Iron Maiden Page 3

  After the Confederate batteries fired from Fort Sumter on the Star of the West, I knew we would be in for it. Now I am waiting in Brooklyn for orders, standing outside the Bachelor Officers' Quarters gazing up at the stars, just like Walt Whitman, looking for our "lovers' retreat."

  Anna, I hope you'll understand, as I am afraid to tell father. The news in the local papers tells a tale of exigent urgency for our naval forces. It seems the Confederates at the Norfolk Gosport Navy Yard have resurrected one of our own ships, the Merrimack, which was inside the yard when the Rebels took it over in their bloody uprising of April 21. When the fires were finally abated, the Confederates had captured over $10 million of scuttled war ships, including the above- mentioned ship, as well as some three thousand pieces of ordnance of all calibers and three hundred of the latest big eleven-inch Dahlgren cannons, thousands of rounds of ammunition, powder barrels, food, clothing, uniforms, an intact stone dry dock and many other buildings. In effect, sweet one, the Rebels have themselves a navy!

  But this is not the true worry, I am afraid. Reports have circulated that they are presently working on the former Merrimack, so as to cloak her with heavy armored plating and arm her with those giant Dahlgren cannons! It is feared this new C.S.A. Virginia (but we shall forever call her the Merrimack) will be able to destroy our entire fleet at Hampton Roads. Some have even said she might continue up the Potomac and fire at will upon our installations—even to the White House itself!

  This will most certainly not happen, if I can do anything to stop it! This is why I must let you read a letter I have clipped from today's Brooklyn Eagle. It is from an inventor—an engineer like father—who is working on a project he hopes will counter the threat posed by the South at Norfolk's Gosport Yard. Here it is in full:

  The writer, having introduced the present system of naval propulsion and constructed the first screw ship of the war, now offers to construct a vessel for the destruction of the rebel fleet at Norfolk and for scouring the Southern rivers and inlets of all craft protected by rebel batteries . . . please look carefully at the enclosed plans and you will see that the means I propose to employ are simple—so simple indeed that within ten weeks after commencing the structure I would engage to be ready to take up position under the rebel guns at Norfolk, and so efficient too, I trust, that within a few hours the stolen ships would be sunk and the harbor purged of traitors. Apart from the fact that the proposed vessel is very simple in construction, due to weight, I respectfully submit, should be given to the circumstance that its projector possesses practical and constructive skill shared by no engineer living. I have planned upward of 100 marine engines and I furnish daily working-plans made with my own hands of mechanical and naval structures of various kinds, and I have done so for thirty years. Besides this, I have received a military education and feel at home in the science of artillery. You will not, sir, attribute these statements to any other cause than my anxiety to prove that you may safely entrust me with the work I propose. If you cannot do so then the country must lose the benefit of my services.

  I cannot conclude without respectfully calling your attention to the now well-established fact that steel-clad vessels cannot be arrested in their course by land batteries, and that hence our great city is quite at the mercy of such intruders and may at any moment be laid in ruins unless we possess means which, in defiance of Armstrong guns, can crush the sides of such dangerous visitors.

  P. S. It is not for me, sir, to remind you of the immense moral effect that will result from your discomfiting the rebels at Norfolk and showing that batteries can no longer protect vessels robbed from the nation, nor need I allude to the effect in Europe if you demonstrate that you can effectively keep hostile fleets away from our shores. At the moment of putting this communication under envelope, it occurs to me finally that it is unsafe to trust the plans to the mails. I therefore respectfully suggest that you reflect on my proposition. Should you decide to put the work in hand, if my plan meets your own approbation, please telegraph and within forty-eight hours the writer will report himself at the White House.

  The editor goes on to say, in jest, that this dispatch was written by one Captain John Ericsson of New York City, who was responsible for the U.S.S. Princeton disaster in '44, when five men, including the Secretary of State, were killed by a monstrous cannon which misfired. He finished by saying, "The White House will get many more of these insane inventors who will try to foist their dangerous engines of terror upon our good cause, but this newspaper's diligence will keep our readers appraised!"

