of these persons was an individual who had a family back home, mourning their loss. Parents would have lost their sons, wives their husbands and children their fathers. The exact number of deaths in the Confederate Navy is unknown but sentiments on the home front would have been the same. No war can be called glorious and it is a pity that we cannot always resolve our differences through peaceful means. As long as we exist on this planet there will never be complete and everlasting peace. We will continue to enforce our point of view through militaristic means. We can always hope that we will learn to strive for a better future through our commemoration of the events of the past. One can only hope that our commemoration and research of past history may help us to prevent, or at least reduce the number of deaths in war. Editor

MUDFLAT SHIPS - by Darrell Middleton

More than a few years ago when children were tolerated under the maxim that they should be seen and not heard, I recall seeing a wooden hulk drawn up on a mud flat beside a well traveled local road. I wondered what it was, and why the owners just ‘parked’ it there and left it to settle into the mud, an eyesore even along that not so beautiful stretch of highway.

Many years later the area had built up and the town fathers finally had the derelict removed along with another one in a small river near us. I never did ask, and never was told, what that ship was. No one was interested in where it was built, by whom, and what faraway places it had visited. A cargo of lumber from the southland to New York? Hides from San Francisco around the Horn? Silks or spices from the East?

A moldering hulk on a tidal river mudflat or a doorway to all the adventures of the mind a boy could wish for and no one knew or cared. If one could only roll back the years, the black mud would turn to crystal blue water, the twisted hull would straighten and masts and canvas sails would be driving her through tropical seas with flying fish leaping out of the water alongside and dolphins playing about her bow. Such were the visions that floated through a kid’s head while being taken to Philadelphia to get a pair of shoes when everyone knew you didn’t need shoes till school started anyway.

The hulk on the mudflat was a sometime scene from my childhood that came alive recently. During the Civil War the Sassacus class gunboats, numbering twenty eight, had been born in the mind of an engineering genius by the name of Benjamin Franklin Isherwood. They were double ended wooden ships about thirty five feet wide, exclusive of paddlewheels, and drew nine feet of water. They had a rudder at both ends, a pilot house at each end of the hurricane deck, and they could steam in either direction equally well. A feat that was utilized more than once when mechanical problems or incidents of warfare required.

Only one of them never saw service, but the rest did and some distinguished themselves in the annals of naval history during the blockade which was denigrated by Rebels and Englishmen; but, which removed the capability of the South to continue the rebellion.

When Lee surrendered and the beginning of the end became reality, the Union no longer had use for most of the gunships and they were soon retired and disposed of. Auctions were held at various locations. The Sassacus class ships were sold off for a fraction of their value. Three were sold at auction at Philadelphia to a shipbuilder named John Roach.

There is a book entitled “John Roach, Maritime Entrepreneur” that documents the life of a man who was remarkable because he was a visible link between the cold blast charcoal furnaces of colonial America and the industrial age of the Civil War. John Roach owned many enterprises centered around the shipbuilding yard at Chester, Pennsylvania. He owned furnaces, smelters, rolling mills and all of the equipment and facilities to translate raw materials into the finest of iron ships. The Dictionary of American Naval Fighting Ships says that at the time Roach bought the surplus gunships he was engaged in an active expansion and “it is reasonable to believe that the ships were scrapped for their materials”.

We do not know whether Roach used the engine of the Sassacus for scrap metal or whether he installed it into a new hull. Isherwood, a steam engineer, designed the engines so that they could be operated by untrained naval personnel and it was much heavier and durable than needed. There must therefore have been many years of life left in that single cylinder simple engine. If Roach did use the metal in his manufacturing operations and had it rolled into plates, or cast into engine parts for a new iron ship, it is possible that the Sassacus, like the Phoenix rose from it’s own ashes and found new life.

The hull though, was something else. A wooden hull was not salvageable. They were generally used as coal barges or work platforms and after they had outlived even that menial existence they would have been abandoned probably on some tidal mudflat. Which brings us to an interesting question. Where do the bones of the Sassacus rest?

The Salem nuclear power facility on the New Jersey side of the Delaware river was constructed on an artificial island called logically enough, Artificial island. It was built up of sludge and spoils from the channel of the Delaware river and the initial use of that location for a spoils bank was begun between 1900 and 1904. Sometime about 1909 the dredge that was employed there required protection from the storms which might have forced it up on it’s own spoils bank. Wooden hulks were towed up from the Potomac river and sunk downstream of Artificial island to create a cove of a sort. Supposedly those wooden hulks were old ships from World War I. The time slot does not agree, nor does the appearance of double ended wooden hulks, that appear to have been paddlewheelers from which the housing and wheels have long since been stripped either by nature or by man. While we now believe that the information about them being towed up from the Potomac river is most likely correct, before we came across that information we thought there was a very good possibility that the hulks were the remains of Civil War ships from John Roach’s operation about fifteen miles upstream at Chester.

