CHAPTER IX.

THE HISTORY OF SHIPS AND SHIPPING INTERESTS (_continued_).

The Ironclad Question—One of the Topics of the Day—What is to be their Value in Warfare?—Story of the Dummy Ironclad—Two Real Ironclads vanquished by it—Experience on board an American Monitor—Visit of the _Miantonoma_ to St. John’s—Her Tour round the World—Her Turrets and Interior Arrangements—Firing off the Big Guns—Inside the Turret—“Prepare!”—Effects of the Firing—A Boatswain’s-mate’s Opinion—The _Monitor_ goes round the World safely—Few of the Original American Ironclads left—English Ironclads—The _Warrior_—Various Types—Iron-built—Wood-built—Wood-covered—The Greatest Result yet attained, the _Inflexible_—Circular Ironclads—The “_Garde Côtes_”—Cost of Ironclads—The Torpedo Question—The Marquis of Worcester’s Inventions—Bishop Wilkins’ Subaqueous Ark—Fulton’s Experiments—A Frightened Audience—A Hulk Blown Up—Government Aid to Fulton—The _Argus_ and her “Crinoline”—Torpedoes successfully foiled—Their use during the American War—Brave Lieut. Cushing—The _Albemarle_ Destroyed—Modern Torpedoes: the “Lay;” the “Whitehead”—Probable Manner of using in an Engagement—The Ram and its Power.

Early in these chapters, allusion was made to one of the most important of all vital topics connected with shipping interests—the ironclad question—and as it concerns the well-being of the Royal Navy, it concerns that of the nation itself, and no excuse can be needed for its discussion here. Day by day we hear of new types of armoured vessels, single specimens costing the price of a small fleet of former days. That, under certain conditions, they must prove very formidable, there can be no doubt. But, it must be asked, are the bulk of them seaworthy ships? How far is torpedo warfare to interfere with their employment? Are they worth their price to the nation?

Their history so far has been one as much, and indeed far more, of failure than success. “Our submarine fleet” has become a byword, while none of their exploits have excelled those of the _Merrimac_ and _Monitor_, two of the very earliest examples constructed. Indeed, the writer knows no more successful results attained than by an improvised “dummy” ironclad during the American war. The ridiculous often merges into or mingles with the important and the sublime, and the story, little known in England, is inserted here to show how much may sometimes be done in warfare with insignificant means.

The incident occurred in February, 1863. An old coal barge(42) adrift had been picked up in the James River, and the brilliant idea seized some of Admiral Porter’s men to convert her into a “monitor.” The whole scheme was carried out in twelve hours. In fact, her construction was hardly more solid than the “paper forts” built of canvas and boards by the Chinese during our war with them, and which collapsed after a shot or two as readily as would the “Rock of Gibraltar” or “Mount Vesuvius” at a firework display. The barge was built up high with boards, while funnels and turrets constructed of pork-barrels reared above, and two old canoes did duty for quarter-boats. A small house, taken from the back yard of a planter’s dwelling, stood for the pilot-house. Her furnaces were built of mud or clay; they were only intended to make smoke, not steam. Then a good coat of black paint or pitch; her furnaces were filled with pitch and other inflammable materials, and she was ready. As soon as the “dummy” turned adrift on the Mississippi came in range of the Vicksburg batteries, the alarmed garrison opened fire upon it. The black monitor glided down the stream, belching out fire and smoke, but gave not a shot in return. With amazement the Vicksburg soldiers found that they could not make the slightest impression on the turreted monster. They did not know that it was full of water, and had not a man on board! In ominous and silent disdain she seemed to be making for the Confederate ironclads; one of them, the _Queen of the West_, leaving part of her crew ashore, incontinently fled, with all her steam power, making the best of her way to the Red River. The _Indianola_, a vessel previously captured from the Northerners, was lying aground, and not to be taken by this ruthless monster of a monitor, was ordered to be blown up, which was accordingly done. Thus was this bloodless victory gained by the dummy ironclad. It is not impossible that we may hear of similar tricks in future warfare, as all is fair therein.

The following experiences on board an American monitor are kindly sent to the writer by a friend, formerly in the Royal Navy.

“Great, indeed, was the excitement caused by the deeds of the _Monitor_ and _Merrimac_ amongst the officers and men of Her Majesty’s North Atlantic Squadron. Whether dancing in Halifax, chasing French fishermen on the Newfoundland coast, or ‘sunning’(43) in St. George, there was always to be found some one, from captain to loblolly boy, with a new story of the prowess of these formidable monsters of the _shallows_! I write ‘shallows’ advisedly, for if the experience which I am about to narrate proves anything, it will be that as a ‘deep water’ or sea-going craft the _Monitor_ is practically useless.