  You may judge me insane, Anna, but I believe in this inventor. I know of the true culprit in the Princeton affair. He was a Captain Robert Stockton, whose company I was with while we were on liberty in the Barbadoes. He was seated at the rear of a local tavern, and he told me the true story of that memorable day in 1844. Mr. Ericsson, it seems, was completely ignorant of the gun, which Captain Stockton constructed and later saw exploded in the Potomac Harbor. He went on to say that John Ericsson was a genius that was in no way responsible for the disaster. Captain Stockton then said that he planned to stay inebriated for the rest of his days, due to the ignominy of his actions. By the looks of him, I would assume he had been in that said "alcoholic condition" for some days, perhaps even weeks, before then.

  Remember that father also had a difficult time of it when he attempted to get his patent for the elevator train. Dreams have an absurd way of coming true Anna, and I believe this John Ericsson will see the construction of his little "iron maiden." I plan to keep my eye on the newspapers and keep visiting the shipyards to watch for the imminent construction. We are waging a war against a desperate enemy, and if we don't act quickly, then we may all be suffering the dire consequences!

  Love,

  Dana

  Chapter Six: Venture Capital

  "The Inventor, "New York City, September 2, 1861

  Dearest Amelia,

  I was extremely disappointed to find my letter published in the Eagle. It becomes treachery when a citizen cannot trust the United States postal system to deliver a letter to the White House! I am told a young clerk at the president's mansion sold my letter for a profit. I was about ready to leave this thankless country and return to Sweden, but then I remembered my old Auntie's saying about "an ill wind often brings good news."

  My Aunt's superstitious musing came true the next day, as I was visited from Washington D.C. by a friend of mine, one Cornelius S. Bushnell, a thirty-one-year-old New Haven, Connecticut shipbuilder and former wholesale grocer. It seems he had recently secured a contract from the government to build his own ironclad, the Galena, and someone had informed him that he might consult the wisdom of an "architect," as he was doubtful if his craft could withstand the weight of iron with which he was planning to outfit his vessel. The informant had read my letter to President Lincoln in the newspaper, and I supposed he wanted to play a trick on Bushnell for some reason. So, at the Willard Hotel in Washington, this young Bushnell decided he would make the inconvenient journey out to New York to pay me a visit.

  The country at war made travel very difficult. When Bushnell finally arrived, he was quite distraught, and he explained how his discomfiture was caused by the horrendous state of anarchy afoot in the countryside.

  "It was quite a slow, jolting ride," he explained, sipping on one of Mrs. Hasbro's famous New England Ice Teas. "I made transfers to four, single-track lines to go between Washington and New York City. I also rode two ferries, with state taxes levied upon all passengers in New Jersey and Maryland. Can you quite imagine?"

  I slowly nodded my head in sad agreement.

  "Why, even the gauge of the tracks varies from line to line. It is a virtual impossibility for the same engine to travel between major East Coast cities. I am often thankful that I have thrown my investment money into shipbuilding. Thank goodness, they have yet to come up with a way to lay track on the water! Of course, Mr. Lincoln's blockade has done its share to confuse the Confederate shipping!"


  "Indeed he has, sir!" I responded. "And what have you to tell me about my correspondence to the president? I am ashamed to hear you read about my venture in the newspapers. It was supposed to be privy information."

  Bushnell set his mug down and stared hard at me. He has quite a penetrating gaze for a man of such early years. "Well, Captain Ericsson, I was informed by a friend staying at the Willard Hotel that you may be able to help me. He read your letter and advised me to make the trip out here to see you."

  "Yes?" I again asked.

  "I have garnered a contract with the government for my ship the Galena. She is an ironclad vessel of 3,296 tons, with six Dahlgren cannons and steam-driven propellers. I was planning on outfitting her with extra plating—about ten thousand pounds worth. I was wondering if you would calculate whether she could withstand the extra weight."

