Damian Shiels's Blog, page 12

A New One-Page Index for 700+ Irish in the American Civil War Articles & Resources

After a decade of writing, I have finally bitten the bullet and taken the time to create a global one-page index for everything that has been published on the site. On the new Index Page you will find in excess of 700 referenced articles and resources listed. To go directly to any given post, just click on the hyperlinked article or resource title. To ease review, the individual articles have been further seperated into a series of categories under the following headings: Pages; Battles & Units; Case Studies & Analysis; Cemeteries; Discussion & Debate; Guest Posts; Letters & Documents; Microhistory; Military History (Famine Era); Military History (Other); Native Americans & African Americans; News, Multimedia & Events; Pension Files; Profiles; Resources; Social History (Famine Era); Social History (Other); Transatlantic Connections; Visualisations & Mapping; Widows in the Atlantic World; Women’s History. I am hoping that this will make the site more user-friendly for visitors, particularly those who wish to make use of my material for educational or research purposes. You can access the new Index by clicking on the “Index” tab in the topbar, or via this link. Please feel free to share it widely.

The Three Mary Driscolls: Marriage, Community & Loss Across the Atlantic, 1811-1893

The event which led to the recording of the lives of the three Mary Driscolls occurred along the Gulf Coast of Texas in September 1863. On the 8th of that month, a small contingent of largely Irish American Confederates under the command of Dick Dowling from Co. Galway turned back a vastly superior Federal force at what became known as the Battle of the Sabine Pass. The vanquished Union troops also contained copious numbers of Irish Americans that day- some mere boys, such as James Nugent, whose life and fate I have written about here. Another Northern Jack Tar at Sabine Pass was Michael Driscoll, then serving as a Landsman aboard the converted paddle steamer USS Clifton. During the battle he toiled shoulder to shoulder with men like George Range from England, Irish emigrant Edward McGowan, and Kerry (most likely Dingle) native Patrick McKenna, as the Clifton sought to silence Dowling and his Confederates in Fort Griffin. But they were doomed to fail. The ferocity of fire the Irish Confederates laid down forced the Clifton‘s grounding, and ultimately led to the men’s capture. However, Michael’s time under lock and key proved short. Severely wounded during the engagement, the young man died a few days later aboard the CSS Uncle Ben, as she transported her new captives up the Sabine River. (1)

[image error]The USS Clifton (left) during the Battle of Sabine Pass, the action which led to Michael Driscoll’s death (Internet Archive)

Though Michael had been born and raised in the United States, there is little doubt that he would have proudly espoused an Irish American identity, with a particular affinity for Co. Cork. His family hailed from there, and he had grown up as part of a expatriate Cork community in Massachusetts. On a more immediate level, nearly every decision he had taken in his young life- up to an including his fateful choice to enter the Navy in July 1862- had been influenced by concern for his father, Denis. By the time the war was looming Michael was the main breadwinner for his two sisters and widower father, who was largely unable to work. By the age of 15, in 1859, he was out working in the Middlesex Bleach, Dye and Printworks in Somerville, where the $3 a week he earned was paid directly to his ailing parent. At 16 he moved on to the American Tube Works, where he earned the same amount maufacturing brass tubing. While his wages slowly began to rise as he came of age, it is hard to imagine that economic factors did not play a considerable role in Michael’s decision to leave the Tube Works and enter the Union Navy in 1862. The only letter he sent his father during his brief period in service-a letter his father subsequently lost- concerned his pay, and Michael’s inability to send money home as “he had not been paid in a long time”. (2)

[image error]Map of the Battle of Sabine Pass (NARA)

As is so often the case with the pension files, young Michael’s fate in September 1863 instigated the creation of a paper-trail that preserved a multi-decade, transnational window into the lives of the Driscoll family. The person who it reveals the most about is his father, Denis, and Denis’s three wives- all of whom were Irish, and all of whom were called Mary. Denis Driscoll had been born to Florence Driscoll and Honora Donahoe on Cape Clear Island, Ireland’s most southerly settlement, around the year 1811. While his year of emigration is unknown, he was in Boston by the start of the early 1840s. On 22nd February 1841 he married Mary Jordan there in St. Mary’s Church. Mary was also an Irish emigrant, and was probably also from Co. Cork. The couple had three children who survived infancy- Honora, born around 1843, Michael, the future sailor, born in 1844, and Johanna, born c. 1847. The family made their home in a tenenment at 277 Ann Street in Boston’s North End, a poverty-stricken area that was particularly notorious within the city. It was here that the risks inherent with 19th century childbirth caught up with Mary; in late 1849 she died while in labour, as, it seems, did her child. The young woman-still only in her mid twenties- was laid to rest in Charlestown. (3)

[image error]Aerial view of Boston in 1860 (Wikipedia)

Denis remained a widower for around 5 years. The Cork connections of his second wife, who was also Mary, were betrayed by her surname- Donovan. Born around the same time as Denis, by all accounts she was a remarkable woman. By the time of the 1855 state census they and Denis’s children had moved to Somerville, which was to remain their permanent home. Already the ailments that would curtail Denis’s working life as a common laborer were beginning to show themselves. Years of hard physical work had crippled him with lombago, and he would also soon be tormented with regular fluid buildup in his scrotum. His new wife Mary was not going to let that any of that hold them back. While young Michael and Honora contributed where they could, their stepmother, through “hard labor…at the wash tub” began to save. Little by little as the years passed their modest funds grew. Surviving traumas such as Michael’s 1863 death, by 1868 Mary, who like Denis was illiterate, had pulled together $300. This allowed her to buy a piece of land on Frost Avenue and build a modest home on it. Though it was Denis’s name that went on the mortgage, everyone was aware that it was Mary’s endeavours that had made it a reality. (4)

[image error]Domestics in the 1860s. Mary Donovan’s tireless work as a washerwoman helped her family to ownership of their own home (Oscar Gustave Rejlander)

By 1870 the Driscolls were enumerated with a personal estate of $300 and real estate of $4000. But the good times were not to last. Mary’s health began to fail in the late 1870s, causing the couple to fall behind on the taxes due on their land. Denis’s condition also continued to deteriorate, forcing him to be tapped a number of times for dropsy. Given their condition, it is hardly surprising that in the years that followed they were forced to rely on charity from the city on several occasions. The extent to which Mary had managed the couple’s affairs was revealed when Denis was interviewed regarding their property in 1880. While the examiner thought him an “old gentlemen” and an “honest, upright man” despite the fact that he was “very poor”, he found Denis completely ignorant of issues relating to his real estate: “I find it hard to make him understand the difference between a mortgage and any other claim or encumberance on this piece of property”. His prospects looked bleak indeed when Mary, by now his wife of more than 30 years, succumbed to pneumonia at the age of 72 on 26th November 1889. (5)

[image error]Map of Somerville in the 1880s (Boston Public Library)

This was the moment when yet another Mary from Cork entered Denis Driscoll’s life. On 23rd April 1892 Denis, then in his 80s (though his marriage documentation recorded him ten years younger) married 60-year-old Mary Cotter from East Co. Cork in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Mary had been a late emigrant to the United States. She had been born to Thomas Graham and Johanna Forest in 1832 in the townland of Ballynakilla. As was commonplace in 19th century Ireland, Mary had first married locally. They didn’t come much more local than Thomas Cotter, the farmer who lived directly beside her childhood home. Thomas, who was a little over ten years Mary’s senior, succumbed to Tuberculosis on their Ballynakilla farm in the summer of 1867. This was the event that sparked Mary’s emigration, though the precise year of her departure for the United States is unclear. She was almost certainly middle-aged if not older by the time she arrived in Massachusetts. The match with Denis made sense- he had access to a pension which would help to support Mary, while she could offer him the care he needed in his final years. It was surely no accident that both were also from Cork, despite the fact that Denis had last seen the county of his birth when Mary had still been a child. (6)

[image error]Mary Graham grew up in the group of houses at the bottom of the map, her first husband Thomas Cotter farmed from the group of houses at the top. 1840s map of Ballynakilla, Co. Cork on the left, modern aerial photograph on the right (Ordnance Survey Ireland/Google Maps)

Denis’s final marriage proved short-lived. He died on 7th September 1893, the cause given as “Old-age”. The Cape Clear emigrant was laid to rest in St. Paul’s Cemetery, Arlington, Massachusetts. I have yet to establish the fate of Mary, his third-wife.

