THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, May 5, 1996 TAG: 9605030252
SECTION: PORTSMOUTH CURRENTS PAGE: 10 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: OLDE TOWNE JOURNAL
SOURCE: ALAN FLANDERS
LENGTH: Long : 102 lines
JUST BEFORE FIRST LIGHT on the morning of May 11, 1862, many local residents awoke to what they thought was a loud clap of thunder rolling across Hampton Roads.
Hours later they would learn that what was once one of the world's foremost warships and the Confederacy's greatest hope in breaking the Federal blockade was run aground and blown up on a beach at Craney Island.
For miles around, the sound of the ironclad Virginia's exploding magazine continued to rattle windows as her burning timbers collapsed beneath the weight of hundreds of tons of iron plates. Her crew looked on while mustering into ranks on shore as the once famous and, for many, invincible pride of the rebel navy heaved over into a heap of smoldering rubble.
The plan to scuttle and destroy the ship was carried out with such perfection that only her scorched internal machinery, boilers and iron plating were left for salvage during and immediately after the Civil War. During the 20th century, several expeditions to find the Merrimack, the original name of the rebel ram when she served as a steam-frigate in the U.S. Navy, have returned from the site with no more than a few cannon balls, wood fragments and some twisted metal of questionable origin. Within the past 20 years, world renowned maritime explorer Clive Cussler conducted a side-scan sonar search along the sand beds of Craney Island without even positively finding the location of her destruction.
According to an account from an eyewitness who participated in the ironclad's destruction, the fact that nothing was recently found is due more to her crew and their effort to destroy her than to the expertise and diligence of those who have only recently looked for her final resting place.
For a detailed description of the last moments of America's first battle-tested ironclad, there probably is no better account than that found in the post-Civil War memoir of the Virginia's third assistant engineer, Portsmouth resident E.A. Jack.
This section of Jack's story begins when he and other crewmen had learned that Gosport shipyard was being burned by fellow Confederates on May 10 to prevent its capture by Federal forces, which had landed at Willoughby and were advancing on Norfolk. Even though her pilots argued against it, hopes were high that the Virginia might escape up the James to Richmond if her draft could be considerably lessened.
All such hopes were soon most rudely dispelled by Mr. Jones, who came to me and said with a tremor in his voice, ``Mr. Jack, you are assigned a detail of firemen. Go muster your men and prepare them to abandon ship. No baggage can be taken into the boats. You can leave your station; no more bells will be required.''
There were some who questioned the decision of the commanding officer, Commodore Josiah Tattnall, when he gave the order to his executive officer, Lt. Catesby Jones, to abandon ship. Many among the crew, like Jack, had won or forced to a draw every contest in which they had engaged, including the destruction on their first deployment of the wooden-hull Federal warships Cumberland and Congress. Jack's feelings:
I turned away from my post to proceed with my new duties with a sad heart and tearful eyes at the approaching fate of this good ship that was to be so ignominiously deserted. I felt that I had rather go down in her like the brave crew of the Cumberland in honorable contest with the enemy.
But the Virginia's fate had already been decided by the loss of Norfolk and the burning of Gosport.
We soon reached the ``up'' harbor side of Craney Island, where the ship was run aground, abandoned and set fire to. I landed early with my squad of firemen and formed them on the top of a low bank ashore ready for defense in case the enemy should come upon us by land. Other men were placed as out-posts with instructions to fire upon any one that advanced without answering a challenge.
Knowing the fate of their ship and realizing a sizable Federal force was preparing to cross the Elizabeth River to Portsmouth, fear ran rampant through the ranks of the Virginia's men that night, Jack wrote.
Our sailors made by sorry soldiers, and were altogether out of their element ashore. Just before all of the men had landed, a sentry on out-post fired. Our men were a little confused at first, and my squad nearly crushed me by jumping from the bank against which I was standing watching the burst of flames from the doomed ship. We soon quieted them, however, and formed behind the bank expecting a charge, but in a short time learned that it was a false alarm.
Even though some accounts have it that the Virginia's guns were removed and taken to Gosport for shipment to Richmond, Jack's account conflicts with them as he describes her final moments.
The last boat did not reach shore before the flames began to rise from the port holes and hatches of the ``Merrimac,'' and before we began our retreat towards Suffolk, her guns began to discharge their charges, some towards us and others towards the ``Roads.'' We heard several of the shots whistle past.
We took up our mournful march for our lines, for we were within the enemy's line and expecting an attack at any moment. We had gotten but a few miles away when, with an awful report, the magazine of the burning ship exploded and hardly a vestige of her was left above the water.
Jack continued to serve in a number of Confederate ironclads until the end of the war. But there is no doubt he ever forgot the night he helped blow up the Virginia. ILLUSTRATION: Drawing
Commodore Josiah Tattnall
Commanding officer of the Virginia
by CNB