"And oh, the little warlike world within
The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy,
The hoarse command, the busy humming din,
When, at a word, the tops are manned on high.
Hark to the boatswain's call, the cheering cry!
While through the seaman's hand the tackle glides;
Or schoolboy midshipman that, standing by,
Strains his shrill pipe as good or ill betides,
And well the docile crew that skillful urchin guides.
White is the glassy deck, without a stain,
Where on the watch the staid lieutenant walks;
Look on that part which sacred doth remain
For the lone chieftain, who majestic stalks,
Silent and feared by all—not oft he talks
With ought beneath him, if he would preserve
That strict restraint, which broken, ever balks
Conquest and fame .... "
-BYRON.
In 1860, the ship most loved by the American people, the glorious old frigate Constitution, was anchored in the Severn River off Annapolis. She had recently been fitted out as a school-ship for the new fourth class of midshipmen, and it was the first time in the history of the U. S. Naval Academy that the youngsters were to be kept separate from the oldsters as the upper classmen were then called. The ages of the newcomers averaged between 14 and 16, and it was the largest class up to that time which had ever entered the Academy.
The stately old frigate with her lofty spars floated placidly on the water where the river emptied itself into the roadstead in plain view of Chesapeake Bay, where the great ships of commerce and fishermen's boats could constantly be seen sailing peacefully to their various destinations. When she gathered her brood aboard she was commanded by Lieutenant George W. Rodgers, who in less than three years time was to meet a hero's death in one of the many assaults on Fort Sumter. The executive officer was Lieutenant John H. Upshur, living at this time and over ninety years of age, and still as fresh and active as a young man.
When the new middies were gathered on board many of them who came from the interior of the country had never seen a ship before, much less a man-of-war, none of them had, as yet, uniforms, and they wore the clothes they had come from home in. They lolled about the starboard side of the quarterdeck and seemed indifferent as to whether they butted into the lieutenant-in-charge or not. Of the rigors of naval discipline, of which many of them had heard such bloodcurdling stories, so far as they were concerned, they saw nothing. There were a number of old sailors aboard, they were in reality professors of practical seamanship, and picked men, most of them with white heads, and it appeared to the young gentlemen that they jumped with unnecessary alacrity when the young and gentle lieutenant-in-charge of the deck intimated that he would like to have something done, which they, the young gentlemen, could not comprehend the use of.
In a few days the uniforms came aboard and there was a change, and an instantaneous one, not only in the appearance, but in the attitude of these "non-chalant" and independent young gentlemen who up to that moment had considered themselves as good as any one else, if not a little better. How the metamorphosis was brought about they never knew, but suddenly they found themselves jumping just as the old sailors did when they were spoken to, or standing patiently at attention waiting, almost trembling, for one of those soft-spoken lieutenants to give them an order. How the transformation was accomplished is a naval secret handed down from generation to generation of naval officers by example, and the art can be acquired in no other way. Many otherwise bright young officers never can acquire it, and they fall by the wayside. It is called the "habit of command."
Naturally the new bright brass buttons and big gold anchors on the lapels of their jaunty sailor-like jackets caused the chests of many of the green ones to swell with pride and they assumed rather superior airs when brought in contact with people clothed merely in everyday garb. Some of them even suspected that their segregation from the upper classmen was due to a humane impulse on the part of the authorities to protect the oldsters from being hazed, or possibly "manhandled" (?). But oh, they did not know. They were very young. Their sailor lore was very limited at first, and probably it would have stumped the brightest man in the class if he had been suddenly asked to explain the difference between a swab and a squilgee (?), but nevertheless many of them already affected the rolling gait of the old sailor and it was even rumored that James Arthur Dick, who stood about four feet nothing in his high heeled shoes, had been seen hitching up his trousers in the most histrionic manner of the sailor impersonators on the stage.