The story of the three Mary Driscolls provides us with an extended insight into both the similiarity and variety of experience that could be the lot of the 19th century female emigrant. All three weddings may well have been arranged matches, as was relatively common during this period. They also serve to demonstrate how extraordinarily cohesive the Irish American community in the United States was, with emigrants often maintaining strong bonds with their home counties throughout their lives. The Cork links of the three Marys was no coincidence. This is something we have encountered time and again on the site.

Yet the three women also lived different lives. Mary Jordan had emigrated at a young age, before the Famine ravaged her native island. But her poverty consigned her to a crowded tenement in what was a miserable neigbourhood at the height of the Famine influx. It was there that she died, a victim of one of the great killers of young women- childbirth. Mary Donovan was an older woman, one who had led a life of hard domestic labour, an occupation that had denied to her an opportunity for a family of her own. Her marriage to Denis while in her mid 40s provided her with an opportunity to make a home, and she grasped it with both hands. She turned her labour to the benefit of her new family, and her hard work propelled them into the propertied classes. Unfortunately, despite all she had built, the vagaries of health which was so central to working-class fortunes, combined with the fate of Michael Driscoll, turned her final years into a struggle. Finally, Mary Graham/Cotter, who had lived the majority of her life in Ireland, likely found herself forced to emigrate to join family in the United States after the death of her husband in Cork. As an older woman without years of domestic service in America, her marriage to Denis was perhaps the most transactional, as it offered both of them a modicum of security in their final years. We are fortunate that something of their ordinary, yet compelling lives in Ireland and the United States has been preserved for us- all because of the sacrifice of a 19-year-old Irish American at the Sabine Pass in the Autumn of 1863. (7)

The research and cost-of-running of the Irish American Civil War website is self-financed. If you would like to support the work and upkeep of this site you can do so via my Patreon site for as little as $1 a month at patreon.com/irishacw, or by making a one-off donation to the site’s running costs via the “Donate” button in the right-hand sidebar.

[image error]St. Paul’s Cemetery, Arlington, Massachusetts, where Denis Driscoll was buried in 1839.

(1) Pension File, Navy Enlistment Rendezvous; (2) Navy Enlistment Rendezvous, Pension File, Samuels & Kimball 1897:462, Haley 1903:123; (3) Pension File, 1855 Massachusetts Census, Massachusetts Death Records; (4) 1855 Massachusetts Census, 1860 Federal Census, 1870 Federal Census; (5) 1870 Census, Pension File; (6) Pension File, Catholic Parish Registers, Griffiths Valuation; (7) Pension File; (8) Pension File, Massachusetts Death Records;

References

1855 Massachusetts State Census.

1860 Federal Census.

1870 Federal Census.

Irish Catholic Parish Registers.

Massachusetts Death Records.

Griffiths Valuation.

Michael Driscoll Pension.

U.S. Navy Enlistment Weekly Rendezvous.

Mary Alice Haley 1903. The Story of Somerville.

Edward A. Samuels & Henry H. Kimball 1897. Somerville, Past and Present.

Video: Ireland’s First World War American War Brides

I hope all readers of Irish in the American Civil War are staying safe during the current pandemic. I am very concious that many people are now spending an increased amount of time at home, often in isolation. With that in mind I am intending to produce a number of posts and resources that might help while away some of the time. One of my plans in that direction is to create a series of YouTube video documentaries based around The Forgotten Irish podcast. I am aiming to get around one a week to you. The first one is now live, on the topic of Ireland’s First World War American War Brides. You can catch it over at my YouTube Channel or via the link below. Stay safe!

Thomas Molloy, Birr’s American Civil War Veteran

In a new guest post on the site, I am delighted to share a contribution from historian Stephen Callaghan. Stephen and I worked together many years ago at the National Museum of Ireland. Since then he has done fantastic work on a range of topics, ranging from investigations of First World War training trenches to explorations of graveyards in the Irish Midlands. His latter work has especially focused on Co. Offaly, and it was during work in Birr that he came across the grave he discusses below- one of the very few in Ireland associated with a man who saw service in the Confederate military. Stephen takes up the story…

Thomas Molloy was born in Seffin, Birr in 1834. His father was Michael, a stone mason (his mother has not been traced). Not much is known about Thomas’ early life growing up in Birr. In 1851 Thomas and his brother John moved to Cincinnati, Ohio, where they were involved in the contracting business. Despite being in a Union state, Thomas enlisted in the Louisiana Tigers in the Confederate Army during the Civil War.*

After the Civil War Thomas returned to Cincinnati where he is recorded on the 1870 census as a stone mason. He moved home to Birr in 1878 due to ill health. The following year he married Margaret Guinan on 27th June 1879 in St Brendan’s Catholic Church, Birr. Thomas and Margaret had the following children; Margaret Mary (23rd June 1881); Annie Catherine (20th September 1882); Bernard (23rd October 1884); and John (5th April 1886), all of whom were born in Birr. Slaters Royal National Directory of 1881 records Thomas as a Provision Dealer on Birr’s Cumberland Street. He is also listed on the 1894 directory. The 1901 and 1911 census records the Molloys as living on Cumberland Street, by which time Thomas was a grocer.

Thomas was vice chairman of Birr Urban District Council for a number of years. The reporting on one particular special meeting of the council provides an insight into some of Thomas’ views and opinions. In 1904 the council was discussing a proposal to erect a memorial to the members of the local militia who had died during the Second Boer War in South Africa. Major Francis Duggan of Birr Barracks wrote to the council asking if such a memorial could be erected in John’s Place. After the major’s letter was read, Thomas proposed that it be consigned to the waste paper basket. He expressed the view that he had never seen the barracks in Birr as an advantage, feeling that the local community would be better off without it and with some sort of factory instead. He viewed the soldiers in the barracks as an injury to the town, and felt that the barracks itself degraded the young men who joined the army there. In his response, the council chairman, John Dooley, revaled Thomas’s Confederate past. Dooley said that he found the remarks sad, coming as they did from a former soldier who had fought ‘for the continuation of slavery in America’. The fact that this information was not widely known in Birr was made apparent by another council member, who indicated that he hadn’t known that Molloy had once been in service.

Thomas remained active in local circles, and served as a member of Birr Town Commissioners, a Poor Law Guardian, and was even co-opted as a member of the county council for short period of time. He died of chronic phthisis (tuberculosis) in St Brendan’s Hospital, Birr on 24th June 1927. His residence at that time was recorded as Oxmantown Mall. While his obituary in the Midland Tribune mentions that he spent a significant amount of time in the United States, it doesn’t mention his service in the Confederate Army. This, when combined with his comments in 1904, suggests he may not have been proud of his service- or perhaps he had a bad experience of army life. Either way, it seems he didn’t want people to know he had been a Confederate soldier. The old Rebel was interred in Clonoghill Cemetery on 26th June, 1927.

*As is apparent, we lack a significant amout of detail about Thomas’s service. The precise regiment that he served in is unclear, but it may have been the 2nd Louisiana Infantry. If readers have any further information on his life between 1861 and 1865, please drop the site a line!

