Perry, meanwhile, kept himself abreast of the latest developments and discoveries in every branch of the naval art. We find him forwarding to the War and Navy Departments the most recent European publications on these subjects. He made himself familiar with the applications of electricity to daily use. Neither the science nor the art of ordnance had made great progress in America, since Mr. Samuel Wheeler cast, in 1776, what was probably the first iron three-pounder gun made in the United States, and which the British captured at Brandywine and took to the Tower of London. The war of 1812 showed, however, that in handling their guns, the Yankees were superior in theory and practice to their British foes.
In 1812, Colonel Bomford, of the United States Ordnance Department, invented the sea-coast howitzer, or cannon for firing shells at long range, by direct fire, which he improved in 1814 and called a “Columbiad.” By this gun a shell was fired at an English vessel, near New York, in 1815, which exploded with effect. It was this invention which the French General Paixhans, introduced into Europe in 1824.[[10]] The Frenchman was another Amerigo, and Bomford, being another Columbus, was forgotten, for the name “Paixhans” clung to the canons obusiers or improved columbiad. The making or the use of bomb-cannons, in America, was not continued after the war of 1812, and when first employed by Perry, at Sandy Hook, were novelties to both the lay and professional men of the navy on this side of the Atlantic. When four shell-guns were, in 1842, put upon the ship-of-the-line, Columbus, according to Captain Parker, shells were still unfamiliar curiosities. He writes in his Recollections, p. 21:—
“The shells were a great bother to us, as they were kept in the shell room and no one was allowed even to look at them. It seemed to be a question with the division officers whether the fuse went in first, or the sabot, or whether the fuse should be ignited before putting the shell in the gun or not. However, we used to fire them off, though I cannot say I ever saw them hit anything.” As the jolly captain elsewhere says: “It took so long to get ready for the great event (of target practice) that we seemed to require a resting spell of six months before we tried it again.” About this time also pivot guns came into general use on our national vessels, all cannon having previously been so mounted that they could only fire straight ahead.
The Mexican War was a school of artillery practice and marked a distinct era of progress. The flying artillery of Ringgold, in the field, and Perry’s siege guns, in the naval battery at Vera Cruz, were revelations to Europe of the great advance made by Americans in this branch of the science of destruction. In the Civil War, on land and water, the stride of centuries was taken in four years, when Dahlgren introduced that “new era of gun manufacture which now interests all martial nations.” Since then, the enormous guns of Woolwich and Krupp have come into existence, but perfection in heavy ordnance is yet far from attainment. Much has been done in improving details, but the original principle of gun architecture is still in vogue. The loss of pressure between breach and muzzle is not yet remedied. To build a gun in which velocity and pressure will be even “at the cannon’s mouth” is the problem of our age. When a ball can leave the muzzle with all the initial pressure behind it we may look for the golden age of peace: such a piece of ordnance may well be named “Peace-maker.” This problem in dynamics greatly interested Perry; but foiled him, as it has thus far foiled many others.
The School of Gun Practice was opened again in the spring of 1840. He was now experimenting with an eight-inch Paixhans gun, and comparing with it a forty-two pounder, which had a bore reamed up to an eight-inch calibre. Not possessing the present delicate methods of measuring the velocity of shot, such as the Boulanger chronograph, invented in 1875, and now in use at the United States ordnance grounds at Sandy Hook, he obtained his measurements by means of hurdles or buoys. After their positions had been verified by triangulation, these were ranged at intervals of 440 yards apart along a distance of 3¼ miles. Observers placed at four intermediate points noted time, wind, barometer, etc. The extreme range of a Paixhans shot was found to be 4067 yards, or about 2-1/3 miles. In transmitting eight tables, with his report he stated that “These experiments have furnished singular and important information.” After a summary of unusual, interesting and valuable work, the school was closed November 23, 1840, the weather being too severe for out-door work.
It may be surmised that all articles of the new naval creed in which Perry so promptly uttered his faith, were very disagreeable to many of the old school. The belief in the three-decker line-of-battle ship and sailing wooden frigate approached, in many minds, the sacredness of an article of religion. The new appliances and discoveries which upset the old traditions savoured of rank heresy. Those who held to the old articles, and to wooden walls were perforce obliged, as ecclesiastics are, when driven to the wall, to strengthen their position by damnatory clauses. Anathemas, as numerous as those of the Council of Trent, were hurled at the new reformation from the side which considered that there was no need for reform. It was in vain that the employment of explosive shells was denounced as inhuman. History follows logic. If “all is fair in war,” then inventions first branded as too horrible for use by human beings, will be finally adopted. The law of military history moves toward perfection in the killing machine.
Laymen and landsmen, outside the navy, who look upon naval improvement and innovation as necessities, in order that our soldiers of the sea may be abreast of other nations in the art of war, consider radical changes a matter of course: not so the old salts who have hardened into a half century of routine, until their manner of professional thinking is simple Chinese. They saw that horizontal shell firing was likely to turn floating castles into fire-wood. In the good old days ships were rarely sunk in battle, whether in squadron line or in naval duels. Though hammered at for hours, and reduced to hulks and charnel houses, they still floated; but with the new weapon, sinking an enemy was comparatively easy work. British oak or Indian teak was nothing against bombs that would tear out the sides. The vastness of the target surface, on frigate or liner, was now a source of weakness, for shells produced splinters of a size unknown before. A little ship could condense a volcano, and carry a sapping and mining train in a bucket. The old three-deckers must go, and the frigates become lower and narrower with fewer and heavier guns.
A brave British officer is said to have cried out, “For God’s sake, keep out the shells.” New means of defence must be provided. The mollusk-like wooden ships must become crustacean in iron coats. The demonstrated efficiency of shells and shell-guns, and the increased accuracy of fire of the Paixhan smooth-bore cannon—cultivated to high pitch even before the introduction of rifles—had made impossible the old naval duel and line-of-battle.
During the whole of this extended series of experiments on the Fulton, and at Sandy Hook, with new apparatus and projectiles, with assistants often ignorant and unfamiliar with the new engines of war, until trained, no lives were lost, nor was a man injured by anything that could be foreseen. The bursting of a gun cannot always be guarded against, and what befell Perry, in his boyhood, happened again in 1841, though this time without injury to himself. The forty-four pounder on the Fulton burst, killing two men. Their funeral October 8, 1841, was, by the Commodore’s orders, made very impressive. The flags of all ships on the station were flown at half-mast. All the officers who could be spared, and two hundred seamen and marines, formed the cortege in ten boats, the rowers pulling minute strokes. The flotilla moved in solemn procession round the Fulton, the band playing a dirge. Perry, himself, brought up the rear—a sincere mourner. At the grave, Chaplain Harris made remarks befitting the sad occasion.
Jackson’s administration being over, and with it much of the corruption which the spoils system introduced into the government service, it was now possible to reform even the navy yards. An honor all the more welcome and enjoyable, because a complete surprise, was Perry’s appointment to the command of the Brooklyn Navy Yard and New York Naval Station. On the 24th of June, 1840, the Secretary of the Navy wrote to Perry, stating his dislike of the bad business conduct of the yard, and the undue use of political influence. With full confidence in Captain Perry’s character and abilities—stating, also, that Perry had never sought the office either directly or indirectly—he tendered him the appointment. The Secretary desired that “no person in the yard be the better or the worse off on account of his political opinions, and that no agent of the government should be allowed to electioneer.” The letter was an earnest plea for civil service reform.