38 SMITHSONIAN | March 2020
The USS Housa-
tonic arrived
in the harbor
of Charleston,
South Carolina,
in September- It was part
of a crippling
Union blockade
of Confederate
shipping.
NAVAL^ HISTORY^ ANDH
ERITAGEC
OMMANDand the men did not understand the deadly shape
in the water. Their cannons weren’t positioned to
hit an object so close by and down below, so they
attacked with small-arms fi re. But the submarine
remained undeterred.
HL Hunley pressed its torpedo snugly against the
Housatonic’s side. One of the three thin metal rods
protruding from the leading face of the bomb de-
pressed slightly against the wooden hull. The fragile
wire holding the rod precariously in place snapped,
freeing the coiled energy of the compressed spring
that was fi rmly wrapped around the rod’s body. The
rod smashed against the pressure-sensitive caps in-
side the charge, and they released a fi ery inferno. As
the black powder exploded, the copper casing ripped
open, releasing the fearsome pressures of explosive
black powder into the water and against the wooden
hull of the Housatonic.
A spray of shattered wood planks burst upward
from the deck of the ship. The submarine had hit its
target, punching a lethal blow through the boat’s un-
derbelly. The force of the blast rippled through the
entire ship, and even the sailors at the bow nearly
200 feet away instantly understood that their vessel
would soon be on the ocean fl oor.
As the crew scattered to save themselves, the metal
hull of the submarine silently disappeared. Those in
Charleston awaiting the return of the Hunley, hoping
to celebrate its successful mission, never saw it again.
One hundred and thirty-six years later, in 2000,
in a massive custom-built water tank, archaeolo-
gists clad in protective coveralls and wearing res-
pirators sorted patiently through the muck and silt
that had slowly fi lled the hull of the submarine as it
lay on the bottom of the ocean fl oor. Accounts of the
Hunley’s sinking had assumed horrifi c scenes of the
men trying to claw their way through the thick iron
hatches, or huddled in the fetal position beneath
the crew bench in their agony. Sinkings of modern
submarines have always resulted in the discovery of
the dead clustered near the exits, the result of des-
perate eff orts to escape the cold metal coffi ns; to sit
silently and await one’s own demise simply defi es
human nature.
The crew of the Hunley, however, looked quite diff er-
ent. Each man was still seated peacefully at his station.