  "I suppose she has the plating on an inward slope, so the cannon shells might ricochet off her sides?" I asked.

  "Yes, you are quite astute. My friend was correct in his estimation of your architectural genius."

  "Architecture? Sir, I am afraid you are mistaken. I am an engineer!"

  "Ah, so you are! See, that's why I need you. I am afraid I am nothing but an old grocery man. Cannon balls and watermelons—they are all the same to me!" Bushnell slapped his knees and laughed. He then rose up and handed me the plans of his ship.

  "Sir, I will calculate for you, if you could do me one favor?" I took the rolled blueprints. He cocked his head inquisitively. "I have some plans as well. They concern the letter published in the Washington news. You see, it was never delivered to Mr. Lincoln, and I am afraid I have missed the deadline for proposals to him for ironclads to meet the threat of the Confederates' skullduggery at Gosport Yard."

  "So! You are attempting to gain some of the fame by meeting the challenge of those rascals? Certainly I will look at your plans."

  "It's quite a good floating battery, if I do say so myself. It is absolutely impregnable to the heaviest shot and shell. I am excited about getting it into the proper hands. I recently had conversation with a Brit who is selling strong weaponry to the Rebels for a huge sum of money. We must combat this Mr. Armstrong's guns!" I was gaining momentum, and I could see by the expression on Bushnell's face that he was duly impressed with my bravado.

  "Well, you have come to the right man! I happen to have had a personal audience with Secretary of the Navy, Mr. Gideon Welles, and I know that he is anxious to see any reasonable invention. Are you prepared to invest in your craft, sir? You know, the government needs a letter of credit in the bank to ensure you are stable."

  I was dumbfounded. How could the government refuse to loan money when I had the only invention around that could withstand the Armstrong shells? This Bushnell craft would last five minutes against an Armstrong rifled cannon, while my Monitor would never flinch. "No, you see, I have had some hard times. Perhaps you have heard of the Princeton affair? I was mistakenly held responsible for that and in the meantime . . .”

  "That's enough! Give me your plans, sir, and I will take them to my hotel room and peruse them carefully. If this craft of yours is what you claim, and you are able to help me, then there will be a letter of credit made out for your venture. Or my name isn't Cornelius S. Bushnell!"

  Mr. Bushnell went on to explain that he had two other investors who wanted to back enterprising inventors like myself, and that it was their patriotic duty to see that all feasible ideas come before the president. The nation was in a state of great emergency, he explained, and we could leave no stone left unturned.

  That was all I heard from Mr. Bushnell. He wanted to retire to his hotel room and look at my plans. I said I would retire soon myself. Before he left, however, I handed him the dust-covered black box, which contained my model of the Monitor prepared for Napoleon III those many years before. He took it from me and shook my hand warmly, wishing me all the best. He said I should expect a visit from him on the morrow, if a trip to Secretary Welles' home was called for. In the meanwhile, he requested that I go over the plans of his Galena. If need be, I was to send my estimate to him in Washington, and that I would be liberally compensated—would two hundred dollars be enough, he asked, arching his thick eyebrows.

  "Quite proper," I said, and I saw him to the door. "I hope your trip by cab to the hotel proves more favorable than your one to the city," I put in, and he smiled as he turned to leave.

  "Mark my words! We will soon be making a journey down to Virginia to knock-off that Rebel Merrimack which was pirated from under our noses! We'll show those scalawags who is boss!"

  I shall be working hard to earn the money we need so you can move back here with me. Until then, please remember me!

  Love always,

  John

  Part II: The Monitor Fights

  September 1, 1861 - April 2, 1862

  Chapter Seven: Men at War

  Washington, D. C, September 1, 1861

  When Giddeon Welles saw the replica of the little fighting vessel called "the monitor" he laughed out loud. The other uniformed Union Naval Officers and civilian members of congress passed around the model, smiling and poking at it with their index fingers, and as it made its way around the square conference table, Navy Secretary Welles stood up to speak. Its inventor, John Ericsson of New York City, who was in the foyer, was unaware of the conversations being held inside the war room.

