Rosecrans and his corps commanders were swept away in the panic, all except Maj. Gen. George Thomas, who rallied his corps for the terrible rearguard defense of Snodgrass Hill. Again and again the Confederate waves struck the hill, each time seeming to crest it, but each time falling back in wreckage and ruin. Thomas held on and would not budge all that terrible day, earning himself the immortal title of the “Rock of Chickamauga.” That honor would have meant nothing if Bragg had not obsessed about overwhelming Thomas instead of sending his army in pursuit. His corps commanders, Longstreet chief among them, begged him to pursue the enemy. They “produced a Confederate soldier who had been captured and then had escaped. He had seen the Federal disarray for himself and was brought before Bragg to testify that the enemy was indeed in full retreat. Bragg would not accept the man’s story. ‘Do you know what a retreat looks like?’ he asked acidly. The soldier stared back and said, ‘I ought to, General; I’ve been with you during your whole campaign.’”
THE NORTH ATLANTIC, 11:20 AM, SEPTEMBER 21, 1863
Winslow’s deception of sailing north through the Irish Sea and the Northern Channel to the North Atlantic had had its risks, and one of them had given Kearsarge away. While most of the pursuing British ships sent in pursuit followed his false start to the southeast through the St. George Channel, which connected the Irish Sea south to the Atlantic, he had been passed by a Liverpool steamer. Kearsarge had been flying false colors, the French tricolor, but the skipper of the steamer knew a Frenchman when he saw one. He also knew battle damage when he saw it. He stopped a few hours later at Stranraer, a ferry port in southwest Scotland, where the telegraph had brought the news of Moelfre Bay and ignited a firestorm of anger. From there, the captain’s news sped south on the telegraph to London. Almost immediately upon receipt, the nearest Royal Navy warships were alerted and ordered in pursuit. Winslow had calculated that the northern route would encounter the fewest British warships; their bases were largely in the south and east of Britain. The odds were with him but luck was not. Coaling in Stranraer was the HMS Undaunted, a wood screw frigate of the same class as Liverpool. She was new, built in 1861; big at 4,020 tons; and fast, and she mounted fifty-one guns. Her captain did not wait for specific orders and put to sea at once. Captain and crew were out for blood.
The captain shrewdly guessed that his prey would strike directly for New York, hoping to outrace news of the battle. He crowded on sail and ordered the engines at full speed. On September 12 he caught up with Kearsarge. When she was identified, the crew burst into cheers as the drums beat to quarters. Winslow’s lookout had seen Undaunted almost at the same time. Battle stations were sounded. Lamson joined Winslow on the quarterdeck and extended his telescope.
“Looks just like Liverpool. And she is not blissfully ignorant of who we are. That ship is straining every plank to close with us.”
Winslow lowered his own glass. “One British frigate is enough. It took the two of us and some luck to take Liverpool. I won’t risk another fight with such a big ship.”
Lamson felt a twinge of disappointment, but Winslow precluded any impertinent suggestions to stay and fight by slamming his telescope shut. “We are going to run away. The Navy will need this ship.”
Running away was easier said than done. Kearsarge’s sails and engines gave it their all and began to lengthen the distance between them, but in a few hours it was apparent that the Undaunted was faster and would eventually close to within cannon shot. By September 15, Undaunted’s forward 110-pounder pivot gun fired its first shot, which fell well astern of Kearsarge. An hour later, her second shot struck only a hundred yards short. The next shell struck the sternpost and blew it to pieces.
Splinters from the impact blew out and up to fall on the quarterdeck. Winslow ordered the helmsman, “Hard about!” To his executive officer, Lt. Cdr. William Thornton, he said, “We will rake her, Mr. Thornton. Aim for her waterline. We must slow her down.”
Excitement ran through the officers and gun crews of both ships as the Kearsarge turned. Hardly had the Kearsarge come round before the Undaunted sheered, presented her starboard battery, and slowed her engines. At long range of about a mile, the British ship opened her full broadside, the shot cutting some of Kearsarge’s rigging and going over and alongside her. Immediately Winslow ordered more speed, but in less than two minutes Undaunted loaded and fired another broadside and followed it with a third but to little effect. Kearsarge was now within about nine hundred yards. So far, distance had prevented the rapid British broadsides from crippling the American.
“Fire!” Kearsarge’s starboard battery erupted. The XI-inch 5-second-fused shells crashed into Undaunted’s waterline to explode inside. The Marines manning the 28-pounder rifle dropped a shell onto Undaunted’s quarterdeck while the crew of the small Dahlgren howitzer spewed shrapnel on the main deck. Kearsarge’s guns were firing at will, pumping more shells into the enemy’s waterline. Winslow sheered away, intending to break off the action and resume his course, but the Undaunted sent a powerful broadside into his ship. One of his 32-pounders was struck by two of the Undaunted’s 32-pound shot with a great resounding clang of metal on metal. A powder charge exploded in the crewman’s hands, upending the gun and sending it spinning through the crew, reducing them to bloody rag dolls.
Kearsarge’s engines throbbed as the ship found its running legs. Undaunted was slow to follow and gradually fell behind. Winslow could only assume his guns had done their work. He was right. The XI-inch Dahlgren shells had blown jagged holes in Undaunted’s hull. Water was pouring through and began filling the hold. Her carpenters swarmed to plug them with canvas and wooden braces. The Marine gunners had wounded Undaunted as well. Their shells on the enemy’s quarterdeck had shattered the wheel and killed the captain. The ship’s executive officer assumed command and threw every effort into saving the ship.
Winslow breathed more easily as the enemy’s sail grew smaller and smaller. His relief was premature. The Undaunted had barely been lost to sight when the wounded ship was overtaken by the main pursuit squadron consisting of the frigates HMS Topaze and Dauntless and sloops Alert and Gannet. Undaunted gave them Kearsarge’s course, and they leapt in pursuit. They were under the command of the senior captain, John Welbore Sunderland Spencer of the Topaze.
In two days the smoke from their funnels was visible from Kearsarge’s topsail. On the third day the ships were visible from the quarterdeck. On the fourth day it was clear that they had spread out to sweep the American into a closing net. Winslow drove his ship into a late summer storm that tossed it through heavy seas and driving rain. He changed course to the southeast as the storm moved in that direction. On the sixth day Kearsarge broke out of the storm into clear weather with none of his pursuers in sight. He resumed course for New York. On the eighth day four plumes of smoke again appeared behind him. This time the lookouts also spotted two plumes ahead of them. “I think company would be a good idea about now,” Winslow muttered to himself. If they were British, it was unlikely they had heard of Moelfre Bay so far out; if they were not British, he might be able to hide among them or use them as a decoy. He needed one more break; they were only four days’ sailing time from New York and the safety of its harbor forts. He did not think the invisible barrier of American maritime jurisdiction would stop them.