At first light the great ship crept forward, her officers on the bridge with binoculars and telescopes fixed on the shore.
“There, to starboard, sir, that’s Charles Fort.”
“And James Fort, across the water from it.”
Both forts stood out clearly against the western sky, sharp black silhouettes until the sun cleared the eastern horizon. Captain Durnford adjusted the focusing wheel on his glasses, peering at the top of the fort just as the sun touched it. There was a flag there, hanging limp — then stirring as the dawn breeze caught at its fabric.
“Damn my eyes!” one of the officer gasped. “That is the stars and stripes on that fort!”
“I do believe that it is,” Durnford said, lowering his glasses. “Stop engines.”
His ship still had some way and was sliding steadily into the mouth of the estuary. Just beyond the forts it could be seen that the waterway turned sharply to the left. As the inner reaches of the river came slowly into view they became aware of the growing bulk of an ironclad that was anchored there.
“Full speed astern,” the captain ordered, staring hard at the unfamiliar black shape. “I can truthfully say that vessel is not part of the Royal Navy.”
The propeller bit hard, sending swirls of foam to the surface. In a moment they were moving away from the black menace of the warship which, if it had seen them, which was a certainty, had made no move in their direction. Her anchor chain was visible and a small trickle of smoke rose up from her funnel. That she was well aware of the intruding ship was proven when the immense two-gun turret on her bow rumbled about to face in their direction. Then the headland intervened and the menacing enemy ship vanished from sight again.
“Captain,” the second lieutenant said. “I am certain that I know that ship. Saw her off the Mexican coast. The USS Virginia, two turrets each with two guns. Launched this past summer.”
“I do believe that you are right; she was described in recent Admiralty reports. Set course for the Old Head of Kinsale.”
There was silence on the bridge, but not on deck or in the wardroom below.
“A Yankee ship — here in Irish waters. What can it mean?”
“It means the bloody Yankees have invaded the country — you saw their flags there. Their troops must have been landed, perhaps there was an uprising as well by the Irish, whatever. But they are certainly here, and in some force as well if they stormed and took those forts.”
“Strutten will have found out something, he should know what has happened.”
It was full daylight by the time they were clear of the estuary, and the ship turned south-west for their rendezvous off Kinsale. As they approached the head the ship’s boat could be seen waiting for them. A rope ladder was dropped and Lieutenant Strutten was mounting it even before the falls were hooked onto the boat. He said nothing to the waiting officers, but hurried below to see the captain.
“There is an American warship anchored in the estuary,” the captain said. “The two forts there are taken as well.”
“It is far worse than that,” the lieutenant said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I talked with the captain of the constabulary in Kinsale. They were besieged in their barracks by a mob, but the attackers fled when they saw our guns. He had been to Cork, talked to people who escaped the city, for there was a pitched battle there. No details, just fighting and the like, but he saw the troops and the flags. The city is taken. Troops everywhere, and the crossed American flags above the gates. But no landings were m
ade, he was sure of that. Talk is that there were trains, from Limerick Junction, for Dublin. The telegraph lines have been cut, so there is no real information, just speculation and rumors.”
“And facts. We know that the enemy were in Belfast — and now Cork. It stands to reason that Dublin would be attacked as well. There have been attacks, dastardly attacks. Our sovereign nation has been stabbed in the back!”
Frustrated and livid with anger, Captain Durnford hammered on the porthole frame.
“The country must know. Milford Haven in Wales, that is the nearest port with a telegraph station. Set the course, full speed. As soon as the boat is back aboard. England must know the full extent of this disaster!”
He looked grimly north along the Irish coast. “When that is done we will have to go and see what is happening with the troops at Carnlough Bay.”
TROUBLE TO THE NORTH
In the attack on Belfast, the 83rd Regiment of Foot had put up a strong defense of their barracks on North Queen Street, a solidly built and sturdy compound of buildings. While he knew that the Gatling guns were first-rate against troops in the field, not for the first time did General Robert E. Lee wish that he had had some artillery to fall back on. It wasn’t until the 33rd Mississippi had stormed the artillery barracks to the north of the infantry barracks that the battle had tilted in the direction of the American troops. There were cannon in store there, old smooth-bore 12-pounders that fired solid iron shot. General Longstreet had them pushed out onto the drill field even before the last of the defenders there had been subdued. Horses were brought from the stables and hitched up, while axe-men broke down the door to the powder store. Longstreet looked inside, then waved his men back.
“There’s black powder all over the flagstones in there. Take off those boots — anyone who goes in there goes in barefoot. If a hobnail on a boot makes a spark on the flags we’ll all be blown to kingdom come.”
The barrels of gunpowder were gingerly loaded onto the gun limbers, along with the round shot, horses were hitched up and Longstreet and his men followed the guns when they headed back to the infantry barracks. Behind them the firing died away as the last defenders surrendered; ahead the firing seemed to be as brisk as ever.
The arrival of the three cannon changed all that. The barracks was solidly built, but it was no fort. The wooden doors, and the surrounding masonry, were soon battered down by the solid shot. Lee ordered a bayonet charge which, urged on by rebel yells, rolled over the few defenders inside. Once the prisoners had been taken away, General Lee set up his headquarters in the offices inside.
The reports came in, one by one, and he permitted himself the smallest of smiles. Carrickfergus Castle had been shelled from the sea and had surrendered.
“The remaining defenders at the Ulster Railway Station have surrendered, General,” Captain Green said. “That seems to be the last strong point.”