by Jim Musgrave
September 6, 1861, Green Point, Brooklyn
A visit from John Ericsson's military courier came into the Navy Department in Washington D. C. at 0800, and by 1000, the new orders for Lieutenant Samuel Dana Greene were cut and on their way by courier to the Brooklyn Officers' Transient Barracks. Although the officer was only 21 years of age, Ericsson successfully argued to get the young Greene listed as the Executive Officer aboard his new ship, the U.S.S. Monitor. Ericsson pointed out the fact that he had personally interviewed the young lieutenant and found him quite bright and eager to learn, and he also mentioned that Greene was from an engineering family and also an Academy graduate. This last point went over very well with the career officers on the Union's Naval Personnel Board. In addition, Greene was to be assigned temporary duty at Ericsson's residence in order to work with the inventor during the construction of the lieutenant's new ship.
The shipyard at Green Point on Palyers Street was a busy place when John Ericsson and Lieutenant Dana Greene entered the main gate in their one-horse surrey. A platoon of Marines was drilling inside the wide compound area, and their shouts of "On your left, two, three, four!" split the early morning air with militant precision.
As Greene drove the surrey up to the main administration building, Ericsson spotted his lead draftsman, Charles McCord, who was sitting on the front steps of the building whittling on a branch from a nearby oak tree. Charles was always doing something with his hands, and Ericsson appreciated his hard work. This task would test all of their willpower, as the pressure to build this ship within the government's deadline of 100 days would create a tension amongst these workers that one could slice with a knife.
"Hello, Charles! Where are the workers we were supposed to get? I don't see much commotion around here except those Marines." John stepped down from the surrey cabin, and shook his friend's hand.
"Hell, John, you know the Civil Service. We'll be lucky to get them out here this week. Don't worry; we need to do some rigorous planning before we put those ship fitters and laborers to work. Remember how long it took us to prepare for that Princeton job." Charles glanced over at the young lieutenant. "Who did you bring along? Is the Navy recruiting out of the secondary schools already?"
Greene smiled, but he did not shake the older man's hand until it was extended in good humor. "Name's Greene. Lieutenant Samuel Dana Greene. Captain Ericsson has chosen me to be second in command of his new ship."
"That so?" Charles cocked his head at Ericsson. "I suppose if John here checked you out, then you must be wise beyond your years. Nevertheless, I can still see the wetness behind those big ears. Hey, why don't I write that down? It's a rhyme! It can be our first song for the workers to sing."
"Charles, let the boy be. He'll get enough hazing from the old salts we'll get to crew the Monitor. We've got a lot of work to do before they show up, so let's get going!"
* * *
At the top of a green hill overlooking the Continental Ship Yard, with the wide expanse of the East River as a backdrop, Walter stood with his spyglass looking down into the compound. He was watching the men inside the shipyard with a great deal of interest. He was also memorizing every object and daily routine going on inside this complex, as it would be his hunting grounds during the coming weeks. He knew he had to wait for the ship to be built, as those were his orders. Then, he was to kill Captain John Ericsson and capture the architectural plans for the U.S.S. Monitor. The Confederacy was paying a big fee for those plans, but the inventor must be dead as part of the bargain. And, with the aid of his British compatriot, Robert Whitehead, he would also be sinking this infernal craft before it could be put to sea on its maiden voyage.
Wind was causing whitecaps to form on the ocean waves, and Walter pulled up his collar. Off in the distance, he could hear a foghorn. At sea, Walter felt more comfortable, as the people on land always seemed to him to be caught up in a game of personal attack and one-upmanship. Life at sea was a competition with Nature, yes, but men soon learned to cooperate rather than to attack each other. These colonies had insisted upon their fanatical idea of individual rights for all men, and now they were paying the price. The Negroid race was expecting the same rights as free white men, and brother was now turning against brother. What did they expect?
