Cushing guided the single launch through the Chesapeake and Albemarle Canal on October 27 and met up with the Union flotilla, which was cowering at the mouth of the Roanoke River, dreading the reappearance of the Albemarle. In addition to the crew he had assigned to the torpedo launch, Cushing had gathered a second group of raiders who would be towed in a cutter; if nothing else, he believed, the extra men could help his crew board and seize the ironclad. At nightfall, the two vessels began the slow voyage up the Roanoke. Every care was made to pass quietly up the river, and a rain storm helped cover their movements. Without the element of surprise, the expedition would be doomed to failure.

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On the way to their target, Cushing and his saboteurs steamed past the wreck of the Southfield. The upper works of the sunken Union vessel protruded above the surface of the river, and the Confederates were using the ship as a lookout post. If he could not slip by unnoticed, Cushing hoped to run some of the men from the cutter onto the Southfield; they would silence the lookouts before any alarm could be spread. But the steam launch chugged by the Confederate pickets without being seen.

Early on the morning of October 28, heavy rain made it nearly impossible for the Union raiders to see more than a few feet ahead. When the weather cleared, Cushing's men saw an imposing sight; the Albemarle, protected by a pen of logs that extended about 30 feet from the vessel. So far, his vessel had not been discovered by the Confederates. If he could capture the Albemarle, Cushing thought the ram's iron plating would protect his men as they sailed triumphantly back to the Union fleet.

It was a glorious fantasy, but the voice of a Confederate sailor hailing the steam launch snapped Cushing back to reality. There would be no surprise attack now. Cushing ordered his cutter back downriver and called out defiantly to the Albemarle's crew, 'Leave the ram or I'll blow you to pieces.' Instead, reported one Union sailor, 'the rebels sprung their rattle, rang the bell and commenced firing.'

Cushing steered his launch directly for the wooden barriers that encircled the ram. The logs, he reasoned, must have been submerged for some time and, as a result, must have become slimy. If he hit the logs with enough force, Cushing believed, the launch might ride right over them. As his launch gained speed and drove toward the Albemarle, the Rebel gunboat's men opened fire, but by then the Union launch was too close to allow a clear shot. The Confederates on shore, however, had no difficulty firing on Cushing and his boat.

Several shots passed through Cushing's coat as he stood in the bow of the launch, steadying the torpedo davit. In one hand he held the line that would lower the torpedo; in the other he held the detonating line. Nearby lines would allow the lieutenant to signal steering instructions to the man at the tiller. Cushing somehow kept his balance as the launch struck the protective logs and, as he had guessed it would, slid over them.

The launch closed to within a few feet of the ironclad, and Cushing lowered the torpedo. A hail of Confederate bullets rained around him, but Cushing waited to pull the line that would release the detonating ball until he knew the bomb had settled beneath the ram's protective shield. Finally, Cushing tugged on the line, and in seconds the torpedo exploded.

'Men, save yourselves!' shouted Cushing after the shock of the blast had passed. Slipping off his coat and shoes, he dove into the cold Roanoke River. Several Union sailors followed, but most were captured immediately by the Confederates.

Cushing had no clue whether his mission had succeeded or failed as he swam for land. When he finally drew his exhausted body onto the shore, he was still several miles from the Union fleet. He was lying quietly in reeds near the river's edge when several Confederate soldiers passed close enough that he could hear them commenting on 'how it had been done.' Their words encouraged him, but he was not convinced his mission had succeeded until a black man gave him the news that the Albemarle had been sunk.

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