The H.L. Hunley: The Disappearance and Rediscovery of the Confederate Submarine
The H.L. Hunley:
The Disappearance and Rediscovery of the Confederate
Submarine
J.M. Rogers
...
The
mysterious disappearance of the H.L. Hunley’s crew following its
successful attack on the U.S.S Housatonic on the evening of February 17,
1864, has beguiled the American public for over 150 years. Today the intriguing
vessel’s hull and display of artifacts silently prod the minds of curious
viewers from the confines of their freshwater desalination tank in the Warren
Lasch Conservation Center (formerly the Charleston Naval Yard). Why did the Hunley
sink? What were the actions of Lt. Dixon following the bombing of the Housatonic?
What occurred during the crew’s final moments? How did the precedent that
Hunley and McClintock set in naval technology affect subsequent warfare? As
archaeologists and conservators began the laborious task of preserving and
restoring the ship following its surprising rediscovery in 1995, the story of
the Hunley began to unfold, often producing as many new questions as
answers.
When Lt. George Dixon and his crew of
eight disembarked from the Battery Marshall Dock at Sullivan’s Island, the H.L.
Hunley’s success was anything but guaranteed.[1] At
40 feet long and 4 feet tall, with an interior operating space of 25 feet, the
vessel’s design borrowed concepts from the “David” boats of the early 1860s. Unlike
David boats, the addition of ballast tanks at the front and back of the ship
containing pumps for siphoning water out of the vessel’s enclosed cabin enabled
an airtight seal, which allowed the entire craft to submerge for more than two
hours. Its only source of propulsion was
the eight-member crew crammed inside the Fishboat’s cylindrical hull, who
propelled the ship forward at a rate of 4 knots by way of a rotating crankshaft
that ran the length of the internal compartment.[2] Bearing
no weapons on its elliptic-shaped frame, the Hunley’s primary means of
devastating the Union blockade ships was a Singer-type torpedo (water
mine) attached to a 20-foot spar that extended from the ship’s bow.[3]
The
strategy of secret torpedo deployment was born out of Confederate desperation,
as Lincoln and Welles’ blockade slowly strangled Southern ports’ life and
tactical effectiveness, but the technique reached unimagined heights with the
advent of the Hunley.[4] While
torpedo boats had achieved some success in limiting blockade vessel’s abilities
to control critical ports, the inability of these boats to manage heavy
ordnance rendered them defenseless to heavily-armed ironclad steamships. To
subvert the defense issue, the Hunley proposed to avoid enemy weaponry
entirely by approaching an enemy steamship while submerged. Once within
striking distance, it would deploy its torpedo then detonate it “remotely” by
pulling a lanyard that lit the mine’s three fuses. Following detonation, the
sub would slip away, undetected, to safer waters while signaling Confederate
ships at harbor with a blue-flamed phosphorous lamp mounted within one of its
dual viewing hatches.[5]
Although
the Hunley was the brainchild of its namesake, this futuristic machine’s
final design and construction were the product of a 32-year-old engineering
prodigy from New Orleans named James McClintock.[6] Though
he had formerly served the Confederacy as a steamboat captain on the
Mississippi River, McClintock had moved on to the port of Mobile, where his
unrivaled mind for naval engineering could be better utilized. In 1861, the
paths of Horace Hunley (an attorney from New Orleans) and McClintock crossed on the Alabama coastline
at the Parks and Lyon machine shop.[7] McClintock
was drawn to Hunley’s initial designs to produce a cigar-shaped torpedo boat
capable of submersion, both for the challenge it posed, as well as the
$50,000.00 (1.3 million dollars today) bounty the Confederate government was
offering to anyone who could sink a Union warship.[8]
The
H.L. Hunley was McClintock and Hunley’s third rendition of the submersible,
