Recent Reads: From Sail to Steam: Recollections of Naval Life by Alfred Thayer Mahan

 

Alfred Thayer Mahan shown late in his career (Naval History and Heritage Command)

By Dr. Ira Hanna
HRNM Docent

If any group of naval officers from any nation were asked what the name Mahan would bring to their minds, “Sea Power Wins Wars” would be their first choice. But Mahan’s life tells a lot more. From his first ship, the Congress, he learned what it felt like to be under “full sail.” Built in 1840, it represented the culmination of the era of sail. And from his last ship, the USS Wachusett, he became fully knowledgeable about being under “full steam.” This book is his story of how the U. S. Navy went from sail to steam power.

Mahan was born September 27, 1840, at West Point, New York, where his father was a professor at the Military Academy. Even so, he visited Norfolk often and became interested in the Navy and its ships. He always thought of himself as a Virginian. Although Mahan remained true to the Union during the “War of Secession,” he forever was influenced by the Chesapeake Bay. His father told him, “your mother is northern and very few can approach her, but still none compare for me the southern woman.” His father met Lafayette when he toured America in 1825-26 and spent time in France visiting him. His mother had a strong strain of French blood. Alfred said of himself that he was one half Irish, one quarter English, and “a good deal more than a trace of French.”

As a young boy, Mahan was fascinated by books written by the “old salts.” So it was not unusual that he chose to go to the Naval Academy rather than the Military Academy which his father preferred. In 1870, Mahan obtained command rank but was concerned with the “apathy” of the American people toward the navy. He called it a time of naval stagnation. That was when he began to read every book that told how sea power influenced the success of a nation, commercially as well as militarily.

By 1884, he had published a number of articles in popular magazines and become a regular lecturer at the Naval War College. He collected those articles and lectures into a book and in 1889 published The Influence of Sea Power upon History, 1660 – 1783. He continued to publish books that changed the way Americans, especially Congress and the President, felt about the need to build “a navy second to none.” Some of them were: The Influence of Sea Power upon the French Revolution and Empire, 1793 -1812 (published in 1892); The Life of Nelson (1897); The Interest of America in Sea Power, Present, and Future (1897); and The Major Operations of the Navies in the War of American Independence (1914). During his lifetime, Mahan authored over 40 books and before his death in 1914, predicted the defeat of the Central Powers and German Navy in World War I.

Although written in Victorian Era English with its hidden meanings, some revealing tales, and insights into the navy’s leadership, there is no doubt that Alfred T. Mahan influenced that leadership. The present navy reflects his belief that technological advances will influence what kind of ships will be built now and in the future in order for America to maintain its place as a world leader.

Florida's Unplanned, Uncertain Sojourn

One-hundred-fifty years ago this week, Confederate States Navy Lieutenant Thomas K. Porter, the man who had surrendered CSS Florida after a pre-dawn raid a month and a half earlier, beheld her sorry state on the James River while he was being transferred to Boston as a prisoner of war.  “She had lost her jibboom[sic] by a steam tug running into her,” Lt. Porter reported after his release to his erstwhile commanding officer, Charles M. Morris.   

On November 19, 1864, the Army troop transport Alliance, according to one witness, “thumped the Florida pretty hard, two or three times.  She swung around for and aft and did the Florida considerable damage,” while getting underway.   

Five days after the collision, Rear Admiral David D. Porter, commander of the US Navy’s North Atlantic Blockading Squadron, ordered Florida be taken about 1,500 yards further up the James and put beside another former Confederate warship, the ironclad USS Atlanta.  Until then, the prize steamer had been anchored above the remains of USS Cumberland, famously sunk by CSS Virginia during the Battle of Hampton Roads more than two-and-a-half years earlier.  

Union officers made it clear to the Confederate lieutenant that he would in all likelihood never see Florida again.

Lt. Porter wrote, “A Lieutenant-Commander told me that if the United States Government determined to give her up, the officers of the navy would destroy her.” 

Back in Brazil, United States Minister J. Watson Webb had known of the plan to attack CSS Florida.  After all, he had told USS Wachusett’s commander Napoleon Collins, among other Union captains on the hunt for “rebel cruisers,” that they were to attack or “run down” any they found in Brazilian ports.  Webb claimed that he “would make it all right with Brazil,” believing he had reached an understanding with their minister of foreign affairs.  Webb had also written to Secretary of State William H. Seward in May 1863 that, “…if we should sink these Pirates in Brazilian waters, the government of Brazil would secretly rejoice over the act, and be content with a handsome apology.”  