“Notwithstanding a certain eagerness to behold a specimen of their floating batteries, curiosity was not destined to be gratified until nearly two years after the close of the American War, when the United States Government determined on sending a representative—the _Miantonoma_—to make a tour of the world. The object of this resolution was to prove that the American invention was not a mere floating battery, but was destined to revolutionise the system of armour-plated ships. The _Miantonoma_ was accompanied when she made her appearance in the harbour of St. John’s, Newfoundland, by two tenders, one a second-class corvette, the other a captured blockade-runner, which had been mounted with a single ‘Parrot’ pivot gun, throwing a spherical shot of 180 lbs. This projectile was dubbed ‘the Devil’ by those on board, who were by no means anxious to hear its voice, for the lightly-built blockade-runner trembled in every knee at each discharge. Nevertheless, such a vessel properly built is destined to play an important part in the navy of the future, when our present unwieldy ironclads shall have been relegated to that bourne where torpedoes cannot terrify.

“The _Miantonoma_ was a twin-turreted monitor, carrying two of Parrot’s 480 pounder smooth-bore. Her spar-deck, which was flush fore and aft, was about two and a half to three feet above the surface of the water in harbour. What we would call the gun-deck was below the water-line some eight feet, and here at sea during any sort of rough weather, the men were compelled to live. Air was supplied (faugh! what an atmosphere it was, even in harbour!) by means of pipes which ran up to a scaffolding—I can find no better name for the structure—elevated above the spar-deck fifteen feet. Here were the wheel-house and a place for the look-out. But as it was apprehended that the first respectable gale would take charge of the flimsy structure and sweep it all away, a ‘preventer’ steering apparatus worked below, and knowledge was gained of what was going on in the upper world by means of reflectors. Two things struck the eye of an observant stranger on gaining the side. The first was the formidable appearance of the turrets—the latter, _mirabile dictu_, the number of spittoons! At once it became evident that such a craft as that which, if you please, we are now aboard of, could never be taken by boarding. Given the flush deck filled with an armed host; one of these terrible turrets would slowly turn round, the shield protecting the embrasure would fly back, a gaping volcano would belch forth, a whirlwind of flame and smoke only—no need, indeed, would there be for iron orbs at such quarters—and, ere its shield had once more covered grinning death, the armed host would have been swept away.

“It is Her Majesty’s birthday, and the _Miantonoma_ steams away with those who have been invited on board to witness the firing of the big guns. The salute cannot be fired in the little harbour, else surely every pane of glass from the block-house to Riverhead will pay the penalty. So Freshwater Bay is to have the honour of hearing man’s thunder reverberating along its hill-girded shores.

“Bang, bang—pop, pop, bang. You hear the Armstrongs and old field-pieces go off from Her Majesty’s men-of-war in harbour, and Her Majesty’s Fort William and water batteries. Then you descend to utter silence. You ascend again through a trapdoor, and find yourself in a circular room, some twelve feet in diameter, padded from top to bottom like the interior of a carriage. By your side is a huge mass of iron. You are inside the turret. A glimmering lamp sheds its feeble light on the moving forms around you, and from below comes the faint whispering of the men, until the trap is shut and you are again in utter silence.

“‘_Prepare!_’ The gunner’s mates stand you on your toes, and tell you to lean forward and thrust your tongue out of your mouth. You hear the creaking of machinery. It is a moment of intense suspense. Gradually a glimmer of light—an inch—a flood. The shield passes from the opening—the gun runs out. A flash, a roar—a mad reeling of the senses, and crimson clouds flitting before your eyes—a horrible pain in your ears, a sense of oppression on your chest, and the knowledge that you are not on your feet—a whispering of voices blending with the concert in your ears—a darkness before your eyes—and you find yourself plump up in a heap against the padding, whither you have been thrown by the violence of the concussion. Before you have recovered sufficiently to note the effects I have endeavoured to describe, the shield is again in its place and the gun ready for re-loading. They tell you that the best part of the sound has escaped through the port-hole, otherwise there would be no standing it, and our gunner’s mate whispers in your ear: ‘It’s all werry well, but they busts out bleeding from the chest and ears after the fourth discharge, and has to be taken below.’ You have had enough of it too, and are glad that they don’t ask you to witness another shot fired.

“Since the _Miantonoma’s_ time vast improvements have been made in the matter of turret firing. The guns are now discharged by means of an electric spark, which obviates the necessity for having anyone in the turret, and is certainly a great blessing.

“‘And what do you think of her?’ I asked a boatswain’s-mate. ‘Think of her, sir!’ he replied. ‘I think, sir, that she’s a floating coffin, and I would as soon live in ——. Every time we’re out of harbour she goes under water, and don’t come up till we get in again, as the saying is. We are just cooped up here waiting for a big wave to come and swallow us, for she don’t rise to the waves, she goes through ’em.’ Then, becoming more confidential, ‘Tower of the world be hanged, sir! None of us believe we’ll ever see Queenstown, and if we only had a chance to get ashore, there ain’t a man but what would desert, I guess.’

