THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, May 14, 1995 TAG: 9505120245
SECTION: PORTSMOUTH CURRENTS PAGE: 04 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: Olde Town Journal
SOURCE: Alan Flanders
LENGTH: Medium: 89 lines
It wasn't just any spring evening that day in 1861 when Portsmouth's skyline became a fiery inferno. Explosions were heard up and down the Elizabeth River as far as four miles away.
Anxious citizens stood guard through the night, certain the entire city would be burned to the ground along with the Gosport Navy Yard that had been deliberately torched.
Rumors of civil war were rampant throughout Hampton Roads, but Portsmouth with its federal shipyard was considered safe under the guns of the Federal fleet anchored along the Elizabeth River at Gosport. All that was true until April 20, when most of Gosport became engulfed in fire and panic spread from St. Julian's to Scott's Creek as Federal forces evacuated the yard in the early hours of the following day. Even at daybreak, word spread that the Navy would surely shell the entire city in retaliation for its insurrection.
Just how such a disaster could have taken place in what was already then the nation's foremost shipyard is still debated among historians. However, a majority of experts still lay the blame for one of America's worst naval debacles squarely on the shoulders of the shipyard commander, Capt. Charles S. McCauley, who gave the final order to set the yard ablaze. But could he have been used as a ``fall guy?''
Were President Abraham Lincoln and Secretary of Navy Gideon Welles unaware of the pressures building around McCauley as the president tried desperately not to offend Virginia in any way unless it join the movement for secession? Was McCauley pushed to inaction lest he force a showdown with local rebels, which surely would have meant the destruction of a good part of Portsmouth and untold civilian casualties and destruction of private property? Were his orders down the chain of command unclear and in some cases contradictory? And last, but certainly not least, was McCauley simply determined not to fall into the same trap as his colleagues had in both Fort Sumter and the shipyard at Pensacola, Fla., where official intelligence about the size and determination of local rebel forces was tragically mistaken?
The answers to these questions have never been fully answered to remove all the guilt for losing the 120-gun Pennsylvania, 74-gun Delaware, 74-gun Columbus, 74-gun New York, the 44-gun United States, 44-gun Raritan, 44-gun Columbia, 44-gun Plymouth, 40-gun Merrimac(k), 22-gun Germantown, and 6-gun Dolphin. The only vessel to escape, the 22-gun Cumberland, was sunk by the ironclad CSS Virginia on March 8, 1862. Certainly making matters worse for McCauley was the failure of his subordinates to blow up drydock 1, which became the launch site of the Virginia and their inability to completely destroy key buildings and vast quantities of ordnance and supplies that found their way into the Confederate navy.
What is known about McCauley until that fateful day is impressive.
A native of Pennsylvania, he was 68 in the spring of 1861 and the eighth most senior officer on the Navy list. Joining the Navy in January 1809 at the age of 16, he was the nephew of the Navy's most senior officer, Charles Stewart. In 52 years of duty, McCauley had commanded the St. Louis in 1834 and Delaware in 1841-44. During the Mexican War, he was commandant of the Washington Navy Yard, 1846-49. During the advent of the United States' opening of Japan, McCauley was flag officer in command of the Pacific Squadron, 1850-53. In 1855 he distinguished himself as flag officer in temporary command of the Home Squadron during a very difficult time with Cuba and the rights of free passage for American ships around that island. Because of his seniority and the respect the bureau had for him, he was addressed frequently as ``commodore'' at the time he took command of Gosport in August 1860.
One thing is for sure. During those fateful days in the shipyard after Virginia's secession on April 17, 1862, Gosport's days as a federal facility were numbered. Once the Confederate flag was raised above the courthouse and rebel troops began to gather beneath it, the yard commander's decisions were very limited. Any sudden withdrawal would have violated the president's direct order to maintain order. A single incident could have set off a full military engagement within the most densely populated areas of downtown.
In April 1862, a U.S. Senate select committee investigated the destruction of Gosport and found Captain McCauley ``highly censurable for neglecting to send the Merrimac(k) out of the yard ... and for scuttling the ships and preparing to abandon the yard before any attack was made or seriously threatened.''
Instead of history condemning McCauley for losing the shipyard without firing a shot, maybe it should praise him for saving the lives of Portsmouth citizens by restraining fire and sacrificing his own ships. Unfortunately vindication is a slow process. ILLUSTRATION: File photo
On April 20, 1861, the Gosport Navy Yard was deliberately torched to
keep it out of Confederate hands.
by CNB