Thomas Frederick Paige, Jr.: Civil War Sailor and Civil Rights Activist

By Bennett White
HRNM Volunteer

Thomas Paige likely served aboard USS Minnesota during the Battle of Hampton Roads. In this painting, USS Minnesota is protected by USS Monitor on March 9, 1862. (Tom Freeman Art)

African Americans have participated in armed conflicts since the American Revolution; however, the Civil War was the first time the Federal Army and Navy officially incorporated free Black men and previously enslaved individuals into their ranks. In his preliminary Emancipation Proclamation, Abraham Lincoln instituted a policy allowing Union military commanders to begin enlisting Black men into the Union military. By May 1863, the Bureau of Colored Troops was established in Washington, D.C., to administer the increasing number of African American units operating in the field.[1] While the Union Army quickly established complex regulations to segregate African Americans into all-Black units, the Navy—desperately short of manpower at the start of the war—fully integrated the decks of its steamboats, supply ships, and war frigates to put together an effective fighting force.[2] Hampton Roads, due to Fort Monroe’s reputation as a refuge for escaping slaves, proved to be a rich recruiting ground for Navy personnel to identify and enlist African Americans into military service. Many of these Black veterans would go on to shape American life after the war through political activism and entrepreneurship.

Thomas Frederick Paige, Jr. was one of these brave men. Born into slavery in 1838, Paige had to combat racism in antebellum Norfolk from an early age. Before the Civil War, enslaved people in Norfolk held the same jobs as free Blacks and less affluent whites, and often developed skillsets necessary for carpentry, barbering, crafting sails, and staging freight along Norfolk’s dockyards. However, economic stagnation made jobs scarce, which prompted white laborers to lash out against African Americans through street brawls and vigilantism.[3] In 1857, seeking freedom, Thomas—along with his brother Richard Paige (who eventually became Virginia’s first Black attorney and a Republican congressman)—escaped aboard a schooner bound for Philadelphia through the help of northern abolitionists. While Richard remained in Boston to study law under abolitionist George Hilliard Steward until 1867, Thomas quickly found himself back in Hampton Roads after enlisting in the Navy in Boston sometime in early 1861.[4]

Thomas Frederick Paige, Jr.'s USN Pension File (National Archives)

According to his pension file, Paige worked as a landsman on four different ships, including USS Minnesota, USS Princeton, USS St. Louis, and USS Macedonian.[5] Although archival records are not definitive, his time spent on Minnesota in late 1861 and early 1862 likely coincided with Minnesota’s famed involvement in the Battle of Hampton Roads on March 8-9, 1862. On March 8, punishing broadsides from the Confederate ironclad CSS Virginia crippled the Federal flotilla blockading southeastern Virginia, sinking USS Congress and USS Cumberland before forcing USS Minnesota to run aground off the coast of Newport News. Immobilized by a thick mud bank, Minnesota’s crew ferociously returned fire from CSS Virginia, CSS Jamestown, and CSS Patrick Henry while tugs worked to pull the steam frigate to safety. As the battle continued, the ironclad USS Monitor defended Minnesota’s crew from CSS Virginia’s attacks long enough for tugs to escort Minnesota back to Fort Monroe. Often overshadowed by the historic showdown between ironclads, Minnesota’s crew heroically withstood artillery barrages and returned fire throughout the two-day ordeal, protecting the Union blockade and ultimately helping USS Monitor neutralize the Confederacy’s most prized naval asset.

After the war, Thomas Paige—through his advocacy for racial equality—embodied the courage exhibited by Minnesota’s crew during the Battle of Hampton Roads. As the smoke cleared from Virginia’s battlefields and waterways, Thomas and Richard Paige immediately began advocating for recently emancipated African Americans. In the summer of 1865, prominent African Americans in Norfolk organized clubs that lobbied for Black political equality. Led by a former slave, dentist Dr. Thomas Bayne, community organizers established the “Colored Monitor Union Club” and gathered nearly 2,000 African American citizens on the steps of Catherine Street Baptist Church to listen to local speakers reflect on issues central to the Black community. The lectures were then published with the help of Thomas and Richard Paige—their Bostonian contacts connected them with E. Anthony and Sons, a Black press located in New Bedford, Massachusetts. The resulting pamphlet, Equal Suffrage: Address from the Colored Citizens of Norfolk, Va, to the People of the United States, called for Black male suffrage in state and local elections in order to obtain legislative representation and to ensure ex-slaveowners would be unable to re-form the Confederacy.[6] The Paige brothers, along with the Colored Monitor Union Club, financed the printing of 5,000 copies dispersed throughout the United States.[7]

Emboldened by his political leadership, Thomas Paige navigated persistent racial discrimination during Reconstruction to become a successful businessman and property owner in Norfolk. By 1872, Norfolk had 74 Black-owned businesses. Black entrepreneurs forged successful law practices, established importation companies, and opened barber shops. All six of the city’s oyster dealers were African American, and four Blacks held positions on the Freedmen’s Bank advisory board. Black social life experienced a renaissance, too. Norfolk’s Black community spent their leisure time attending lectures, hosting weekend picnics, and organizing grand parades complete with veterans in military dress and lively musical bands. By 1880, Thomas opened Paige’s Hotel, a boarding house centrally located on the western side of Market Square, Norfolk’s premier business district in the late nineteenth century. There, an exhausted dockyard worker could pay fifty cents per night for access to a warm bed, eat a hearty meal any time of the day, and play pool in the attached billiards hall while imbibing with “the best wines, liquors, and cigars” in Norfolk.[8]

Advertisement for Paige's Hotel in the Norfolk City Directory, 1880 

The story of Thomas Frederick Paige, Jr. is just one of the many unique narratives that can be uncovered when exploring the archival records of African American service members. For many Black Civil War veterans, serving in the Union Army and Navy meant more than performing their patriotic duty. Rather, it was a deeply personal endeavor to free their own parents, wives, and children from the same plantations from which they escaped. Once free, Black veterans like Thomas Paige built on their military careers by fighting for political rights and economic prosperity during Reconstruction and beyond.