In that class of 1860, which numbered among its members so many boys who later wrote their names high on the scroll of fame, only three were acknowledged by their companions, to be real heroes at that time. There was the before mentioned "James Arthur Dick," the smallest man in the class. He chewed tobacco! Another was a little fellow by the name of Jame K. Polk Ragsdale. He knew how to set type, and had made his way from El Paso, Texas, to Annapolis by working at his trade. But the greatest hero of them all was William Pipkin, called "Bill Pip" for short, as he told us. "Bill Pip" was from the wildest mule growing regions of Missouri. He was red headed and freckled faced. Tall, slabsided, and loose jointed. He made his first appearance on the deck of the Constitution clad in a baggy suit of clothes of the roughest material topped off by a huge cravat of a green color so greenish green that it would have made an Irishman turn green with envy if he had seen it on St. Patrick's day. But even at that, the necktie was not as green as its owner. His method of announcing his arrival on board was somewhat sensational to say the least of it. He stepped on to the deck with an air of "hauteur." He glared superciliously at a small group of midshipmen who were standing near the main mast, assumed an attitude intended to be graceful, and leaned against a windsail, with the result that he instantly found himself two decks below where he thought he was. Extraordinary to relate, owing to his having thrown his long arms around the windsail, which was ventilating the berth deck, he slipped along it until he landed on his feet, and was not hurt at all. Smilingly he came up the hatchway by way of the ladder this time, and explained that he had mistaken the durned thing for a post.
Shortly after "Bill Pip" had been put into a uniform some ladies, among them, wives of officers, visited the ship late one afternoon. They were enjoying themselves and did not notice how the time was slipping by until twilight was upon them before they made a move to go ashore. One of them remarked that she felt a little nervous about taking the long walk from the landing place to their quarters on the other side of the Academy grounds. Lieutenant Upshur, gallant always, looking towards a group of midshipmen standing nearby, said: "I am sure any of these young gentlemen would be delighted to escort you home"; and singling out "Bill Pip," because he was the tallest of the lot, said: "Mr. Pipkin, I am sure you will be glad to accompany these ladies." "Bill Pip" turned scarlet and commenced to stammer—then he exploded—a bombshell. "I am very sorry Mr. Upshur," he said, "but the last word my mother said to me when I left home was: 'Bill Pip, you keep away from the women!'"
But who can foretell what a green and callow youth will turn out to be in later life (?). When the Civil War commenced, "Bill Pip" resigned and went south. He was offered an appointment in the Confederate Navy, but said he had had all the naval discipline he cared for, so he enlisted as a private in an artillery company. But the navy still pursued him. The Confederate ram Arkansas was short of her complement of men and it fell to his lot to be one of a number of soldiers detailed to go on board of her to make up the deficiency—and in her he went down the Yazoo River, and into the Mississippi running through the U. S. fleet of ironclads above Vicksburg and through Admiral Farragut's powerful fleet of ocean-going wooden men-of-war, 17 in all, only to break down and be destroyed by her own crew before she arrived at her destination, which was Baton Rouge, La., where she was expected to take part in the battle at that place.
Through his own merits "Bill Pip" was promoted through the different grades from a private to a full colonelcy before the war ended, and after the war was over, he went into business, amassed a fortune, and died a millionaire.
But although unknown to fame at that time, there were other heroes in the date of 1860.
On the days when the old sailors aboard acted as professors of practical seamanship, two long hawsers were stretched the length of the spar deck and at regular intervals pieces of rope yarn and short lengths of ratline were laid across them, and with these we were taught the difference between a "granny" and a square, or reef knot, and the innumerable other kind of knots which the real sailor delights in making. The midshipmen were lined up on each side of these hawsers while the boatswain and his mates went up and down the line giving instructions.
If, the old white haired captain of the maintop had looked down from his lofty perch, he would have seen among those lads 15 rear admirals, that were to be, and with hardly an exception every midshipman in sight was to participate in the great Civil War, on one side or the other, in the great naval battles of New Orleans, Mobile, and Fort Fisher. He would also have seen boys who were to be officers on the Confederate cruisers and other boys who were to be on U. S. cruisers pursuing them over the high seas—even to the ends of the earth, if the Cape of Good Hope is one of the ends.
But, at the time I speak of, we boys knew little and cared less about the great political questions which were already agitating the country. Many of the most intimate, I might say affectionate, friendships existed between boys from the northern and southern states, friendships which even survived the bloody conflict which was soon to follow. But we had no time to devote to the discussion or study of politics. Our time was fully occupied from "reveille" to "taps" with study, recitations, and drills. We got our exercise pulling on the tackles of the great guns, broadsword exercise, infantry drill, or making sail, reefing and , furling, and what a beautiful sight it was to see those active youths, at the word of command, stream up the shrouds and lay out on the yards, loose the sails, and at the word of command, "Let fall! Sheet home!" instantly, as though by magic, Old Ironsides would .be clothed in snow white garments from her royals to her rails, and then those happy boys would come down from the dizzy heights, leaping and bounding, as sure-footed and fearless as though they were skylarking on some pleasant playground.