There could be no freedom aboard a ship. A captain was the ruler aboard his vessel, and all who obeyed orders learned they would survive. These bloody Americans had not learned that lesson. In a strange way, he felt sorry for them. They seemed to be invigorated from this civil war. He imagined they would all be arguing and fighting it again down through the years. Americans were such contentious brutes.
Walter took the glass down from his eye and closed the fuselage. Would they talk about him in their history books? Probably not. As the magnifying glass of the public media came closer, it would turn away, because the candid face of Walter Sinclair would be too much to bear. I am the face of their past had they learned to follow orders. I am the civilized order they forsook for their bloody revolution. Let them choke on their own destiny!
Chapter Twelve: Indoctrination Begins
September 7, 1861, Green Point, Brooklyn
John Ericsson and his new executive officer were inside the Continental Ship Yard's Drafting Office. The workers were reporting in one hour to begin construction, and the blueprints for the ship's keel were laid out neatly on the top of the large table in the center of the room. John knew it was time to begin his indoctrination of the young Greene, and so he decided to start with a story. Young men, throughout history, had been fascinated by stories of scientific discovery, and the elder Ericsson believed it would also be true in his experiment with the mind of the young lieutenant.
"Mister Greene, are you familiar with the text of the British scientist, Charles Darwin? It was published in 1859, and he has called it The Origin of the Species." John watched the young man carefully. He wanted to be certain the responses he received were positive before he continued with his story. When he noted that the young man vigorously nodded his head, John became immediately invigorated.
"Why, yes. In fact, I read it while I was home on leave. Father and I had a rousing good discussion about its implications. Do you believe his hypothesis about mankind's evolution from lower mammal forms such as apes? It seems his ideas about natural selection seem to hold up under closer scrutiny." Greene moved his chair closer to Ericsson's, and both men momentarily ignored the ship's building plans. Charles McCord, lead draftsman, was out setting-up the labor routine for the newly arriving workers from the city.
"Quite right you are! In fact, I am convinced that his theories explain the entire evolution of life on this planet. His ideas have directly contradicted the creation myths of the Bible and other mystical texts of superstition." John was warming to his subject, and he could tell by the gleam in the young man's eyes that Greene was becoming charged with a common emotion. Mister Greene was, indeed, a fellow scientist.
John would extend his argument to one more level. "In point of fact, I am in daily correspondence with geologists and biologists from Britain who are exploring lands in India, Africa, South America and Australia. They have been telling me about their findings, and one gentleman, Doctor Ernest Heinrich Haekel, has come up with a theory of his own. Philip Scalter, a biologist, has agreed with Haekel's findings, and they are to publish a text of their own."
Lieutenant Greene was clearly anxious to learn more. "What did they discover, Captain?" he asked, positively beaming with curiosity.
"Haekel discovered the existence of a unique form of prosimian, or pre-monkey, which has existed long before the ape and monkey species. The strange discovery he made was that these Lemur creatures were found in Africa, India, Madagascar, and on the Malaya Peninsula. In addition, Scalter has discovered the identical fossilized remains of plants, prehistoric animals and other life forms on the continents of India, Africa, South America and Australia. The question these men asked was, how did these same species appear on these lan
d forms separated by thousands of miles of open sea?"
"How fascinating! What did they conclude?" Greene was leaning toward his mentor in eager anticipation.
"Well, I suppose a biblical scholar might say they were part of the original creation, when God placed all creatures on earth at the same moment. However, as we know through scientific dating processes and evolutionary theory brought out in Darwin's book, the earth has gone through many stages, with innumerable creatures evolving and disappearing in the course of a variety of natural phenomena such as floods, ice ages and earth quakes. These men concluded that there was once a landmass, which connected the separate continents. This would explain the Lemur problem. This landmass, they say, sank beneath the sea at some point in time, probably over 250 million years past, and left the same species on each of these four continents. In fact, Scalter has named this ancient between-land Lemuria, in honor of the species of prosimian."
"This must be quite a breakthrough! Tell me more," said Greene.