[image error]The grave of former Confederate Thomas Molloy and other family members at Clonoghill Cemetery, Birr, Co. Offaly (Stephen Callaghan)

If you have enjoyed this and other posts and resources on the website, please consider supporting my work on Patreon. You can do so for as little as $1 per month. To find out more by click here or visit https://www.patreon.com/irishacw. 

References

1870 Census (United States)

1901 and 1911 Census (Ireland)

Cincinnati
Enquirer

Midland Tribune

King’s County
Chronicle

Slaters Royal National Directory of
Ireland 1881

Slaters Royal National Directory of
Ireland 1894

Podcast: Recovering East Limerick Voices from the American Civil War

A special podcast that features a talk I gave to the Lough Gur Historical Society in December 2019. It describes why I believe the American pension files are such a major resource for uncovering the ordinary lives of the 19th century Irish, and delves into the personal stories of emigrants from East Limerick who were impacted by the American Civil War.

You can listen to the new podcast below; The Forgotten Irish Podcast is also available on Soundcloud, iTunes and Spotify so please do follow there and leave a review! If you have enjoyed this and other posts and resources on the website, please consider supporting my work on Patreon. You can do so for as little as $1 per month. To find out more by click here or visit https://www.patreon.com/irishacw. 

East Limerick Voices from the American Civil War by The Forgotten Irish Podcast

A special podcast that features a talk I gave describing the significance of American pension files as a major resource for Irish 19th century, and delving into the personal stories of emigrants from East Limerick who were impacted by the American Civil War.

“Three Boys Were Taken”: The Yankee Teens Who Became Rebel “Pirates”

I am delighted to be in a position to share another piece of innovative work undertaken by Brendan Hamilton, long-time contributor to the site. It serves as a preview of some of the intriguing original research he has been conducting into a heretofore overlooked topic: the enlistment of inmates from America’s juvenile justice system into the US and CS militaries during the American Civil War. Brendan is currently in the midst of a book-length study of this phenomenon, and having seen some of his findings, we are in for a treat when it is completed. He has kindly agreed to share a “taster” with readers here, in the form of a fascinating and remarkable story. While examining the records of the Massachusetts Reform School’s Nautical Branch, Brendan uncovered evidence for three New England juvenile delinquents who ended up serving aboard a Confederate commerce raider. Two of these boys were the children of Irish immigrants. Brendan delves into their tale below, along the way highlighting for us the immense potential of his sources, and of his pioneering study.

On a brisk morning in early March 1863, three boys stood on the deck of a sailing ship, gazing across Boston Harbor toward the open Atlantic beyond. They dreamed, perhaps, of the vast expanse of water they’d soon traverse and the strange exotic scenes they might behold along the way. Sailing on a merchant ship was hardly freedom; as they well understood, it meant the tiresome drudgery of nautical routines and the loneliness and isolation of life afloat, but it likely also held romantic visions of adventure they had only imagined up until this point, and the beginning of living their lives far from the grip of the American juvenile justice system.

James Cotter, William Hogan, and Daniel T. Young were inmates of the Massachusetts State Reform School’s Nautical Branch, a state-run institution that placed the “worst class” of juvenile delinquents aboard a school ship and educated them on the intricacies of seafaring labor, navigation, and even military drill utilizing the ship’s four cannon and arsenal of muskets and boarding pikes. Over the course of the past year, they had helped guide their school ship up and down the Massachusetts coast, stopping in various ports along the way. Life on the school ship was harsh, the work demanding, and the rules strictly enforced. Boys who stepped out of line could face painful, humiliating public flogging with a rattan cane or a rope yarn “cat,” or could find themselves hurled into solitary confinement in one of the small cells in the ship’s lower deck. (1)

[image error] Deck of the School Ship Massachusetts, used by the Massachusetts Reform School’s Nautical Branch (Digital Commonwealth)

The trustees of the Nautical Branch described their institution’s supposed allure to wayward youths in their 1860 Annual Report:

With tastes and fancies to which the idea of a sailor’s life would be naturally agreeable, [the boys] fell at once without sulking or opposition, into the work marked out for them. The labor, to which they were daily called, they evidently felt was not a temporary one, to which as a punishment they were subjected, nor a distasteful and irksome one, which they were to shirk if opportunity offered, but there was found to be in it an element of romance and novelty which fascinated them, and was the end sought by that very waywardness of character which sent them to the institution. They were at last where their restless dispositions would have placed them had they followed their own inclinations, except that, instead of running from home and throwing themselves into a sailor’s life, surrounded by temptations against which they had no protection, they were now indeed preparing to be seamen, but at the same time receiving that mental development and moral culture which would be the means of inspiring them with ambition and of furnishing them with the power of gratifying it. (2)

Cotter, Hogan, and Young had all been in the institution for over a year before they were specifically released to serve aboard the civilian barque Lapwing in March of 1863, shipping coal and other goods and materials to Batavia (present day Jakarta) in Indonesia. Their case histories provide some insight into their lives up to this point. Cotter was committed to the Nautical School by a court in Norfolk County, Massachusetts in January 1862 for “stubbornness.” He was, at the time of his medical inspection, fourteen years of age, 4’7″ tall, 85 lbs, brown haired and blue eyed, with a light, freckled complexion. His chest was marked with scars from a burn. Cotter was born in Dedham, MA to Irish immigrant parents, Patrick and Mary (nee Morrissey). Mary died six years prior, leaving James and his five siblings in the care of their father, who drank. James Cotter was Roman Catholic and did not attend mass, but he had been to Sunday school. He had previously worked in a stable, and admitted that he both drank and used tobacco. (3)

William Hogan, along with his older brother John, transferred to the Nautical Branch from the State Reform School in October 1861. They had both been sentenced for the crime of larceny. The sons of Irish immigrants, the Hogan brothers were born in Somerville, MA and had been made orphans following the death of their mother five years prior. At the time of William’s transfer, he was 14 years old, 4’11 1/2″ tall, 108 lbs, light haired and blue eyed, and, like James Cotter, had a light, freckled complexion. He bore a small scar on his right cheek. He had not been previously employed, nor did he drink or use tobacco. He and his brother were Roman Catholics who attended both mass and Sunday school. John Hogan was discharged from the Nautical School directly into the US Navy in Nov. 1862, when he was about 16, while William was kept there until the following March. (4)

[image error] Inmates in the yard of the Massachusetts Reform School, possibly ca. 1870 (Digital Commonwealth)

Daniel T. Young was committed in January 1862 from Suffolk County, MA for “stubbornness.” He was then 13 years old, 4’11” tall, and 105 lbs, with light hair, blue eyes, and a light complexion, and he had a scar on his upper lip. Young was born in Dover, New Hampshire to NH native parents, was Protestant, and attended both church and Sunday school. His parents were temperate, and he likewise neither drank nor used tobacco. Daniel’s father had died four years prior and Daniel lived with his mother, stepfather, and three siblings in Melrose, MA. He worked in a brass foundry and had not attended school since around the time his father died. It is possible his father’s death had compelled him to leave school in order to help support his family. (5)

When they shipped on board the Lapwing on March 7, 1863, Cotter, Hogan, and Young were all 15 years old. They likely served as ship’s boys, tasked with some of the most menial labor the Lapwing and its officers and crew required. A mere three weeks into their voyage, on March 28, their ship was intercepted by the infamous CSS Florida, a Confederate sloop-of-war that had been lurking around the Atlantic and Caribbean, gobbling up merchant ships while eluding the grasp of the US Navy. After a three hour chase, the Florida caught up to the Lapwing and compelled her captain to allow her to be boarded. The nimble Rebel commerce raider, with her armament of two seven-inch and six six-inch guns, must have been an intimidating sight to Cotter, Hogan, Young, and their crewmates. The Florida’s captain, Lieutenant John Newland Maffitt, recorded in his diary that the Lapwing’s captain “was excited, not dreaming of a Confederate man-of-war in his locality.” The Confederate sloop was desperate for coal and supplies, and the Lapwing proved to be an excellent source of both. In addition to 260 hundred tons of anthracite coal, the crew of the Florida seized “a fine assorted cargo of Yankee notions, canned meats, fruits, vegetables, etc.” “As she seemed to be a fine vessel,” and in order to hold on to her abundant coal supply, Maffitt decided to keep the Lapwing as a tender, and he placed a small crew and two howitzers aboard her, renaming her the Oreto. The Lapwing’s original officers and crew, meanwhile, were taken aboard the Florida as prisoners. (6)