Notes:
[1] Keith P. Wilson, Campfires of Freedom: The Camp Life of Black Soldiers during the Civil War (Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 2013), 2.
[2] Segregation in the Navy | Naval History Magazine - February 2021 Volume 35, Number 1 (usni.org)
[3] Tommy L. Bogger, The Slave and Free Black Community in Norfolk, 1775–1865 (Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Virginia, 1976), 161–62; 188.
[4] Encyclopedia Virginia, “R. G. L. Paige (1846-1904),” Last modified (n.d.), Accessed Dec. 14, 2023, R. G. L. Paige (1846–1904) - Encyclopedia Virginia.
[5] The National Archives, Washington, DC, USA. U.S., Civil War Pension Index: General Index to Pension Files, 1861-1934; NAI Title: General Index to Civil War and Later Pension Files, Ca. 1949-Ca. 1949; NAI Number: 563268; Record Group Title: Records of the Department of Veterans Affairs, 1773-2007; Record Group Number: 15; Series Number: T288; Roll: 211. U.S., Civil War Pension Index: General Index to Pension Files, 1861-1934 - Ancestry.com
[6] Excerpts from Equal Suffrage: Address from the Colored Citizens of Norfolk, VA, to the People of the United States (1865), 5. Excerpted by the National Humanities Center, accessed September 28, 2023, http://nationalhumanitiescenter.org/pds/maai2/freedom/text5/equalsuffrage.pdf.
[7] Thomas C. Parramore, Peter C. Stewart, and Tommy L. Bogger, Norfolk: The First Four Centuries (Charlottesville, VA: University Press of Virginia, 1994), 227.
[8] Norfolk City Directory (1880), “Paige’s Hotel,” 177. Accessed Dec. 14, 2023. U.S., City Directories, 1822-1995 - AncestryLibrary.com.

Correcting the Record: USS Cumberland Lost 123 Sailors at the Battle of Hampton Roads

By Hunt Lewis
HRNM Volunteer

USS Cumberland rammed by CSS Virginia (Library of Congress)

When USS Cumberland was rammed and sunk by CSS Virginia (ex-USS Merrimack) on March 8, 1862, approximately a third of the crew were lost. Lost also were all personnel records. All that was known was the number of officers and men aboard at the start of the battle.

The ship’s commanding officer, Commander William Radford, had to report circumstances of the loss of his ship and number of Sailors killed or drowned. Lacking an accurate muster roll on which names could be called out, and a count made of those who made no response, Commander Radford did the next best thing. He mustered and took a count of the survivors and subtracted that count from the number of men attached to the ship at the beginning of the battle.

Final page of the muster roll, indicating the number of killed and drowned aboard USS Cumberland on March 8, 1862 (Library of Congress)

The muster consisted of 255 handwritten names on six pages. On the last page is the annotation:

            "Officers and men when action commenced          376
                do              do                  do          over               255
                                                       killed or drowned        121

              This is a large number and I am hoping more men will be found.
                                                        (signed) Wm. Radford,
                                                                        Commander”

The 121 fatalities has been reported in official records for 160 years, but this muster roll of survivors contains an error. On the first page of the muster, two officers were listed as having died in the battle, but when we counted up every name on the muster roll, we found that Radford accidentally counted the two men as survivors. Chaplain John Lenhart was listed as drowned and Master’s Mate John Harrington shown as killed. Because these two men were killed but accidentally counted among the survivors, the correct count of survivors should have been 253 rather than 255. Thus, the number of Sailors killed when USS Cumberland sank on March 8, 1862, stands at 123. With that conclusion, the Hampton Roads Naval Museum will begin using the corrected number of 123 in all future historical documents and exhibits. 

First page of the muster roll, listing the officers. When we added up the number of Sailors listed in this entire muster roll, we realized Commander Radford had accidentally counted Lenhart and Harrington as among the living. (Library of Congress)

In the Collection: Rear Admiral Napoleon Collins' Sword

By Nick Wieman
HRNM Intern

Commander Napoleon Collins, circa 1864 (Wikipedia)

Napoleon Collins was born in Pennsylvania on March 4, 1814, and commissioned as a midshipman in the United States Navy in January 1834. After an “arduous but undistinguished” career in the Navy, then-Commander Napoleon Collins lucked into a chance to make his mark in September of 1864 while in command of USS Wachusett. While re-coaling in the Canary Islands, he was informed that the Confederate commerce raider CSS Florida had recently refueled there as well and was bound for the Port of Salvador in Bahia, Brazil. Intent on destroying the dreaded Confederate commerce raider, Collins set sail for Bahia.

Wachusett beat Florida to Bahia by about two days, anchoring outside the Brazilian harbor on October 2, 1864. In the dead of night on October 4, sentries aboard Wachusett spotted a ship pulling into port, later confirmed to be Florida. Collins messaged Florida’s commander, Lieutenant Charles M. Morris, formally requesting a naval duel outside Brazilian territorial waters. There was established precedent of respecting neutral nations’ territorial sovereignty; Captain John Winslow, of USS Kearsarge, had waited to engage CSS Alabama until after the latter ship had left French waters. Morris rebuffed the invitation, citing Collins’ disrespect of the ship and its crew in addressing the ship as “the sloop Florida” rather than the proper CSS Florida. He announced his intention to stay in Bahia for as long as necessary, and that he would neither “seek nor avoid a contest with the Wachusett” but that at a later date he would “use his utmost endeavors to destroy her.” Morris’ arrogance would prove to be his undoing, as it only served to reinforce Collins’ desire to see Florida sunk, maritime law be damned.

On the evening of October 6, Morris and several officers went ashore to spend the night in Bahia, alongside roughly half the crew who had been granted liberty, leaving Florida under the command of his First Lieutenant. Not anticipating any action from Wachusett and obliging maritime law to disarm in a neutral port, he removed the shot from Florida’s guns and allowed the ship to lose its steam.

At precisely 3:00 am on October 7, Collins made his move. Having pulled out of the harbor to give Wachusett sufficient clearance and time to build up a good head of steam, Collins ordered Wachusett to charge at the anchored Florida at full speed, intending to ram the ship with enough force to sink it. Wachusett struck Florida on the starboard quarter, tearing down the mizzenmast and main yard and crushing the ramparts, but the ship had not received a fatal blow, disabled but otherwise afloat. Rather than finish it off with cannon, Collins instead took the opportunity to seize Florida as prisoner. After securing the surrender of Florida’s remaining crew, he secured a towing hawser to the ship and towed Florida out to sea, briefly pursued by a Brazilian corvette. Captain Morris, running from the hotel where he had been staying, reached the dock just in time to see his ship being towed away over the horizon.

