As the new year of 1864 arrived, General Robert E. Lee’s attention focused on New Bern, North Carolina. Stationed there on the Neuse River was a fleet of imposing Federal warships and Yankee ironclads under construction in the sounds. They were inviting targets, Lee thought. On January 2, he wrote a recommendation to President Jefferson Davis.

A bold party could descend the Neuse at night, capture the gunboats, and drive the enemy by their aid from the works on that side of the river, while a force should attack them in front.

If anyone other than Lee had suggested such a scheme, Davis probably would have rejected it outright. But Lee saw the ironclads and gunboats as the nucleus of a fleet that would sweep the Carolina waters clean of the enemy. Davis agreed and immediately issued orders: attack New Bern.

A successful capture of the river town would solve a number of problems for the Confederacy. It was a military operations center, a major supply depot, and a rallying point for the strong unionist sentiment still alive in the state. Even if it could be held just long enough to loot the supplies stored there, the raid would be worthwhile. To head the land attack, both Lee and Davis decided on Major General George Pickett. And from the beginning, Davis had no doubt who he would select to head the naval part of the operation; his choice was a grandson of Zachary Taylor, son of Union General Robert Wood, and Davis’ own chief military aide and nephew . . . John Taylor Wood.

Already something of a hero, Wood distinguished himself in a type of naval warfare that had almost gone out of style. He was adept at surprising and capturing enemy warships using only darkness, stealth, small arms, and a few daredevils like himself. Employing his ‘navy on wheels,’ (small boats transported to their destination by wagon) he had already ‘cut out’ and captured seven enemy vessels, including two well-armed gunboats, the Satellite and the Reliance.

Knowing that the success of the operation depended on surprise, Wood immediately began to organize his part of the assignment, telegraphing naval commanders in Richmond, Wilmington, and Charleston. He ordered them to select crews of vigorous, hardy seamen for a secret mission. They were to be equipped only with cutlasses, rifles, revolvers, ammunition, three days’ cooked rations, and the clothes they wore; they were to travel fast and light.

Lieutenant Benjamin Loyall, commandant of midshipmen on the Confederate Naval Academy schoolship Patrick Henry, led the Richmond contingent, consisting of ten cutters and approximately 115 men and officers. On January 28, they left the James River and rowed to Petersburg, where they lashed the boats upright on railway gondolas and road in them like passenger cars on the overland trip.

When the Richmond group reached Goldsboro, North Carolina, Lieutenant George Gift, delayed with supply problems, had not yet arrived with his men and boats from Charleston and Wilmington. (The main problem was inter-service rivalry; he accused, ‘The army people monopolize everything, yield nothing.’) Evidently by prearrangement Loyall knew to push on to the embarkation point at Kinston. Arriving there at 2:00 a.m. on the 31st, his men quickly unloaded the boats and slid them down the bank into the Neuse. Wood had already engaged a pilot who knew the route and its dangers well. For secrecy’s sake, he sent them all twenty miles downstream to the first rendezvous, a small island, while he nervously awaited Gift.

As he paced the bank, Wood undoubtedly considered the problems of the total operation. New Bern might not be another Gibraltar, but it would be difficult to take. Located at the confluence of the Trent and Neuse Rivers, it had been in Federal hands for nearly two years, and the hands had not been idle. The Yankees constructed a line of earth-works, anchored by Fort Stevenson on the northeast, to protect the only land approach to the town; in front of these fortifications they cut all the trees for two miles, furnishing their artillery a clear field of fire. Fort Anderson, built just across the Neuse, covered the plain before the works with an effective crossfire. And most disturbing, the Federals at Moorhead City could instantly supply reinforcements by rail if they were ever needed. Pickett had a most difficult job ahead of him.

But Wood could not be too concerned with Pickett’s troubles; he had problems of his own. The success of the entire operation depended on capturing the gunboats. If he failed, not only would the dream of a small eastern fleet fade; New Bern would not be held, even if taken. Three or four of the warships constantly patrolled the rivers, ready to use their guns in the town’s protection or to ferry supporting troops. In fact, the gunboats had already materially aided in New Bern’s defense when Brigadier James Pettigrew threatened Fort Anderson in March 1863. Their guns drove the Confederates from the field and shielded the landing of reinforcements. Wood had to take the gunboats quickly and without damage if he was to support Pickett and later use them to raid enemy shipping.

After a morning of worry, Wood watched Gift’s train pull in at noon, carrying two large launches, two cutters, and a crew of about 135. Wood was relieved but anxious to get started. As it was obvious that the launches would take time to unload, he took only the cutters and left to join Loyall, telling Gift to follow with the eighty-two men he left behind.