With that in mind, we made a pilgrimage with tape measure in hand from our home in Delaware to see if the timbers of the one ship closest to shore matched the dimensions of the Sassacus class gunships. In length it does, and the general configuration matches but alas, the beam is wider than the beam of the Sassacus. The other hulks still in place offshore could not be measured.

And so a fine theory was investigated and for the most part discarded; but, from it we profited by a good field trip and a day’s vacation with an added purpose. We admired, after the lapse of well over one hundred years, the joinery and craftsmanship of shipbuilders who turned timber into ships and we reaffirmed our admiration for the skills of a craft long since gone.

As for the Sassacus. We don’t know what ever finally happened to her hull. There are probably timbers still submerged somewhere along the Delaware that will survive for at least another hundred years. A not unlikely scenario since even the remains of Benjamin Franklin’s Chevaux-de-Frise complete with iron chains were recovered from that same river not so long ago.

(81997 Darrell Middleton) (Darrell Middleton’s grandfather served aboard the Sassacus during the Fort Fisher campaigns in the winter of 1864-65. Darrell resides at Georgetown, Delaware and is editor of his local Civil War research group’s newsletter, the Torbert Camp Journal. This article will also appear in a future issue of the Torbert Camp Journal.)

A long low hull, with raking masts and smoke stack, lay below the smoke full in sight. Swiftly, like a hawk on its prey, the Sassacus sped toward her. Scarcely six miles away, clearly visible as she was to us, almost, indeed, within range of our guns, yet she tried to escape. Too close, however, in shore, under which her pilot had attempted to crawl along in the dusk past the innermost blockaders, she struck, and even then the utmost efforts were quickly made to save her. A kedge was led out from her quarter, bales on bales of goods were thrown overboard with almost incredible rapidity, but they had miscalculated our speed and draught. Ere more than the first effort could be made we were within range, and a shot whistled over their heads. Helter-skelter ran everyone for the boats, and leaving everything as it stood, with the engines still moving,they fled precipitately. A narrow creek led inland, and with all despatch they pulled up into it and disappeared. One or two shots from a rifled howitzer were fired ahead of the flying boats; but no heed was given, and so short was the time ere a bend in the creek had hidden them from view, that a more effective and telling reminder could not be sent. The surf dashed against her sides, and at times completely washed her decks. Clouds of smoke and steam poured from her, mingling with the spray. It seemed certain that the rebels must have set her on fire, great as was their haste. Quick were the willing hands that lowered our boats almost before the anchor touched the bottom, but it was a perilous task to attempt through such a line of surf to pull boats never built or intended for the work. The wind was blowing freshly, and every moment seemed to increase the swell and break of the waves around and over the stranded ship. Nor was this all. Even were the ship itself not on fire, we knew full well that every inflammable substance had been thrown under her boilers to increase her steam and the clouds arising from her looked ominous. Every moment increased the probability of her blowing up, especially as the blockade runners have an unpleasant habit of fastening down the safety-valves and putting on the blowers at the moment of abandoning the ship. Every instant was precious, and without a moment’s hesitation at the danger of She was in a most filthy condition. Paint had long since given place to whitewash, and whitewash to the effects of wind and rain. Heavy cases of goods from firms in New York, and of shoes marked as from Lynn, Massachusetts, were laying about the deck, or lifted half upon the rail in the attempt so hurriedly made to lighten the ship. In the hold bales of dry goods were still swinging from the whips, while in the cabin all sorts of articles of toilette or apparel, hastily emptied trunks and valises, bottles and glasses, were strewn about the floor. Her logbook showed her to be the Wild Dayrell, of whose speed and successful trips to the Confederacy the public had often heard. She was three days out of Nassau, and several times before had been chased by our cruisers, but had proved too fast for them. Her lading was merchandise of every description - bushels of oranges and barrels of liquor. The kedge before spoken of as led out from her quarter, was found to have had a strong but light cable attached, and led to the shaft, around which the motion of the engine had tightly wound it. All danger from fire or steam disposed of, attention was turned to continuing the laudable exertions of her former occupants. The tide seemed unfortunately to be falling, for though the surf was still as heavy, yet bare hillocks of sand began to appear in dangerous proximity to the Sassacus herself. To get ashore would have been almost to ensure destruction, for every one knew that in twenty-four hours the rebels would have soldiers or a battery down upon the beach; and while they might at first prove little more than an annoyance, proper exertions for getting again afloat would be seriously interfered with. Prudently therefore, the Sassacus retired a little further from the shoals, and again anchored to await the return tide. Meantime a strong hawser was made ready, and men set to the task of lightening the prize, beginning with the coal, which almost filled her bunkers. Most unfortunately, as is well known, a strong penchant exists in a Jack Tar for whisky, and, as is also pretty generally known, he usually manages to get it by hook or crook if ever placed in its vicinity; the utmost vigilance, moreover, is hardly ever able to avert such an issue. There was no exception in this case. The most trusty men were sent below to stave in every barrel, jug, and jar of intoxicating liquor, and guards were stationed over them; but the men seemed to get drunk from the fumes, and as the guards were also soon drunk, it is fair to suppose they were drunk from sympathy. The coal came up slowly. Those who hauled on the end of the rope somehow always worked under the lee of a bulkhead or wheelhouse, and there seemed a tendency of the whole line toward the same point, so that the aftermost man gave place at almost every second pull, and came up to the head of the line. In fact, the strong smell of whisky soon began to direct unmistakeable suspicion toward the vicinity, and, in a word, so many men were getting under the influence of liquor that the officers were obliged to get them into the boats and abandon work. With the rise of the tide another boat put off from the Sassacus with a hawser. It was safely carried through the breakers and made fast to the bow of the prize.

