Several attempts were made to destroy her, but the Confederates were watchful and vigilant. She was moored to the wharf, about eight miles up the river, upon the shores of which a thousand men were encamped. They patrolled the banks and kept bright fires burning all night. The crew of the ram were alert, and a boom of cypress logs encircled the craft some thirty feet from the hull, to ward off the approach of torpedoes. It would seem that no possible precaution was neglected.
Among the most daring men ever connected with the American navy was William Barker Cushing. He was born in 1842, and educated at the Naval Academy. He was of so wild a disposition that many of his friends saw little hope of his success in life. But, entering the service at the beginning of the war, he quickly gave proof of a personal courage that no danger could affect. He seemed to love peril for the sake of itself, and where death threatened he eagerly went. He expressed confidence that he could destroy the Albemarle and asked permission to make the attempt. His superior officers knew that if its destruction was within the range of human possibility, he would accomplish it, and the ram was so great a menace to the Union fleet that he was told to try his hand at the seeming impossible task.
Although Cushing was a young man of unsurpassable bravery, ready at all times to take desperate chances, there was what might be termed method in his madness. He needed no one to tell him that in his attempt to destroy the Albemarle, the slightest neglect in his preparations were likely to prove fatal. He, therefore, took every precaution that ingenuity could devise. Two picket boats were constructed with spar torpedoes attached, and with engines so formed that by spreading tarpaulin over them all light and sound was obscured. When traveling at a low rate of speed, they could pass within a few yards of a person in the darkness without his being able to hear or see anything. A howitzer was mounted at the bow, and the spar, with the torpedo attached, was fitted at the starboard bow.
The boats, having been completed in New York, were sent to Norfolk by way of the canals. One of them was lost in Chesapeake Bay, but the other reached its destination. Several days were spent in preparation, and the night of October 27th was selected for the venture. It could not have been more favorable, for it was of impenetrable darkness and a fine, misty rain was falling. Cushing's companions in the picket boat were: Acting Ensign W.L. Howarth, Acting Master's Mates T.S. Gay and John Woodman, Acting Assistant Paymaster F.H. Swan, Acting Third Assistant Engineers C.L. Steever and W. Stotesbury, and eight men whose names were as follows: S. Higgens, first-class fireman; R. Hamilton, coal heaver; W. Smith, B. Harley, E.J. Houghton, ordinary seamen; L. Deming, H. Wilkes, and R.H. King, landsmen. He took in tow a small cutter, with which to capture the guard that was in a schooner anchored near the Southfield that had been raised, and whose duty it was to send up an alarm rocket on the approach of any expedition against the Albemarle. It was intended to run ashore a little below the ram, board and capture her by surprise, and take her down the river.
It was about midnight that the start was made. Several of the men were familiar with the river, and the boat kept close to shore, where the gloom was still more profound. No one spoke except when necessary and then in the lowest tones, while all listened and peered into the drizzly night. The straining ears could hear only the soft rippling of the water from the prow and the faint muffled clanking of the engine. The speed was slackened as they approached the schooner, whose outlines soon assumed form. No one whispered, but all held themselves ready for the rush the moment the guard discovered them.
Sentinels, however, are not always alert, and on this dismal night the guard detected nothing of the phantom craft which glided past like a shadow with the cutter in tow. This was the first stroke of good fortune, and each man felt a thrill of encouragement, for only a mile remained to be passed to reach the Albemarle.
A little way further and the boats swept around a bend in the river, where, had it been daylight, they could have seen the ram. Here was where the fires had been kept blazing the night through, but the guards were as drowsy as those below, for they had allowed them to sputter and die down to a few embers, while the sentinels were doubtless trying to keep comfortable in the wet, dismal night.
Still stealing noiselessly forward, the men in the boat soon saw the gloom slowly take shape in front. The outlines revealed the massive ironclad lying still and motionless against the wharf, with not a light or sign of life visible. The nerves of each of the brave crew were strung to the highest tension, when the stillness was broken by the barking of a dog. The canine, more vigilant than his masters, gave the alarm, and instantly it seemed as if a hundred dogs were making night hideous with their signals. Springing to their feet, the sentinels on shore discerned the strange boat and challenged it. No reply was given; a second challenge was made, and then a gun was fired. The guards seemed to spring to life everywhere, more dogs barked, alarm rattles were sprung, wood was thrown on the fires which flamed up, soldiers seized their weapons and rushed to their places under the sharp commands of their officers.
Cushing now called to the engineer to go ahead under full speed. At the same moment, he cut the towline and ordered the men on the cutter to return and capture the guard near the Southfield. The launch was tearing through the water straight for the ram, when, for the first time, Cushing became aware of the boom of logs which inclosed it. His hope now was that these logs had become so slimy from lying long in the water that it was possible for the launch to slip over them. With wonderful coolness, he veered off for a hundred yards, so as to gain sufficient headway, and then circled around and headed for the ram.
Standing erect at the bow, Cushing held himself ready to use the torpedo the moment he could do so. A volley was fired, which riddled his coat and tore off the heel of one of his shoes, but he did not falter. Then followed the crisp snapping of the primers of the cannon, which showed the immense guns had missed fire. Had they been discharged, the boat and every man on it would have been blown to fragments.