The Story of the Kearsarge and Alabama

by A. K. Browne

Thus ended the fight after a duration of one hour and two minutes.

Boats were now lowered from the humbled Alabama. A master's mate, an Englishman, Fullam by name, came alongside the Kearsarge with a few of the wounded, reported the disabled and sinking condition of his vessel, and asked for assistance.

Captain Winslow demanded: "Does Captain Semmes surrender his ship?" "Yes," was the reply. Fullam then solicited permission to return to the Alabama with his boat and crew to assist in rescuing the drowning, pledging his word of honor that when this act was accomplished, he would come on board and surrender himself a prisoner. Unhappily Captain Winslow granted the request. With less generosity, he could have detained the rebel officer and men, supplied their places in the boat from his own ship's company, secured more prisoners, and afforded equal aid to the distressed. The generosity was abused as the sequel shows. Fullam pulled to the midst of the drowning, rescued several officers, proceeded to the Deerhound, cast his boat adrift, and basely violated his proffered word of honor.

The Deerhound, after the conclusion of the fight, appears upon the scene, and plays an important part. This yacht was built by the Messrs. Laird, at the same yard with the Alabama. Coming under the stern from the windward, the Deerhound was hailed, and her commander requested by Captain Winslow to run down to the Alabama and assist in picking up the men of the sinking vessel. Or, as Mr. Lancaster reported: "The fact is, that when we passed the Kearsarge the captain cried out,—'For God's sake do what you can to save them;' and that was my warrant for interfering in any way for the aid and succor of his enemies." The Deerhound steamed towards the Alabama, which sank almost immediately after, lowered her boats, rescued Captain Semmes, thirteen officers, and twenty-six men, leaving the rest of the survivors to the boats of the Kearsarge, and departed directly for Southampton. Captain Winslow permitted the yacht to secure his prisoners, anticipating their subsequent surrender. Again was his confidence in the integrity of a neutral misplaced. The assistance of the yacht, it is presumed, was solicited in a spirit of chivalry, for the Kearsarge comparatively uninjured, with but three wounded, possessed of a full head of steam, was in condition to engage a second enemy: instead of remaining at a distance of about four hundred yards from the Alabama, and from this position sending two boats (others being unserviceable), the Kearsarge by steaming close to the settling ship and in midst of the vanquished, could have captured all—Semmes, officers, and men.

The Deerhound steams rapidly away. An officer approaches Captain Winslow and reports the presence of Captain Semmes and many officers on board the English yacht, considering the information authentic as it was obtained from certain prisoners; he suggests the propriety of firing a shot to bring her to, and asks permission. Captain Winslow chivalrously replies in the negative, declaring that no Englishman who flies the royal yacht flag, would act so dishonorable a part as to run away with his prisoners when he had been asked to save them from drowning. Meanwhile the Deerhound increases the distance from the Kearsarge; another officer addresses Captain Winslow in language of similar effect, but with more positiveness, that Semmes and his officers were on board the yacht endeavoring to escape. With undiminished confidence in the honor of the English gentleman, with continued chivalric spirit Captain Winslow refuses to have a shot fired, not crediting the flight, saying that the yacht was "simply coming round," and would not go away without communicating. "I could not believe that the commander of that vessel could be guilty of so disgraceful an act as taking our prisoners, and therefore took no means to prevent it." Without this trust in chivalry, Captain Winslow might have arrested the yacht in her flight, if only as a prudential motive, reserving final action as to the seizure of the passengers when time had been afforded for reflection.

No shot is fired: the Deerhound finally disappears with the great prize, Semmes, and thus passed an opportunity of making this brilliant engagement one of the most complete and satisfactory in naval history.

Captain Winslow erroneously thought that the Deerhound would not run away with the rescued persons: in this opinion he was probably alone. An excitement occurred as a consequent; an expression of regret for the escape of the yacht and her coveted prize, after being as it were within reach of the victors. The bitterness of the regret was manifest. The famed Alabama, "a formidable ship, the terror of American commerce, well armed, well manned, well handled," was destroyed, "sent to the bottom in an hour," but her notorious commander had escaped: the eclat of victory seemed already lessened.

At 12.24 the Alabama sank in forty-five fathoms of water, at a distance of about four and a half miles from Cherbourg Breakwater, off the west entrance. She was severely hulled between the main and mizzen masts, and commenced settling by the stern before the termination of the conflict. Her crew had jumped into the sea, supporting themselves by portions of the wreck, spars, and other accessible objects, the water swept over the stern and upper deck, and when thus partially submerged, the mainmast, pierced by a shot, broke off near the head, the bow lifted from the waves, and then came the end. Suddenly assuming a perpendicular position, caused by the falling aft of the battery and stores, straight as a plumb-line, stern first, she went down, the jibboom being the last to appear above water. Down sank the terror of merchantmen, riddled through and through, and as she disappeared to her last resting place, not a cheer arose from the victors. To borrow the language of the Liverpool Courrier: "Down under the French waters, resting on the bed of the ocean, lies the gallant Alabama, with all her guns aboard, and some of her brave crew, waiting until the sea yields up its dead."

Mounted on the summit of an old church tower, a photographic artist obtained a good negative of the contest. An excursion train from Paris arrived Sunday morning, bringing hundreds of pleasure-seekers who were unexpectedly favored by the spectacle of a sea-fight. The events of the day monopolized the conversation of Parisian society for more than a week.

This grand artillery duel, or Sunday gladiatorial combat, occurred in the presence of more than fifteen thousand spectators, who upon the heights of Cherbourg, the breakwater, and rigging of men-of-war, witnessed "the last of the Alabama." Among them were the captains and crews of two merchant ships burnt by the daring rover a few days before her arrival at Cherbourg. Their excitement during the combat was intense, and their expressions of joy to the victors at the result, such as only those who had suffered from the depredations of the Alabama could give utterance to. Many were desirous to go on board the Kearsarge to participate in the action, but so strictly was the neutrality law observed, no intercourse was allowed.