Meantime, as might have been expected, one of the return boats with her hilarious crew, in attempting to pass the surf, was nearly capsized and grounded, tumbling about half a dozen men overboard. This cold bath was most beneficial; they were so far sobered as very sensibly to stay overboard and lay hold of the boat and haul it into deeper water. When all was ready on the ships, and the tide nearly at its height, both engines were started, the hawser tautened, the prize yielded slowly, very slowly - stopped again, then stuck fast - one long, strong pull and snap! - the cable parted in the hawse-hole. The transfer of a cable under such circumstances is no easy matter, nor is it one of a few moments, and ere another could be made ready, the tide was falling. Nothing could therefore be done save to wait another tide, and meantime renewed efforts were made to get the coal out. After the precaution taken to destroy all liquors, the work was expected to proceed more successfully. The wind increased in freshness as dusk began to close around, and it required considerable nerve to look calmly upon the shoals so near us and hear the sullen roar, beating as they were upon an enemy’s coast. Yet everything was kept in readiness for getting underweigh if the wind should increase too dangerously. All boats were recalled, and no one remained upon the prize. The work on board of her had proceeded more successfully than before, and nearly all the coal had been thrown overboard. About midnight the hawser was again tautened, and though only the stars furnished their feeble light, the Sassacus was tasked to the utmost to haul the ship from the strand. Again the hawser broke and the effort was given up. Lights now appeared on the shore, and back among the trees several could be seen moving hither and thither. Morning would probably bring the rebels upon us, and it was almost regretted that the steamer had not been at once destroyed. Morning brought no change, however, save that the Wild Dayrell was two hundred feet further on the beach. As the weather was clear and beautiful, and no special necessity apparent for leaving, a third trial was resolved upon. In accordance with this determination, boats and crews were made ready as before, when another actor appeared in the drama. A sail was made out approaching from the direction of the Wilmington fleet. It proved to be the Florida man-of-war. She came up and anchored. Assistance was volunteered, and almost at the same moment four boats loaded with men and officers put off from her for the prize. The men from the Sassacus were already hard at work hoisting coal, tumbling heavy barrels, &c., over the side, guards being as before stationed over all goods of value, the cabin, and its stores. Without any ceremony, or so much as “by your leave,” all orders were broken down, and like freebooters the new comers began lightening ship in a very different manner from the first design. Had the commander of the stranger not made his appearance on the scene at this moment, blood would have followed. Fighting is too nearly allied to displeasure in a sailor’s mind to allow much of an interval between a word and a blow, and even the presence of the commanding officer hardly restored order. He, being senior to the captain of the Sassacus, gave orders to desist from work, as it was now apparent, upon sounding about her, that she never would float again. Orders were also added to save whatever provisions were needed by the crews of either vessel, but to take provisions only. In about two hours goods apparently most bulky had entirely melted away. However comprehensive the word “provisions” may be, the large proportion of articles which thus disappeared could hardly be included. It was most fortunate that not a demijohn of liquor remained after the destruction of the morning, or authority, and even force, would have been of no avail to control so many. As it was, however, all went along pretty smoothly for nearly half an hour, till suddenly the sharp crack of rifles, and the whiz of a score of bullets overhead, hurried everybody in preparation for the destruction. The blue lights and matches were this time more effectually piled together, and every part of the ship insured for complete and simultaneous combustion. Then came the gauntlet of a quarter of a mile along the beach, from which the firing was now pretty constant. The wind was blowing directly on shore, and as nothing but muskets had yet been fired on us, the sound seemed not to have reached the Sassacus. The bullets whistled overhead, into the boat’s sides, among the oars, and through hats and coats, but not a man had yet fallen. Sturdily the men lay to the oars till the boat fairly flew. It seemed utterly impossible to reach the ship without the loss of many men, and in spite of the peril of the situation, we could not but feel a sort of contempt for such poor marksmen. But now they have seen from the ship the little curls of smoke out of the bushes, and an admonition to the rebels to retire is hurled from the hurricane deck - one, two, three howitzer shells burst over or in the infested shelter, and now not a marksman can be seen along the shore. The curling tongues of flame that now shot out from the decks of the Wild Dayrell showed that the torch had been faithfully applied; clouds of lurid smoke poured from the hold, and enveloped the whole of her light masts, sails, and rigging. To insure complete ruin of her engines, and to preclude the remote possibility of her ever serving again either her owners or the rebels, both the Sassacus and Florida took position, and shot after shot was fired through the iron hull. Bursting shells soon tore immense holes in bows and stern, or threw masses of shattered deck and cargo high into the air. In three hours the anticipated prize lay upon the beach a complete wreck.
(This article was copied from the Toowoomba Chronicle and Queensland Advertiser of Thursday, May 11, 1865, having itself been copied from the American publication Harper’s New Monthly Magazine, date unknown. A copy of the transcribed deck-log of the Sassacus, courtesy of Darrell Middleton, shows that the incidents described in the article occurred between February 1 and 3, 1864.)