Cutting out the Florida from Bahia, Brazil by USS Wachusett (Frederick Gutekunst)

Collins arrived in Hampton Roads on November 12, 1864, Florida in tow, to a jubilant reception from the public and an awkward reception from Secretary of State William Seward. Collins had broken international law by seizing the ship in neutral waters, and it was feared that to make peace with the Brazilian government, Florida would have to be returned to Bahia, and by proxy the Confederate Navy. When the formal diplomatic protest arrived, Seward assured the Brazilian government that Collins had acted without authorization, and that he would be suspended and court-martialed. However, Florida could not be returned to Bahia as requested, as the ship had been accidentally struck by a transport ship early on November 28, while anchored off Newport News, and sunk. Whether it was an accident or Florida had been intentionally sunk is unknown.

Collins would indeed be court martialed within six months of the incident and sentenced for dismissal. However, the verdict was set aside by Navy Secretary Gideon Welles, and Napoleon Collins was restored to duty. He continued serving in the Navy until his death in 1874, having been promoted to Rear Admiral in command of the South Pacific Squadron in Peru.

Obverse view of Napoleon Collins’ sword, with included scabbard (HRNM)

Rear Admiral Napoleon Collins' personal effects had remained with his family until recently, when they were donated to the Hampton Roads Naval Museum by his great-grandson Grant Collins. Along with his uniform jacket, naval officer’s fore-and-aft, belt, and epaulets, one of the most striking artifacts is his officer’s sword. Once as essential to a nobleman’s or gentleman soldier’s attire as his uniform, the sword has served as a symbol of military authority for thousands of years worldwide, and the United States is no exception. While the increasing proliferation of firearms in the 18th and 19th centuries restricted the sword’s practical usage on land to the cavalry, it retained its value aboard ships as one of the weapons of choice for boarding parties until the late 19th century, where the close quarters of the ship made it much more practical than a rifle in combat. Even if the sword has been replaced in the hands of the infantry, it remains an essential part of the officer’s uniform for ceremony.

"N.P Ames/Cutler/Cabotville” (HRNM)

Rear Admiral Napoleon Collins’ sword is an N.P. Ames Cutler Model 1841 Naval Cutlass, produced by the Ames Manufacturing Company in Cabotville, Massachusetts. The sword is in very good condition overall, albeit with some discoloration from age.

Liberty pole and eagle with shield (HRNM)

Both sides of the blade feature ornate foliate (leaf patterns) running down its length. Beginning from the tip of the blade going down, we find a bald eagle charged with an escutcheon (heraldic shield) emblazoned with stripes under the chief (upper half of the shield), like the Great Seal of the United States. Below it is a continuation of the foliate, here featuring a trellis crossed with two naval cannons. The center of the blade features a prominent etching of a boy atop a pole, capped with a banner or pennant. This most likely depicts a “liberty pole,” a classic symbol of republicanism dating back to the late Roman Empire, and which was a common sight in the lead-up to the American Revolution as a symbol of protest against British rule. Just above the grip is the manufacturer's inscription, “NP Ames/Cutler/Cabotville,” placing its date of manufacture between 1841 and 1848. Below this inscription, closest to the hilt, is a sunburst-like ray pattern.

“United States Navy” (HRNM)

Beginning just past the tip of the blade, we find more foliate. Then, there’s stylized etching of a ship at sea, with the aft of the ship facing outwards judging by the windows of the cabin, with a prominent wake. After this is a prominent “United States Navy” inscription, flanked on either side by a pair of sunburst-esque ray patterns. After these sunbursts, there is a prominent ship’s anchor nestled in foliate, which continues down the length of the blade to the hilt.

Grip and eagle-head pommel (HRNM)

The grip is made of an off-white material, possibly ivory or whalebone, that has probably yellowed with age. The grip is carved with symmetrical lines on either side, a semi-circle with lines radiating from a central point, and an arrow-like pattern closest to the crossguard. The pommel is carved prominently in the shape of a stylized eagle’s head. Included with the sword is a black leather scabbard with two large brass mounts on the throat of the scabbard and its midsection. Both brass mounts are etched with an anchor design.

Both sword and scabbard are in good condition, albeit affected by the elements and the passage of time. The brass and steel have become discolored with a dark patina, particularly on the edges of the blade and the manufacturer’s inscription. The ivory grip has discolored into a sort of creamy yellow and may be coming unglued from the rest of the hilt; the brass at the base of the blade is also faintly discolored with yellow patches. It should be noted that this sword model was produced with a large folding guard, embossed with a foliate pattern. While it is unknown whether this particular sword was manufactured with a folding guard, the geometric indentations on the base of the hilt seem to indicate that something could have slotted in.

While the sword itself was not used by Collins during the incident, that he retained possession of the sword altogether is a testament to the nation’s support for his actions outweighing legalities. Under other circumstances, the seizure of another nation's vessel in international waters would have spelled the end of his career, perhaps even imprisonment. However, dispatching one of the feared Confederate commerce raiders that had claimed so many Union merchant ships in the Atlantic proved that the government and the public were willing to overlook such transgressions in the pursuit of victory over the secessionists.


Primary Sources
-Report of Lieutenant Morris, C.S. Navy, late command C.S.S Florida, of the seizure of that vessel by U.S.S Wachusett. October 13, 1864, Bahia. Naval History Heritage Command https://www.history.navy.mil/research/library/online-reading-room/title-list-alphabetically/c/capture-of-css-florida-by-uss-wachusett-report-of-lieutenant-morris.html
-Report of Commander Napoleon Collins. U.S. Navy, commanding U.S.S Wachusett, of the seizure by that vessel of C.S.S Florida. October 31, 1864. U.S.S Wachusett. St. Thomas, West Indies. Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies in the War of the Rebellion. Series 1, vol. 3. Washington. Government Printing Office. 1896.
-"The Capture of the Florida." New York Times (1857-1922), Nov 9, 1864. https://www.proquest.com/historical-newspapers/capture-florida/docview/91834546/se-2?accountid=12967
-"THE FLORIDA CASE.: CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN MR. SEWARD AND THE BRAZILIAN AUTHORITIES." New York Times (1857-1922), 1865. https://www.proquest.com/historical-newspapers/florida-case/docview/91934907/se-2?accountid=1296

Memories of USS Cumberland (Part 3 of 3): A Living Spirit: Cumberland in Song

By William Clarkson
HRNM Educator

In the previous two parts of our March series about USS Cumberland, we have looked at reporting, perceptions, and poems about the Battle of Hampton Roads and sinking of Cumberland. In today’s third and final part, we briefly examine how music has served to keep Cumberland’s memory alive in national consciousness. As we saw in part two, poetry can be set to music, like Longfellow’s “The Cumberland,” but lyrics were also newly composed and brought Cumberland’s tale to audiences both across the nation and time. Today we will focus on two examples that were written within a year after the battle. These songs are titled “The Cumberland’s Crew,” and “The Good Ship Cumberland.” “The Cumberland’s Crew’s” author is unknown, while “The Good Ship Cumberland” is by one E.F.M. whose exact name remains unidentified.