“I must draw the reader’s attention to the fact that I give this sailor’s statement for what it is worth. The officers, one and all, as far as my memory serves me, stated that she was a very good sea boat; better, indeed, than they expected, though somewhat sluggish in the water. I may add that the _Miantonoma_ not only reached Queenstown, but _did_ succeed in making a tour of the world. Yet it was alleged that her crew, with the exception of some twenty men, were put into the tenders, and that she was towed across the ‘herring pond’ and round the Horn by them. From these facts and rumours the reader may form his own opinion as to the seaworthiness of the American monitor. My belief is, that for a sea-fight, especially should one occur in a gale of wind, they are practically as useless as a hay-barge, while for harbour defences they have proved themselves invaluable. Of all the splendid fleet of monitors possessed by America at the close of the Federal and Confederate war, there are scarce any left to keep up the reputation of the United States as a naval power. They were contract built, of green oak. The Philadelphia and San Francisco navy yards afford ample proof that a decade has sufficed to destroy what shot and shell found almost invulnerable. Such splendid specimens of naval architecture as the _Brooklyn_ and _Ohio_ alone are left to keep up the appearance of America’s naval strength on foreign stations. But let us hope that her ‘shoddy’ monitors, like her shoddy blankets or wooden nutmegs, have passed away with her convalescence from intestine wounds, and that the next decade may witness the Stars and Stripes floating powerfully and peacefully side by side with the Union Jack, omnipotent for good.”

Any such expression of feeling in regard to the safety of English ironclads, in spite of the terrible loss of the _Captain_, and that of the _Vanguard_ (only less serious inasmuch as no lives were sacrificed), would not be echoed by any British sailor on board them. The accommodations, barring the general darkness and sense of gloom inside, only partially illumined by the fitful light of lamps, are generally good, and it is by no means certain that when the electric light has attained that perfection at which its promoters are aiming, there can be any complaint on that score at all. Still, until some grand success has been attained by ironclads, it is very questionable whether they can be thoroughly popular, except to courageous, scientific, and ambitious officers, of whom the service, the writer is certain, does not stand in need. We have had a “Man of iron” ashore, and we shall have him afloat when the occasion requires.

The first types of ironclads introduced into the Royal Navy, as for example, the _Warrior_ and _Black Prince_, were nearly identical in general appearance to the war-ships of the day. Now _all_ British ironclads are built with sides approaching the upright or vertical above water. At first they only attempted broadside fire; now bow and stern guns are common. The _Warrior_, as the earliest example of an ironclad in the Royal Navy, deserves special mention. She is doing duty to-day, and is by no means an effete example, but an excellent and useful vessel. She is armoured at the middle only, in the most exposed parts. In other words, her engines and leading guns are protected, while the rest of her hull, though strong, is not armour-covered. _Now_, whatever weight of armour this central, or “box-battery,” as it has been termed, may have, there is always a continuous belt of iron extending from stem to stern, and protecting the region of the water-line and steering gear, the counter of the ship being carried below the water in order to screen the rudder-head. This improvement is due to Sir Spencer Robinson. The _Warrior’s_ armour was uniform in thickness; now it is strongest in the vital parts. The _Warrior_ had only a main-deck battery armour plated; recent ships have had a protected upper-deck battery given them. The _Warrior_ carried a large number of guns in an outspread battery; all later ships, of whatever type, have had a _concentrated_ battery of much heavier guns. This early armoured ship is long; nearly all later examples are much shorter in proportion to their breadth.

And now to the armour itself, which is sometimes affixed to an iron and sometimes to a wooden hull, and in a few cases has wood _outside_ it. These facts, by no means generally known, must be studied, for it can hardly yet be said to be determined which is the better form. It may be said, in general terms, that the “adoption of armour-plating was accompanied in this country by the introduction of iron for the construction of the hulls of ships of war, and our ironclad fleet is for the most part _iron-built_. We have, it is true, a number of wood-built ironclads, but most of these are converted vessels.”(44) Several were built of wood (and then armoured) for the purpose of utilising the large stocks of timber accumulated in the dockyards. In the future it is probable that nearly all will be of iron, with wood backing. The armour of the _Warrior_ is only 4½ inches thick, with, however, a “backing” of 18 inches of timber. This type includes the _Black Prince_, _Achilles_, _Defence_, _Hector_, _Valiant_, and _Prince Albert_. Then we come to another series, of which the _Bellerophon_, _Penelope_, _Invincible_, _Audacious_, _Swiftsure_, _Triumph_, _Iron Duke_, and unfortunate _Vanguard_ furnish examples. They average 6 inches of iron-plating to 10 inches of wood backing. The lost _Captain_ was somewhat heavier in both plating and backing. Then again we advance to a still heavier type—12 inches of iron to 18 inches of wood: the _Glatton_, _Thunderer_, and _Devastation_ furnish examples. Then there is the _wood-built_ class, the thickness of their (wooden) sides ranging from 19½ to as high as 36 inches, with 4½ to 6 inches of armour. The _Royal Sovereign_ (a turret ship) is a leading example of this class; she has 5½ inches of armour, covering 36 inches of wood.