After study hours were over at night, the severe discipline of the ship was suspended for half an hour until taps, this time of relaxation was usually utilized by having a little "rough house" skylarking on the berth deck, such as casting loose the hammock lanyards of quiet boys who had early sought sweet repose and spilling them out onto the deck or other innocent deviltry.
At last came the dreaded month of February with its vexatious examinations, causing the foundering of quite a large number of the class who, in midshipman parlance, "bilged." These unfortunate, youths received a kind letter from the Secretary of the Navy informing them that if their resignations were received by a certain day they would be accepted, but by some oversight on the part of the authorities, the acceptances were handed to them before arrangements had been made to send them away. Here was an anomalous state of affairs. Some 30 or 40 civilians on board of a U. S. man-of-war, and no longer amenable to naval discipline—and it was not very long before the young gentlemen utilized the unusual situation.
All went well until taps sounded and the "master-at-arms," in sepulchral tones, issued his nightly proclamation: " Gentlemen: Silence fore and aft!"
To separate the sheep from the goats, the newly made civilians found their hammocks, which they were to use for the last time, slung well forward on the berth deck. The deck had quite a down hill incline from the bows to amidship—and several of the most mischievous of the ex-midshipmen had stolen from the shot racks 32-pound round shot and secreted them in their bed clothes.
The "master-at-arm's" request for silence was received with contemptuous laughter, catcalls, and jeers from the aspirants for civilian honors. The petty officer was amazed at first, and could not believe his own ears, but becoming convinced that mutiny was rife in the ship, he reported to Lieutenant Upshur, the state of affairs. It was only a few moments before the lieutenant, in all his dignity, came down and again commanded "Silence!" and he, too, was answered with jeers from away forward. The lights were all out and darkness reigned supreme, but the lieutenant did not fear the darkness, and stooping under the hammocks he made his way further and further forward, endeavoring to locate the mutinous sounds, until the young wretches thought they had him in the right place, and then, horrible to relate, they commenced to roll the cannon balls at him! It was a novel game of tenpins, but the gallant officer stood his ground for two or three rounds, side-stepping the missiles with only his sense of hearing to guide him out of their line of approach. But soon they were coming too fast for him and he was forced to retreat up the hatchway. Almost instantly the drums were heard beating to "quarters" and lights appeared as the midshipmen tumbled out of their hammocks. Such was the habit of discipline that the "goats" were as prompt to answer the call as the "sheep" were—and the whole command was formed on the main gun deck and forced to toe a seam. Of course no real midshipman would peach, and they were told that they would remain there until the authors of the disturbance would acknowledge their guilt. So thus we stood hour after hour at "attention," little fingers on the seams of our trousers, and our little toes on the seams of the deck planks. At last a bright idea came to some of the muscular members of the class and the word was passed down the line, that while they would not tell, there would be some highly decorated eyes carried ashore in the morning if the "goats" did not inform on themselves and let the rest of us "turn in." The goats were amenable to reason, and stepped forth. The innocent of course were allowed to go below, and it was a sleepy and seedy lot of youngsters who passed over the side, out of the navy, and out of our lives, the next morning.
With the spring of 1861 came the dreadful war. Fort Sumter was fired on, and most of the southern midshipmen resigned and left, next to appear in gray uniforms as midshipmen in the Confederate Navy. The mob in Annapolis threatened to take possession of the Academy grounds to obtain possession of the arms and the frigate Constitution. The first and second classes were ordered to the different men-of-war at once, but the third class and the brood of the Constitution were carried by that vessel, first to New York and then to Newport, R. I., where they could continue their studies away from the distractions caused by the national convulsion. The brood of the Constitution fretted and fumed because they could not at once enter into the fray. They were made all the more unhappy because they knew that their former companions, who had gone south, were already in active service, but they need not have been so restless, for they were to see, and participate in, some of the grandest spectacles of the war before it had dragged its bloody and weary length to the realms of peace again, and many of them were to distinguish themselves and earn that greatest prize so dear to a sailor's heart. A promotion for gallantry in action.