[image error]CSS Florida photographed near Brest, France c. August 1863-February 1864 (US Naval History and Heritage Command)

The prisoners from the Lapwing were likely held on the Florida shackled in irons, as was the case with the crew of the bark Star of Peace, captured by the Florida on March 6. While the Florida’s surviving log abstract mentions recruiting two crew members from the Star of Peace, it makes no such reference to shipping any seamen from the Lapwing. Maffitt recorded that on April 1, he deposited the prisoners from all recently captured vessels aboard a passing Danish brig, the Christian, along with provisions to sustain them. Northern newspapers indicate the Christian then transported them to the island of St. Croix by April 12. They reported, however, that eight of the seamen were missing–five men from the Star of Peace had agreed to join the crew of the Florida, while “three boys were taken from the Lapwing.” (7)

Surviving returns from the Florida dated from January 1864 reveals the identity of these three boys–“Jas. Cotter,” “Wm. Hogan,” and “D.T. Young,” are all listed as 1st Class Boys in the crew, drawing new shirts and assorted mess gear. These are undoubtedly the same Cotter, Hogan, and Young who shipped on board the Lapwing from the Massachusetts Reform School’s Nautical Branch. It is unclear whether the boys were forced to serve aboard the Florida against their will, but it may well be that they were enticed by the promise of a life of adventurous, daring raids on the high seas, envisioning the romanticized pirate’s life of popular literature and lore. This would have seemed abundantly more exciting than continuing to work on merchant ships. Or they may simply have been tempted by the more tangible promise of enlistment bounties and a share in future prizes. Interestingly enough, James Cotter, who was the one only of the three boys to indicate an affinity for tobacco in his Nautical School case register, is shown in the Florida returns to have drawn both a plug of tobacco and “French Tobacco Paper” from the ship’s stores. While tobacco use was strictly prohibited in the Massachusetts Reform School and its Nautical Branch, the Confederate Navy had no such hang-ups. The boys’ new roles aboard the Florida were likely various, although much of it would have resembled the day-to-day toil they experienced aboard the Lapwing. Ships’ boys in the naval service could also be tasked with anything from acting as messengers and servants to the officers, to the taking on the dangerous role of “powder monkey,” which entailed carrying gunpowder from the ship’s scuttles to the gun crews during combat. (8)

[image error] Detail from a clothing return from the CSS Florida dated Jan. 1864, showing the three boys ranked as 1st Class Boys in the ship’s crew (Confederate Navy Subject File – Personnel)

After capturing the Lapwing, the Florida continued its spree of seizing merchant vessels, capturing the bark M.J. Colcord two days later, followed soon after by the Commonwealth, the Henrietta, and the Oneida over the course of the month of April. The Florida’s crew burned most of the ships they seized after taking aboard prisoners and anything of value from the cargo. According to Maffitt, the crew were at that time “living like lords on Yankee plunder.” Along with other Confederate commerce raiders operating in the area, they drew the ire of the Brazilian government for operating within Brazil’s territorial waters. Their concerns notwithstanding, Brazilian authorities allowed the Florida to stop in Pernambuco for repairs and refueling in May. Maffitt boasted in a letter to his children dated May 13, 1863:

I feel happy to tell you that the Florida has been doing a fierce business. Up to May 11 she has destroyed $9,500,000 of Yankee commerce, and eluded thirteen Federal men-of-war sent to destroy her and the Alabama. The Florida and Alabama destroyed ten of the enemy’s largest vessels April 22, within sixty miles of each other… (9)

[image error]
John Newland Maffitt, captain of the CSS Florida (Alabama State Archives)

Once back in sailing order, the Florida reembarked and continued capturing numerous merchant vessels during the summer of 1863 as they sailed up and down the Atlantic, getting as close as fifty to sixty miles from New York City. The prizes the Florida’s crew snatched up included hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of silver and gold bars. They evaded US Naval vessels all the while eluding ships that likely included former Nautical School classmates of the three boys among their crews. At one point, the Florida even fired a broadside at the USS Ericsson, dissuading the latter from further pursuit. (10)

By mid-August, Maffitt had taken the Florida east for Europe, seeking a harbor in which to make much-needed repairs to his ship’s engine and hull. He found an obliging port in Brest, France. The Florida lay there in French Naval dock from August 23, 1863, to February 12, 1864, undergoing repairs and discreetly taking in some fifty-seven new recruits from various “shipping agents” operating in England. It is plausible that the Florida’s three boys were not the only members of her crew who had never lived (or perhaps even set foot) in the American South. Illness took a toll on the ship’s crew members and officers, and by the time the Florida was ready to sail again, it was under a new commander, Lieutenant Charles Manigault Morris, as both Maffitt and his immediate successor had been forced to relinquish their commands due to ill health. (11)

The Florida left Brest in February 1864 and headed across the Atlantic for the West Indies, then turned east to the Canary Islands, finally docking in Bahia, Brazil in October 1864 for repairs and coal. It was there she met her dramatic end as a Confederate commerce raider. The USS Wachusett, captained by Commander Napoleon Collins, had stealthily tracked her down and anchored at the entrance to the harbor in which she was docked. Knowing he would be violating international law by attacking the Florida in neutral waters, Collins instead sent a message to the Florida inviting her to fight it out in open waters. When his offer was refused, Collins decided to order a brazen night assault on the anchored Confederate vessel at 3:00 am on October 7. At this time, about half the Florida’s crew, four officers, and Lieutenant Morris were sleeping ashore. (12)

[image error]
Artist’s depiction of the attack on the CSS Florida by the USS Wachusett at Bahia, Brazil. Phototype print by F. Gutekunst, Philadelphia (US Naval History and Heritage Command)

The attack began with a barrage from the Wachusett’s six-inch guns at a distance of 1km. After rough waters prevented the Wachusett from landing any of its shots, she ceased fire and closed in, creeping up to within musket range in the darkness. By the time the Florida’s crew saw her, it was too late to respond with artillery. Instead, the Rebel seamen fired a barrage of musket and pistol fire at the Wachusett, injuring three of her crew. The Union sailors returned fire with their own small arms while their ship moved into position for a full broadside. Once ready, the Wachusett unleashed another artillery barrage upon the Florida, raking her bulwarks and toppling her mizzenmast. The crew then ceased firing, and called out across the water for the crew of the Florida to surrender. The call went unanswered, so the Wachusett fired again, then dramatically rammed straight into the Confederate ship and dispatched a boarding party onto her deck. Nine Rebel sailors jumped overboard from the deck of the Florida in an attempt to escape, while the boarding party fired upon the fleeing men with their muskets. The remainder of the crew soon surrendered, and Collins ordered a tow cable affixed to the Florida to pull her out of the harbor. Just as the contest seemed decided, Brazilian troops in nearby Fort Barra opened fire on the Wachusett with their cannon. Collins rushed the Wachusett out of the harbor, streaming past several Brazilians ships that likewise opened fire, miraculously escaping unscathed. The Wachusett had suffered three men wounded in the assault, while the Florida lost five men killed, nine wounded, and twelve officers and fifty-eight crewmen captured. Among the captured were James Cotter and William Hogan. Daniel Young was most likely among the party that had been ashore, although it’s possible he was one of the Confederates who dove overboard as the Florida was boarded.  (13)

