Dixie Victorious: An Alternate history of the Civil War

by Peter Tsouras

  On July 11, plans and money for conversion to ironclads of the captured Merrimack as well as the United States and the Pennsylvania were approved by the Confederate Congress, though modifications to the Merrimack had been underway since June 10, the day that it was renamed C.S.S. Virginia. The two larger ships would have the upper decks cut away and replaced by iron casemates amidships. Angled so as to deflect enemy shells and meant to extend below the waterline to protect vital machinery, the casemates featured two layers of 2-inch wrought iron plate backed by over a foot of oaken timbers. The hulls, armored by a layer of 2-inch plate extending six feet below the waterline, showed only a foot of freeboard. The Virginia would mount six 9-inch Dahlgren smoothbores, three to each broadside, and four heavy rifled guns as bow and stern chasers. Pennsylvania, now known as Alabama, would carry two fewer broadside guns. Both vessels would be fitted with heavy iron rams.18

  Knowing that the casemate-ironclads would be slow and ponderous, Mallory selected a different design for the conversion of the old United States. Renamed Hart of the Confederacy, the vessel would be built for speed.19 With masts and upper works cut away, the hull would be plated with 2-inch wrought iron over its old (but relatively sound) oaken timbers. Its new freeboard of eight feet demanded additional armor amidships where its vulnerable boiler and engine would rest. Thus, the designer added an additional belt of 2-inch plate extending five feet below the waterline. Six 9-inch Dahlgrens fired to each broadside, but their gunports were only two feet above the water in order to lower the vessel’s center of gravity. This limited the usefulness of the cannons in any but the calmest seas. The true killer for the Hart would be the spar torpedo—a 20-foot pole, dropped at the last minute before contact to project from the bow, with a keg of gunpowder triggered by a percussion cap at its end—and its ram-tipped, heavily reinforced prow.20

  From its date of approval, numerous problems confronted the conversion efforts. A shortage of artificers and shipwrights meant that work on the vessels had to proceed sequentially. Tredegar Ironworks in Richmond, slated to produce the 2-inch wrought iron plate for the ironclads, had to convert its facilities from 1-inch plate production before it could begin to roll the required size plates. Then, as plates began to accumulate, Mallory had to squabble with the army, engaged in its own buildup of supplies and men, for train engines and cars to move them to Gosport. Most seriously, capture of the Perthshire by the U.S.S. Massachusetts had led to a diplomatic protest by the United States to Great Britain, forcing the British government to stop the shipment of twelve additional steam engines and other materials to the Confederacy. Fortunately for Mallory, Britain, in immediate response to the Trent Affair of November 1861, released six of the engines for immediate delivery to the Confederacy.21 Escorted by H.M.S. Warrior, the shipment arrived in Wilmington, North Carolina, on November 24. By Christmas, two of those engines had arrived at Gosport for installation in Alabama and Hart—a most acceptable present for Secretary Mallory.

  As Mallory wrestled with building a navy to challenge the blockade, his nation’s fortunes on land and at sea twisted and turned. In the east, Confederate forces had stopped a premature advance from Fortress Monroe through the James Peninsula to Richmond at the Battle of Big Bethel on June 10. At Manassas, Virginia, green Confederate troops had outlasted green Union soldiers on July 21. The routed Yankees fled to the defenses of Washington without pursuit by the disorganized Southern army. Success in eastern Virginia offset losses in the western portion of the state, which eventually allowed the admittance of West Virginia to the Union.22

  In August, a U.S. fleet commanded by Flag Officer S.H. Stringham supported the troops of General Ben Butler in capturing Forts Hatteras and Clark on North Carolina’s Outer Banks. Unable to face an overwhelming force on the open sea, Rebel naval forces under Flag Officer W.F. Lynch continued to challenge Union control of the (now closed) Pamlico Sound. On October 1, C.S.S. Curlew, Raleigh, and Junaluska captured the Union steamer Fanny (later C.S.S. Fanny) with enemy troops aboard. This Mosquito Fleet continued to sting the Union until overwhelmed by constantly increasing numbers of warships. It had, for all practical purposes, ceased to exist by the time Union forces under Flag Officer L.M. Goldsborough and General Ambrose Burnside captured Roanoke Island in February 1862, effectively closing Albemarle Sound. The lack of effective naval opposition then allowed Union forces to establish themselves on the mainland at New Bern during early March. By that month, Northern amphibious forces had seized several points along the Southern coasts, including Port Royal, South Carolina and Fernandina, Florida.

