Impressed by the importance of the recoveries and by the favorable publicity attached to them, the Mississippi Legislature in the spring of 1964 appropriated $50,000 to continue the operations. A group of interested Vicksburgers contacted a New Orleans construction firm which agreed to raise the Cairo on a “no raise, no pay” contract. An experienced diver undertook the diving on the same basis. And the Warren County (Miss.) Board of Supervisors agreed to underwrite the salvage. At long last everything had meshed.
The great adventure began on August 3, 1964. A dredge cleared away the silt that had accumulated since March, and a dragline dug a hole in the river bottom just ahead of the Cairo’s bow. Logs, some as much as 5 feet in diameter, had to be removed. Then the divers slowly see-sawed huge cables (2½ and 3 inches in diameter) under the hull. By October 17 seven of these cables were in position, and the next day the raising operation commenced. Four derricks with a total lifting capacity of 1,000 tons pitted their strength against the dead weight of the big ironclad. They hauled her out of the hole into which she had settled, but even their combined power could not lift her out of the water. The thick iron armor, the waterlogged timbers, and the mud-filled holds were too much for them. They moved the vessel, still submerged, 70 feet upstream and set her down on a shoal.
New strategy was needed. A giant barge (235 × 40 feet) was towed to the scene and sunk in the hole the Cairo had formerly occupied. On October 29 the derricks tugged on the old vessel once more. If they could get her on top of the sunken barge, the engineers felt they could raise both together without difficulty. But Nature refused to cooperate. Water in the Yazoo dropped to a low level, much lower than optimum for the effort. There was no time to wait for rains and a rise in the water level. They had to work now or abandon the project. Cables strained and the casemate broke water. Just 6 inches more and the Cairo would slip easily onto the barge. Again the cables strained, and the hulk moved, but, without the buoyancy of the water to help support most of the vessel, the weight on the cables increased drastically. With a sickening noise, two of them cut deeply into the wooden hull. All hope of raising the ship intact was gone.
Now it was a question of saving as much of the historic vessel as possible—in any way possible. The professionals decided to cut the Cairo into three sections: bow, midship, and stern. Finally, on December 12, 1964, the derrick raised the last section and lowered it gently to the deck of the barge. It was 102 years to the day since the gunboat had sunk.
Reminders of the Past
Even in fragments, the Cairo proved a treasure. Experts from the Smithsonian Institution and the National Park Service found it a gold mine of information. It was, in fact, a century-old time capsule loaded with the everyday objects of naval life, some of them previously completely unknown. Studied in situ, they told of practices and customs no one had even dreamed about before. Even the vessel itself offered new information, for students quickly discovered that it had not been built according to the original specifications in some instances and that assumptions based on incomplete data were totally wrong. Museum models and drawings across the country had to be reworked, old concepts changed, new features added.
Many phases of life and organization on board a naval vessel developed according to tradition. No one ever wrote them down, and knowledge of them died with the veterans. In this field, the Cairo helped bring the period back to life in a truly vivid manner.
Take the matter of food and drink, for instance. Evidence from the Cairo shows that the sailors ate in messes of about 15 men, and each mess had a special chest to hold its gear: tin plates, cups, spoons, glass condiment bottles, scrub brushes, a washtub, and an earthenware jug of molasses. Every man took care of his own utensils, and he scratched his name or initials on each piece. Those who could not write at least could make an identifying mark. The glass condiment bottles bore embossed labels, “U S NAVY” on one side and “PEPPER” or “MUSTARD” on the other. No one had ever seen such bottles before, but there were more than 300 on board, some still holding their original contents.
The Cairo’s bow and stern sections being reassembled at Pascagoula, Miss.
Courtesy, Ingalls Shipbuilding Corporation