  "Gentlemen, I am in the custody of a recent cable that was confiscated by our spies to the Confederate Congress." Welles pushed his spectacles up on his nose and held the paper out so he could read it better.

  "It is from Confederate Navy Secretary Mallory, and in it he says, to regard the possession of an iron-armored fleet as a matter of first necessity. Such a vessel at this time could traverse the entire coast of the United States; prevent all blockades, and encounter, with a fair prospect of success, their entire Navy. This is what we are fighting, gentlemen. The massive construction of their new ironclad must be matched by a similar craft of our own. This little cheese box, as we have previously determined, does not match the two-inch thick armor being laid upon the huge, converted Merrimack. This Monitor would be crushed in minutes!"

  "Well said, Mister Secretary!" said Jeffrey Johnstone, one of the members of the board from congress. "That is why we rejected it in the first place. Why have you brought him back?"

  Welles peered over his glasses at Johnstone. "I respect a man who has met this engineer, John Ericsson, who is the inventor of the craft you see before you. Cornelius Bushnell is well respected by the War Department, by President Lincoln, and especially by me, and I have told him to bring Mr. Ericsson here to plead his case. I told him that if this Ericsson can convince us that his craft is worthy, then perhaps we should reconsider our rejection of his invention."

  One of the Naval officers holding the little model of the Monitor stood up. It was obvious that he spoke only when he believed it was important. "I rejected this contraption simply because there is no precedent for this design in the annals of naval engineering. This craft was made in the image of nothing in the heaven above, or in the earth below, or in the waters under the earth!"

  "Well stated, Admiral, but we shall see what Mr. Ericsson has to say. Lieutenant, bring in the inventor," said Welles, sitting back down. The fourteen men seated at the table all fidgeted in their seats, lit up cigars and pipes, and anxiously awaited an important moment in history to run its course. There could be no room for error in this decision, as these men knew the South was, at this very moment, readying its armored ship to wreak havoc against Federal blockades.

  Ericsson entered the room with a firm stride, as if he were there on a mission. He placed his notes on the rostrum set up in his behalf, and he looked calmly out upon the faces of sea-worn officers. He had nothing to fear from these men. After all, they were there for the same reason as he was: the country was at war.

  "Gentlemen, thank you for giving me this opportunity to defend myself and my invention. W
henever I am asked what makes this country great, I always have the same reply, 'There is only greatness where there is the freedom to debate, and this country has always provided the means by which common citizens such as myself can have a forum. What concerns me is the fact that sometimes your citizens make judgments based on what they read in the newspapers. In Sweden, we have a saying, 4a fish is never caught until he's in the boat.' I mean, how can you condemn me because of what my partner, Captain Robert F. Stockton, an American, decided to do on his own? Gentlemen, I was not aware that Captain Stockton was going to test his new gun that day on the Potomac when your statesmen were tragically killed. In fact, had I known of his utter foolishness, I would have forbidden it!"

  Secretary Welles cleared his throat. "Thanks for your candid thoughts, Captain Ericsson, I am glad to have your side of the story. Our press does indeed make a lot out of such disasters. However, we are here to listen to your proposal for this iron ship of yours."

  "Hear, hear!" several of the men called out.

  John pointed across at the model of his little Monitor being held by a tall naval officer at the corner of the conference table. "Give me this contract, and I swear by my mother's grave, I will give you the only vessel that can defeat the Rebels' ship at Hampton Roads!"

  "But, sir, how are we to be guaranteed that your craft will succeed at stopping the Merrimack?” said Welles.

  "Give me ten weeks. I have been an engineer for over twenty years, and I will devote my entire intellectual genius to making this craft a vessel which can rout the Rebel thieves and keep the waterways and inlets clear for Union ships.