To speak of all the types of armour-clad ships would most undoubtedly weary the reader. Let us examine a leading example. The _Inflexible_ (double turret ship) is probably the greatest result yet attained. She is an ironclad of 11,400 tons, with 8,000 horse-power, her estimated first cost being considerably over half a million sterling. She is 320 feet long, and has armour of 16 to 24 inches thick, with a backing of 17 to 25 inches of wood. She has no less than 135 compartments, while her engines are so completely isolated that if one breaks down the other would be working. “But already, as if to show the impossibility of attaining the stage of finality as regards the construction of our men-of-war, there is every reason to believe that she has been excelled.... Designed,” says our leading journal,(45) “as an improvement upon the Russian _Peter the Great_, she will herself be surpassed by the two Italian frigates which are building at La Spezzia and Castellamare.... While the _Inflexible’s_ turrets are formed of a single thickness of 18-inch armour, and her armament consists of four 81-ton guns, the turrets of the _Dandolo_ and the _Duilio_ are built of plates 22 inches thick, and are armed with four 100-ton guns.” The writer then enlarges on recent gunnery experiments, showing that even the enormous thickness of the _Inflexible’s_ iron sides have been pierced, and concludes by saying that, “so far as the exigencies of the navy are concerned, the limit of weight seems to have already been reached, for the simple reason that the buoyancy of our ironclads cannot with safety be further diminished by the burden of heavier armour and armaments.” The leading feature in this vessel is the situation of the turrets. In most turret ships afloat these batteries are placed on the middle line, and in consequence only one-half the guns can be brought to bear on an enemy either right ahead or directly astern. In the _Inflexible_ the turrets rise up on either side of the ship _en échelon_ within the citadel walls, the fore turret being on the port side and the after turret on the starboard side. By these means the whole of the four guns can be discharged _simultaneously_ at a ship right ahead or right astern, or, in pairs, towards any point. What vessel could withstand such a fire rightly directed?

As we have seen, the forms and proportions of ironclads have undergone enormous changes from the days when the success of the plated floating batteries at Kinburn called the special attention of Europe to the possibility of successfully protecting vessels in the same way. The shot of the enemy had no effect on these batteries. A special correspondent of the _Times_ said: “The balls hopped back off their sides without leaving an impression, save such as a pistol-ball makes on the target of a shooting gallery. The shot could be heard distinctly striking the sides of the battery with a ‘sharp smack,’ and then could be seen flying back, splashing the water at various angles according to the direction in which they came, till they dropped exhausted.”

One of the greatest novelties is the _circular_ ironclad, proposed long ago by Mr. John Elder, in a paper read before the United Service Institution, and carried out by Admiral Popoff, of the Russian navy, who designed one which was afterwards constructed and was christened the _Novgorod_. She was 100 feet in diameter, with curved deck, the highest point of which was only five or six feet above the water. She carried two 28-ton guns. Its model might be described as a floating saucer with a comparatively flat covering. It is even asserted that a good speed is attainable with such vessels, and that they are steerable, if hydraulic machinery is employed. Mr. Elder’s plan was as follows:—When a revolving pilot-house on the vessel turned, a jet of water was ejected in a backward line to the very course proposed to steer. The pilot or steersman—having a complete control of the movements of the pilot-house, and a clear look out a-head—only arranged to steer in a particular direction, and the water jet propelled the vessel to its destination. Such vessels are fit for nothing better than river or harbour protection.

The _Alexandra_, whose batteries we show on the opposite page, is one of the most efficient of our English armour-plated ships. She was built at Chatham, and launched in 1875. She was specially built for speed, and carries the maximum weight of armour consistent with sea-going qualities. She is armed with three guns of twenty-five tons each and nine of eighteen tons.

A new form of ironclad, destined for coast duty, has also been introduced in Holland and France. These Governments consider that for the defence of a coast-line, fixed land batteries are not sufficient. They have, therefore, adopted a ponderous form of turreted ironclad, which the French term _garde-côtes_. They are not supposed to be adapted for long sea voyages, as they are veritable floating iron castles, carrying not merely heavy guns, but whole batteries of smaller guns. They have good engine power, and can, therefore, be moved to any part of the coast with ease.

The cost of ironclads to this country has been very serious. Mr. Reed puts it down at a million sterling a year since their inauguration.(46) For the eighteen years preceding 1876, they cost £16,738,935, and with the cost of wear and tear, repair, and maintenance, not less than £18,000,000. £300,000 was required for repairs and maintenance alone in one year, perhaps an exceptional case. The _Warrior_, built in the year 1860, cost, to 1876, for maintenance and repair, no less than £124,245, or about a third of her original cost. She is the earliest type of ironclad, and of small tonnage compared with several of her successors. What _they_ may cost to maintain is a still more serious problem. Single ironclads have cost the country half a million sterling; the _Inflexible_, £600,000.