Songwriters produced a wealth of music during the American Civil War. Songs served to entertain, inspire, and sustain the troops as well as the civilian populations. Tunes were sung from the stage to the campfire by professional musician and enthusiast alike. Many of these songs have no known attributable artist, having been written and performed by anonymous sailors, soldiers, and civilians from opposing sides. Many of these songs can be found in two of the larger folk music indexes compiled during the 20th century. The “Laws” Index (named for the creator of the index and folk music scholar, George Malcolm Laws), contains 2,576 unique English language song listings, with many sub-listings for similar songs. A second index called the Roud Folk Song Index (after creator Steve Roud, also a folk music scholar), contains a more comprehensive set at around 25,000 unique listings. Both songs featured here have individual listings on both indexes.

“The Cumberland’s Crew,” Published by H. De Marson, NYC c. 1863 (Library of Congress)

Our first song, “Cumberland’s Crew,”[i] recounts the battle between USS Cumberland and CSS Virginia on March 8, 1862. The opening stanza invites the listener:

Shipmates, come gather and join in my ditty
Of a terrible battle that's happened of late
When each Union tar shed a tear of sad pity
When he heard of the once-gallant Cumberland's fate

O, the eighth day of March told a terrible story
And many brave tars to this world bid adieu,
Our flag it was wrapped in a mantle of glory
By the heroic deeds of the Cumberland's crew

Already, the listener is primed for a tale of struggle and defiance, and the rest of the song plays out much like one might expect. The familiar encouragement from the acting captain, Lieutenant George Morris, is echoed when he says, "’Boys, of this monster, now, don't be dismayed. We've sworn to maintain our beloved Constitution, and to die for our country we are not afraid.'" The battle commences, and Cumberland and Virginia fire on each other, with Virginia’s iron plating largely rendering Cumberland’s guns ineffective. Meanwhile, fire from Virginia takes a terrible toll on Cumberland’s crew, even before the ship is rammed. The song doesn’t specifically mention the ramming and sinking, but the final two stanzas make clear that the crew will not surrender and will go down fighting by saying:

Now, the pride of our Navy can never be daunted,
Though the dead and the wounded our decks they did strew
"We'll die at our quarters or conquer victorious:''
Was answered in cheers by the Cumberland's crew.

"We've fought for the Union, our cause it is glorious.
To the Star Spangled Banner we'll ever prove true.
We'll be wept for by Columbia's brave sons and fair daughters
And never forgotten," sang the Cumberland's crew.

The ending to the song serves two purposes. First, it commemorates the bravery of the crew, who refused to surrender to the ironclad Virginia. Second, it inspires both combatants and civilians to continue to support the “glorious” Union cause. It’s important to note here that different performers and printings of folk songs will include slight variations in the lyrics, as well as a wide variety of instrumentation and musical arrangements, often being set to the tune of other traditional folk music. This is certainly the case with our second song, “The Good Ship Cumberland.”

“The Good Ship Cumberland,” Published by A.W. Auner, Philadelphia c. 1863 (Library of Congress)

“Good Ship Cumberland”[ii] is the earliest title for a song that can be more widely found under the names, “The Cumberland and the Merrimac[k],” “The Cumberland,” or even “The Merrimac.” Despite the different title and arrangements, lyrically they are the same song. As with “Cumberland’s Crew,” “Good Ship Cumberland” begins with an invitation to “all ye merry sailors, and all ye landsmen too,” and unfurls the story of battle between Cumberland and Virginia in much the same way as “Cumberland’s crew.” There are a few marked differences, however, between “Good Ship Cumberland,” and “Cumberland’s Crew.” First, “Good Ship” includes the demand for Cumberland’s surrender, and Morris’ alleged reply:

In vain we poured our broadside into her ribs of steel,
Yet still no breach we made in her, or damage did she feel;
Then to our bold Commander the rebel Captain spoke—
Haul down your flying colors, or I'll sink your Yankee boat!

Our Captain's eye did glisten, and his cheek grew white with rage,
And to the Rebel pirate in a voice of thunder said,
My men are brave and loyal, my flag shall ever stand—
Before I'll strike my colors you may sink us and be damned!

Second, the song includes the ramming of Cumberland by Virginia, and third, when it becomes apparent that Cumberland is sinking, Morris offers the crew the opportunity to escape, saying, “I'll go down with flag a flying into a watery grave, but you, my gallant comrades, may seek your lives to save.” Morris did not, in fact, go down with the ship, but the sentiment is conveyed nonetheless. To Morris’ offer the crew replies:

They swore they'd never leave him, and manned their guns afresh,
And poured broadside after broadside, till the water reached their breasts;
And as she sank far down, far down, in the briny deep
The stars and stripes were flying from the maintop's highest peak.

This final line provides the final major difference between the two tunes, presenting the listener with the image of Cumberland’s flag still flying even as the hull and many of the crew rest at the bottom of the James River. As discussed in the two previous posts, this image was a focal point for participants, writers, and the public alike.

