The Old New Hampshire at the Norfolk Navy Yard.
From a photograph by Cook.
At the beginning of April, 1861, there were stored at this yard 2,000 cannon, of which 300 were new Dahlgrens; 150 tons of powder, besides vast quantities of loaded shells, machinery, castings, material for ship-building, and ordnance and equipment stores—all in great quantities. It contained a first-class stone dock. The steam frigate Merrimac was there undergoing repairs, the shops of the yard being well fitted for such work. The sailing sloops-of-war Germantown and Plymouth, of twenty-two guns each, and the brig Dolphin, of four guns, were there, not manned, but fit for sea. Six other sailing ships, including the famous United States, that were not of much use, but worth something, were also there. On the whole, the material of this yard was of more value, probably, than that in any two beside it in the country. The Confederates estimated the value of the property abandoned to them at $4,810,056.68 in gold. “But the greatest misfortune to the Union caused by the destruction of the Navy Yard was the loss of at least twelve hundred fine guns, most of which were uninjured. A number of them were quickly mounted at Sewell’s Point to keep our ships from approaching Norfolk; others were sent to Hatteras Inlet, Ocracoke, Roanoke Island, and other points in the Sounds of North Carolina. Fifty-three of them were mounted at Port Royal, others at Fernandina and at the defences of New Orleans. They were met with at Fort Henry, Fort Donelson, Island No. 10, Memphis, Vicksburg, Grand Gulf, and Port Hudson. We found them up the Red River as far as the gunboats penetrated, and took possession of some of them on the cars at Duvall’s Bluff, on White River, bound for Little Rock. They gave us a three hours’ hard fight at Arkansas Post, but in the end they all returned to their rightful owners, many of them indented with Union shot, and not a few permanently disabled.
“Had it not been for the guns captured at Norfolk and Pensacola, the Confederates would have found it a difficult matter to arm their fortifications for at least a year after the breaking out of hostilities, at the expiration of which time they began to manufacture their own ordnance and import it from abroad. Great as was, therefore, the loss of our ships, it was much less than the loss of our guns.” So says Porter.
Burning of the Vessels at the Norfolk Navy Yard.
Rightly considered, the abandonment of the Norfolk Navy Yard was as great a misfortune to the South as to the North, for it needlessly prolonged and intensified a conflict that could have but one end. No one can estimate the number of lives that these guns cost both sides—the fortifications that were erected and the battles that were fought in consequence of their falling into Confederate hands. But if it took the Confederates a whole year to get at the work of casting cannon, it is not unreasonable to suppose that one year of the war would have been saved had the government held its own.
It was with guns that were needlessly abandoned at Norfolk that the Confederates made their first fight against the Federal navy—the battle at Acquia Creek. Something like thirty miles below Washington the Potomac makes a wide sweep to the east. Two creeks enter it there from the west—one, right on the point of the elbow, being known as Potomac Creek, and the other, that enters a little way to the north of the elbow, being called Acquia Creek. There is a considerable bluff on the point between Acquia Creek and the river, known in those days as Split Rock Bluff. Because this creek was the terminus of a railroad leading to Fredericksburg, Virginia, and because it was believed by the Confederates that the point commanded the Potomac River, three batteries were erected. The Confederate accounts say that there were thirteen guns here, of which two were eight-inch Dahlgrens, brought from Norfolk. The Confederates completed this battery about May 14, 1861. They had decided to abandon Alexandria whenever the Federals chose to take it, and make Acquia Creek their frontier post on the river.
Accordingly, when the Federals, under cover of the Pawnee, Capt. S. C. Rowan, crossed over on the 24th, the Confederates moved out, and there was no bloodshed until the insane hotel-keeper, Jackson, shot Colonel Ellsworth because the Confederate flag was taken down from the Marshall House. Then the Potomac flotilla, which was under Fleet Officer James H. Ward, was ordered to attack the Acquia Creek batteries.
In one respect that order was one of the most remarkable ever issued in the navy, up to that date, for Ward had under him the Freeborn, a wooden paddle-wheel steamer of 250 tons, carrying three guns, the largest being a thirty-two-pounder smooth-bore; the Anacostia, a screw steamer of 100 tons, carrying two little howitzers, and the Resolute, a steamer of ninety tons, carrying two howitzers. In all, three frail wooden vessels, carrying seven small guns, were sent to attack a well-planned, well-manned fort with not less than thirteen guns, of which the worst was better than the best afloat before it. This matter is especially worth considering in connection with what a Secretary of the Navy is likely to do in future if the nation is ever again unexpectedly obliged to fight.