Connected intimately with the ironclad question is the torpedo movement. From an early date schemes have been devised for injuring an enemy’s vessel by submarine apparatus and otherwise than by guns. In the seventeenth century, we find the celebrated Marquis of Worcester describing such apparatus. The ninth of his “Century of Inventions” describes a small engine, portable in one’s pocket, which might be carried and fastened on the inside of the ship, and at any appointed time, days or weeks after, at the will of the operator, it should explode and sink that vessel.

In his tenth invention, the Marquis of Worcester describes “a way from a mile off to dive and fasten a like engine to any ship, so as it may punctually work the same effect, either for time or execution.” The details of construction and working are left to the reader’s imagination.

Bishop Wilkins, in a curious work on “Mathematical Magick,” published in 1648, describes a possible submarine vessel, or “ark,” as he terms it. He says that it “may be effected beyond all question, because one Cornelius Dreble hath already experimented on it here in England.” Of Dreble very little is known; but it is on record that he constructed a subaqueous boat, which he exhibited before James I., which carried twelve rowers and some passengers, and further, that that monarch was so pleased with it that he sent a duplicate as a present to the grand Duke of Muscovy (Russia). The bishop discusses the matter very fully. The boat is, of course, to be watertight, all openings being sealed for the nonce by leather bags, with two sets of fastenings. The oars were to project also through leather bags, giving freedom of motion and yet excluding the water. A serious difficulty—the lack of fresh air on board—is partially slurred over; but he considers that the sailors, “by long use and custome,” will practically get used to it. The raising or lowering of the vessel is to be accomplished by the lifting or depression of an enormous stone hung to its keel. He considered that the steering would be easier than on the surface, there being no contrary winds or atmospheric disturbances to interfere. The vessel is to be well manned by artisans, and children are to be born in the “ark:” one of the points specially mentioned being their inevitable astonishment when they for the first time behold the light of day at the surface, and are landed on _terra firma_! The log is not merely to be written but is to be printed on board. “Among the many conveniences of such a contrivance, it may be of very great advantage against a navy of enemies, who, by this means, may be undermined in the water and blown up.”

Another old writer, Schott, in a rare and curious work, entitled “Mirabilia Mechanica,” offers several schemes for submarine vessels, and gives a drawing of one with a paddle-wheel as the propelling power. The wheel, worked by men, was to work in a watertight box in the centre of the vessel, the paddles projecting below the keel. A Frenchman built a vessel of this description at Rotterdam in 1653, and publicly exhibited it. Pepys, in his “Diary,” writes, on the 14th of March, 1662: “This afternoon came the German Dr. Knuffler, to discourse with us about his engine to blow up ships. We doubted not the matter of fact—it being tried in Cromwell’s time—but the safety of carrying them in ships; but he do tell us that when he comes to tell the King his secret (for none but kings successively, and their heirs, must know it) it will appear of no danger at all.” We have before described Fulton’s submarine boat, the _Nautilus_, and his torpedo experiments in France and England; let us now follow him to the New World.

Fulton arrived in America in December, 1806, and so far from being discouraged by the apathy displayed towards his inventions in Europe, inaugurated fresh experiments, under Government sanction, a certain expenditure being authorised. An amusing account of one of his semi-public exhibitions is given by his biographer:(47)—“In the meantime, anxious to prepossess his countrymen with a good opinion of his project, he invited the magistracy of New York and a number of citizens to Governor’s Island, where were the torpedoes and the machinery with which his experiments were to be made; these, with the manner in which they were to be used and were expected to operate, he explained very fully. While he was lecturing on his blank torpedoes, which were large empty copper cylinders, his numerous auditors crowded round him. At length he turned to a copper case of the same description, which was placed under the gateway of the fort, and to which was attached a clockwork lock. This, by drawing out a peg, he set in motion, and then said to his attentive audience, ‘Gentlemen, this is a charged torpedo, with which, precisely in its present state, I mean to blow up a vessel; it contains one hundred and seventy pounds of gunpowder, and if I were to suffer the clockwork to run fifteen minutes, I have no doubt but that it would blow this fortification to atoms!’ The circle round Mr. Fulton was very soon much enlarged, and before five of the fifteen minutes were out there were but two or three persons remaining under the gateway; some, indeed, lost no time in getting at the greatest possible distance from the torpedo with their best speed, and did not again appear on the ground till they were assured it was lodged in the magazine.” Fulton, of course, displayed the utmost coolness, knowing that his torpedo could not explode till the clockwork had run its allotted time, and of course taking care that it should be stopped long before the expiration of the fifteen minutes.

