“I saw at least three things on the way here, Captain, that were stamped or carved with the ship’s name. Proof! Russell wants endless proofs. We can start with sending him the ships’ bell.” Adams pulled up a chair and started to go over the papers, “I will be awhile, but I think these will nail the British to the wall.”
Lamson left him to his work and went back on deck. The ironclad’s crew had been brought up and was under guard. There were a half dozen wounded men being attended by their own surgeon and the Gettysburg’s. Porter was examining the papers of the crew. “These papers confirm that almost every man here is a British subject. If they weren’t all Royal Navy, I’d be much surprised.”
“They’re nothing but a liability, Mr. Porter. Put them in the ship’s boats and let them row ashore, but winnow out any of Captain’s Bulloch’s Confederates. Have the engineer report to me as well. Tell him I want to know the condition of this ship’s engines and whether she has the coal to get to an American port. We may put a prize crew in her yet. It would be grand, Mr. Porter, to not only take this enemy but take her home as well.”
“Aye, sir, grand indeed.”
“Waste no time, Mr. Porter. We don’t have much before our British friends arrive. I want them to find this bay empty of us.” Lamson allowed himself twenty minutes to inspect the casemated gun deck and one of the turrets. The gun deck was a shambles of smashed and splintered teak and twisted armor plates. He carefully examined the damage; the Navy would be eager to hear what the Dahlgren guns could do to the best British armor plate. The turret was even more interesting, being built on a different principle than Mr. Ericsson’s central moving spindle. There was much to learn, but so little time. A Marine found him and said that Porter requested his presence on deck.
When Lamson joined him, Porter pointed east. “Liverpool, Captain, with Goshawk fifteen minutes behind. Faster than we thought.”
“Get Mr. Adams back on board Gettysburg. Have the engineer report to me. We will not be taking this ship home as a prize. But I won’t give her back so that they can hand her over to the Confederacy. We will sink her right here.”
Liverpool slowed warily as she approached the two ships. Her captain noticed that there was no smoke coming from the ironclad but plenty rising from the American ship. She would be able to leap forward at a moment’s notice. He also noticed that the American ship moved to keep herself between the ram and Liverpool. The wreckage of an engagement aboard the ironclad was also impossible to miss, as were the American colors. The captain was in a quandary for his orders did not cover such an eventuality. The day before he had been ordered to observe and follow the American ship as long as she was in British waters. This morning, Goshawk had brought the urgent new orders-to pursue and seize the escaped Laird Brothers ram.
He ordered beat to quarters. Gettysburg’s gun crews stood their posts in silence as they watched the British guns run out. They knew that Gettysburg’s broadside had only four guns as opposed to the almost twenty British guns. The Liverpool was only wood, but Gettysburg’s iron hull was vulnerable as well and its side-wheels even more so.
A boat came over from Liverpool. The captain himself climbed the ladder to be met by hastily assembled Marines and a petty officer to pipe him aboard. He tipped his hat to the colors and stepped forward to meet Lamson. He bowed and then saluted. Lamson returned the courtesies. Capt. Rowley Lambert was about forty, spare as a beanpole, and affected all the Royal Navy’s disdain for the upstart U.S. Navy. He was especially disdainful of the mere youth that said he was the captain of this warship.
For a moment he looked around at the huge soda bottle-shaped Dahlgrens. He knew their reputation as the finest smoothbores in the world. He also knew that his thirty-nine guns, even as old as they were, could shred Gettysburg before she could get off many shots. He refused Lamson’s invitation to go below for a brandy and came to the point. “I must know the meaning of your presence in these waters and why you have attacked a British ship in British waters.”
Lamson had been coached by Adams to say, “I have pursued and seized a belligerent ship that was attempting to escape to open sea, sir.”
“What rubbish is that, sir? She is a British ship, built by Laird Brothers of Birkenhead and on her sea trials.”
“That is true that she was built by Laird Brothers, but when we found her she was flying the colors of the Confederate States, which your own government has recognized as a belligerent.” Lamson told the necessary lie. “And her captain was in Confederate uniform. His papers clearly state that she was the property of the so-called Confederate States of America. Why, sir, even the ship’s bell was cast with words CSS North Carolina. She is my prize, and I intend to send her with a prize crew to an American port.”
Lambert was having none of this. “This ironclad is a British ship as far as my orders are concerned, and her status will be determined by British courts. You have committed a hostile act in British waters. I must demand the surrender of your vessel.” He paused, “Or I will take you by force. You have fifteen minutes to strike, sir.”
“When hell freezes over, sir. Now, be on your way.”
Lambert’s face turned red at the peremptory dismissal from the mere Yankee cub. Not even the boldest Frenchmen would have dared to snap his fingers in the lion’s face like that. He turned on his heel and hastened down the side and into his boat, eager to make good his threat.
No sooner had his boat pushed off than Gettysburg sped forward, the wake tossing Lambert’s boat about and giving the captain a good splash. The American ship maintained station on the opposite side of the ram. Lamson was careful to keep his vulnerable paddlewheel behind the ram’s forward turret. It was a furious British captain who climbed up onto his quarterdeck. His disposition did not improve as he attempted to maneuver around the ram to get a good shot at the American ship that just continued to circle the other way. It was obvious the American captain was using the ram’s unloaded freeboard of only six feet to mask the fire of the fifteen 8-inch rifles and 32-pounder smoothbore guns of Liverpool’s gun deck battery. That left his eight 40-pounder Armstrongs and the bruising 110-pounder Armstrong pivot gun on the main deck. The four Dahlgrens that could bear on the Liverpool’s main deck fired 135-pound projectiles for a broadside weight of 540 pounds. Liverpool’s nine main deck guns totaled only 430 pounds of projectile weight. In effect, by Lamson’s maneuver, the smaller ship had a 26 percent advantage in broadside weight. Even that was deceptive because the Dahlgren projectiles were far more destructive.
Lamson’s cat and mouse game with Liverpool gave Goshawk time to come up and take up station on Gettysburg’s open flank, but her one 68-pounder, one 32-pounder, and two 20-pounders were vastly outmatched by the larger guns that the American ship could bring to bear.
Lamson looked at his pocket watch as the last few minutes counted down. Behind him Adams said, “You must let him fire first; it is imperative that the British start this.”
“Have no fear, Mr. Adams. But I do suggest that you get below. Pray, sir, do not make me waste a Marine to watch over you.” Lamson could feel the tension settle over all three ships as the last seconds fell away. The men were steady at their posts, the Dahlgrens double-shotted. The command to fire echoed across the ram from the British ship. Instantly Liverpool was engulfed in smoke as her main deck battery fired. Lamson felt the shock wave cross the ram and push him back like the shove of a giant, and instantly Gettysburg’s guns roared back.