But taking the raider back to America as a prize?  That had not been part of the plan and the operation exposed senior US officials to charges of hypocrisy that were hard to refute.  In the end, the American Secretary of State merely claimed the operation had not been authorized to begin with, and that the blame for the Florida imbroglio rested with those responsible for carrying out the operation.

In his protest against the Florida seizure, the Brazilian charge d’affaires to the United States in Washington cited as a precedent the American government’s demands that the French release HMS Grange after the frigate L’Embuscade seized her in Delaware Bay in 1793.  The CSS Florida case was more egregious however because of assurances made by the United States Consul in Bahia, Thomas F. Wilson, that Brazilian neutrality would be respected, only to have the diplomat board the offending warship just before the attack and sail away with the prize. 

Seward, while claiming the Florida was, “…like the Alabama, a pirate belonging to no nation or lawful belligerent,” yielded to the Brazilians that “…the capture of the Florida was [an] unauthorized, unlawful, and indefensible exercise of the naval force of the United States within a foreign country in defiance of its established and duly recognized government.”  As a consequence, Seward announced that Consul Wilson, the man most responsible for persuading Napoleon Collins that he should make the attack, would be dismissed, and that “[President Lincoln] will suspend Captain Collins, and will direct him to appear before a court-martial.” 

After Florida's bow sustained substantial damage in a collision with US Army transport Alliance as it was getting underway on the morning of November 19, she was moved from her original position (in red) to a new position (in blue) about 1,500 yards upriver near what was then Camp Butler (in purple) on the 24th.    

As for acceding to demands to return the Confederate vessel to Brazil, her first commander John N. Maffitt wrote the following account of the conundrum after conducting a personal fact-finding mission years after the war:

Mr. Lincoln appeared exceedingly mortified and confused on receiving protests from the different representatives of the Courts of Europe denunciatory of this extraordinary breach of national neutrality.  Mr. Seward, with his usual diplomatic insincerity and Machiavellian characteristics, prevaricated, while he plotted with a distinguished Admiral as to the most adroit method of disposing of this elephant.  During an interview between Mr. Seward and Admiral Porter, the former exclaimed, “I wish she was at the bottom of the sea” 

“Do you mean it?” exclaimed Porter.

“I do, from my soul!” was the answer. 

“It shall be done” replied Porter.  

 

Florida’s Fractious Final Voyage

Despite the peaceful depiction of Florida (left) and Wachusett in this contemporary illustration from Harper's Weekly, on its voyage to Hampton Roads from Brazil, Florida was missing its mizzenmast (the mast closest to the stern) after an initial attempt to sink the vessel.     

One-hundred-and-fifty years ago this week, the former CSS Florida, a cruiser less than three years old yet a shell of the dreaded rebel commerce raider it had been, arrived in Hampton Roads shadowed by its captor, the sloop of war USS Wachusett.

After leading the successful capture of Florida in the “neutral” port of Bahia, Brazil and successfully delivering her as a prize back to the United States, one would think Wachusett’s commanding officer Napoleon Collins might have been in a celebratory mood over his achievement.  The U.S. Navy’s official records show, however, that he was a man with an axe to grind.  Mistakes made during the sneak attack on the commerce raider followed by accusations and recriminations made along the 1,400 mile journey to Hampton Roads brought Commander Collins and a principal officer under his command to the point that each threatened to fire upon the other before reaching home waters.  

According to Collins’ account, the trouble started before the journey even began.  

In a report to Washington dated October 31, 1864, detailing the seizure, Collins mentioned two problems he encountered during the pre-dawn attack on October 7.  The first was an “unforeseen circumstance that prevented us from striking [Florida] as intended.”  The Union sloop of war dragged its anchor across the harbor as it made for the slumbering rebel raider.  Collins had intended to stealthily cast away the anchor chain, slip her moorings and strike a decisive blow.  He wrote later, “…it was my intention to strike her full speed amidships, without firing a shot of any kind or a loud work being spoken, and if we succeeded in sinking her to back off and go quietly to sea.”

Dragging her anchor along, however, Wachusett could only manage a glancing blow at less-than-optimal speed, taking down Florida’s mizzenmast and main yard, leaving the ship crippled, yet still very much afloat.  

With a Brazilian navy corvette nearby preparing to intervene, the entire plan had to be changed.  

After the half of Florida’s crew on duty during the attack either surrendered, escaped or were shot in the attempt, Collins ordered a prize crew dispatched to take over the raider.  They would have to deal with managing a ship deprived of its aft sails at the very moment they would have to escape the now non-neutral harbor under fire from Brazilian warships and shore batteries and then sail their prize all the way back to America.  Collins chose Lieutenant Commander Lester A. Beardslee to lead the prize crew.