When Wood arrived at the island, the men had just finished supper, the last hot meal they would have for several days. Calling them all together, including the twenty-five marines under Captain Thomas Wilson, he revealed their orders for the first time. The seamen, especially the younger ones, were excited by the audacity of the plan and would have cheered if they had not been ordered to keep quiet. After leading them in a prayer for the success of their mission, Wood divided the little flotilla into two divisions of six boats each, taking command of one group and giving the other to Loyall, his executive officer. He passed out white armbands for nighttime identification and gave them the password, Sumter. They then pushed off on the remaining backbreaking forty miles to New Bern.

Back at Kinston, Gift and his men unloaded the heavy launches and dragged them to the Neuse with the help of two mules. Impressing a pilot, they started downriver in the two boats, each armed with a 12 pound bow howitzer. They made good time; it was 3:00 p.m., an hour after Wood left them.

Wood’s men in the cutters strained at their muffled oars, pulling hard in the cold, dusky light. The river was treacherous; in places it was so narrow that the sailors could almost touch the cypress and water oaks overhanging each bank; in others, it broadened into a shallow lake. Half-sunken logs, snags, and sandbars clogged the channel. The boats, now in a single, sinuous line, constantly hung up, ran into the bars, and banged into each other. Mostly, the quiet was unearthly. Excepting the infrequent whispers of the men, the only sounds were the splash of a misplaced oar and the creaking of the oarlocks. Scarcely could a living thing be seen. Occasionally a flock of squawking ducks exploded in their faces in a flurry of feet and feathers. In the trees overhead, a screech owl shattered the night quiet. Clouds formed; then a cold mist and drizzle began to fall, adding to the misery of the bone-weary men.

The pilot had warned them of two points where the Yankees posted cavalry and infantry pickets. Here, they had to observe absolute silence and were cautioned to only fire if fired on. If spotted, they would pull down-river with all their might so that they could begin their attack before news of them reached New Bern. But fortunately they passed the picket points unnoticed.

About 3:30 a.m., February 1, the character of the stream began to change: the river broadened and the banks became low and marshy. Then through the thickening fog and mist, Wood saw the dim glow of New Bern’s lights and at the same time heard heavy firing nearby. Pickett had begun his part of the operation. This was the perfect moment to attack. Although his men were tired and he did not have Gift’s launches, he knew the watches on the gunboats would be almost blind from the fog and the long night. The raiders could be among the warships before being hailed, and after the captures, the guns of Fort Stevenson and Fort Anderson would be hard put to search them out.

Wood formed the cutters into two columns and eased forward, straining his eyes for the prey. They rowed past the town, staying near the opposite bank. They reversed and came back, closer this time. They could not be certain: was the fog obscuring the gunboats, or were they simply not there? This time the flotilla moved in among the wharves, so near that the seamen could hear the sleepy voices of the sentries. There were no gunboats at New Bern!

Just before dawn, Wood ordered his men to row about three miles back up the Neuse to a small island in Bachelor’s Creek, where they could rest. There, the sailors pulled the boats from the water and hid them in the bushes and tall marsh grasses. Those not selected as sentries simply collapsed, ignoring the cold, muddy ground and wet grass. They had rowed sixty miles down a foul river; they had been awake for almost twenty-four hours; and they had been on edge, expecting a fight. They were exhausted.

As the sun rose and the fog dispersed, the Confederates were astounded to see a tall crow’s nest with a Yankee lookout in plain sight of their camp. Miraculously, the observer did not spot them the entire day. The men made as little movement as possible and anxiously ate their pre-cooked rations; campfires were out of the question. Meanwhile, Wood went off in search of Pickett to coordinate their efforts.

The plans for the land attack were good ones. Pickett would make a frontal assault against New Bern with the mass of his 4,500 troops; he would send Brigadier Seth Barton with cavalry and artillery to cut the Atlantic & North Carolina Railroad from Morehead City to check the arrival of reinforcements; in the meantime, Colonel James Dearing would attack Fort Anderson across the Neuse, also preventing reinforcements from that quarter; and lastly, General Lee would order a diversionary demonstration at Morehead City to keep the Yankee nervous.

Things were going much as planned. By late afternoon on February 1, the enemy had been driven back inside his works in front of New Bern, but Pickett was getting edgy. He heard nothing from Barton, whose operation was absolutely essential. If he did not cut the rail line, New Bern would become a tap for the Confederates.