 “The Loggers,” an image depicting loggers in Michigan during the 1880s-90s, Detroit Publishing Co. c. 1890 (Library of Congress)

After Union victory in the American Civil War, sailors and soldiers from both sides returned to civilian life and sought employment anywhere they could. They carried with them the stories, memories, and importantly the songs they learned and sang during the war. Printings of songs like “Cumberland’s Crew” were disseminated widely and have been found as far away as England and Ireland. In the United States, these songs were commonly heard in lumber camps in New York, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, as well as from sailors and shipping laborers throughout the Great Lakes region. As Civil War veterans aged, these songs were passed down and eventually found their way into the repertoire of professional folk musicians. This interest in folk music intensified and reached its zenith between the late 1940s-1960s, during a period known as the American Folk Music Revival. Many renditions of Cumberland songs date from this period; the version found in endnote ii by Warde Ford is off the album Wolf River Songs, released in 1956. Another musically different version was performed by Ellen Stekert and released on the album Songs of a New York Lumberjack in 1958.[iii]

Sketch of USS Cumberland by Alfred R. Waud, c. 1861 (Library of Congress)

Versions of these songs are still performed 160 years after the Battle of Hampton Roads, with some groups giving them a bit of an updated flavor.[iv] Though the sound of more recent recordings might be different, the words and message remain largely the same. Hearing songs from the past that continue to be performed today provides us with a closer connection to what a Civil War contemporary might have felt or believed, and how the battle between USS Cumberland and CSS Virginia took on meaning far beyond the sinking of one ship. Music drives this home, perhaps even more so than articles and poetry. What each of the media we have considered over the past three posts share is the reminder that the Battle of Hampton Roads and sinking of USS Cumberland took root in the contemporary public consciousness. And, like Cumberland’s flag flying on her mast, the legacy of the ship and crew’s struggle is still visible today, 160 years later.


Notes:
[i] A version of “Cumberland’s Crew,” performed by the 97th Regimental String Band, and played on contemporary instruments can be heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_tVGoiKOJA.
[ii] A version of “Good Ship Cumberland” Performed by Warde Ford (under the title “The Sinking of the Cumberland”), can be heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tp8U_ySDEIA. Notice that the first stanza is omitted in this version.
[iii] A version of “Good Ship Cumberland” (under the title “The Cumberland and the Merrimac”), performed by Ellen Stekert can be heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hb6I_f2pHzw.
[iv] A version of “The Cumberland’s Crew”, performed by Smokey Bastard, 2008 can be heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX984Pdl6WM.

Memories of USS Cumberland (Part 2 of 3): The Poets

By William Clarkson
HRNM Educator

In part 1 of our series about the sinking of USS Cumberland during the Battle of Hampton Roads, we looked at how the public perceived the loss of Cumberland in the accounts of newspapers, witnesses, and participants. Today, we will explore how writers of the day retold the event in poetry. In addition to many other poets, literary titans Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Herman Melville produced works about USS Cumberland. The poetry written soon after the battle established the well-known narrative. However, while a few names become synonymous with brave words and actions, every work celebrates the courage and commitment of Cumberland’s crew and seeks to preserve their deeds for future generations. Links will be provided at the end to the full texts of each of the three poems discussed.

Portraits of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (left) and Herman Melville c. 1860 (Library of Congress)

It is no surprise that the two most famous poets to pen works about the struggle between Cumberland and Virginia are Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Herman Melville. In fact, both authors titled their pieces “The Cumberland.” Longfellow’s “Cumberland” was first published in the December 1862 edition of Atlantic Monthly. While Longfellow wrote many pieces about the sea, ships, and sailing, he never served aboard a naval vessel. His personal experience of fighting vessels came from his childhood and his proximity to the September 5, 1813, battle between USS Enterprise and HMS Boxer off the coast of Portland, Maine, where he and his family were living at the time. He later penned a poem recounting the event, titled “My Lost Youth.” Longfellow’s “Cumberland” is written from the point of view of a Sailor aboard the ship during the battle. This anonymous Sailor recounts Virginia’s approach up the Elizabeth River with its “feather of snow-white smoke… to try the force of our ribs of oak.” After receiving shots from Virginia, Cumberland “sen[t] her straight defiance back in a full broadside!” The fire from Cumberland’s guns, while able to damage a few of Virginia’s cannons, lifeboats, and smokestack, is unable to penetrate the “iron scale of the monster’s hide.” At this moment, in Longfellow’s telling, a Sailor aboard Virginia demands Cumberland’s surrender:

"Strike your flag!" the rebel cries,
In his arrogant old plantation strain.
"Never!" our gallant Morris replies;
"It is better to sink than to yield!"
And the whole air pealed
With the cheers of our men.

This action becomes a defining moment of the engagement. First, it signals the Cumberland crew’s intent to continue fighting regardless of the circumstances, becoming a rallying cry for Union forces as well as the public. Second, it places Lieutenant George Morris as the central hero in the tale, something that is mirrored in some of the articles and recollections in part 1 of this series, as well as in poetry, song, and prose. Morris was acting commander of the vessel since Cumberland’s captain, William Radford, was not aboard when the battle commenced. Longfellow describes Virginia ramming Cumberland, and Cumberland’s subsequent sinking, continuing to fire until the decks were submerged. The scene is completed with the image of Cumberland’s flag still flying the following morning on the mast, visible above the water. He states, “Every waft of the air was a whisper of prayer, or a dirge for the dead.” Longfellow’s “Cumberland” was well received publicly, and in 1863 composer Francis Boott put his words to music.

Cover of F. Bootts' musical arrangement of Longfellow’s “The Cumberland,” 1863. (Library of Congress)

In contrast, Herman Melville’s “The Cumberland” was first published by Harper’s New Monthly Magazine in March 1866, four years after the battle. Its publication was part of a series of Civil War poems by Melville published in Harper’s as a leadup to the release of his collection of poems titled Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War. Melville, unlike Longfellow, served over a year in the US Navy, aboard USS United States from 1843 to 1844 (one of the first six frigates authorized by the US Congress in 1794). Where Longfellow and others recount the events and deeds of the battle, Melville uses his poem to eulogize and memorialize USS Cumberland and its crew. He begins by declaring, “Some names there are of telling sound, whose vowelled syllables free are pledge that they shall ever live renowned,” immediately identifying Cumberland as worthy of remembrance. To aid in imprinting the name Cumberland into his reader’s mind, each stanza ends with a sensational description of saying the ship’s name, feeling it, “flowing, rolling on the tongue.” As with other poetry about the battle, Melville invokes the image of Cumberland’s flag still visible and flying on the mast, a symbol for defiance, and states, “Your flag and flag-staff shall in story stand,” as the “dead unconquerable manned the Cumberland.” While Melville is now considered one of the United States’ most celebrated poets, his book Battle-Pieces, which contains “The Cumberland,” only sold 496 of the 1,200 copies printed in the 10 years after its publication. Regardless, the existence of the poem, and the fact that Melville was moved enough by the events of March 8th, 1862, to pen the work four years later, is a testament to the effect the actions of Cumberland’s crew had on the popular consciousness.