Amazingly, Cotter and Hogan’s destination, along with many of their fellow captured crewmen, was Fort Warren in Boston Harbor. It seemed their adventure had come full circle, and ended, once more, in incarceration. They remained imprisoned at Fort Warren until February of 1865, at which point they took the oath of allegiance to the US, and were released on parole. It is unclear what became of Young in the immediate aftermath of the Bahia incident, but he appears to have returned to work as a civilian sailor in the years following the war. He died in Natick, MA in 1901. I am still researching the postwar fates of Cotter and Hogan. (14)

[image error]Daniel T. Young’s tombstone in Natick, MA (Findagrave.com)

(1)  Annual report of the trustees of the State Reform School, Investigation into the Management and Discipline of the State Reform School at Westborough; (2) Annual Report of the Trustees of the State Reform School; (3) Nautical School Case Histories; (4) Ibid.; (5) Ibid.; (6) The Life and Services of John Newland Maffitt, The Eventful Cruise of the ‘Florida.’; (7) Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies (Ser.1, V. 2), The life and services of John Newland Maffitt, “The Pirates at Work”; (8) Confederate Navy Subject File – Personnel; (9) The Life and Services of John Newland Maffitt; (10) Ibid.; (11) The Life and Services of John Newland Maffitt, Confederate Navy Subject File – Personnel, Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies (Ser.1, V. 2); (12) Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies (Ser.1, V. 3); (13) Ibid.; (14) US Civil War Prisoner of War Records, Massachusetts, Boston, Crew Lists, 1811-1921, Massachusetts, Death Records, 1841-1915;

References

Annual
report of the trustees of the State Reform School, at Westborough, together
with the annual reports of the officers of the institution. Boston: Dutton and Wentworth, 1852-1879.

Investigation
into the Management and Discipline of the State Reform School at Westborough
Before the Committee on Public Charitable Institutions. Boston: A.J. Wright, 1877.

Nautical School Case Histories, 1856-1870

Maffit, Emma Martin. The Life and Services of John Newland Maffitt. New York: Neale
Publishing, 1906.

Sinclair, G. Terry. “The Eventful Cruise of
the ‘Florida.’” Confederate
Commerce-destoyers. New York: Century Co., 1898.

Official Records of the Union and Confederate
Navies, Series 1, Volume 2.

“The Pirates at Work.” Brooklyn Eagle, 24 Apr. 1863.

Confederate Navy Subject File – Personnel

Official Records of the Union and Confederate
Navies, Series 1, Volume 3.

US Civil War Prisoner of War Records

Massachusetts, Boston, Crew Lists, 1811-1921

Massachusetts, Death Records, 1841-1915

Video: Recounting an Irish Woman’s Famine & Emigration Story at Bull Run

I have given numerous talks at historic sites over the years, particularly locations associated with conflict. Where I can, I always try to take opportunities to look beyond the military moment, explore the impact of these events on individuals and communities, and place them into the context of a wider family experience. On 11 May 2019 I was fortunate to take part in the 69th New York State Militia themed tour of Bull Run organised by Harry over at Bull Runnings. You can read more about that event here. At the iconic Henry Hill, I told the story of a mother of one of the 69th’s soldiers that day– a Famine survivor from Co. Kerry called Mary Madigan. I wanted to situate the loss of her son–mortally wounded within yards of where I was speaking–into the broader context of her life. Thanks to one of the participants, Carrie Pierce, there is a video of that portion, which you can watch below.

Carrie captured another brief video of one of my contributions to the day, filmed along the route of the 69th’s march towards the battlefield. In it I discuss Irish motivations for service. Thanks to Carrie for allowing me to share the videos!

In Defence of Substitutes: The Story of Mary & James Ryan of Drogheda, Canada & Vermont

The men who entered the Union military as substitutes from 1863 onwards are among the most neglected and maligned groups associated with the American Civil War. History–and many historians–have overwhelmingly focused on the negative aspects of their service, highlighting their lesser ideological commitment, disciplinary issues, and propensity to desert. This was undoubtedly true of many of them. Yet it was also the case that many did not act in that way. Indeed, their participation was crucial in seeing the Union cause through to victory.

Detailed analysis of the practical experiences of substitutes and draftees is one of the great neglected areas of Civil War history, and is something that requires significant further work. We continue to focus almost all of our efforts on understanding the ideologies and motivations of early-war volunteers who we perceive–both consciously and subconsciously–as “morally superior” men. In contrast, late war volunteers are often cast as morally deficient “skulkers”, who by extension are not worthy of detailed consideration. The opprobrium they often receive is all the more curious given the reality that the majority of military-aged men in the North chose not to enlist in military service at all.

[image error]“Wanted A Substitute” A Wartime Sheet Music Cover (Library of Congress)

I have long struggled with the regular dismissal of these men’s service, often founded solely on an arbitrary judgement based on how, why and when they joined the military. To my mind, their stories are equally deserving of attention–and just as interesting–as those of the 1861 and 1862 volunteers. Without a significant effort to understand their backgrounds, motivations and experience, any analysis of the Civil War soldier lies incomplete.

Over the years, I have encountered large numbers of working-class substitutes in the widow’s pension files (and written many micro-histories of them on this site and in my books). Many were flawed men, many were not. With most, a consistent narrative emerges– a tale of relatively poor individuals seeking to improve the financial futures of themselves and their families. For what it’s worth, and contrary to popular perception, this was a major motivator for many working-class early war volunteers as well. The topic of substitutes is one I hope to carry out significantly more work on in the future, but for this latest Widows in the Atlantic World post, I want to take a look at a single family story. It clearly demonstrates that many substitutes were more than just money-grabbing ne’er do-wells. It revolves around the son of Mary Ryan, an Irish woman who received her American military pension in Compton County, southeastern Quebec.

[image error]Instructions for drafted men from the 3rd Congressional District of Vermont (Burlington Daily Times 25 July 1863)

In July 1863, the name of 31-year-old merchant Christopher F. Douglas was drawn in Vermont’s 11th Sub District Draft. Christopher was a notable figure in his home town of Stowe, where he operated as a dry-goods merchant. An apparently loyal Union man, that summer he had been active as a local militia enrolling-officer. Nevertheless, heading to the front was not part of his plans. When his number came up, he and his wife Loneza were caring for their two-year-old daughter, Mary, and Christopher’s business was beginning to take off. This was reflected in the value of his personal estate, which would leap from $600 to $25,000 in the decade between 1860 and 1870. Though he likely supported the war effort, these factors contributed towards Christopher’s decision to hire a substitute. As historian J. Matthew Gallman has ably demonstrated, such a step was seen as a perfectly acceptable decision in Northern wartime society, and would not have impacted Christopher’s standing as a good and patriotic citizen. (1)

[image error]Christoper F. Douglas listed among the drafted men from Stowe in July 1863 (Burlington Daily Times 15 July 1863)

The man Christopher paid to take his place was James Ryan, a 20-year-old emigrant from Drogheda in Ireland. James, an illiterate laborer, was described as being 5 feet 3 inches tall, with blue eyes, dark hair and a fair complexion. On 19th August 1863 he officially took Christopher’s place in the army, and was duly assigned to Company I of the 3rd Vermont Infantry. His parents Laurence Ryan and Mary Smith had been married on Shrove Tuesday, 1841, in that part of Drogheda which lies in Co. Meath. A little over a year later, James was born. Initially, the family’s prospects had appeared bright, at least in comparison with many others in Ireland. Laurence had secured a job as an engine driver on the Dublin Railway, a position that offered some financial stability. All that changed in 1845. That summer, Laurence lost his life to a workplace accident, and around the same time Mary suffered a mishap or illness that would hinder her ability to earn a living for the remainder of her life. In the blink of an eye, the prospects of the young woman and her son had become desperate. (2)