On the 20th of July, 1807, he attempted to blow up with torpedoes, in the harbour of New York, a large hulk brig which had been provided for the purpose. Several unsuccessful attempts were made at first, owing to some derangements connected with the locks of the exploding apparatus. At length, however, the explosion took place, and was a thorough success. He has left a full account of it in his own work.(48) Nothing was left of the brig; all that was seen in her place was a high column of water, smoke, and fragments. It showed, as Fulton always believed, that the torpedo should, if possible, be exploded _under_ the vessel to be blown up. In his cool but yet enthusiastic way he says: “Should a ship of the line containing five hundred men contend with ten good row-boats, each with a torpedo and ten men, she would risk total annihilation, while the boats, under the cover of the night and quick movements, would risk only a few men out of one hundred.”

Fulton, after this, lectured frequently before the members of Congress, and so favourably impressed them that a sum of 5,000 dollars was voted in aid of his experiments. One of the plans he proposed was to couple by a line two torpedoes, then letting them drift on the bow of the vessel to be destroyed, the line would catch on the cable or bows, and the torpedoes would drift towards the vessel on either side. He also proposed “block ships” of 50 or 100 tons, with cannon-proof sides and musket-proof decks (_i.e._, virtually ironclads), to be propelled by machinery, _which was to be worked by the crew_. “On each quarter and bow she was to be armed with a torpedo fastened to a long spar, the interior end of which was to be supported and braced by ropes from the yards.... By means of these spars the torpedoes were to be thrust under the bottom of the vessel to be destroyed.” Half the many plans proposed for torpedo warfare may be traced back to Robert Fulton at the end of the last and beginning of the present century. Among his inventions was a “cable-cutting machine,” a description of which would occupy an undue amount of space in a popular work. Suffice it to say that by its means he succeeded in cutting, several feet below the surface of the water, the cable—a 14-inch one—of a vessel lying at anchor.

One of the most important experiments made at this time was his attempt, under sanction of Government, to blow up the sloop-of-war _Argus_, and the case demonstrates very clearly the ingenuity of the _defence_, and the means taken to foil the assailing torpedo. We have heard quite recently of propositions to defend a vessel by means of a kind of “crinoline,” as it has been termed, a strong network, &c., surrounding the whole or a part of the vessel at some distance from it, which should prevent the torpedo from exploding near the hull. Such was actually the means devised by Commodore Rodgers, of the United States Navy, in the year 1809, and which proved entirely successful in foiling Fulton’s torpedo. Colden says:—“She had a strong netting suspended from her spritsail-yard, which was anchored at the bottom; she was surrounded by spars lashed together, which floated on the surface of the water, so as to place her completely in a pen; she had grappling-irons and heavy pieces of the same metal suspended from her yards and rigging, ready to be plunged in any boat that came beneath them; she had great swords, or scythes, fastened to the ends of long spars, moving like sweeps, which unquestionably would have mowed off as many heads as came within their reach.”

By these devices the torpedo-boat was unable to get near the _Argus_, while the netting, anchored to the bottom of the harbour, prevented any probability of the torpedo being fired under the vessel. The Government had practically said to Fulton, “Do your best, and we’ll do our best to defeat you.” The experiment was not one-sided, as are so many. Fulton, far from complaining, thus wrote: “I will do justice to the talents of Commodore Rodgers. The nets, booms, kentledge, and grapnels which he arranged around the _Argus_ made a formidable appearance against one torpedo-boat and eight bad oarsmen. I was taken unawares. I had explained to the officers of the navy my means of attack; they did not inform me of their means of defence. The nets were put down to the ground, otherwise I should have sent the torpedoes under them. In this situation, the means with which I was provided being imperfect, insignificant, and inadequate to the effect to be produced, I might be compared to what the inventor of gunpowder would have appeared had he lived in the time of Julius Cæsar, and presented himself before the gates of Rome with a four-pounder, and had endeavoured to convince the Roman people that by means of such machines he could batter down their walls. They would have told him that a few catapultas casting arrows and stones upon his men would cause them to retreat; that a shower of rain would destroy his ill-guarded powder; and the Roman centurions, who would have been unable to conceive the various modes in which gunpowder has since been used to destroy the then art of war, would very naturally conclude that it was a useless invention; while the manufacturers of catapultas, bows, arrows, and shields would be the most vehement against further experiments.”

