CAPTAIN JOHN LORIMER WORDEN

In April, 1861, when war was found to be inevitable, he was sent by the Government as bearer of dispatches to Captain Adams of the frigate Sabine, commanding the fleet at Pensacola. These dispatches he committed to memory and then destroyed them. This fleet had been sent to Fort Pickens with two companies of artillery, to reinforce it whenever orders were sent to do so. These dispatches contained such orders, and were destroyed lest the rebels should get possession of them, and prevent them reaching their destination. Lieutenant Worden arrived at Pensacola by way of Richmond and Montgomery on the 11th of the month. He here had an interview with General Bragg, and obtained from him a permit to visit Captain Adams, stating in reply to an interrogation as to his object, that he had a verbal communication from the Secretary of War to him. Going on board he delivered his message, and received a written reply in return, acknowledging the reception of the dispatches, and stating that they should be carried out.

Fort Pickens was reinforced by Captain Vogdes that night. In the meantime, Worden was on the cars, whirling north. But when within five miles of Montgomery, five officers of the rebel army came in and arrested him, and took him to the Adjutant General. Montgomery was at that time the rebel capital, and a cabinet meeting was immediately called to consult on his case. He was finally remanded to the custody of the Deputy Marshal, in whose rooms he remained a prisoner for two days, and was then placed in the county jail. Worden boldly demanded the reason for his arrest and confinement, but could get no answer. He heard, however, it was because he had violated his word of honor, as well as Captain Adams, who, Bragg declared, had made an agreement with him, that no attempt either to reinforce or take the fort without previous notice, should be’ made by either party. It afterwards turned out, that Bragg had actually resolved to seize the fort the very night it was reinforced.

Worden remained in prison for seven months, or until the 13th of November. He was well treated and allowed to purchase such provisions as he chose. A great many Southern officers who were formerly acquainted with him in the service visited him, and used every effort, but in vain, to obtain his release on parole. Until mail connection with the North was cut off he was allowed to write to his friends and receive letters from them, but all except those from his family were opened and read before he was allowed to see them. After the fight at Santa Rosa Island, Major Vogdes and twenty-two of Wilson’s men were placed in prison with him.

His confinement during the hot summer months broke down his health, and on the 13th of November, Quartermaster Calhoun informed him that he was released on parole, and ordered to report himself to the Adjutant General at Richmond. Having given his word not to divulge anything which he might learn on his journey to the disadvantage of the Confederacy, he next morning set out for Richmond, where he arrived on Sunday evening the seventeenth. After an interview with the Adjutant General and Acting Secretary of War Benjamin, he was sent to Norfolk and exchanged.

His health was so much impaired, that he was compelled to remain in New York till the next February, to recruit.

The following month, March, he was placed in command of Ericsson’s Monitor, and ordered to proceed to Hampton Roads. He arrived there on the evening of the eighth, and immediately went out to the protection of the Minnesota, lying hard aground just below Newport News.

Worden found a terrible state of things on his arrival. The iron-clad Merrimac had come out that very day, and sent two of our vessels to the bottom. The most intense excitement prevailed, and all wondered what the morning would bring forth. Lieutenant Morris, in temporary command of the Cumberland, had fought his ship bravely, but his terrific broadsides had no effect on the monster, and she kept on her way shaking the heavy shot like peas from her mailed sides, and struck the frigate with a force that careened her far over, and stove a hole in her side as big as a hogshead. Delivering a broadside as she backed off, she came on again, striking her amidships. She then lay off and deliberately hurled the shells from her 100-pound Armstrong guns into the sinking ship. These monstrous missiles of death tore through the wooden sides of the Cumberland with a destructive power that was awful to witness. Guns went spinning over the deck, great masses of splintered timbers flew about like straws in a gale, while dismembered, mangled bodies lay strewed over the gory deck. But Morris, aided by Lieutenants Davenport, Selfridge, and other subordinate officers, disdained to surrender, and poured in the heavy broadsides with a rapidity and power that would have sent any wooden vessel that ever floated to the bottom. But they made no impression apparently on this mailed monster. To the report that the ship was sinking, these noble officers replied only with fiercer broadsides. They determined that the flag above them should never be struck, and like Paul Jones, when told that his vessel was on fire and sinking, replied: "If we can do no better, we will sink alongside," they too resolved to fight on, while a gun could be fired, and then go down with their colors proudly flying. At length the waters rushed through the port-holes, as the noble frigate slowly settled over them. Still not a man faltered, and the pivot-guns on deck gave a last shot as with a sudden lurch the vessel went to the bottom, carrying her dead and wounded with her.