Portrait of George Boker, author and later US Diplomat, c. 1860. (Library of Congress)

Somewhat less well-known today, George Boker also wrote a poem titled, “On Board the Cumberland,” which like Longfellow’s verse recounts the events of the battle from a crewmember’s perspective. The poem was published in Boker’s book, Poems of the War, in 1864. Throughout the American Civil War, George Boker was a staunch Unionist and was a foundational member of the Union League Club, supporting the war effort with his writing. During the presidency of Ulysses Grant, he was appointed as a diplomat to the Ottoman Empire, and later served as a representative to the Russian Empire. Boker’s poem focuses on the heroism of acting commander Lt. Morris. He has Morris giving an inspirational speech to the crew as CSS Virginia approached. In this lyrical account of Morris appealing to the crew, Boker ascribes him with great eloquence, stating:

"Remember, boys, this flag of ours
Has seldom left its place;
And where it falls, the deck it strikes
Is covered with disgrace.

"I ask but this: or sink or swim,
Or live or nobly die,
My last sight upon earth may be
To see that ensign fly!"

This moment of foreshadowing primes the reader for the now famous image of Cumberland’s flag still raised off its sunken wreck, having not surrendered even to the last. In his poem, Boker does something that many other works do not; he recounts the actions of other individuals made famous by the battle, most notably future Rear Admiral Thomas O. Selfridge Jr. and Acting Master (later Lieutenant Commander) William Pritchard Randall. To Selfridge, Boker attributes the command to abandon ship, but only once the sinking was imminent, and so that the crew may survive to continue the fight, saying, “’Up to the spar-deck! Save yourselves!’ Cried Selfridge. ‘Up, my men! God grant that some of us may live to fight yon ship again!’" While the crew prepared to leave Cumberland, Boker writes, “We reached the deck. Here Randall stood: ‘Another turn, men – So!’ Calmly he aimed his pivot-gun; ‘Now, Tennery, let her go!’” With this final shot from USS Cumberland, Boker describes the ship finally sinking, coming once more to the image of Cumberland’s flag remaining to wave over the wreck as a “sign that we who live may claim the peerage of the brave; a monument, that needs no scroll, for those beneath the wave!” The inclusion of these men in the poem presents a slightly different narrative than so many other works. While Morris is still the intrepid commander, intent on fighting, regardless of the odds, introducing others into the work reminds the reader that it was actions of the entire crew that fueled the public’s imagination and inspired so many authors to write about this event.

An illustration that accompanies Boker’s “On Board the Cumberland,” depicting a soldier pointing out Cumberland’s mast and flag, still visible, to a rescued Sailor. (A Selection of War Lyrics, by Felix Darley and James Gregory, 1864)

The narrative of “brave Morris” and Cumberland’s struggle, stuck in the public consciousness well after the war, with efforts to recognize and reward Cumberland’s crewmembers led by authors and citizens, including Nathaniel Hawthorne and members of Congress, continued well into the 1870s and‘80s. While we have seen three poets and their interpretations of the battle’s aftermath, many more were produced by authors of various backgrounds and perspectives. Many extol Morris as a singular hero, but there are a few, like Boker, that include the deeds of a wider variety of individuals. What remains true in every case is the admiration and praise from the authors for the crew of USS Cumberland and their desire to preserve this crew’s actions in writing for future generations. Poetry wasn’t the only creative endeavor to give voice to Cumberland’s story. In part 3 of this series, we will look at songs about Cumberland and the Battle of Hampton Roads, and how they passed through time into the present day.

Poem Links:

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Cumberland,” 1862

Herman Melville’s “The Cumberland,” 1866

George Henry Boker’s “On Board the Cumberland,” c. 1864

George Bancroft: Invisible Giant

By Dr. Ira R. Hanna
HRNM Volunteer

History is about people. Everyone has heard of Abraham Lincoln, Susan B. Anthony, and Thomas Edison. Yet there are many who helped to shape American culture but remain relatively unknown. Invisible Giants: Fifty Americans Who Shaped the Nation But Missed the History Books provides fascinating biographies of some of these consequential figures. The chapter on George Bancroft provides some interesting connections to U.S. naval history. Bancroft was the first consequential American historian as well as a political boss, cabinet officer, diplomat, presidential ghostwriter, parlor radical, and bon vivant.

Invisible Giants

The first of Bancroft’s ten-volume History of the United States of America was published in 1864, the last in 1884. In 1885, he was elected president of the fledgling American Historical Association. Bancroft strongly believed that the nation had survived several trials and had a bright future. His writings implied that the voice of the people (their vote) was the voice of God.

Bancroft was the eighth of the thirteen children of Aaron Bancroft. He was very precocious and entered Harvard University at the age of 13. He graduated with honors and was offered a scholarship to study at Georgia Augusta University in Gottingen, Germany. In 1820, he was awarded a Doctorate of History, then returned to America and taught history at Harvard. Soon afterwards, he married Sarah Dwight, daughter of a prominent merchant/banker. Unfortunately, she died after the birth of their third child. In 1838 he married Elizabeth Bliss, a widow. During that time, as Collector of Customs of the Port of Boston, he helped form a Democratic Party “machine” in Boston that still exists today. In 1845, Bancroft was a leading figure in the Baltimore Democratic National Convention that nominated James K. Polk. When elected president, Polk rewarded Bancroft by nominating him to be Secretary of the Navy. During his short tenure as SecNav, Bancroft did two things for which Americans should be eternally grateful.

George Bancroft (National Portrait Gallery)

First, Bancroft supported the Mexican War and sent American ships to secure California ports from Mexican disruptions. This was partially responsible for California and Texas becoming states. Secondly, Bancroft realized that the Navy needed competent officers who were technically trained and understood how best to use the new steam-powered ships. He determined that the best way to do that was to combine the several naval schools into one that could keep up with the new technology as well as strategies to best use it. In 1845, he authorized the construction of the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland, which has proven to do that exceedingly well.

After only 18 months as SecNav, Polk offered Bancroft the Ambassadorship to Great Britain. There, he laid the groundwork for England’s support during the Civil War. He also served as Ambassador to Prussia during the term of Republican president Ulysses S. Grant. Bancroft wrote speeches for Stephen Douglas in 1860 and Andrew Johnson in 1866. His own writings formed the core of the Democratic Party’s platform that lasted for over forty years.