Torpedoes were used extensively during the civil war in America, but almost entirely for rivers or harbour defence. One of the most prominent examples was the following:—The ironclad ram _Albemarle_(49) had been carrying all before it, till Lieutenant Cushing, a brave young officer, scarcely twenty-one years of age, took a steam-launch, equipped as a torpedo-boat, on the night of October, 1864, up the Roanoake River. He had with him thirteen men. The launch was steered directly for the ironclad, which lay at one of the wharfs of Plymouth, protected by a raft of logs extending thirty feet. The enemy’s fire was at once very severe, but the torpedo-boat went bravely on, and succeeded in pressing in the logs a few feet. Cushing, in his despatch, says—“The torpedo was exploded at the same time that the _Albemarle’s_ gun was fired. A shot seemed to go crashing through my boat, and a dense mass of water rushed in from the torpedo, filling and completely disabling her. The enemy then continued to fire at fifteen feet range, and demanded our surrender, which I twice refused.” Cushing leaped into the water and, with one of his party, made good his escape. The rest of the little crew were either captured, killed, or wounded. The object of the attack was, however, successful, and the _Albemarle_ was found to be a complete wreck. Torpedoes were also employed with great effect by the Paraguayans in their war against the Brazilians in 1866.

Great are the varieties of torpedoes invented at various times in late years, and a technical description of them, which would be wearying to the reader, would fill a large volume. An ingenious kind, known as the “Lay” torpedo, after the name of its inventor, comes from the New World. It is of cylindrical form, with conical ends, the forward cone calculated to hold a hundred pounds of some explosive substance—dynamite,(50) probably, being used. A forward section of the main cylinder holds a powerful gas, condensed into _liquid_ form, and used as the motive power, and connected with the machinery by a valve operated by electricity. The torpedo has a cable coiled as harpoon-ropes are arranged in whaling-vessels, which may be of any length, the wires connected with the battery following its course. This instrument of destruction is entirely under the control of the operator, who may be stationed with his small portable battery on the shore or on a vessel. It is said that they have been sent out half a mile and brought back to the starting-point at a rate of twelve miles an hour, and that the rapidity and precision with which the machine obeyed the operator demonstrated them to be among the most formidable weapons ever invented for naval warfare.

These subaqueous weapons have never been used in an engagement between fleets. In an interesting essay(51) on the subject by Commander Noel, R.N., he recommends or proposes that four torpedo vessels should accompany a fleet, and describes their probable operations as follows:—

“Let us imagine ourselves, then, on board a rakish little craft, fitted for Harvey torpedo work; we can steam sixteen knots; we tow a torpedo on each quarter; and we are so admirably fitted with steel-protecting mantelets that neither officer nor man is exposed either to view or to rifle fire. Our instructions are that on the approach of a hostile force we and our three consorts are to hold ourselves in readiness to charge the enemy’s line, passing through at full speed, and doing all the damage that lies in our power: these orders to be carried into effect in obedience to a preconcerted signal. The enemy is observed approaching, and apparently moving at about ten knots’ speed. The torpedo vessels are let loose, and, choosing the centre of the enemy’s fleet, rush on, steering for a flag-ship leading a column in line ahead. Heavy guns are fired at us as we near, but we are so small and rapid in our movements that no shot takes effect; we are reducing our distance at the rate of a mile in two and a half minutes; soon comes the time of suspense; in a second or two we are passing the flag-ship; the port torpedo is dipped—will it strike her? Suddenly a tug on the wire towing-rope, and it parts. Her bow has been protected, and our torpedo is torn away harmless. However, another mine tows on the opposite quarter, still in working order; we are in the midst of the enemy’s fleet, rushing past one after another at half-minute intervals; our only chance of using our other torpedo is in breaking through the line; our commander is eminent for his skill, courage, and confidence. Little choice is given us, but he observes a rather great interval astern of the fourth ship. ‘Starboard’ is the order, and we break through under her stern; our starboard torpedo is at the same time dipped, and passes under the fifth ship. Owing to a combination of luck and good management, the torpedo takes effect and the enemy is blown up. The other torpedo vessels have thrown the enemy into considerable disorder, but none have succeeded in using their torpedoes with effect. One of them has been struck by a heavy shell and totally disabled, but the whole fleet has passed on without finding it possible to capture or sink her without losing their position in station and being left behind; the thought foremost in every captain’s mind also being that the enemy’s fleet is almost in contact with them, and that the moment to act has arrived.

“This is an example of an attack with ‘Harvey’ torpedoes from ahead and across the bow.... In my opinion, it would invariably be rendered fruitless if the bows of the ships attacked were protected by an iron framework of the simplest description.

“But let us return to our little craft, in which we have already run the gauntlet of the hostile fleet. Having cleared the enemy with little or no damage, we look back and see our fleet of ironclads breaking through their lines, which have been so shaken by our assault. When through, our fleet re-forms and wheels for the next charge. We must be at work again; our torpedoes are replaced, and everything is in working order. This time we follow our ironclads to the charge. We are, if anything, more hopeful of success. The enemy will not see us till we are at them; our blood is warming to the work, and we feel that we have gained experience and confidence by the first charge. Pressing on, we observe the second charge of the fleet, amidst smoke, confusion, and thundering of cannon. The enemy is prepared, and it is a case of ‘Greek meeting Greek.’ Our vessel is put at full speed, and, with our consorts (now reduced to two), we go at the enemy. However, in the charge that is made only one of us succeeds in exploding a torpedo, and that without much damage to the enemy; one of our consorts is run down and sunk, and we pass through, only dipping one torpedo, and that too late to take effect. The enemy are not in the steady line they were in before, and consequently we have not such an opportunity of creating disorder, and have more difficulty in manœuvring to use our weapon. Passing on, fortune still favours us. We come across an enemy disabled, stern on to us with her ensign flying. ‘At her!’ is the order. Another moment and we are close to her, our torpedo in beautiful position, and the enemy helpless. Down comes her ensign, just in time; we are able to let go the torpedo so as to clear her—now a lawful prize.