preceded by the Pioneer and American Diver, in 1862 and 1863,
respectively.[9] During their earlier
construction phases, the pair had learned valuable lessons about the lofty
opportunities and the deadly consequences that their submersibles enabled. They
had also learned that the hopes of developing an electromagnetic propulsion
system were incompatible with the available materials and size constraints. Though
never as swift-moving as they had planned (the Hunley had a top speed of
4 knots with the crankshaft “motor”), the ship’s design certainly enabled
operations below the waterline, and thus, beyond enemy detection.[10]
However, the crafts all proved inconsistent during operation, which all too
often resulted in crew death. Such consequences became apparent to the
Confederate Generals attending Hunley’s practice maneuvers on October
15, 1863.[11]
Hunley piloted the craft himself, and
after successfully submerging to the delight of all, the shark-shaped vessel
slowly approached its practice target, the C.S.S. Indian Chief. [12] How
long the Generals sat awaiting the emergence of Hunley and his crew is not
recorded, but one can imagine the nervous silence that settled over the harbor
after the sub’s two-hour air supply expired. Days later, when Confederate
forces towed the submarine out of Charleston harbor, Hunley was found inside
with his arms extended against the hatch in a futile attempt to free himself
and the crew before the ship flooded. The sub received its name in honor of its
drowned progenitor, whose ill-fated showing effectively curbed much of the
enthusiasm that once surrounded the vessel. Being the second fatal mishap of
the ship’s short career, by the time of the Hunley’s fateful mission
under the command of Lt. George Dixon on February 17, 1864, the sub had already
claimed the lives of 13 men, all Confederates.[13]
As
the Hunley departed from Sullivan Island, Dixon knew all too well that
the mission was likely a one-way trip. Despite working vigorously to restore Beauregard’s
confidence in the ship’s capabilities, no vote of approval by Confederate
commanders would save the Lieutenant should fatal errors occur mid-mission.[14]
The only safeguards Dixon had against imminent failure were his hours of work
on the craft alongside McClintock, and his lucky gold coin, which had saved his
life at the Battle of Shiloh in 1862 by deflecting a bullet to the thigh.[15] Although
the mission was eventually approved, Beauregard had instructed Dixon not to
submerge the vessel (from fear of a similar outcome to the Charleston harbor
incident) but rather to operate it above water, much like a David boat.[16]
With this tactic in mind, Dixon and crew approached the U.S.S. Housatonic
at 10:20 pm under cover of night, miles from the Charleston shoreline.[17]
While accounts vary over which crewmember aboard the Housatonic first spotted
the Hunley’s “protuberances” floating toward the ship’s starboard bow (some
accounts credit Master John Crosby, the officer on deck, and others credit Robert
F. Fleming, a landsmen at the ship’s cathead) the subsequent explosion revealed
the enemy’s presence to all.[18]
As deck boards and furniture flew mast-high, the Housatonic swiftly sank
up to her rigging in the shallow harbor waters.[19]
For
over a century after the first successful attack by a submersible on a ship,
most people could only speculate about the fate of the Hunley. Some
Union troops believed that the submarine had slipped away to the open seas
undetected or that it had been destroyed by the very torpedo that had crippled
the Housatonic.[20]
However, several crew members aboard the Housatonic, including Robert
Fleming, reported seeing a gleaming blue light retreating among the waves in
the frantic moments that followed the explosion. Likewise, crewmembers of the U.S.S.
Canandaigua reported seeing the blue beacon as they rushed to the aid of
their Union fellows.[21]
These sightings on a February night in 1864 were the last known observations of
the Hunley until Clive Cussler’s diving crew laid eyes upon its
streamlined hull in 1995.
