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The Destruction of the U.S.S. "Housatonic" During The Civil War
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AMONG THE U.S. Naval officers whose conduct during the Civil War brought a renewed tradition to the service was Commander Joseph W. Congdon, of Nantucket. The son of a whaling master, Commander Congdon established himself as a superior officer in the Civil War, and after that conflict was given command of the U.S. Revenue Cutter Salmon P. Chase. He was also appointed as the Superintendent of the U.S. Coast Guard Academy before it was established at its present headquarters at New London, Conn. Commander Congdon s two daughters lived at the little house on School Street — Miss May H. Congdon and Miss Josephine Congdon — now the residence of Miss Helen Powell, a great-grand-niece of the Commander.
One of the most memorable of the events during the Civil War was the sinking of the sloop-of-war Housatonic by a Confederate torpedo outside Charleston harbor. The Southern forces had designed a submarine with a torpedo and the successful attack made naval history. At this time Captain Congdon was the Sailing Master of the new 1200-ton screw steamer, and his account of the disaster, which took place on February 17, 1864, is also a part of our U. S. naval history. Commander Congdon's story follows:
"The destruction of the Housatonic took the time when all the big vessels were away. Our anchorage was generally in on the west side of the harbor near an inlet called Beach Inlet. We had learned from time to time of the several attempts that had been made to blow us up with a torpedo as they had a particular spite against our vessel for foiling their attempt to raise the blockade and considered us dangerous to have around there, interfering with their plans. As our information concerning their plans relative to us was very reliable, we naturally expected to go skyward sooner or later. With that in view, we concluded that if it were a possible thing, we would take our valuables with us on our journey. "So before turning in at night, each one of us officers would attach a line to our valuables and lead the line up through the hatch on deck, making it fast handy so that when
Commander Joseph W. Congdon in his Civil War uniform
DESTRUCTION OF THE "HOUSATONIC"
the time did come for us to leave, we could clutch our lines, haul up our valuables and take them along with us just as easy as rolling off a log. I will state right here that when this anticipated event did come off, there was not a line picked up — so much for plans.
"It was the custom after dark to shift our anchor to foil and defeat the enemy in carrying out any of their unfriendly maneuvering against us and to deceive blockade runners. But we were not always successful, for on the evening of February 17th 1864, a date easily remembered, the Confederates sent out a steam launch torpedo which proved to be the 'wickedest' thing of the War. "This craft was about 25 feet long, shaped like a cigar, built of boiler iron and provided with a screw wheel; she had no smoke stack and her deck was flush with the water. Running out from her bow 15 feet was a stout spar with an electric torpedo containing a charge of 200 pounds of powder. For the description of this murderous craft I am indebted to a cousin of mine, a southerner in the Confederate Navy, who volunteering to be one of the crew of this submarine devil, barked out, 'God bless him' when he learned that I was one of the officers that was to be annihilated. "It was just before 9 o'clock on a bright moonlight night that this torpedo boat was discovered making towards us. It resembled more a large fish sporting around. When suspicion as to its true nature was aroused, it was so close aboard that none of our great guns could be depressed sufficiently to reach it. However, it took a very short time to get to quarters, slip the chain, back the vessel and pour several volleys of musketry into her, but she moved faster than we did and made a dash for us in a bewildered sort of manner, striking us right abreast of the powder magazine. "The explosion was terrific, tearing a hole in the side of the ship large enough to drive a horse and cart through. I was raised several feet skyward but came down unharmed and somewhat bewildered, expecting of course that our magazine, containing some 5 ton of powder would explode and that would end the affair. Fortunately for us, it did not. The explosion was undoubtedly premature (our terrific fire of musketry tending to demoralize them) so that the torpedo was back acting, sinking the launch as well as our vessel, for from my point of view, I could see the wake of the boat as she went to the bottom.
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"My duties as Sailing Master when going to Quarters, were to handle the vessel under the Captain's direction. I rang to back the engine hard, and on my way to the bridge aft, abreast of the XI port, I discovered this Wild Cat and immediately opened fire from my revolver, but did not have the opportunity of using all the chambers before the explosion took place. "We sank immediately and as there were only 28 feet of water, it left us with the sheepholes of the lower rigging at the water's edge and ample room for all hands to perch in the rigging, should they be fortunate to reach the rigging. When the water reached the furnace fires, it made a roar even worse than the explosion, so that nearly everyone was overboard for a while. We lost two officers and three men which was very remarkable. Got one boat adrift by a miracle almost, picked up the Captain who remarked that he went up fully 500 feet in the air. He certainly was badly bruised. "The U. S. Sloop Canandaigua was nearby, and the Housatonic's boat reached her within a few minutes. In less than half an hour the rescue vessel had reached our area and assistance came quickly — much to our relief — for with 250 men crowded together as we were in the rigging, would have made an excellent mark for our unfriendly neighbors the Rebs, had they been so minded as to have sent a small steamer out and peppered us without any resistance on our part. It was a cold night, just making ice. Some of the crew in the excitement had divested themselves of their wearing apparel and started to swim somewhere. When they discovered that our masts still offered a place of refuge, they swam back to the rigging and posed as Living Pictures in their primitive state, I might add. Waiting for relief minutes seemed hours and we welcomed the boats of the Canandaigua to take us off with grateful joy. It was sad, though, to leave that noble ship in her watery grave, destroyed by unfair means without a chance of defending herself.
"The Housatonic was my maiden ship and I felt doubly endeared to her, from the fact that my orders to her came on my wedding day. I think some of our comrades' wives could contribute some terrible reminiscences of those days for they certainly were self-sacrificing, brave, patriotic and hopeful, sending their loved ones to battle for justice, liberty and our dear old flag. God bless the women — what could we do without them. Of course the report went forth that the
DESTRUCTION OF THE "HOUSATONIC"
Housatonic was lost with all on board. My wife being of a philosophical turn of mind doubted the report, just like a woman. She was right as she generally is, and anxiously awaited my return which duly came about, clothed in raiment made up of everybody's odds and ends from other people's wardrobes. "No attempt was ever made to raise the Housatonic. I visited her resting place some few months ago. Nothing remained of her and even the buoy that had marked , her remains had been taken away."
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The Confederate submarine was named the H. L. Hunley. Her commander, Lieut. George E. Dixon, CSA, and his crew of eight men perished in the attack. Confederate Engineer James H. Tomb afterward stated the Hunley was a "veritable coffin to the brave officer and his men." It was the first submarine to sink a naval vessel, and opened a new chapter in the history of warfare.
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