Although Bancroft criticized Lincoln when he was first elected, he changed his mind as the Civil War progressed. He agreed with emancipation in 1862 and voted for Lincoln in 1864 although he was still a Democrat. In February 1866, Bancroft gave a eulogy for Lincoln before the House of Representatives.

George Bancroft died in 1891 at the age of 90. John Adams was president when he was born and Theodore Roosevelt attended his memorial service. Of the many unrecognized persons in American history, Bancroft certainly deserves not only to be mentioned in our history books, but given a prominent place.

Reference:
Schlesinger, Jr., Arthur. "George Bancroft." Invisible Giants: Fifty Americans Who Shaped the Nation But Missed the History Books, edited by Mark Carnes. Oxford University Press, 2002, pp.23-31.

Did Demon Rum Play a Part in the Destruction of CSS Virginia?

By Hunt Lewis
HRNM Volunteer

One of the last survivors of the crew of the CSS Virginia (ex USS Merrimack) said so.

In an interview conducted by B.C. Utecht for the Calvert News, Calvert, Texas in 1923, 85-year-old Andrew Jackson Sharp claimed rum did indeed play a part in the ship's destruction. Sharp was a landsman on CSS Virginia when it was destroyed by the Confederates on May 11, 1862.

Article from the Calvert News

Sharp related:
        "The Merrimac, or Virginia, suffered some damage from the Monitor’s guns, but the damage was easily repaired, and the warship then was in good shape as before. But now about this prohibition; "Our plans were well laid," said the aged veteran as he sat reminiscing on the veranda of his home. "The Merrimac had been thoroughly gone over, and we had plenty of ammunition and were in shape for good work. We were close to the mouth of the James River, and in order to steam upstream it was necessary for us to raise the ship about two feet so that we could cross the bar at that point. To do this it was necessary to throw off ballast.
        "We began the job of lightening the vessel about 9 o’clock that night. Now, as everybody knows, sailors in every navy are, or were, supplied with whisky rations. Both the navies of the North and South were furnished with rum. While throwing off ballast, so we could head up the James to relieve Richmond, members of the crew got hold of a barrel of whisky and drank it down with a large dipper. A little of this was all right, but they kept at it too long and were soon tipsy. No officer was at hand at the time. The men continued to throw off ballast until all of it went overboard. I remonstrated with them, raising quite a row and they argued back at me. I told them of the danger, and we had quite a tilt. Soon I saw our ship, instead of being raised only two feet, was up five feet exposing the wooden sides. This was due to throwing away all our ballast. I hurried to Captain Technor and explained the situation, but by this time it was too late. Federal ships were not far from us, and they could see us plainly because of the five foot difference. A shot from one of them into our wooden sides would have done for us. So the plan to go to the relief of Richmond was abandoned for the lack of ballast control protection on such an undertakings and decided to attack the Union fleet off Newport News instead." [1]

Sharp’s memory may have failed him or else the reporter misunderstood the name of the Virginia’s captain. It was Tattnall, not Technor, and the attack was never made.

CSS Virginia's captain, Josiah Tattnall (Naval History and Heritage Command)

There may be an inkling of truth in Sharp’s story, although the presence of Demon Rum is never mentioned in official reports. Commodore Tattnall in his report on May 14, 1862 to Confederate Secretary of the Navy Stephen Mallory stated, "The pilots had assured me they could take the ship with a draft of 18 feet to within 40 miles of Richmond...Confiding in these assurances...I determined to lighten the ship at once and run up the river for the protection of Richmond. 

        "All hands having been called on deck, I stated to them the condition of things, and my hope that by getting up river before the enemy could be made aware of our design we might capture his vessels which had ascended it. And render efficient aid in the defense of Richmond, but to effect this, would require all their energy in lightening the ship.
        "Being quite unwell, I had retired to bed. Between 1 and 2 o’clock in the morning the first lieutenant reported to me that after the crew had worked for five or six hours and lifted the ship so as to render her unfit for action,.. the pilots had declared their inability to carry 18 feet above Jamestown flats, up to a point the shore on each side was occupied by the enemy." [2]

The chief pilot explained that 18 feet could be carried only if the prevailing winds were blowing up-river, but for the last two days the winds had been blowing downriver: "I had no time to lose. The ship was in not in a condition for battle even with an enemy of equal force, and the force was overwhelming. I therefor determined...to save the crew for further service by landing them at Craney Island, the only road for retreat open to us, and to destroy the ship to prevent her falling into the hands of the enemy."

Explosion of the CSS Virginia (Naval History and Heritage Command)

Notes:
[1] The Calvert News story by J.C. Utecht dated Sunday November 25, 1923 is reproduced verbatim on pages14-17 of On the Hills of Home by John Calvin Sharpe. This book can be viewed or downloaded from https://ia800206.us.archive.org/24/items/OnTheHillsOfHome/On_the_Hills_of_Home.pdf

[2] Official records of the Union and Confederate Navies in the War of the Rebellion, Series 1,Volume 7, North Atlantic Blockading Squadron, pp 336-338

The Naval War College: An Army Idea?

By John Pentangelo
HRNM Director

No, the U.S. Army did not give birth to the idea of a Naval War College, not exactly. But, a discussion between one of its most famous officers and one of the Navy’s most visionary intellectuals at the close of the American Civil War provided a spark that influenced professional military education forever after.

Established in Newport, Rhode Island in 1884, the Naval War College was the first institution of its kind in the world. It is renowned today for its role in educating naval officers in their chosen profession. The lectures provided by Alfred Thayer Mahan in early years became the basis of his seminal book, The Influence of Sea Power Upon History, 1660-1783. The book, published in 1890, was read widely by world leaders and influenced the build-up of major naval powers in the early 20th century. The college continued to do innovative work in the field of war gaming and the development of war plans after the First World War. Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, a 1923 graduate of the college, credited the war gaming program with helping to prepare the Navy’s ultimate victory in the Pacific during the Second World War. Today the college educates military personnel from all over the world, nourishes global partnerships, and offers a Master’s degree in Defense and Strategic Studies. So how did the idea for the Naval War College originate?