While
being a best-selling author, Clive Cussler was also a maritime enthusiast who
organized and funded a search for the Hunley that lasted fifteen years.[22] Cussler
and Co. relied on historical documents to locate the ship, including a letter
from Lt. George Dixon to his friend Henry Wiley, first-person accounts, and
various Confederate and Union documents detailing the sight of the Housatonic’s
sinking. However, upon reporting the finding, the Hunley’s preservation
transferred to the “Naval Historical Society, the National Park Service’s
Submerged Resources Center, the South Carolina Institute of Archaeology and
Anthropology, and archaeologists from the NHC.”[23]
Understanding the find’s significance, all parties agreed that it would be
prudent to conduct a pre-disturbance survey of the wreck before beginning
conservation efforts.[24]
These
groups returned to the site in 1999 and, with the aid of towed instrumentation
that utilized systematic remote-sensing technology, produced a summary overview
of the wreckage site and its potential artifacts. Additionally, the use of a
portable base- station at the site allowed for the collection of differentially
corrected G.P.S. coordinates which enabled highly accurate readings from “magnetometer,
side-scan sonar, survey depth sounder, sub-bottom profiler, and RoxAnn bottom
classification devices.”[25] Utilization
of this array of instrumentation was critical to preserving the site in its
original state, which, in conjunction with the wreckage of the Housatonic, constituted
a battlefield site akin to a watery Little Big Horn in its academic significance.[26] By
observing the wreck as a component of a battlefield site rather than a
shipwreck alone, archaeologists successfully produced valuable insights into
the nature of 19th-century nautical warfare.[27]
Once
the site had been thoroughly surveyed and relevant battlefield data recorded, archaeologists
exhumed the ship for further study. Having identified the Hunley by the
presence of its “forward hatch, aft hatch, snorkel box, dive plane, cutwater,
screw, rudder features, keel ballast and bow spar or fittings,” the task of retrieving
the craft from beneath three feet of sediment began. Concretion, which had
accumulated over 137 years, covered the vessel, making preservation tedious and
labor-intensive. Such conservation often required conservators to work in
cramped and oddly bent positions, which undoubtedly reflected the working
conditions of the sailors who had operated the vessel in 1864.[28] Due
to the presence of ubiquitous concretion, X-rays of the artifacts on board were
necessary prior to preservation. The X-rays, and subsequent preservation
efforts, revealed an array of personal items ranging from pocket knives, boots,
buttons, and bandanas, to an exceptionally high-quality brass oil can that,
remarkably, was still half-filled with 1860s-era oil.[29]
Skeletal remains, including the tooth of one of the crankshaft operators named
Frank Collins, were also found, identified, and buried in a private ceremony in
2004.[30] Perhaps
most spectacular among the artifacts, though, were the recoveries of Lt. Dixon’s
pocket watch and his fabled lucky gold coin.[31]
Unlike
the vessel’s martyred inventor, the final crew of the Hunley were not
found in a state of escape but rather sitting peacefully at their posts, frozen
in a state of eternal slumber.[32] The
ship bore only minor structural damage and showed no direct causes for
catastrophic failure leading many to ask: what happened the night of February
17, 1864? Some theorists posit that the men died from anoxia while hiding on
the seafloor and awaiting an opportunity to escape the harbor.[33]
Some suggest that a poorly designed pipe running between the forward and aft
ballast tanks ruptured, drowning the men in a matter of seconds.[34]
Others think that a large battery containing chlorine gas could have leaked
into the interior space of the vessel and poisoned the men with toxic fumes.[35] As
of the writing of this essay, there is no consensus on the matter.
The answer to this pervasive mystery may never be known. However, thanks to modern archaeological efforts, the public can still debate it as they gaze into the restoration tank of strenuously preserved H.L. Hunley. Though archaeologists and historians have not deciphered the cause of its demise, what has been deduced with certainty is the structural nature of the vessel, the identities of the men who accompanied Dixon, and an assemblage of enlightening battlefield data. The sinking of the Housatonic effectively launched an age of submersible warfare that would reach its heights in the 20th and 21st centuries. From the U-boat attacks of The Great War to the modern military era, with its nuclear-powered behemoths, naval innovation and strategy were forever altered by the efforts of a New Orleans attorney, his prodigious engineering partner, and a hellbent Lieutenant with a lucky coin.
Conrad
Wise Chapman’s The Confederate Submarine Torpedo Boat H.L. Hunley, December
1863. (The only known contemporary painting of the H.L. Hunley)
U.S.S. Housatonic
Submarine
in transport to Warren Lasch Conservation Center.