  In the western Confederacy, Rebel gunboats and fortifications had proven no match for their opponents. Union forces repulsed a Confederate invasion of “neutral” Kentucky, then, spearheaded by seven armored riverboats commissioned in January 1862 (others would quickly follow), smashed Confederate defenses along the Tennessee and upper Mississippi Rivers. By the end of February, Confederate forces had abandoned Nashville, Tennessee, to consolidate in northern Mississippi. The Trans-Mississippi theater witnessed a seesaw war for control of Missouri, eventually decided by the Union victory at Pea Ridge, Arkansas, in March 1862. Forced back on both banks of the Father of Waters, Confederate defense of that mighty river appeared doomed.

  By late February 1862, Mallory found himself under considerable pressure from Congress and the public to break the tightening blockade of Southern ports, free the coasts of North Carolina, and to provide additional naval support for the upper Mississippi. Mallory promised decisive action in March and April as his ironclads at New Orleans and Norfolk became available. Meanwhile he continued to send raiders to sea, hoping to force the Union Navy to react, thus weakening the blockade. Welles refused to respond, however, claiming that the losses would be small and those few raiders that slipped through the tightening cordon would be captured upon their return. This did little to console Northern businessmen, who claimed some $10,000,000 in shipping and goods destroyed in the opening months of the war. Quietly but steadily they began to shift vessels and cargoes to foreign flags. In fact, some clandestinely supported blockade running into the Confederacy.23

  Another officer receiving considerable pressure from his administration was General George McClellan, commanding the Union’s Army of the Potomac. McClellan had trained his army hard since becoming its commander; now Abraham Lincoln wanted him to use it to capture Richmond and end the rebellion. The North’s “Little Napoleon” did not wish to waste his men on a march through northern Virginia against prepared Confederate defenses. Instead, he proposed to move his army by sea to the James Peninsula, then, with Fortress Monroe secured as his base of supply, swiftly advance the 60-odd miles to the Rebel capital. His flanks protected by naval forces advancing up the York and James Rivers, McClellan’s outflanking maneuver would nullify the strong defensive positions in northern Virginia and guarantee a victory. His plan approved by a president desperate for any form of advance, McClellan began chartering the 400 merchant ships needed to move and supply his army. Then, at around 12.45 p.m. on March 8, his efforts paused as a strangely shaped vessel approached Union blockaders in Hampton Roads—the C.S.S. Virginia, supported by the wooden gunboats Beaufort and Raleigh, also of the Gosport Squadron, was about to place its mark on naval history.

  Mallory had hoped to commit his Gosport Squadron of ironclads in mass, but delays in acquiring engines, shafts, and armor plates had slowed the conversions. By early March, only Virginia was ready for combat. Even it lacked the heavy iron shutters for its gunports, while newly minted Captain Catesby ap R. Jones (promoted for his fine effort in readying the vessel) seemed less than happy with the top speed of eight knots that its old engine could produce. Trials had revealed additional problems: awkward turning ability (30 minutes to turn through 180 degrees), vulnerability of the hull armor (covered with readily available 1-inch instead of 2-inch plate due to shortages) when the vessel rode light, and the Virginia’s deep draft which led to tricky maneuvering in shallow water. On the other ha
nd, Mallory’s early recruiting efforts had given Jones time to whip a rather lubberly bunch of men into something resembling a naval crew.

  Lieutenant Lucien W. Carter, late of the Mosquito Squadron’s Curlew, would captain Alabama, which floated at Gosport on March 8. Only some three weeks from readiness, the converted two-decker would become the squadron’s flagship. Filling the slot of commodore had been a difficult choice for Mallory. He would have preferred shifting the experienced and aggressive Buchanan from New Orleans for this critical role, but that city was a logical target for Union assault. Instead, the secretary chose another veteran of North Carolina’s Mosquito Fleet, Captain W.F. Lynch, for the role. Delayed by the conflict raging in the Carolina sounds, Lynch would not arrive at Gosport until March 14.