Some attempted to escape by swimming, and many were picked up by a propeller, but nearly a hundred of the gallant crew went to the bottom with her, and among them the Chaplain.

The work of destruction had been completed in forty-five minutes, and then the Merrimac, turned to the Congress, which, seeing the fate of the Cumberland, hoisted sail and endeavored to escape, but got hopelessly aground. The Merrimac now steamed to within about a hundred yards, and then lay to and deliberately raked the frigate from stem to stern with her enormous shells. The carnage was awful. The rebel steamers Jamestown and Yorktown also came up and poured in their fire, and soon the decks of the Congress presented a ghastly spectacle. Added to all, she was set on fire in three places, and the flames, fanned by a brisk wind, soon roared along her decks. Out of feelings of humanity to the wounded, who would be roasted alive in the burning ship, the colors were hauled down. But while a boat was coming to take off the prisoners, some sharpshooters on shore kept up their fire, which so incensed the commander of the Merrimac, that he ordered another broadside to be poured into the surrendered vessel, which caused great slaughter.

Leaving the Congress to consume away until her magazine was reached, the Merrimac now turned to the Minnesota and Lawrence, both of which had unaccountably got aground. That all these vessels should get aground, and thus become helpless targets for the enemy, is certainly very strange.

As the Merrimac approached the Minnesota, she received one of the broadsides of the latter, and fired in turn, but she could not get within a mile, and fearing to get aground in the dark she retired to her anchorage, behind Craney Island, to wait till morning before completing her work of destruction.

This was the state of things at the time of Worden’s arrival. The Monitor was a small vessel, mounting only two guns in her revolving turret, and wholly untried in combat. Those who hailed her arrival as a savior were confounded at her insignificant appearance. It required a great deal of faith to believe she could cope with a vessel that had just destroyed two frigates.

It was a sad Saturday night—Fortress Monroe was thronged with fugitives, the heavens were aflame with the burning Congress, which at last exploded with the sound of thunder—the Merrimac was apparently uninjured, and, "What will the Sabbath morning bring?” was the mournful question that trembled on every lip.

Worden lay all night alongside of the Minnesota, in case a nocturnal attack should be attempted.

The morning broke bright and beautiful-not a cloud obscured the sky, and every glass was turned in the direction from which the Merrimac was expected to come. Soon she was seen approaching, accompanied by her consorts of the day before. The Minnesota at once beat to quarters. Worden ordered the iron hatches to be closed, the dead light covers put on, and the little Monitor put in perfect fighting trim, while he and some of his officers stood on the top of the turret and watched the movements of the approaching vessels. These were followed by steamers filled with gentlemen and ladies from Norfolk, who were coming out to see the crowning victory. As the Merrimac approached the Minnesota, Worden steamed out and ran boldly down to meet her. The enemy seemed nonplussed at the bold approach of what seemed scarcely big enough to be a New York ferryboat. It looked more like a raft with a round tub upon it nine feet high, and twenty feet in diameter. The commander of the Minnesota watched her progress with the deepest anxiety, for on the success of this new, untried experiment rested the salvation of his ship. To his astonishment, he saw Worden lay her right alongside of the Merrimac, where she looked like a fly beside an ox. But small as she was, her guns threw shot weighing a hundred and seventy pounds, and the first that struck the Merrimac woke her commander up to a sense of the danger that menaced him, and he opened a whole broadside on the tiny structure; heavy enough, one would think, to blow her out of the water. But the turret was the only thing to fire at, and most of the shot flew harmlessly over her, while those that did strike the turret, glanced off. It was a marvelous spectacle that little thing holding at bay and worrying such a monster.