General William Tecumseh Sherman, 1865 (National Archives)

In 1865, Lieutenant Commander Stephen B. Luce was in command of the gunboat USS Pontiac with the South Atlantic Blockading Squadron. He was ordered to report to General William Tecumseh Sherman to guard the crossing of Savannah River as Sherman marched north to begin his campaign in the Carolinas. In discussion, Sherman shared his opinion on how to take the city of Charleston. The Navy tried unsuccessfully to take Charleston by bombarding Fort Sumter for three years. Sherman told the naval officer that Charleston would fall into the Union’s hands “like a ripe pear” when he cut its communications. This proved to be true in the next few weeks. Luce recalled: “After hearing General Sherman’s clear exposition of the military situation the scales seemed to fall from my eyes. ‘Here’ I said to myself, ‘is a soldier who knows his business!’ It dawned upon me that there were certain fundamental principles underlying military operations, which it were well to look into; principles of general application whether the operations were conducted on land or sea.”[1] The seed was planted.

Lieutenant Commander Stephen B. Luce, c. 1865 (Naval History and Heritage Command) 

Long devoted to education, Luce devoted much of his career to the formal education of naval personnel. Assigned to the Naval Academy during the early years of the Civil War, he revised W.H. Parker’s Instructions for Light Artillery, Afloat and Ashore. He also wrote and published Seamanship, a text for midshipmen. After the war, Luce lamented that naval officers began to specialize increasingly in navigation, hydrography, engineering, or ordnance. He fought against this, insisting to his fellow officers that their profession was war and it was war that they must study. After helping to establish the maritime college in New York (1874), he established the naval apprentice program aboard training ships in the late 1870s and was instrumental in the creation of the Navy’s first shore-based recruit training station at Newport (1883). During this time, he never forgot his meeting with Sherman. The general’s assessment of the military situation and his ability to execute a solution in a non-military way convinced Luce that decision makers required subject matter experts to advise them on military problems. The expertise in the art and science of naval warfare would be best developed through formal education. After years of advocacy, correspondence, research, and thought, Luce became the founding president of the Naval War College, established in 1884. He defined the college as “a place of original research on all questions relating to war and to statesmanship connected with war, or the prevention of war.”[2] The College owes its existence to the visionary leadership, perseverance, and commitment of Rear Admiral Stephen B. Luce. Perhaps it owes its inspiration to General William Tecumseh Sherman.



[1] Stephen Luce, “Naval Administration, III,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings Vol. 29 (1903): 820

[2] Stephen B. Luce, An Address Delivered at the United States Naval War College, The Writings of Stephen B. Luce, eds. John D. Hayes and John B. Hattendorf Naval War College Press Newport, RI, 39-40

Wooden Warrior: The First USS Minnesota

USS Monitor defends Minnesota during the Battle of Hampton Roads, March 9, 1862 (U.S. Navy)

By Zach Smyers
HRNM Educator

When the smoke cleared and the cannonade ceased on March 9, 1862, the wooden frigate USS Minnesota was still standing and the Battle of Hampton Roads was over. During the battle, Minnesota had gotten stuck on a sandbar, and the ship suffered heavy damage and several casualties from the attacking ironclad CSS Virginia. Due to the arrival of the ironclad USS Monitor, Minnesota was spared a fate similar to its fellow wooden ships, USS Cumberland and USS Congress, which were both sunk on the first day of the battle. Minnesota was successfully removed from the sandbar on March 10, 1862. The ship received much-needed repairs and returned to duty, serving as the flagship of the Atlantic Blockading Squadron.

Built at the Washington Navy Yard, Minnesota was high-tech for its time. Minnesota had two engines operated by four boilers, as well as a full complement of sails known as a “ship rig.” This allowed Minnesota to reach a top speed of 12.5 knots (approximately 14 mph). Initial construction of the ship began in 1854. It was launched on Dec 1, 1855, and commissioned on May 21, 1857. The newly commissioned USS Minnesota, classified as a Steam Frigate 1st Class of the Merrimack class (interestingly, the same class as the renamed CSS Virginia), displaced 4,833 tons, had a length of 264 feet 9 inches, a beam of 51 feet 4 inches, and a draft of 23 feet 10 inches. The ship’s crew consisted of 646 officers and enlisted sailors. Armament included two 10-inch guns, twenty-eight 9-inch guns, and fourteen 8-inch guns.

USS Minnesota (Naval History and Heritage Command)

After the Battle of Hampton Roads, Minnesota experienced its fair share of action. On April 14, 1863, Minnesota participated in the Battle of Suffolk. During this battle, four Sailors from Minnesota earned the Medal of Honor while temporarily assigned to USS Mount Washington. While operating on the Nansemond River on April 14, 1863, Mount Washington lost propulsion after its boilers were destroyed by Confederate gunfire. Despite being dead in the water, the Sailors from Minnesota manned a 12-pound howitzer and returned fire for six hours.

The following year, during the December 1864 Battle of Fort Fisher in Wilmington, North Carolina, Minnesota provided gunfire support against Confederate positions located inside the fort. In addition to this, Minnesota contributed 240 men to the landing force during the second battle, which took place from January 13 to January 15, 1865. The second assault on Fort Fisher was successful, and the Union was able to shut down a vital port that had supported the Confederate war effort.

After the Civil War, Minnesota was decommissioned on Feb 16, 1865, in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. The ship was re-commissioned in June 1867 to help train midshipmen during a cruise to Europe. On January 13, 1868, Minnesota was placed in reserve at the New York Navy Yard. The ship was re-commissioned again on June 12, 1875 and served as a gunnery and training ship for naval apprentices. The ship would serve in this capacity for the next twenty years.

USS Minnesota with its signal flags flying (Naval History and Heritage Command)

In 1895, Minnesota was loaned to the Massachusetts Naval Militia. This would be the ship’s last duty station prior to being sold to Thomas Butler & Co. of Boston in August 1901. Minnesota’s name was stricken from the Navy register so it could be used again on a brand-new battleship (BB 22), and the original Minnesota was burned at Eastport, Maine, to salvage its iron fittings. USS Minnesota represented its namesake state in a proud manner during its Navy career. It fought gallantly during the Battle of Hampton Roads, and despite being stuck and unable to move, the Sailors on Minnesota never gave up. Their determination and fighting spirit lived up to the Navy’s core values of honor, courage, and commitment. These values were represented again by Minnesota Sailors during the Battle of Suffolk and the Battle of Fort Fisher. It is appropriate that a fighting ship like Minnesota was used later in its life to train future Sailors before they joined the fleet.