  Raphael Semmes had accepted command of Hart of the Confederacy in mid-February. Semmes had already gained a reputation for boldness while commanding the raider C.S.S. Petrel out of Charleston. As a lieutenant, he had twice ran the blockade of Charleston to capture a total of 15 prizes—including a Union blockader. Unlike other raiders, Semmes had returned home with his vessel, boarding and capturing the enemy warship that stood in his way on the last trip. While recovering from a slight wound received in the action, he had requested a large, heavily armed steamer for his next raid. Instead, Semmes found himself promoted to captain and hustled to Gosport to command the vessel he later described as “the fastest, deadliest little ship in the world.”24 However, as Virginia steamed into Hampton Roads, Hart, the most difficult of the three conversions, still lacked most of its armor. The chief architect had informed Mallory that it could not possibly be seaworthy, even for trials, before the end of April.25

  First Battle of Hampton Roads

  Lincoln’s North Atlantic Blockading Squadron mustered over 50 vessels, and five floated in Hampton Roads on March 8. Closest to the Elizabeth River and Gosport anchored Cumberland, a 24-gun sailing sloop, and the 44-gun sailing frigate Congress. The 50-gun screw frigates Roanoke and Minnesota, as well as the 44-gun sailing frigate St Lawrence were in positions to support the two vessels that would be the first target of the untested Confederate ironclad. It took the slow-moving Virginia more than an hour to reach gunnery range. Confident in their ability and without knowledge of the capabilities of the enemy, the Union officers of the Cumberland and Congress beat to quarters, but remained at anchor (powered only by sails, their maneuvering would have been severely limited in the tight confines of the Roads at any rate).

  Shortly after 2.00 p.m., the ships exchanged their first shots. Jones, determined to destroy the more dangerous of his enemies first (though smaller than its mate, Jones knew that Cumberland carried the heavier battery), used his under-gunned wooden consorts to distract Congress. As Virginia closed the range, the superiority of its iron-plated casemate became evident. The heaviest Union shells failed to penetrate its thick hide, while Confederate artillery wrecked the sloop’s hull and created carnage among its crew. Finally, the Rebel ram pierced the side of the doomed ship. Splintered beams and suction pinned the Rebel ship in place as Cumberland rapidly settled to the bottom. At the last moment, as water sluiced across the ironclad’s deck, Jones’s straining engines managed to pull Virginia free. Its ram remained embedded in the wreckage of its victim. Even as their vessel settled beneath them, frustrated Union gunners continued to exchange fire with the Rebel cannoneers. Still unable to penetrate Virginia’s armor, they did manage to disable one of its broadside guns before, around 3.30 p.m., Cumberland slid beneath the waves.

  Reinforced by the wooden gunboats Teaser, Jamestown, and Patrick Henry of the James River Squadron, Jones turned his attention to Congress, whose captain, endeavoring to gain the cover of Union shore batteries, had deliberately grounded his vessel. Taking position a mere hundred yards from the stern of the grounded frigate, Jones pounded it into submission in little over an hour. Unable to take possession of the surrendered craft as shore batteries and Union marksmen continued to target his ships, Jones ordered shot heated in his boilers. Around 5.00 p.m., Jones signaled his squadron to make for his next target, leaving the once proud Congress in flames.

  The three remaining Union vessels in and near Hampton roads had rushed to join the fracas—perhaps a bit too quickly, as all three had run aground. Once freed, the outclassed Roanoke and St Lawrence had scurried for the safety of Fortress Monroe’s massive batteries, but Minnesota remained firmly aground. Jones aimed his command at that vessel, but a falling tide and shoal water prevented him from closing the range. Instead he retired to an anchorage beneath the Confederate guns at Sewell’s Point. For the price of some 60 dead and wounded, two cannons damaged, a few iron plates buckled, and an iron ram lost, Virginia and its wooden consorts had destroyed two Union warships with heavy casualties to their crews. Despite a pesky leak in the bows, munitions and coal remained to destroy the last three Yankee blockaders on the morrow. Then, perhaps, there would be time to test his vessel in the wider waters of the Chesapeake before returning to Gosport.