There seemed to be no alternative.  If Collins broke off the engagement and withdrew at this point, Florida, although damaged, would be retaken by her captain and the members of her crew who had been on liberty and who were no doubt converging on the port in the early dawn, drawn by the sounds of snapping timbers and cannon fire.  

This leads us to the second problem mentioned in Collins’ report, which concerned the use of two of Wachusett’s 32-pounder guns to answer the Confederates’ small arms fire.  Collins claimed they were fired “contrary to my orders.”  

During their first stop en route, Wachusett put into the tiny island of St. Bartholomew for provisions and to transfer 19 of their 70 prisoners over to the Union sloop Kearsarge while Florida remained offshore.  Collins later claimed that, despite having given the lieutenant commander strict orders not to let Wachusett out of his sight, Beardslee had by that evening somehow managed to drift over 20 miles from the five-mile-long island.  Furious at what he regarded as Beardslee’s disregard of his orders, Collins was overheard by one of the prize crew officers threatening to shell Florida with one of his 100-pounder rifled guns.  

The following day, the acting ensign returned and told Beardslee about the claim that he had disobeyed orders and that Collins had contemplated shelling him.  In response, Beardslee fired off a letter to the commander denying he had gone further than nine miles and requesting a court of inquiry be convened upon their return to investigate not only the validity of that charge but the conduct of the entire operation.  “I feel very confident that a court bringing out all the facts connected with the Florida since the day she arrived in Bahia will find little to censure in my conduct,” he wrote, “unless the capture itself be declared wrong [emphasis added].” 

“Should the Wachusett at any time begin firing at this United States steamer,” continued Beardslee, “I should most certainly be led to the belief that the Confederates aboard of[sic] the Wachusett had captured the vessel and that my duty to my country called upon me to destroy her.”  He added, ominously, “I shall most certainly return a shell from the Wachusett with both broadsides of this ship, which are in readiness, and if I shall have made a mistake none of us will live to rectify it, as I shall sink this ship, if I can not the Wachusett.”

Perhaps under the assumption that an investigation would indeed be forthcoming, Collins then wrote directly to Navy Secretary Gideon Welles from Hampton Roads two days after their arrival on November 12 requesting Beardslee be court-martialed on eight different counts, including failing to detach the anchor chain from his ship despite assurances it had been done, firing the broadside without permission,  sending the “improper letter” to him (which he enclosed), repeating his intention to call for a court of inquiry upon their return, and even “charging me by implication with cowardice.”

Of course a court of inquiry would be convened and a court martial conducted in the months to come, but not because of the nearly fratricidal feud between the two officers. 

The Capture of CSS Florida, October 7, 1864

USS Wachusett rams CSS Florida at daybreak, October 7, 1864 (Century Magazine)

US Navy ships based in Hampton Roads today routinely make port calls around the world, but their journeys in times of war or peace usually begin and end in their home port.  During the Civil War, however, those working aboard Confederate commerce raiders could claim no such luxury; every port in their homeland was sealed off by Union warships.      

The Confederate strategy to attack Union commercial shipping with privateers and commerce raiders, called guerre de course, was often employed by weaker naval powers (including the United States).  But the strategy came with more than its share of vulnerabilities.

The commerce raiders’ dependence upon using the ports of neutral powers for operations not only hobbled their ability to take on essential provisions and make needed repairs, but an adversaries’ disregard of neutrality also made possible the capture of one of the Confederacy’s most important raiders: the cruiser CSS Florida.  Like the famous CSS Alabama, Florida wreaked havoc on Union shipping over two extended cruises, accounting for 60 of more than the 200 merchant ships lost to raiders during the Civil War.  More than just a naval victory, the ship’s capture 150 years ago is also a controversial example of the American diplomatic corps’ role in armed conflict. 

Built as Oreto in a Liverpool shipyard, Florida would have never seen action if American consular authorities had achieved their aims early on.  After its arrival at Nassau in April of 1862, Samuel Whiting, the United States Consul, immediately recognized Oreto as a possible blockade runner and demanded the ship’s seizure, claiming that it was being armed in a neutral British port, and thus was in violation of the Foreign Enlistment Act.  After the Royal Navy briefly complied with the request, the British governor C.J. Bayley intervened and ordered her release, pointing out that Oreto was registered as a British vessel, flew the British flag, and carried no armament.  Nevertheless, the vessel was seized two more times in Nassau as the British civil and military authorities of the colony struggled amongst themselves as to whether the American diplomats were right about the ship.  Bayley finally decided that a trial by an admiralty court was in order. 

