The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1876-08-09
Inside q Fighting Turret Ship.

I once heard an old sailor who fought
in q monitor, describe the sound of the
shots beating against the vessels plates.
You know what it is to be in q long
railway tunnel,-how intensely dark it
is, far darker than a s~tarless night, and
how yellow and feeble the lights look.
Well, it is much the same in the bowels
of q turret ship, when all the hatohways
are closed. Oil lamps swing from the
beams, but they give no luster, and each
flame seems like o little bit of yellow
floating in the air. The men grope
about and knock against each other,
some bearing ammunition to the eleva-
tor connecting with the turrets, others
carrying coal from the bunkers to the
furnaces underneath the boilers. The
engines groan and rattle, and at times
the captains bell rings O sharp order to
slacken or increase the speed.
Meanwhile, if there has been q lull In
the firing, the men move about feeling
like a timid boy who is alone in a coun-
try lane after dark-not that they are
afraid. The boy looks at every shadow,
thinking there is q robber Of q kidnap-
per behind it. The men anxiously await
each moment, not knowing what deadly
surprise it may bring forth. .
And as the battle goes on, it is not
long before there is ringing sound that
is calculated to fill the bravest and
strongest OF nerve with a momentary
terror. It is as though the inner deck
and walls were falling in upon them,
and for a little while they are unable to
realize what has happened-uncertain
that they are not on their way to the
bottom. Every ear is stung with the
awful sound, and every nerve is thrilled.
The great mass Of iron seems to tum-
BILE over on one side and moan with pain
before the vessel rights herself again
and steadies herself for fresh exertions.
Then she returns the compliments paid
her with a vengeance, and her bull dogs
in the turrets bark and spit fire at the
enemy until we pity that unfortunate,
and wish she would retire from the field.
. The turrets are ranged along the deck.
They are about ton feet in diameter, ff-
teen feet high, and each one is fastened
to q massive upright pillar Of iron pass.
ing through the center and working in a
socket on the lower deck. The pillar is
connected by o series Of cogwheels with
a steam engine, which causes it to turn
the turret in the direction the captain
requires.
Two small portfolios are cut in the
plates of the turret, and furnished with
solid iron doors. When the guns are to
be fred, they are worked on slides to
the portfolios, which remind us of the
mouth of a dogs kennel, and their no.
ses are pointed at the enemy. Ascend
after they have uttered their bark, they
are dragged in, and the doors are closed,
just in time, perhaps, to avoid two re-
turn shots which crack like thunder on
the plates outside. While the guns are
being loaded again, the men are FASTENED
by the whistle and the crash of the shot
and shell, which strike the iron walls OF
the turret.
Above one of the turrets there is o lit
tie iron clad pilot house, whence the
captain directs the movements of bis
vessel. It has no window, and the only
outlook is through Sits, about ar inch
wide, in the plates. The intrepid man,
whose position is the most dangerous of
all, stands there throughout the thick of
the fight, controlling the rudder, the en-
gines, and the t~urrets, by a motion of
the hand or the tinkle of a bell.
You may remember what I told you
in a previous article-I am beginning
to look upon you as old friends, by the
way.-about Admiral Worden, the hero
of the Monitor. He was watching the
Merrimack from tho Sits in his little
lookout boz, when o shell struck the
outside and knocked him %senseIess. All
captains of turret ships are exposed to
such dangers as this, and even greater
ones ; indeed, as I have said, their posi-.
tions are the most perilous.-& Mich-
Olds.