Rain began falling in sheets as the small steamer known as picketboat No. 1 puffed its way through the choppy surf toward the mouth of the river, now just minutes away. Directly astern, the boat tugged an open cutter full of sailors, all hand-picked, good with “revolvers, cutlasses, and hand-grenades.” The two boats had departed the Shamrock river almost three hours earlier, and now, as the mouth of the river loomed ever-nearer, their sense of casual confidence gave way to grim determination, for they had all volunteered for a mission many senior officers in Washington considered suicidal.
It was October 27, 1864, and the cold, rain-drenched men were slowly departing Albemarle Sound for the Roanoke River. They were still about ten miles from Plymouth, North Carolina, where their objective – the Confederate ironclad ram, CSS Albemarle – was berthed among various elaborate defensive measures. Every man realized he was in for a long, dangerous night, and that many would not be returning. Their task was to either cut the ironclad out or if that proved unfeasible, torpedo the Albemarle in its berth. Not one man had the slightest notion that within days the New York Times would hail their mission as “one of the most daring and romantic naval feats of history.”
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