  At 6.00 the next morning, Virginia and the five gunboats of the James River Squadron upped anchors and steamed through the mists to destroy the still grounded Minnesota. There they found a tiny vessel, a mere “cheesebox on a raft,” awaiting them. It was another ironclad, the U.S.S. Monitor. Welles had not stood idle at the threat of Mallory’s conversion of Rebel ironclads. Rather, he had solicited bids for a number of these vessels for his own navy, several of which were already performing superbly on western rivers. The most unique of the designs, however, was the Monitor. Relatively fast and maneuverable, the shallow draft vessel carried only two heavy guns, but both were protected by a thickly armored, revolving turret. The only major flaw in the design was that the deck, mere inches above the waterline, would be continually awash in any but calm waters. In fact, the warship had almost sunk during heavy seas on its journey from Long Island to Hampton Roads.

  For four hours that morning, the two marvels of the age of steam and iron fought, with neither gaining an advantage. Once, Jones managed to ram his enemy, but the only result was increased leakage in Virginia’s already damaged bow. Then, the Rebel ironclad shuddered to a halt, aground on a mud bank. For an hour, the two ships pounded away, Monitor working closer and closer to the immobile behemoth. At the last minute, a shell struck the pilothouse of the tiny warship, temporarily blinding its commander. For 20 vital minutes, Monitor abandoned the battle while an inexperienced officer took the con. During that time, Jones managed to ease his battered vessel from the mud. Listening to the council of his officers that the dropping tide and leaky condition of Virginia could combine to see the vessel again aground, the frustrated Confederate captain abandoned the field and returned to his anchorage at Sewell’s Point. The following day, he steamed for Gosport and a drydock, temporarily conceding Hampton Roads to the enemy.

  Interlude

  Though the first day of battle had sown panic in Washington, it had calmed after the standoff of the second day. McClellan queried Welles as to the U.S. Navy’s ability to contain the Rebel ships in Hampton Roads. Receiving a positive response, he began to shift his army to the Peninsula, knowing that the commitment of Union naval assets to the blockade of the Roads meant that he would have little support for his flanks along the James and York Rivers. By April 4, over 100,000 men of the Army of the Potomac were prepared to advance against weakly held Confederate fortifications stretching from Yorktown along the Warwick River. The next day, Little Mac, receiving reports of inflated Confederate strength from his intelligence agents, upset with the Navy’s refusal to support his advance along the York River, and angry at President Lincoln for keeping General McDowell’s I Corps in front of Washington instead of releasing it to the Army of the Potomac, prepared to besiege the Rebel defensive lines rather than lose men to direct assault. In the weeks it took McClellan to ready his siege guns, the besiegers became the besieged.

  As Welles concentrated 21 warships near the James Peninsula, including the new ironclad Galena,
the iron-hulled Naugatuck, and three fast steamers converted into rams, dockyard workers and ship crews at Gosport worked 24 hours a day to repair Virginia and to finish the conversion of Alabama and Hart. On April 1, Alabama began its trials. Its newer engine gave it a top speed of ten knots, though the same concerns with draft and maneuverability as plagued Virginia still existed. Three days later, Jones’s command (proudly bearing many of the scars remaining from its two days of battle) left drydock. Two additional inches of plate had been added to its hull, the two damaged cannon had been replaced, its heavy gunport shutters were added at last, and several damaged plates on its casemate were repaired. With a new ram attached to its bow, Virginia seemed to tug at its moorings, anxious again to face the enemy.

  Semmes’s Hart, though he had briefly tested its engine and screw, remained in the hands of the workers. By April 10, the installation of its hull plating complete, only the armored pilothouse needed to shield its still exposed wheel and command station on the quarterdeck remained to be added. Semmes had already ballasted and coaled his vessel, though powder and spar torpedoes remained to be shipped as soon as workers finished the wheelhouse.

  At 10.00 a.m. that day, Commodore Lynch met with his captains, including those of the seven wooden gunboats assigned to his support. Glancing at a telegram from Mallory, the commodore informed his officers that the situation did not look good on the James Peninsula. Though the army was being concentrated as rapidly as possible opposite the Yankees, they would be outnumbered almost two to one, and any hard push could well reach Richmond. Unless the pressure could be relieved, the army would be forced to abandon Norfolk. The abandonment of the Confederacy’s only fully developed naval yard was not only unpalatable, it was unacceptable; and in the eyes of the Secretary of the Navy, such a disaster could well mean the loss of the war. The only possible resolution to the conundrum in Virginia was the defeat of the blockaders standing off Fortress Monroe and a Confederate naval blockade of McClellan’s forces in Virginia.