The Merrimac, finding that she could do nothing with her pertinacious little adversary, turned her attention once more to the Minnesota, and steaming towards her, received a broadside from the latter, which, as Van Brunt, her commander, said, "would have blown out of the water any timber-built ship in the world." The heavy shot, however, rattled harmlessly against the sides of the Merrimac, when she, in turn, sent a rifled shell into the Minnesota, which tore through the chief engineer’s state-room, the engineers’ mess-room, amidships, and bursting in the boatswain’s room, knocked four rooms into one in its headlong passage, and set the vessel on fire. A second exploded the boiler of the tug Dragon alongside, causing for a while, great alarm. But all this time, Worden in his "cheese-tub," as the rebels called her, was crowding all steam to overtake his powerful adversary, and by the time the latter had fired his third shell was again between the two vessels, covering with amazing audacity the Minnesota. Exasperated at her inability either to shake off her puny antagonist or cripple her, the Merrimac now determined to run into and over her, and sink her by mere weight—and turning, ran full speed upon her. She struck the little Monitor with tremendous force, and her bow passed over the deck. But at that close range Worden planted one of his heavy shot square on the iron roof; with such resistless force that it went clean through. The monster backed off with a shudder, and then, enraged at the invulnerability of her antagonist, concentrated her entire fire on the turret. Worden was stationed at the pilothouse, while Green managed the guns, and Stimers turned the turret. The two vessels at times almost touched, and the explosion of their monster guns at this short range was most terrific. Titanic hammers seemed incessantly falling on their iron armor—so fierce and fast flew the shot. One shot struck the turret with such force that it knocked down Lieutenant Stimers and two men. Another struck the pilot-house, breaking in two an iron log a foot thick. It hit just outside of where Worden had his eye, knocking him senseless, while the small particles of iron driven off by the concussion, flew into his eyes, completely blinding him for the time being. But it was soon evident that the Merrimac was getting the worst of it. Worden had found his way into her vitals, and would soon send her to the bottom, and so she wheeled out of the conflict and under the convoy of two tugs, limped away to her moorings. The Monitor followed her a short distance, but Worden having received orders to act strictly on the defensive, and not leave the fleet, he soon ceased to follow his thoroughly humbled antagonist.

Lieutenant Wise, who had watched the conflict from the shore, now jumped into a boat and rowed off to the Monitor. As he descended through the "man hole" to the cabin below, everything was as calm and quiet as though nothing extraordinary had happened. One officer stood by the mirror, leisurely combing his hair, another was washing some blood from his hands, while the gallant commander lay on a settee with his eyes bandaged, but giving no sign of the excruciating pain that racked him. The first words he uttered on recovering from the stunning effect of the shot was:

"Have I saved the Minnesota?"

"Yes," was the reply, "and whipped the Merrimac."

"Then," said he, "I don’t care what becomes of me."

He had saved more than the Minnesota—how much that more was, one shudders to contemplate. It is a wonder—when we remember how the iron-clads afterwards suffered before Charleston—that the turret did not get jammed so that it would not revolve; or one, at least, of the two cannon, did not have its muzzle broken off under the close and awful cannonade to which she was exposed.

Some will call it a wonderful piece of luck, while the devout man will see in it a remarkable interference of Providence in our behalf. Never was a government so warned as ours had been of this very catastrophe, and never did one show such apathy under it.

Lieutenant Worden was now laid up for some time; but as soon as he was able, he again asked for active service, and being promoted to commander, was placed in command of the Montauk, attached to the South Atlantic Blockading Squadron. In January, 1863, Dupont sent him down to operate up the great Ogeechee River; to capture, if he could, the fort at Genesis Point, and destroy the Nashville that lay under its protection. With four other vessels, he for nearly four hours bombarded the fort, and withdrew only after his ammunition was expended-very little damage, however, was done on either side. A few days after he renewed the attack with like results-though his vessel was hit forty-six times.

The last of this month, having ascertained that the Nashville had got aground just above Fort McAllister, he steamed up, and though under a tremendous cannonade from the latter, set her on fire with his shells, completely destroying her.