“So it is that I believe a torpedo vessel will be handled in an action. It will be ticklish work; and all I can say is that the men who undertake it should be gifted with coolness and courage above their fellows, as well as with the utmost proficiency in handling their vessels.”

Perhaps the most formidable _ocean-going_ torpedo vessel yet constructed is the American despatch-vessel _Alarm_, designed by Admiral David Porter, of the United States Navy. It is 172 feet long, including a ram of twenty-seven feet in length. One of her special qualities is the power of launching torpedoes from almost any point, from cylinders specially constructed for the purpose, that at the bow being thirty-two feet in length. A torpedo-boat, built by the Messrs. Yarrow, of Poplar, for the Russian Government during the late war, appears to have special merits. It is built of light steel, with what is called a “whale-back”—a semi-circular covering, which resists any ordinary shot and throws off any sea whatever. The funnel is not in the centre, but towards the side, in order not to interfere with the steersman’s view nor with the torpedo boom. It has a boom which can be lowered in the water, the torpedo being submerged ten feet before it is started off on its deadly errand. And, finally, it can be projected from the stern, which gives it a splendid chance of leaving before the final explosion.

In the late Turko-Russian war torpedoes were often attached to logs of wood or clumps of brushwood, and floated into the stream of the Danube. These often attracted little attention; and when they came into contact with any obstacle the mine exploded by means of percussion, the blow being delivered by a projecting arm or other contrivance driven back upon some detonating substance within. The Harvey torpedo, one of the leading types, consists of a stout wooden casing, strengthened on the outside with iron straps, and containing a metal shell, which holds the powder charge. The largest size of this weapon measures 4 feet 6 inches in length by 2 feet in depth, and 2 feet 6 inches in width, and carries 100 lbs. of dynamite. The torpedo is fired by being brought into hugging contact with an enemy’s ship, when one or other of two projecting levers acts upon an exploding bolt causing the ignition of the charge. The exploding apparatus consists of a tube containing a chemical agent and a bulb holding another. The nature of these chemicals is such that when they combine violent combustion ensues, which explodes the charge. These torpedoes are towed at the end of a long hawser, connected to a spar, so arranged that the torpedo itself, instead of following immediately in the wake or trail of the vessel towing it, diverges in the same manner that an otter float does: from which device Captain Harvey took his idea. Attached to the torpedo are two large buoys, for the purpose of supporting it when the vessel is not moving through the water, or when the towing-line is slackened. Another variety is fired by electricity.

The Whitehead, or “fish” torpedo, is a cigar-shaped steel cylinder 14 to 19 feet in length, and from 14 to 16 inches in diameter. It is sent off, requiring no crew, against the ship to be destroyed; and if one torpedo fails to deal the death-blow it can be followed up by another, or yet a third. It consists of three compartments. The head contains the explosive—say 360 lbs. of gun-cotton; the centre holds the machinery; and the tail the highly-condensed air which works the engine. The engine is about thirty-five pounds weight, and can be worked to forty horse power! The explanation of this is simply that the working pressure of the condensed air is 1,000 lbs. per square inch. The tail holds compressed air sufficient to propel the torpedo 200 yards, at a rate of twenty-five miles an hour, or 1,000 yards at the rate of seventeen miles.

The “battle of the guns” has not yet been fought; but how about the rams? They have been proved the deadliest weapons of destruction in modern times. The lessons of Lissa have been already cited in these pages; so have the lessons taught by the loss of the _Vanguard_ and the _Grosser Kurfurst_. In the latter cases it was friends that struck the blow. Some of our greatest authorities consider that nothing can exceed the power of the ram of a modern ironclad, properly applied. Admiral Touchard, of the French Navy, says: “The ‘beak’ (_i.e._ ‘ram’) is now the principal weapon in naval combats—the _ultima ratio_ of maritime war.” Captain Colomb, a distinguished English authority, says: “Let us just recall the fact that the serious part of a future naval attack does not appear to be the guns, but the rams.” Yet again another authority, Captain Pellew, says: “Rams are the arm of naval warfare to which I attach the chief importance. In my opinion, the aim of all manœuvring and preliminary practice with the guns should be to get a fair opportunity for ramming.”