CHAPTER VII.
THE BATTLE OF THE SWASH.
On the morning of the 11th of May, 1890, the British fleet crossed the bar, and steamed leisurely past Sandy Hook, and into the Swash and main ship channels. The movements of the fleet seemed to be characterized by great deliberation; as though there was nothing to fear, and no occasion for haste. The larger vessels were especially slow in their movements, and felt their way along in the most cautious manner, each one being guided or piloted by two or more torpedo boats, which kept a good distance in advance, and sounded the channel carefully and constantly, indicating by signals the course for the larger vessels to pursue. There was no haste, no confusion, no noise or cheering, and no apparent notice was taken of the balls and shells with which the antiquated guns on the forts on Long and Staten Islands,—with much noise and banging, but no harmful results,—managed to splash the water about half a mile or a mile away from anything that they were aimed at. Most of the smaller vessels gathered together near the point of Sandy Hook, with the evident intention of anchoring in the Horseshoe. Here the first real fighting took place. Some old wooden gunboats, (relics of the War of the Rebellion) had been hastily repaired and equipped with one or two guns; and had been stationed in the Horseshoe to act as a sort of a harassing or observing force. The intention had evidently been for them to watch the movements of the enemy from behind the shelter of Sandy Hook, possibly exchanging a few shots with some of his weaker vessels; and then, having acquired some knowledge of his movements and intentions, as well as a taste of his quality, to retire up the harbor, and join the remainder of the American fleet in the Upper Bay. They acquired much more knowledge than they bargained for; and, instead of a mere taste, they got a surfeit of the enemy's quality.
As the first large iron-clad—the "Camperdown,"—came within range, they opened fire on her from their eight-inch guns. Having to fire across the land (Sandy Hook) their first shots went away over the "Camperdown," and the shells exploded harmlessly in the shallow water miles away near the Coney Island shore.
The gunboats sat so low in the water, that their crews were obliged to elevate their guns considerably, so as to have the projectiles go clear of the land. This, of course, sent them away over the vessels at which they were aimed; and although the low point of Sandy Hook afforded them protection against the guns of the British, it also prevented their own guns from being of any service. This attack, however, seemed to spur the British Admiral into counter-action. A vigorous exchange of signals was made between various members of the fleet, and in a short time several of the torpedo boats and smaller armored cruisers ran close in, by Sandy Hook, and running up past the point and around into the Horseshoe, brought the American gunboats into plain sight, and point blank range. Of course the result of the contest between these modern iron-clads and the antiquated wooden tubs of the Americans, was a foregone conclusion, and in less than fifteen minutes from the time that the first gun was fired, the latter were disposed of in the most summary manner. One sank where she lay, her wooden hull having been perforated from stem to stern with the projectiles fired from two rapid firing machine guns on one of the British gunboats. Another one was disabled by a huge ten-inch shell, which struck her nearly amidships, and literally blew her all to pieces. The third one sought such safety as she could, by running aground, and her crew, having first set her on fire, took to their boats, and rowing ashore, disappeared in the thick cedar forest which covers this part of Sandy Hook. No appreciable loss or damage was inflicted upon the English vessels—all but one of which proceeded quietly to anchor in the Horseshoe. This one steamed rapidly out to the Flagship, communicated the result of the action to the Admiral, and received orders to escort the remaining smaller vessels of the fleet to the sheltered anchorage which had been so quickly and easily won. The merchant cruisers, "Umbria," "Etruria" and "City of New York" also anchored in the Horseshoe. Shortly after these vessels had anchored, fire was opened upon them from an earth-work on the Highlands of Navesink, which had been hastily thrown up, and mounted with five or six old smoothbore Dahlgreen guns.
A few well aimed shells soon drove the men away from this battery, and although on occasional shell was sent in that direction at intervals during the remainder of the day, the Dahlgreens were thenceforward dumb.
Meanwhile the balance of the fleet, consisting of the larger iron-clad battle ships and cruisers, had anchored in the Swash Channel, in a line extending nearly a mile and a half southeasterly from the point of intersection of the Swash with the Main Channel, near buoy fourteen. This position had evidently been previously selected by the English Admiral as the best one outside of the Narrows; which were supposed to be thoroughly protected by torpedoes and other submerged obstructions. Nothing had as yet been been of the American fleet. It was known to be assembled in the Upper Bay; but it seemed strange that it should thus permit the enemy to establish himself in a position of his own choosing, without any hindrance or opposition.
The position was a remote one, it is true; but, still, if the enemy's guns had a range as claimed—of over eleven miles,—a very large part of New York, and nearly the whole of Brooklyn, were within reach of his shells. There has never, so far as I can learn, any satisfactory reason been given for this strange lack of action on the part of the Americans. The only plausible explanation of it lies in the fact that they appreciated the vast disproportion between their own fleet and that of the enemy, and realizing the utter hopelessness of attacking the latter successfully by daylight, and on equal terms, determined to husband such strength as they possessed, and concentrate the whole of it in the night attack upon the English, which had been determined upon.
Thus it happened that the afternoon of the 11th of May passed quietly and uneventfully, save when the silence was broken by the distant reports of the guns from the Staten Island forts, or by the occasional shelling of the abandoned earthwork on the Highlands. Towards sundown a sort of a reconnaisance was made in the direction of the Narrows by three torpedo boats; but, as they approached within closer range of the guns of the forts, they abandoned their purpose without reaching the first line of submerged obstructions. One of them was disabled by a solid shot from Fort Richmond, and was towed back to the Horseshoe by her two consorts in an apparently sinking condition. As nightfall approached, there was an evident increase of excitement and activity on all the English vessels. Torpedo boats and steam launches, darted hither and thither from one of the anchorages to the other, evidently conveying orders and instructions for the coming night. Torpedo booms and nets were placed in position, and elaborate instructions were issued to each separate commander what to do in case of attack—steam was kept up on all vessels, and the electric search lights were thoroughly tested, so as to leave no doubt of their being in perfect order. Every preparation which experience or ingenuity could suggest, was made to resist any attack, no matter what its character might be, and no matter whence it came.
For the first time in the memory of living men, there were no harbor lights lighted that night. Orders had been given by telegraph to all the different light-house keepers not to light their lamps, for fear that the enemy might want to make some movement by night, which the lighthouses would aid him in accomplishing. So from Sandy Hook to Bobbin's Reef, in the Upper Bay, not a light was to be seen, except such as was shown by the English vessels.
As soon as darkness set in, the firing both from the forts and from the ships ceased; and an utter stillness fell upon the scene, broken only now and then by the shrill whistle of some boatswain, or the hoarse murmur of some loud-voiced petty officer, giving orders to the watch on duty.