[image error]The substitute enlistment of James Ryan, note his mark instead of a signature (NARA)

Mary had little option but to submit herself and her toddler to a life “on the parish”- making them reliant on whatever poor relief they could garner in Drogheda. So the situation remained until James was of “sufficient age and strength” to earn enough for their support. Sometime in the late 1850s or early 1860s, mother and son decided that their best option was for James to make for North America. Whether James had managed to save the requisite funds or was supported through assisted emigration is unclear. Either way, they were only able to secure a single passage– Mary would have to wait for her son to earn enough to send for her. When he departed across the Atlantic, he did so in the full knowledge that his future actions would determine the fate of both their lives. (3)

[image error]Drogheda’s North Quay in the 19th century, an area that would have been familiar to both Mary and James (National Library of Ireland)

James’s exact destination is unknown, but it seems probable he joined familiar faces who had settled in the vicinity of Sherbrooke, Quebec, where people like his aunt Margaret Smith and longtime family friend John Sheerin made their homes. Still, life did not become much easier. Though he was able to send money back to Ireland, it was sporadic, and he was unable to gather enough together to secure his mother’s passage. As a result, Mary once again found herself reliant on charity in Drogheda, where she was “supported by the Parish as a Pauper”. Then, in 1863, the Enrollment Act came into force, and an unprecedented opportunity presented itself just across the border. (4)

There can be little doubt that James Ryan was as satisfied as Christopher Douglas with the transaction that saw him enter the army in the merchant’s place. The funds Douglas provided him with immediately enabled James to remit sufficient finances for his mother’s emigration. He was still settling into his first weeks of military life by the time Mary made landfall; her new life in Sherbrooke began in December 1863. Unfortunately, it is unlikely that they had an opportunity to meet prior to the commencement of the Overland Campaign in 1864. (5)

[image error]The Vermont Brigade monument on The Wilderness battlefield, where James Ryan experienced his first battle. Image taken on the 150th anniversary of the engagement in 2014 (Damian Shiels)

On 5th and 6th May 1864, Private James Ryan went into his first action of the American Civil War in Virginia’s Wilderness. The horrors he and his Vermont Brigade experienced along the Brock Road and Orange Plank Road were indescribable. By battle’s end, they had sustained more than 1200 casualties. James was not one of them. He was among those fortunate survivors who were able to stagger on towards the next major engagement of the campaign, at Spotsylvania Court House. There, on 12th May, he was part of the colossal Union assault that was hurled against the salient in the Confederate line that became known as the Mule Shoe. The Vermont Brigade’s target was an area that is known to history as the “Bloody Angle”. Over the 24 hours that followed, it would become the scene of some of the most intense and protracted fighting of the entire conflict. It seems that James may never have made it that far. His officer later recalled that while “charging on the enemys works”, James was hit, “the bullet entered through his left breast and passed out through his back”. He has no known grave. (5)

[image error]The fields over which the Union assault on the Mule Shoe salient took place at Spotsylvania, as dawn breaks on the 150th anniversary of the battle, 12th May 2014. James Ryan was killed in action here (Damian Shiels)

As was so often the case, Mary Ryan had to deal concurrently with both the emotional and financial implications of her son’s death. Despite her “feeble condition” she attempted to work, but could only manage one or two days at a time. Soon she was again reliant on charitable support, this time in Sherbrooke. Despite her poverty, she was seen as a woman of good character– one of the “deserving poor”. Within weeks of her son’s death she had begun the process of applying for a pension, citing the “immediate and great need of such assistance as may be due me from the Bounty of the Government in whose service my son lost his life”. Her claim was ultimately successful, and she received payments up until the time of her death on 24th March 1887. She never left Sherbrooke, where she appears to have spent most of her remaining years living alone. (6)

More than 70,000 substitutes served during the American Civil War. Certainly, all were not created equal; some were unreliable opportunists, who fit the “mercenary” mould commonly ascribed to them. But the way in which they performed–and came to be viewed–varied widely. For example, many of those who entered service in advance of the devastating campaigns of Spring 1864 came to be regarded as “old soldiers”, and developed their own esprit-de-corps (see posts here and here). (7)

[image error]Sherbrooke, Canada in the 1880s, where Mary Ryan lived out her final years ( City of Sherbrooke Illustrated, P.N. Boucher, Sherbrooke)

It can be reasonably argued that James Ryan’s motivations for entering the Union military were as noble as any of the ardent volunteers of 1861. He was neither a “skulker” or a “shirker”; by the time he enlisted, nobody was under any illusions about the risks attached to the donning of military uniform. Yet he did so willingly, taking his place in the ranks as part of a transactional arrangement that (he hoped) would save his mother from pauperism. Ultimately it did, though unfortunately for them both, the price paid was his death. It is only through the exploration and examination of micro-histories such as theirs that we an begin to add some much needed complexity and balance to how we view these late-war recruits.

The research and cost-of-running of the Irish American Civil War website is self-financed. If you would like to support the work and upkeep of this site you can do so via my Patreon site for as little as $1 a month at patreon.com/irishacw, or by making a one-off donation to the site’s running costs via the “Donate” button in the right-hand sidebar.

(1) Burlington Daily Times, Lamoille Newsdealer, Burlington Weekly Free Press, 1860 Census, 1870 Census, Draft Registration Records, Gallman 2015: 157; (2) James Ryan Service Record, Roster of Vermont Volunteers: 101, Ryan Pension File; (3) Ryan Pension File; (4) Ibid.; (5) Ibid.; (6) Ibid.; (7) Murdock 1971: 83-90, Ryan Pension File, 1871 Canada Census, 1881 Canada Census;

References

Burlington Daily Times 15 July 1863.

Burlington Weekly Free Press 5 June 1863.

Lamoille Newsdealer 4 June 1863.

1860 Federal Census, Stowe, Lamoille, Vermont.

1870 Federal Census, Stowe, Lamoille, Vermont.

1871 Census of Canada, Sherbrooke, Quebec.

1881 Census of Canada, Sherbrooke, Quebec.

U.S. Civil War Draft Registration Records, Third Congressional District, Vermont.

Gallman, J. Matthew 2015. Defining Duty in the Civil War: Personal Choice, Popular Culture, and the Union Home Front.

Murdock, Eugene C. 1971. One Million Men: The Civil War Draft in the North.

Document Focus: Michael Corcoran in the Revenue Police

Brigadier-General Michael Corocoran was one of the most famous Irish Americans of the 19th century. He led the 69th New York State Militia at Bull Run, and in the months of captivity that followed he became a hero of the Union. Upon his release, he formed Corcoran’s Irish Legion, which joined the Irish Brigade as the only other ethnic-Irish formation of that size in the conflict.

As many readers are aware, Michael Corcoran was born in Carrowkeel, near Ballymote, Co. Sligo in 1827. In 1846 he joined the Revenue Police, a force whose primary task was to crack down on illicit alcohol production. Michael was posted to Creeslough, Co. Donegal, where his interactions with local Ribbonmen saw him become increasingly radicalised (you can see Creeslough and some of the other parts of Michael Corcoran’s Ireland here). He ultimately joined them, and when the Revenue Police grew suspicious of his activities in 1849 he decided to leave Ireland for America. The rest, as they say, is history.

Some time ago I took the opportunity to have a look for Michael in some of the Revenue Police records, which have been digitised by Find My Past. The future Union General is recorded a number of times in the Minutes of Appointment of the organisation. I am sharing three of the entries below, all of which were significant milestones in Michael Corcoran’s life. They provide us with a glimpse of some of the earliest historical references to the man who would soon become such a leading figure in the world of the New York Irish.

