A TRUE STORY OF THE AMERICAN WAR.

Waikato Argus, Volume IV, Issue 261, 19 March 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

A TRUE STORY OF THE AMERICAN WAR.

♦ One of the most heroic tales of the American war is that of Lieutenant Dixon and his comrades, who embarked in a crazy little boat on an expedition against a big Yankee man-of-war in the siege of Charleston. The incident was daring in its conception, heroic in its execution, and tragic in its termination. Charleston was choked off from the sea by the strong hand of the Federal blockade. Ten majestic battleships lay in the outer harbour, and by day and night they rained a storm of shot and shell on the fortifications and defenders of the ancient city. For each gunshot from Sumter or Wagner, ten or mora thundered back a deadly answer from the fleat of Federal gunboats. Of this latter a most aggressive member was the Housatonic, a splendid new ship anchored in the north channel. She was particularly offensive from the advantage of her position. The firing of her rifled cannon on the forts was cruelly perfect and persistent. She threw Parrot shells into the city, and her solid shot tore away greab sections of the defensive ramparbs. By reason of bhe wholesale havoc she created, and the destruction she dealt, the motive for the catastrophe which befel hc?r was conceived. Beauregard had accepted from a Mobile firm for the torpedo service a strange crafb, 40 feet in length, and shaped like a cigar. She wa3 propelled by hand, and was intended for submarine work. But in each trial trip she had made in the water of the Charleston harbour she had ■ mothered her crew in the green water of the bay, so she was tied up to the wharf near the battery, with only her curving back above the water line, where she vacillated like a stranded sea monster, tossed by the moving tides. There the ' cigar boat ' —she was unnamed—was observed by George Dixon an officer of the 21st Alabama Infantry, then engaged in the defence of Charleston. Dixon had been casting about for some plan by which the harbour might be relieved of one or more of the blockaders. A careful inspection of the abandoned boat convinced him that she could be used in a plan which he favoured. He was fully cognisant of the grim record she had made for herself, and realised the extreme dangers which lay in the execution of his plan, but he determined to try it in the face of all risks. Likewise with the six men to whom Dixon unfolded his project. They knew a fearful death for themselves was almost certain in the event of the success of the enterprice ; yet they readily agreed to accompany him as crew of the boat. It was a deliberate sacrifice of themselves for the attainment of a desired object. The men were Captain Carlson and Ridgeway, Becker, Wicks, Collins and Simpkins. At 7 o'clock on the night of 11th February, in 'G4, tho party assembled on the deck of the once abandoned but now important boat. It was a picturesque situation. The darkness of the night was dispelled by a conflagration back in the city and by a calcium raft which burned redly over against Fort Sumter. Overhead a perfect network of screaming and bursting shells made a pyrotechnic display, gigantic and fearful, while the crash of the distant guns was continuous. The men were perfectly cool and deliberate in their movements. Dixon gave his orders in a calm manner, and inspected each step of the proceedings with the keen perception of an expert. A sailor approached bhe group on tho decks with a round, black object slung over his shoulders. It was a sea torpedo. This was taken rather tenderly by two of the men, who fixed it to the end of a spar which another of the parly had drawn out of the water with a rope The free end of the spar was then fixed to the nose of the boat. The spar, being thus adjusted, was a kind of ram, which pointed straight ahead of the boat and lay just under tho water, with the deadly torpedo on the outer end. Dixon then ordered all aboard, and they descended a ladder into the boat through a manhole in the top. The cover was fastened from tho inside and bhe queer craft moved slowly out into the harbour, only partly submerged. A shell dropped in the water and exploded so near that the waves from the disturbance nearly swamped the boat, but she righted herself and kept a straight course for the outer bar. The Housatonic that night lay silent and dark, as if resting from her murderous labors of the day. A red light burned at her masbhead, and an officer—Crosby—paced her decks slowly and alone. Ho was watching bhe red and blue signal rockets that rose majestically, high

into the night, from the flagship of the squadron. Presently he looked out over the bay, and hi 3 attention settled on a long, low, black thing which came drifting toward him over the rippling waves. It was like a loose plank in the water. He watched it intently for a few seconds, then suddenly realising the peril of his vessel he ran at his utmost speed for the pilot liousp, shouting at the top of his voice : ' A torpedo on the starboard ! A torpedo on tho starboard '' He rang all hands on deck, and as they tumbled out he gave frantic orders to start tho engines and back away. They cut away the cables, the "engines began to throb, and the whole ship trembled with the first motions of getting under way. She was too late. The few seconds Crosby had spent in observation of • the plank ' cost him dearly. Dixon and his 6trange craft had closed in on him and struck the Housatonic in the side, a little forward of the mainmast. There was an explosion that was heard far out in the harbour, and its force threw the ship over on her side. When she settled again the sea poured into her through an immense hole that had been knocked in her side.

In four minutes there were only a few spars protruding from the water where the stately ship went down, and a crowd of officers and men were clinging in the rigging, freezing in the February night. They were rescued by other ships of the fleet.

With the success of Dixon's expedition came, too, the finale he had expected. When the Housatonic the pugnacious little boat went down with her, locked fast in her broken timbers.

Years after, when they raised the sodden hulk of the Housatonic from the harbour, they found the bones of Dixon and his comrades in the ' cigar boat,' and they threw them back into the sea.—' Weekly Telegraph.'