"Not only did they name this land, but they have discovered a small part of the original land mass that they have called 'Easter Island,' in honor of the day the Lord rose from the dead. This island was the minuscule piece that rose from the sea to give us a connection with a lost civilization!"
"Has anybody ever visited this land?" asked Greene, noticeably interested.
"This is where it gets really interesting! The men who have visited Easter Island have brought back incredible tales. They say the inhabitants worship gigantic beings, and they have created huge, carved stone statues to memorialize them. In addition, they are said to be the happiest humans these visitors have ever set eyes upon. They have no prurient tastes, as the females wear no clothes over their top parts, and the men have the slightest palm fronts covering their privates below. They are kind and considerate souls who have never been observed to argue or fight, and this makes me believe they are most likely descendants of the tribes of the connecting land of Lemuria back when it joined the great continents many thousands of years before."
"They do indeed sound like remarkable humans!" Greene exclaimed, his eyes large with wonder. "They sound like the beings that Walt Whitman writes about in his poetry. Wait! I have a book of his writings in my coat. Let me get it to read to you what I mean." The young lieutenant, giddy with exuberance, darted over to his coat hanging on the rack in the corner and brought back a small book. He opened it and turned reverently to a page that had been marked with a slip of paper. "Listen to this. He tells us about the human forms we all share:"
The man's body is sacred and the woman's body is sacred.
No matter who it is, it is sacred—is it the meanest one in the laborers9 gang?
Is it one of the dull-faced immigrants just landed on the wharf?
Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the
well-off, just as much as you,
Each has his or her place in the procession.
(All is a procession; the universe is a procession
with measured and perfect motion.)
Do you know so much yourself that you call the
meanest ignorant?
Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight,
and he or she has no right to a sight?
Do you think matter has cohered together from its
diffuse float, and the soil is on the surface, and
water runs and vegetation sprouts,
For you only, and not for him and her?
Ericsson was pleased. He knew the young lad was ripe for his conditioning. It would take only a few days to prepare him for the plan. "That's certainly a wonderful philosophy you have there, son," he said, patting the young man's knee. "I only wish we could escape this turmoil and join those untainted natives on Easter Island. It would be the ideal territory to live out one's existence in harmonious peace with the woman you love."
"Ah, yes! It does sound magnificent, sir. I am to be wed as soon as this conflict is over. Are you also looking to marry?" Greene asked, making his first inquiry into the older man's personal life.
Ericsson's demeanor became gloomy. "I'm afraid my wife is living in England with her parents. The war has divided us, as it has you and your future bride. We also have the added problem of sparse finances. My Amelia comes from a rather wealthy family, and my coffers have become quite used up these last few years, and this in turn led to her retreat. However, when we finish our construction of the Monitor, we shall be a bit closer to approaching as one. Although, I am afraid it will take much more money to at last bring us together."
The young man looked visibly moved by what Ericsson was telling him. "Don't you fret, sir! I, for one, will work tirelessly to help you build the best craft the United States Navy has ever owned."
"Thanks, Mister Greene. You are quite kind. Now let's go see if Charles has prepared the shop for the workers, shall we?"
The two men walked with a purposeful stride out of the drafting office and into the morning's sunshine. Greene had thoughts of running with his dearest Anna down the warm sands of Easter Island, and they were wearing what Walt Whitman would have called their "natural splendor." John Ericsson was devising another story to lead this military lamb to his fold.
Chapter Thirteen: Torpedo Man
September 8, 1861, Green Point, Brooklyn
Walter Sinclair was sitting inside a booth in the back of Mug's Ale House, waiting for his visitor, and he was thinking about how long it would take to set things in motion. The workers were now organized inside the Continental Ship Yard, and he knew it would be just a matter of days before the construction began on the Monitor. All his plans had to be in place before the launch, and it was his new visitor from Austria who was the vital cog in his machinations.