[image error] The day it all began. List of men appointed as privates in the Revenue Police on 17th January 1846 as proposed by the Chief Inspector. “Michael Corcoran Ballymote” is the fourth name on the list (Revenue Police Minutes of Appointment)



[image error]Donegal bound. Order dated 31st December 1846 assigning Michael Corcoran (second from bottom) to No. 12 Party of the Revenue Police. His time with this party in Creeslough would change the course of his life (Revenue Police Minutes of Appointment)



[image error]America. The entry recording that Private Michael Corcoran of No.12 Party had relinquished his position in the Revenue Police. Dated to mid-August 1849, by month’s end Corcoran was on board a vessel bound for the United States, and a new life in New York City (Revenue Police Minutes of Appointment)

The research and cost-of-running of the Irish American Civil War website is self-financed. If you would like to support the work and upkeep of this site you can do so via my Patreon site for as little as $1 a month at patreon.com/irishacw, or by making a one-off donation to the site’s running costs via the “Donate” button in the right-hand sidebar.

The post Document Focus: Michael Corcoran in the Revenue Police appeared first on Irish in the American Civil War.

How Peter Keefe Came to Lose His Leg: A Story of American Coastal Raids, Escape Tunnels & Prison Breaks

The first months of the newly dawned 20th century found Peter Keefe drawing his final breaths in his rural home of Corloughan, Co. Kilkenny. The 60-year-old had the comfort of his nearest relative Betsy by his side, and the knowledge that he was leaving the world  surrounded by those who knew and loved him. Such an end had in no way been guaranteed. Beneath the sheets lay the evidence–or rather the absence–that proved how close he had been to death once before. The story behind that absence was what set this otherwise seemingly ordinary local apart from his neighbours. For Peter Keefe had lived the last three and a half decades of his life without a left leg. The incredible tale behind its loss was the stuff of dime adventure novels. It had taken place a world away from Corloughan, set against the backdrop of the American Civil War: a tale of seamanship, raiding, racism, incarceration, escape tunnels and prison breaks. (1)

Back in the first half of the nineteenth century, Peter Keefe, like many of his fellow Kilkennymen, had decided to depart Ireland. He may be the 22-year-old Peter Keefe recorded as arriving in New York from the Kangaroo on 2nd April 1862. Whatever his motivations–perhaps he was drawn to the promise of adventure and potential prize money–on 12th October 1863 he enlisted in the Union Navy. His rating of Able Seaman was thanks to previous naval experience he had acquired– Peter’s profession was recorded as “mariner”. The recruiter at the New York rendezvous jotted down that he was 23-years-old, 5 feet 8 inches tall, and had grey eyes, dark brown hair and a ruddy complexion. Some previous run-in or mishap had left him with a scar on his left leg, and he bore as a tattooed memento of previous adventures the letter “S” and a star on his right wrist. Peter had signed on for a 12 month stint; he duly headed off to meet up with his new crewmates aboard the brig USS Perry. (2)

[image error]The USS Perry (left) confronts the American slaver Martha in 1850. Peter Keefe joined the brig’s crew in 1863 (Naval History & Heritage Command)

By late 1863 the Perry had already seen twenty years service, travelling much of the globe. Her most recent assignment had been off the North Carolina coast, where she had captured two Confederate vessels, one a heavily laden blockade runner. Peter would have hoped for more of the same as they made sail southwards once more, bound for duties with the South Atlantic Blockading Squadron. They had been off the Confederate coast for about a month when on 5th December they spotted what appeared to be a Rebel vessel fitting out at Murrell’s Inlet, South Carolina. The Perry couldn’t close with the suspected blockade runner (the schooner Cecilia) from the sea, so her commander–Acting Master Samuel Gregory–devised an alternative plan. In an effort to reach the runner and destroy her, he would land a shore party. (3)

[image error]A Union sailor photographed during the Civil War (Library of Congress)

Acting Ensigns W.B. Arrants and George Anderson (whose father was from Dublin) were assigned the task of leading the operation. In the preceding days, both men had been ashore scouting the area, while a number of refugees had also come aboard with local information. In the end, the Perry‘s shore-party made for the coast in two cutters, carrying 22 sailors, the Acting Ensigns, the Acting Assistant Paymaster, and the Master’s Mate. When they made landfall on Magnolia Beach, the plan called for one group–which included Peter–to cross to the shallow inlet through the dunes and set fire to the Rebel blockade runner. In the meantime, the remainder would stay behind to guard the boats. In order to execute the scheme, the attacking party carried a keg filled with tarred rope yarns and a bottle of turpentine. Almost as soon as Peter and the others dashed off across the sand, things began to unravel. Later recriminations would lead to conflicting accounts of events, but what is apparent is that the Union Tars were spotted almost immediately. Dashing towards the Confederate schooner, Arrants and his men were in the midst of the drifts when Rebel cavalry suddenly appeared. As the screaming horsemen galloped straight towards them, the sailors sought to make a desperate stand around one of the dunes. At the same time, they frantically signalled to the Perry for support, only to find that the brig could not bring her guns to bear on their position. Meanwhile, a second batch of mounted Southerners galloped down the beach towards the cutters, but a shot from the Perry drove them off. To the dismay of Arrants, Peter Keefe and the others, rather than retreating this second squadron of Rebels immediately wheeled towards them, firmly cutting off their line of retreat. The brief, vicious firefight that developed over the next few minutes saw five of the beleaguered northerners fall wounded, with the cornered Yankees accounting for one Confederate killed and three injured. But with the situation clearly hopeless, Arrants instructed his men–including Peter–to lay down their arms. (4)

[image error]The salt marsh of Huntingdon Beach State Park, near where Peter and his comrades landed to attack the Confederate schooner in December 1863 (Pendragon1998)

A total of fifteen of the Perry‘s crew were captured, among their number the 17-year-old son of the brig’s commander. If anything, the immediate aftermath of the little band’s surrender was more brutal than the firefight itself. The cavalry detachments, reportedly from the 5th and 21st Georgia Cavalry, appeared to be in merciless mood. John Pinkham, the 25-year-old Coxswain of the Perry, lay blood-soaked in the sand, pierced by a bullet through the hip. The New Hampshire native had proudly declared his patriotism through his tattoos– he had two stars, an Eagle, and the word “Liberty” inked into his chest. As Peter looked on, one of the Rebel officers ordered Pinkham to stand up. When he couldn’t comply, the Confederate drew his revolver and shot him through the spine, roaring “kill the damned Yank”. Incredibly, Pinkham survived, but the bullet paralysed him for the remainder of his life. Incensed, Irish American sailor Michael Tobin decided to exact revenge. When the trigger-happy officer next turned to him and ordered him to give up his weapons, Tobin advanced with his arms outstretched, as if in compliance. But when fifteen yards distant from his captor, he raised his gun and fired. The bullet missed the officer, striking and killing his mount. In the confusion that followed Tobin made a bid for freedom, sprinting off across a salt marsh in the direction of the woods beyond. Quickly recovering their composure, the Rebel cavalrymen set off in pursuit. The brief chase came to an end when the Irishman was downed with a bullet in the leg. Michael is likely the seasoned sailor of that name whose tattoos had been described back in New York a few months previously. On his left forearm he carried an image of a dancing woman, together with the initials “F.E.” and “M.T.” [Michael Tobin]. On his right forearm he bore a crucifix, while his back and belly were marked with numerous scars. Michael Tobin would never have another opportunity at freedom. Nine months later he became one of the thousands to succumb to the woeful conditions of Andersonville prison camp, Georgia. (5)