In the annals of naval history are many episodes of heroic actions performed by individual sailors. The ultimate action of a hero would be to give his life to save his fellowman. One such act occurred on July 10, 1864, 35 miles off the coast of Delaware.

The Confederate cruiser Florida, Lieutenant Charles M. Morris commanding, had been operating off the eastern coast of the U.S. in early July, 1864, capturing and destroying American owned merchant vessels. On the evening of July 10, she had just captured the Electric Spark, of Philadelphia, bound for New Orleans with the U.S. mail and other assorted cargo. Boarders had been sent to the captured vessel and after a prize crew was left on board, the rest of the boarders were returning to the Florida in the second cutter, when they were swamped by a wave, toppling it and sending its occupants into the sea.

The moment it was known on the Florida that the cutter was in danger, a boat was sent to her assistance. Everyone was found safe, clinging to the overturned cutter, with the exception of Virginian born Midshipman William B. Sinclair. This well-liked young officer had given up an oar he was clinging on to, to another man who could not swim. On arriving in the vicinity the rescue vessel was unable to locate Sinclair and it was presumed he had exhausted himself in attempting to stay afloat, or had been taken by a shark.

Lieutenant Morris, in a despatch sent to Secretary of the Navy, Mallory, described Sinclair as a most promising young officer, and esteemed and beloved by officers and crew. He also mentioned that Sinclair’s death had cast a deep gloom over everyone on the ship. On November 17, 1864, a General Order was issued by Secretary Mallory, at Richmond, announcing the death of Midshipman Sinclair with the added notation: On this, as on many previous occasions, this young officer displayed that courage, coolness, and conscientious devotion to duty and to right which ever marked his brief career. A day later, Captain Sidney Smith Lee, Chief of the Office of Orders and Detail in Richmond issued an order to all commanding officers of squadrons and the school ship Patrick Henry for Mallory’s General Order to be read on board each vessel of their respective commands and for the ensign and jack to be placed at half-mast during the ceremony.

(Details of the preceding article were obtained from the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies in the War of the Rebellion, Series 1, Volume 3, page 622; Volume 16, page 462; and Series II, Volume 2, page 712; as well as the publication Register of Officers of the Confederate States Navy, 1861-1865.)