H.L.
Hunley in its conservation tank.
Excavation
of H.L. Hunley at Warren Lasch Conservation Center
Illustration
of structural elements of H.L. Hunley
X-Ray of Brass Oil
Can found aboard H.L. Hunley
Brass
oil can (restored) found on H.L. Hunley
Lt.
George Dixon’s pocket watch
Lt.
George Dixon’s Pocket Watch (restored)
Bibliography
Hicks, Brian. 2014. “One-Way Mission
of the H. L. Hunley.” Naval History 28 (1), 22–29. https://search-ebscohost-com.ezproxy.lib.uwf.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ahl&AN=93373533&site=ehost-live.
Crawford, Thomas A. “Why Did “H. L. Hunley” Sink?” Warship
International 55, no. 2, 2018: 165-66. Accessed July 01, 2021. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44893416.
Symonds, Craig L. The Civil War at Sea. Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2009.
“Pieces of the Past.” 2014. Naval History 28
(1), 72.
“New Clue May Help Explain Civil War Sub’s Loss.”
2019. Naval History 33 (2), 10–11. https://search-ebscohost-com.ezproxy.lib.uwf.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ahl&AN=136560369&site=ehost-live.
“Tooth Found on H.L.
Hunley.” 2017. Civil War Times 56 (5), 10.
Images:
Chapman, Conrad Wise, 1842-1910. The Confederate
Submarine Torpedo Boat H.L. Hunley, December 1863. https://jstor.org/stable/community.14623976.
Rivera, Johanna, and Paul Mardikian. "LA
RESPONSABILIDAD EN EL RESCATE DE ARTEFACTOS MARINOS: EL CASO DEL "H.L.
HUNLEY (1864)" UN PROYECTO DESAFIANTE EN EL CAMPO DE LA CONSERVACIÓN
SUBACUÁTICA." Revista De Arqueología Americana, no. 26 (2008),
104-118. http://www.jstor.org/stable/27768532.
“U.S.S. Housatonic” Artist Unknown. Public Domain
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:USSHousatonic.jpg
[1] Hicks, Brian. “One-Way
Mission of the H. L. Hunley.” (Naval History 28 (1), 2014). 21,24.
[2] Hicks, 24,26.
[3] Crawford, Thomas A.
"Why Did "H. L. Hunley" Sink?" (Warship
International 55, no. 2, 2018). 165-66.
[4] Symonds, Craig L. The
Civil War at Sea. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009). 172.
[5] Symonds, 176.
[7] Hicks, 22, 23.
[8] Hicks, 23
[9] Hicks, 24.
[10] Hicks, 26.
[11] Symonds, 175.
[12] Symonds, 175.
[13] Symonds, 175.
[14] Symonds, 175.
[15] Hicks, 23.
[16] Hicks, 23.
[17] Symonds, 176.
[18] Hicks, 27, Symonds, 176.
[19] Hicks, 27.
[20] Symonds, 177.
[21] Hicks, 27, Symonds, 176.
[22] Hicks, 28.
[23] Conlin, David L., and
Matthew A. Russell. “Archaeology of a Naval Battlefield: H. L. Hunley and USS
Housatonic.” (International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 35
(1), 2006). 23.
[24] Conlin, David L., and
Matthew A. Russell, 23.
[25] Conlin, David L., and
Matthew A. Russell, 23.
[26] Conlin, David L., and
Matthew A. Russell, 21.
[27] Conlin, David L., and
Matthew A. Russell, 21
[28] “Pieces of the
Past.” (Naval History 28 (1), 2014). 72.
[29] “New Clue May Help
Explain Civil War Sub’s Loss.” (Naval History 33 (2), 2019). 10–11.
[30] “Tooth Found on H.L.
Hunley.” (Civil War Times 56 (5), 2017). 10.
[31] “Pieces of the Past,” 72.
[33] Symonds, 177.
[35] Crawford, 166.
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