[image error]The grave of Peter’s shipmate Michael Tobin at Andersonville National Cemetery, Georgia. He died there on 1 September 1864 (Find A Grave)

The nervous tension that must have consumed the captured Federal sailors as all these incidents played out is difficult to imagine. Peter and the rest of the party must have had serious concerns about whether they would live through the remainder of the day. Worse was to come for the lone African American among them–Landsman George Brimsmaid. The Confederates seemed enraged by his presence, ordering the “Yankee – –” to “get in line there with your n***er brother”. When they reached the cavalry’s woodland encampment, George was separated from his comrades by two Confederates and a civilian. It is possible they suspected he was one of the African American refugees who had recently sought refuge aboard the Perry. George was herded through the camp, one of the men striking him over the head with his sabre. A few minutes later the white sailors heard a loud yell, followed by the report of two guns. The two cavalrymen soon returned; they had strung George up from a nearby tree using a horse’s halter, before discharging two charges of buckshot into his chest. Simply for being African American, George had been butchered in cold blood. (6)

[image error]An African American sailor during the Civil War. Though an ostensibly integrated service, these men often had to contend with racism from their shipmates, as seen to have been the case for George Brimsmaid. His terrible fate was a measure of the risks these men took when they embarked on military service (Library of Congress)

Initially some of the Confederate cavalrymen reportedly wanted to kill the remaining sailors, simply because they had been serving with an African American. But as the adrenaline dissipated, they eventually took to treating the wounded. That afternoon Peter and the surviving prisoners began the long trek south, headed in the direction of Charleston. While Peter and the mobile walked, the most severely wounded bounced along in an old wagon. Unfortunately for the prisoners, the detachment of ten Confederates accompanying them were led by the officer Michael Tobin had tried to kill, and he insured it was an arduous trip. After an exacting march, the prisoners spent their first night in a ramshackle log hut. As they lay wet and cold on the manure-covered floor, Peter was kept awake by the groans of the wounded. The following morning, while the injured went to the hospital in Georgetown, Peter and the others were housed in the local jail, where they would pass the next five days. Eventually their journey to Charleston continued, where they arrived to witness the affect of the Union operations against the city and Harbor. But even this was not their ultimate destination. After a period it was decided to move the prisoners on once more, inland to Richland County Jail in Columbia, South Carolina–the location where Peter Keefe’s life would be forever altered. (7)

[image error]The original list of sailors captured from the Perry at Murrells Inlet, drawn up by Commander Gregory. It includes Peter, Michael Tobin, John Pinkham and George Brimsmaid (Letters to the Secretary of the Navy)

The Richland County Jail in Columbia was a three-story building. The naval officers were initially housed in the main masonry structure, which they shared with local civilian prisoners. Peter and around sixty other ranks were confined in an old wooden barracks in the prison yard. With news that prisoner exchanges had been suspended, it was evident that none of the men could look forward to going home anytime soon. As a result, it wasn’t long before the officers and men alike began to contemplate escape. The position and layout of the prison made tunnelling an attractive option, and soon “tunnel mania” was rampant. However, it was a threat to which their guards proved alive– a major effort by the officers was discovered just as it neared completion. Peter was one of the ringleaders of a second effort, one that he and the other enlisted men led from within their accommodation:

The barracks had a wooden floor. Two boards were removed, and an excavation made to the rear of the building. The exit was in an adjoining garden. Not much skill in engineering was displayed on their [the enlisted men’s] part. They simply dug until they felt like stopping. The distance from the surface was ascertained by pushing a stick up through the ground. It was left there projecting above the surface. (8)

Apparently the protruding stick alerted the Confederates. Rather than expose their knowledge, they instead placed a guard detachment in the garden, there to lie in wait. Their intention was to allow the escapees to emerge, and then gun them down. When the moment seemed right, the enlisted men and officers congregated at the tunnel mouth to make their attempt. The first man in was Peter Keefe from Kilkenny. When he raised himself up through the tunnel exit, he caught sight of the trap, and shouted a warning to those behind him. On his hands and knees in the garden, he decided to make a run for it. As he did so, the Rebels fired, shattering his left knee. The attempt had failed, but Peter’s warning had prevented any of his comrades from injury. The price he paid was the loss of his left leg. (9)

[image error]Peter’s April 1864 escape effort was covered in the local press. Here is how the Columbia Carolinian reported it (Charleston Mercury)

The operation to amputate Peter’s leg was carried out at the nearby Second North Carolina Hospital, located in the buildings of South Carolina College (now the University of South Carolina). The surgeons took his shattered limb at the knee. He was soon joined in the ward by his Irish American shipmate, Acting Ensign Anderson, who had fallen sick in the prison. The two men whiled away the days in conversation, and chatting and joking with two of the female orderlies. Anderson later remembering that the amputation of Peter’s leg “was skilfully done, but it took a long time for the stump to heal up. He [Peter] did not care so much for the loss of the leg as he did for the failure of the plan to escape.” The extent of Peter’s disability meant he had no chance of returning to service, and the Confederates decided to exchange him. His dramatic year in the Union service came to an end with his discharge for disability on 12th November 1864. (10)

[image error]South Carolina College in 1850. Now the University of South Carolina, Peter Keefe’s left leg was amputated here in 1864 (South Carolina University Library)

In 1866 Peter Keefe was granted a pension for full disability by the American Government; the loss of his leg rendering him “entirely unable to earn his daily bread”. For a number of years he moved around within the United States–first Boston, then New York, and later Albany–but ultimately he decided his future lay at home in Ireland. He headed back to Kilkenny in late 1871 or early 1872, where he would manage his affliction for almost 30 before his death on 1 June 1900. By then, his American pension had risen to $36 per month, enabling him to enjoy some modicum of comfort despite his circumstances. Whether he shared his remarkable Civil War experiences with his friends and neighbours remains unknown. If he did, the story of how he came to lose his leg must have surely have become an iconic one in the locality. It would have wowed all who heard it, to be whispered in hushed tones by all who encountered the one-legged old sailor on his travels about the highways and byways of Kilkenny. (11)

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[image error]When Peter first enlisted in the navy he was illiterate, and was only able to make his mark. Like many other Irish emigrants, he improved his literacy in later life, and was eventually able to sign his name (NARA)

(1) Calendar of Wills; (2) New York Passenger and Crew Lists, Naval Enlistment Rendezvous; (3) Report of Acting Master Gregory, Waterloo 1902: 243-244; (4) Ibid., Report of Acting Ensign Anderson, Waterloo 1902: 252-255; (5) John Pinkham Pension File, , Waterloo 1902: 255-256, Naval Enlistment Rendezvous, Report of Acting Ensign Anderson; (6) John Pinkham Pension File, Waterloo 1902: 256-257, Naval Enlistment Rendezvous, Report of Acting Ensign Anderson; (7) Waterloo 1902: 259-264; (8) Ibid.: 275-294; (9) Ibid.: 294; (10) Ibid.: 296, Green 1916: 388-389, Keefe Pension File; (11) Keefe Pension File;

References

Calendar of Wills, Entry for Peter Keefe, 12 March 1902.

Naval Enlistment Weekly Rendezvous.

New York Passenger and Crew Lists.

Peter Keefe Pension File.

John Pinkham Pension File.

Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies, Series 1, Volume 15. Report of Acting Master Gregory, U.S. Navy, Commanding U.S. Brig Perry.

Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies, Series 1, Volume 15. Report of Acting Ensign Anderson, U.S. Navy, Commanding Boats from the U.S. Brig Perry.

Edwin L. Green 1916. A History of the University of South Carolina.

Stanley Waterloo (ed.) 1902. The Story of a Strange Career.

The post How Peter Keefe Came to Lose His Leg: A Story of American Coastal Raids, Escape Tunnels & Prison Breaks appeared first on Irish in the American Civil War.