As Meagher was locking the door behind them when they left, Fox, offhandedly, asked him a question.
“Who was that officer, the one with gray hair and a scar on his right cheek?”
“You must mean Lieutenant Riley. A good soldier.”
“That’s fine. Do you think you could bring him around to see me tomorrow morning?”
“Sure and I will.”
He wanted to ask Fox the reason, but the naval officer had turned and was walking away. Ah, well. He would find out in the morning.
NEWPORT NEWS, VIRGINIA
John Ericsson looked down into the immense drydock and nodded approval. The massive outer gates were shut, sealing it off from the bay, and the last of the water was now being pumped out. Knee-deep in water and mud a Negro working crew, with a white supervisor in charge, were putting the heavy logs into place that would support the keel of the new ironclad Virginia while she was being built. Ericsson was not pleased with the name. But he had had no support from the War Department, or the navy, for his more imaginative suggestions such as Aesir or Destructor. The authorities had insisted in naming the new battleship after the state where it was being built.
“Allt går I alla fall mycket, mycket bra,” he muttered to himself in Swedish since, other than the matter of the ship’s name, he was pleased with what he had accomplished in such a short space of time. Yes, this shipyard was indeed very, very good. Of course it had to be — since he had designed it all himself. He had known all of his life that he was a genius; now the world was beginning to realize that as well. Hadn’t he invented the first screw propeller, that was now replacing the side-wheelers for propulsion? Then hadn’t he designed and built the Monitor in one hundred days? After that he had gone on to build the Avenger that had defeated the British when they attacked Washington City. Now he was going to build the even more powerful Virginia, named simply after the state where she was being built. He had protested that that was the name of the Confederate ironclad that was still in commission. This raised the troublesome point that the North had never recognized this name, which had been given to her by the Confederate authorities. In the naval records she was still the Merrimac, the sunken hull of the Federal vessel on which the South had constructed the ironclad. The authorities had responded by removing her feeble engine and decommissioning her, both in the North and the South. Still Virginia was such a commonplace name for the battleship that would change the face of naval warfare. He promised himself that he would fight for the name of the next one to be built. It would be the Aesir, the battleship of the gods.
“Mr. Ericsson,” a voice called out and he turned to see Garret Davis climbing up the steps behind him. The dockyard manager was wiping his full red face with a large kerchief, though there was still the morning cool in the air. “We’ve got an answer back from the Tredegar Iron Works. They’ll be putting that plate on the train today.”
“That they had better do — or else,” Ericsson said ominously, but not specifying what the “or else” would be. “Very soon we will not need them.”
He looked around and almost smiled with satisfaction. It had been a running fight with the Navy Department, but he had finally got what he wanted. They had complained about the price, but in the end had given in. Now he had a completely integrated shipyard, every unit of which he had designed himself. From this immense stone-walled drydock, right through to the foundries, plate-shops, machine shops, steam hammers, drills and steam engines. All of the equipment for handling the massive amount of iron needed to build this new leviathan of the seas.
A totally new design, of course. Twice as large as the Avenger, it had two turrets, each mounting two 12-inch cannon, one forward and one aft. A belt of armor ran along the waterline, and there were armored decks over the engines, the boilers, and the magazines. Armor around the base of the turrets as well. As well as the two main batteries there were a variety of small guns along the sides. This would be a seagoing ship that could patrol the oceans of the world and dread naught from any other vessel of war. Particularly the British. Locked in his safe was a report sent to him by the Navy Department. He had not questioned its accuracy, although he had no idea how it had been obtained. It contained details of three British ironclads now under construction. All the same, all compromises, all built on a modified design of Warrior. They would be no match for his Virginia, that he was sure of. He also had details on a larger ship that had already been launched, HMS Conqueror. An improvement on the others — but still not good enough. Should she come up against the Virginia he had no doubts as to the outcome.
“There is something else,” Davis said. “There are two gentlemen in the office who want to see you.”
“I am too busy.”
“They are from the government, sir. They said that it was important.”
Muttering at this interruption of his work, Ericsson went down to the office. One of them he recognized, for he knew him far too well. Litwack was his name and he represented the US Treasury and was the channel by which Ericsson received his funding. There was always a battle over money whenever they met.
“Mr. Ericsson,” Litwack said, stepping forward, “This is Mr. Frederick Douglass, of the Freedmen’s Bureau.”
Ericsson nodded perfunctorily at the tall Negro, a striking-looking man with a great beard and a towering mass of hair. He shook his hand briefly, since he had no racial prejudice — any hatreds he might have had were directed against the stupidity of the people he had to deal with. He turned back to Litwack.
“What is it this time? You are here about funding?”
“No, not this time. It is Mr. Douglass of the Freedmen’s Bureau who has some questions for you.”
“I know nothing about your Freedmen’s. I am an engineer…”
“Then you had better learn right now,” Douglass said in an irritated grumble. Ericsson turned, angrily, to face him, but Douglass spoke before he did.
“The Freedmen’s Bureau was founded to see that the laws passed by Congress are carried out to the letter of those same laws. It is one thing to free slaves, another thing altogether to see that they have gainful employment once they are freed. How many Negroes exactly are there in your apprentice program?”
“What is this man talking about?” Ericsson shouted furiously. “I have my work to do. I know nothing of politics nor do I care nothing.”
“I assure you — that is not the case.” Douglass raised his voice even louder to drown out the angry Swede. “One war has ended, the war between the states. But a new war is just beginning. By law the slaves have been freed. This has been done. Slave owners have received compensation for what they so foully considered property. But this has been only the first step along the road to freedom. If former slaves can labor only in the cotton fields, as they have in the past, they will not have the economic freedom that they are guaranteed as free men. They need the skills, the trades that they have been denied for so long. The South is now undergoing an industrial revolution. There are machine shops, factories and shipyards, as well as the trainyards, that are now being built in the new South. They will bring prosperity to the South — and independence to their workers. The Negro who brings home his weekly pay is dependent on no man. That is right and just. The freed Negro must be part of that process. That is the law! The Federal government paid out the funds that were needed to build this new dockyard. It is here not only to build the ships of war, but to follow the new policy of industrial development in the South. Skilled machinists and fitters have come here from shipyards in the North, to train apprentices in their skills. Do you know how many of these apprentices you have in your program?”