In the attack of the iron-clads on Sumter the following April, he carried his ship into action with his usual gallantry, and retired only on the signal of Dupont. He was hit fourteen times, and though no one had had greater experience than he in the power of iron-clads, he said that if the attack had been continued, it would have ended in disaster. Worden was afterwards detached from this ship—his health having failed him, and he was engaged in no other important action during the war. He is now on duty on the coast of South America.

CHAPTER XXVII

In 1855, he commanded the frigate San Jacinto, then attached to the East India Squadron, under Commodore Armstrong. While on this station, one of the ship’s boats returning one day from the shore—whither it had been sent—was fired upon by the Barrier forts in Canton River. The Commodore was inclined to negotiate on the matter, but Captain Bell and Captain (since Admiral) Foote, were aroused at this insult to the American flag and urged the former so vehemently to avenge it on the spot, that he finally consented to let these gallant officers do it in their own way. They at once manned their boats and pulled for the forts. The latter opened fire as they approached; but the rowers bent steadily to their oars until they were beached near the hostile works. Bell and Foote then formed their men, and leading them in person, rushed to the assault with such fury, that the Chinese, terror-stricken, left their guns and fled in every direction. Captain Bell then laid the trains and fired them with his own hand, blowing the forts into fragments. He thus taught the Chinese that it was a dangerous thing to touch the American flag where his ship floated.

Although Captain Bell was a Southerner by birth, and married a Southern woman, and one connected with the leading families and secessionists of Virginia, he never wavered a moment in his duty. Indeed, it can scarcely be said it got so far as a question of mere duty with him. Intensely loyal, his whole soul was aroused at the rebellious attitude of the South. The first gun fired at the old flag at Sumter, stirred his blood as did the hostile shot aimed at it in Canton River. When his native State seceded and joined the Southern Confederacy, he wrote to Washington requesting to have his name registered as coming from the loyal State of New York, as he was unwilling to appear in any way as belonging to a secession State.

In 1861, Captain Bell was employed in the responsible duty of fitting out and arming the nondescript vessels that the agent of the Navy Department was buying to be used in blockade duty.

When Farragut took command of the West Gulf Blockading Squadron, Captain Bell was appointed his fleet captain, and took part in all the operations that led to the fall of New Orleans.

The month previous to the passage of the forts, he ran up to inspect the cable that stretched across the river, and the batteries. This bold movement drew a furious fire from the forts, but Bell coolly finished his reconnoissance. Some time after, Farragut wanted to get a peep at them himself, and so Bell took him up. He steamed up in broad midday, and could see through his glass the forts thronged with officers watching his movements. But to obtain a fairer view, Bell and Farragut mounted the rigging, and getting astride the cross-trees, began to take observations. In a few moments a puff of white smoke was seen to issue from Fort Jackson, and before’ it had melted into the air a 100-pound rifle shell came screeching towards them, striking the water about one hundred yards ahead of the vessel. After a short interval there came another puff of smoke, and another monster shot shrieked overhead, passing only fifty feet above Farragut and Bell. This was getting rather too close, for Bell had the Admiral with him, and "Back her" came from aloft. The vessel drifted down two or three ship’s lengths, when a third shell struck and burst on the very spot they had just left. In a few minutes, Bell steamed ahead again into the fire, when a 100.pound shell came like a sudden gust of wind between the smoke-stack and mainmast—its windage actually rocking one of the boats hanging to the vessel’s side.

When everything was ready for the squadron to advance, it was necessary, as a preparatory step, to cut the cable, which was strung across the river on hulks below the forts. This daring and difficult enterprise was entrusted to Captain Bell. It was a dark night, when, taking the Pinola and Itasca gunboats, he steamed up to the barrier. Petards had been brought from the north, which were to be thrown aboard one of the hulks, and discharged by electric wires from one of the gunboats—this part of the plan failed, owing to the heavy gale that was blowing.

As Bell steamed past the line of mortar schooners Porter opened fire; and, canopied by blazing shells, arching the sky overhead, the boats ran boldly up to the cable, and commenced the work of destruction. Sledges and chisels were soon busy sundering the chain; the anchors of the hulks, were slipped, and the work went steadily on. But, in the meantime, they had been discovered; a rocket from one of the forts shot into the air, and then both opened a tremendous fire. The gallant men, however, paid no heed to it till their task was accomplished.