Despite a litany of sworn statements from American officials attesting to the nefarious nature of the ship, the British attorney general in Nassau, G.L. Anderson, stuck to the defense throughout the trial that although Oreto was designed like a warship, it was simply not a warship due to the fact that no weapons were aboard.  It was also a fact that Anderson had been quoted in public that his sentiments were with the Confederacy, but no matter.  His nakedly legalistic defense won the day and Oreto was released on August 7, meeting a British schooner loaded with arms and ammunition two days later near deserted Green Cay north of Nassau.  Ten days after that, with guns loaded and ready for action, Oreto was officially christened Florida and commissioned into the Confederate Navy. 
        
During two eventful cruises capturing 38 enemy vessels, CSS Florida paid call on the ports of officially neutral but friendly ports in Cuba, the Bahamas, Barbados, Bermuda, the Portuguese island of Madeira, the French island of Martinique, Spain, and Brazil, and even a lengthy yard period in France, all the while under the vociferous objections of American diplomats, who would simultaneously demand the ship be detained while frantically trying to summon the nearest Union warship.   In almost every case, the US Navy arrived too late.  But after 61 days at sea over the summer of 1864, Florida’s luck ran out in the port of Bahia, Brazil, where it had arrived on October 4 to take on coal and provisions, as well as make some needed repairs to its boilers.  Waiting in the harbor was USS Wachusett, commanded by Napoleon Collins, who dispatched a boat pretending to be from HMS Curlew in order to ascertain the ship’s identity.  He readied the ship for a fight, yet took no immediate action as Florida settled in.

Florida's commanding officer, Confederate Navy Lieutenant Charles Manigault Morris, assured the president of the province that he would respect Brazilian neutrality and take no action against the larger Federal ship across the harbor.  In response, the president told Morris that Thomas F. Wilson, the United States Consul at Bahia, had pledged that Wachusett would also respect the port’s neutrality.  This was a pledge Wilson would later deny making.

The plan to attack Florida while in a neutral port did not originate with the US Navy.  It was actually hatched by US Minister to Brazil J. Watson Webb and Consul Wilson, after securing the advance approval of Secretary of State William H. Seward.  Seward had encouraged Ambassador Webb: “If nations shall in violation of our right suffer their ports to become bases for the operations of pirates against us we shall adopt such remedies as the laws of self defense allow.”  For his part, Collins was just as reluctant at first to violate neutrality as his Confederate adversary and said as much during his first meeting with Wilson.

On October 5, the day after Florida’s arrival, Consul Wilson attempted to deliver two letters challenging Florida to fight Wachusett, but the Confederate lieutenant refused to even read them.  With several tubes being removed from the boilers of his cruiser and half his crew on leave, Morris would have none of this Federal pugnaciousness. 

After a second contentious meeting with Collins on the afternoon of the 6th, the Consul finally persuaded him to summon his officers for a vote, and with the exception of one, all decided that attacking the ship outweighed all other considerations.  After having committed his diplomatic office to the destruction or capture of Florida, Consul Wilson elected to stay aboard for the duration of hostilities.

As it happened, the Confederate commander was not aboard Florida when Wachusett approached at full steam on the morning of October 7, ramming the smaller commerce raider on the starboard quarter, cutting down her bulwarks and carrying away her mizzenmast and main yard.  The most the stunned crew of Florida, only half of whom were aboard, could answer with were a few pistols.  None of her larger Parrott Rifles were even loaded.  Collins thought he might have put Florida in a sinking condition and he backed his ship off.  The crews began to exchange small arms fire and Wachusett delivered two broadsides.

At this point Collins demanded Florida’s surrender.  This left the difficult decision to submit or fight in the hands of Confederate Lieutenant T.K. Porter, commanding the ship in Morris’ absence.  After conferring with the other officers present, Porter boarded Wachusett to present his sword and ship’s ensign to Collins.   

     
Collins took his prize in tow and made his way quickly out of the port.  He was hurried along by the Brazilian gunfire from the harbor forts.  The Brazilians missed their mark and Collins escaped.  Brazilian and international outrage was swift and severe.  Consul Wilson wisely escaped with Wachusett, as the citizens of Bahia sacked the American consulate the next day.  No matter, the captured Florida was on her way to Hampton Roads.

Despite the fact that the American diplomats goaded him into capturing Florida, Napoleon Collins was nevertheless court-martialed under pressure from Brazil and sentenced to be dismissed from the service.  In reality, he rejoined the active Navy and ultimately rose to the rank of rear admiral in 1874.