"Could I fetch you another pint, Mister Ellwood?" the serving wench, Grace, was addressing him. At first, Sinclair failed to respond. He was thinking about what to buy his Penelope as a souvenir of the colonies.
"Why, yes. That would be nice. Grace, what would you suggest a young woman of your age should want in the way of a remembrance to this country? I have been through most of the shops, but I can't for the life of me come up with a good idea." Sinclair thought the girl had striking good looks. Her raven hair hung below her shoulder blades, the way Penelope's did when she let it down, and her sparkling brown eyes measured his with a directness that explained she was a woman of the world.
"How thoughtful of you, Mister Ellwood! Let me think about this for a bit. I'm certain we can come up with the best gift!" The young woman giggled and turned to get another pint. She almost ran into a tall young man in a dark blue suit with a flaming red vest. "Oh! Excuse me, sir," she said. The aristocratic-looking gentleman was about five feet ten inches tall and was smoking a briar pipe; something Sinclair had not seen done since he was in England. He had a bushy head of blond hair, and his confident manner convinced Sinclair that this was indeed his guest.
"Mister Whitehead?" Sinclair stood up.
"Yes, and you're Mister Ellwood, I presume?" said the young man, seating himself on the hard wood chair inside the booth.
Sinclair had been corresponding with the young inventor for over a year. Robert Whitehead was working in Trieste, on the Adriatic coast, and Walter knew all about him and his new inventions, particularly the new device that was the object of their meeting. Whitehead was originally from Lancaster, near Bolton, and he had left England in 1840 to seek his fortune abroad. His was a family of engineers, and the genius of this young man seemed to coalesce on foreign shores, as he managed to make a good living, working initially in a shipyard in Toulon and setting up as a consultant engineer in Milan. He was, however, forever trying to avoid the numerous European wars and, as a result of boundary changes, lost many of his important patents. He moved on to Trieste on the Adriatic coast, again working for a shipyard where he was credited with producing the first screw propeller and cylindrical marine boiler to be built in Austria. However, it was Whitehead's latest invention that h
ad led Sinclair to seek him out.
"Would you mind closing the long curtains, Mister Whitehead? I would like to keep our conversation secure." Walter said, smiling. "I trust your trip was smooth?"
"We had a bit of a storm off your Cape Hatteras, but other than that it was quite smooth sailing indeed. I am anxious to get started. The Austrian Navy has refused my latest invention, even though Captain de Luppis and I spent many months perfecting the explosion mechanism."
"Yes, I read about that. How is dear Giovanni? It's a shame we Brits get snubbed by our own country and must turn to other countries in order to use our true genius." Walter gave his fellow countryman a conciliatory smirk.
"Actually, as you know, I would not be here to do business with you if it had not been for the Austrian Navy's refusal. Der Kustenbrander's problems with the clockwork engine and tiller controlled steering mechanism have led to my present invention, something I like to call the MK-1. The failure with the clockwork caused me to derive a far better device that uses compressed air." Whitehead's eyes began to light up with enthusiasm as he spoke of his new invention.
"Fantastic! Bravo! You wrote about the problems with the weapon spinning in the water and throwing off the direction. Have you solved that dilemma as well?"
"Yes, I have installed large, vertical fins to compensate for the roll-over of the cylindrical body. It now runs at six to eight knots for over 400 yards. I believe that is satisfactory for your needs, is it not?"
Walter grinned. "Quite! However, have you thought about how I can camouflage this device and lessen the noise? It must run straight and true for 200 yards, because if it is detected, then the mission will have failed miserably."
"Yes, I have. I will take a plate of metal and some sample pigments down to the East River. There, I shall mix and match until I find the color which completely blends with the waters until the metal is invisible beneath the surface. The MK will be propelled about six feet beneath the surface, and there will be only a slightly visible ripple effect on the surface. We cannot prevent this due to the speed of the torpedo needed to intersect with your enemy's craft. By the way, did you find out how many knots this target will be doing? This is crucial to your distance and engine speed preparation."