It is said that Farragut threw his arms around Bell in delight, when he once more stepped safely on board his vessel.

In the final passage, Bell led the second division in the Sciota. His vessel set fire to two steamers in her passage, and captured a third. She was the fourth in the attack and capture of the forts at the city of New Orleans on the 25th, and the third in passing up in front of the city.

The victory having been won, he, on the 26th, hauled down his pennant, and repaired on board the Hartford to resume his duties as fleet captain. He gave Captain Donaldson of the ship, and his officers and crew great praise for their conduct while passing the forts.

It is well known what an excitement followed the pulling down of the American flag from the customhouse, after it had been raised there by order of Farragut. The New Orleans papers praised the daring act, and Mumford, who had committed it, was regarded as a hero. As the surging multitude gazed on the rebel flag flying in its place, they declared that the man who attempted to haul it down should die. Knowing that some action would be taken in the matter, the crowd assembled in large numbers in the immediate neighborhood of the custom-house; and angry, savage faces scowled out from the turbulent mass, and oaths, and threats of vengeance filled all the air. In the midst of this excitement, Bell landed on the levee with two officers and a handful of marines, and took his course for the custom-house. The mob opened as he advanced, but closed up behind him, cursing him and his little band, and swearing that the moment a head appeared above the roof of the custom-house, a bullet would pierce it. But Bell, unmoved and erect, and like Abdiel amid the rebel angels, passed

Superior, nor of violence feared aught."

When Bell descended again to the street, he, quietly locked the door behind him, and putting the key in his pocket, placed himself at the head of his marines and marched back to his ship.

When, in the June following, Farragut ran the batteries of Vicksburg, Bell stood on the poop by his side, to direct the movements of the fleet, but the darkness and smoke soon shut the vessels from his sight, and he could tell where they were only by the thunder of their broadsides, or their blaze as it illumined the gloom, and so gave his attention to looking up the batteries of the enemy, and pointing them out to the officers in charge of the guns, and directing where to fire.

After the fall of Vicksburg and Port Hudson, Farragut, accepting a respite tendered him by the Government, turned over to Admiral Porter the entire control of the western waters above New Orleans, and Bell, who had been made Commodore, was placed in command of the squadron during his absence.

His duties were now of the most arduous kind, though connected with no important movement in which he was personally engaged. -is blockading fleet stretched with intervals from Mobile to Galveston. After dark, he always kept his ships on the move, so that blockade runners never knew where to find them. While off Galveston, he had the misfortune to lose the Hatteras—Blake commanding—which was sunk by the Alabama. He heard the cannonading, and saw the flashes of the combat, and hurried off in the Brooklyn in the direction from whence they came; but could find no traces of either vessel until next morning, when he saw the masts of the Hatteras standing out of the water, telling him of her fate.

He detailed a portion of his force to cooperate with Banks in his movements against Brownsville, Brazos, Aranzas, and Cabello Passes. Commander J. H. Strong had charge of it, and received the thanks of Banks, and the commendations of the Government for the skill, ability, and energy with which he performed his part in the expeditions. In storm and calm, under vexations, delays, and countless embarrassments, he executed every task imposed on him.

On Farragut’s return to take command of the squadron, previous to the attack on the defenses of Mobile, Bell was ordered north to the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Here his incessant labors, joined to the exposures on the Mississippi and off the coast, completely broke him down, and, for a while, his friends feared he had made his last cruise. But his health rallied in the bracing air of the Highlands at Newburg, and he gradually recovered his strength.

With the old battered Hartford for his flagship, he now commands the Asiatic Squadron in the China seas, as Rear-Admiral.

Admiral Bell is a man of dignified deportment, frank, genial, unassuming manners, and a kind, noble heart. A better officer, a more gallant man, or one more beloved by all who serve under him, never trod the deck of a battle ship.

Between him and Farragut there exists the warmest affection and esteem.

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CHAPTER XXVIII