Meanwhile, Gift’s command had been rowing down from Kinston all day. If Wood had trouble maneuvering the small cutters through the congested twists and loops of the Neuse, Gift with his heavy launches must have had hell. Although they embarked only an hour after Wood, they failed to link up with him until almost sundown, about fifteen hours after the first group arrived.

Early that morning when Wood heard the guns opening Pickett’s offensive, Lieutenant G. W. Graves, commander of the three gunboats in the New Bern estuary and captain of the U.S.S. Lockwood, heard them too. Signaling Acting Master Jacob Westervelt of the U.S.S. Underwriter and Acting Master Francis Josselyn of the U.S.S. Commodore Hull to stand by, Graves waited for a message from Brigadier I. N. Palmer, chief of the Federal land forces. At about 6:30 a.m., it arrived; the Rebels were attacking in force, and Palmer needed the gunboats to repel them. Graves ordered the Underwriter to steam up the Neuse and anchor about 100 yards below Fort Stevenson to command the cleared plain outside the Union works. The Hull would take position above her. Although the Underwriter arrived on station at 9:00 a.m., the Hull drove so solidly aground as she got underway that she could not even be moved by tugs. Notified that the Rebels were erecting a battery near Brice’s Creek, off the Trent, Graves steamed up that river as far as the shallow channel would permit.

Near sundown, Loyall and Wood scouted downriver near New Bern to see if a possible prize had turned up. It had. The Underwriter, a side-wheel steamer of 325 tons, one of the largest in North Carolina waters, lay riding at her mooring. She was 186 feet long and 35 feet wide. Mounting two 8-inch shell guns, and a 30-pound and a 12-pound howitzer, she carried a crew of eighty-four. Wood told Loyall that they would attack her sometime after midnight. Ironically, she was scheduled to leave for duty off Hatteras the following morning.

At 11:00 p.m. Wood assembled the men for their final instructions. Each man, specially picked, knew his job. Wood always made certain that his men were more than just fighters; they could operate a vessel after its capture. After leading his men in prayer and dividing the marine detachment among the craft as the sharpshooters, he ordered them all into the boats. As they settled themselves, young Midshipman Palmer Saunders looked up into the clouding sky and remarked, ‘I wonder, boys, how many of us will be up in those stars by tomorrow morning.’ While this comment sobered the older men, the younger sailors were full of excitement positioning their cutlasses and pistols for instant access, regaling each other with the great deeds they would do, and choosing buddies for the imminent fight. On every boat, the commanders handed out short tapered, white-pine dowels provided by the expedition’s carpenter; they would soon come in handy. In the distance the battle lanterns of the Underwriter shone clearly at each mast.

The cutters, again in their two divisions, traveled cautiously side by side. Wood would strike forward, Loyall aft. The launches brought up the rear. Since the cutter force was more than enough to take the Underwriter, the launches would be used only for reinforcement or defense from other gunboats.

The raiders were not attacking blindly. Sometime earlier, a spy dressed as a hill-country farmer slipped into New Bern and visited the gunboats at the wharves. He noted their armaments, the discipline of their crews, and their modes of keeping watch. Wood’s men knew what to expect.

As the raiders approached the Underwriter, sheets of rain began to fall, obscuring her for a time. Then, at 300 yards, her black hull stood out. In New Bern, a lonely bell tolled mournfully, like a death-knell. Nearing the gunboat, the raiders suddenly heard the ship’s bell ring out five times: 2:30 a.m. Everything was going perfectly–then at about 100 yards came a sudden, nervous shot, ‘Boat ahoy! Boat ahoy!’ Wood did not answer. ‘Boat ahoy! Boat ahoy!’ Wood still did not respond and gained a few more valuable yards. Then out of the night came the ear-shattering clacking that they all dreaded: the lookout sprung the battle rattle, calling the crew to quarters.

The surprise was over. Wood yelled, ‘Give way! Give way strong!’ Loyall and the other boat commanders took up the cry, ‘Give way, boys! Give way as you never did before!’ They had to get under the Underwriter’s deck guns or be annihilated. The cutters shot forward.

On the Underwriter, all was instant chaos. The crew, dazed by sudden awakening, many undressed, stumbled out on deck half panic-stricken, but still not certain of the danger. Officers screamed commands, the armorer frantically distributed small arms, and the men hurried to light battle lanterns. The raiders could hear the slap of bare feet on deck and the jangle of loose equipment being kicked about. Then dim, shadowy figures appeared at the rail.

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