The "brood" was rushed through the Naval Academy course in three years, and Cooper, Cassel, Chester, Clark, Gridley, Glidden, Harris, Mullan, Wildes, Wadleigh, Sigsbee, and Whiting, were in the great battle of Mobile Bay when Admiral Farragut passed between Forts Morgan and Gains, and captured the Confederate ironclad ram Tennessee. This was a desperate fight at very close range, some of the wooden ships, on board of which these "youngsters" were, ramming again and again the formidable ironclad, amidst a veritable cloudburst of iron hail.
Even before the battle of Mobile Bay, one of the brood had distinguished himself for gallantry. The blockade runner Ivanhoe, with a cargo of supplies for the Confederate Government, had been run ashore under the protection of the guns of Fort Morgan. Farragut's flag lieutenant, John Crittenden Watson, led a boat expedition to cut her out. Whiting accompanied him, and they succeeded in destroying the valuable prize under a terrific fire from Fort Morgan. Whiting and Glidden, two of the brood were on this cutting out expedition and Whiting was promoted for his gallantry on the occasion. (See Naval War Records.)
Cassel, Coffin, Davis, Evans, Harris, McGregor, Sands, and Sigsbee, were with Admiral Porter's fleet when that officer made his famous attack on Fort Fisher and tried to carry that formidable fortification by boarding it from small boats. They landed under a rain of shot, shell, grape, and canister, and charged up the glacis exposed to the pitiless fire. It was more than flesh and blood could stand and they were repulsed and driven back to their boats. Davis of the "brood" was the only officer to get through the cheveau de frieze and into the works. When his companions retreated, and left him there, he secreted himself in a corner inside the defences and waited, undetected until kindly night protected him while he made his way to the beach and was rescued by a picket boat from the fleet. Davis strange to say was never promoted for this.
Another strange case of injustice in the distribution of honors by the government on this occasion was that of midshipman, afterwards Rear Admiral, James H. Sands. As they were charging across the sandy space between the fort and the beach, which was being swept by the guns of the fort, Evans was shot down. Sands stopped long enough to drag his classmate behind a small sand dune, where there was some scant protection from the blast of missiles, and then he rushed on to rejoin his command, and no man, unless it was Davis, got nearer to the enemy's guns than he did. When the retreat was ordered, it instantly developed into a case of "sauve qui peut" in the wild race down the hill and to the boats. But Sands, brave boy that he was, had no idea of leaving his maimed companion to the tender mercies of the foe, so he stopped in that death storm and helped Evans to the waiting boat. Although two separate boards of admirals recommended his promotion afterwards, it was never given him. Evans, Coffin, Harris, and McGregor, who were wounded, were all promoted.
Glass, who graduated "No. 1" of the class, served with distinction at Charleston in the blockading fleet which made so many attacks on Fort Sumter. And Henderson was with Admiral Farragut's fleet in the west gulf blockading squadron. He afterwards resigned and became a professor of mathematics at Annapolis.
Pegram served in the blockading fleet off Charleston, and William Bainbridge Hoff in the east gulf blockading squadron.
Coghlan, A. D. Brown, Crowninshield, Kellogg, Ludlow, Leary, Yates Stirling, and H. C. Taylor, were aboard the cruisers scouring the seas for the Alabama, Florida, and Georgia, of the Confederate Navy, which were working havoc amongst the American merchantmen. Ludlow was aboard the U. S. Sloop-of-war Wachusett when, in the neutral port of Bahia, that vessel rammed and carried by boarding the C. S. Cruiser Florida. Prince Pierre d'Orleans, a grandson of King Louis Philippe of France, was also a member of the class, but of course took no part in the war.
During the short war with Spain in 1898 the "Brood of the Constitution" was again very much in evidence. Sigsbee commanded the unfortunate battleship Maine when she was destroyed in the harbor of Havana. This disaster precipitated the war.
When Admiral Dewey won his great victory at Manila, three of his largest fighting ships were commanded by members of the "brood." Gridley commanded his flagship, the Olympia. Coghlan, commanded the Raleigh, and Frank Wildes was captain of the Boston.
When Admiral Sampson's fleet made scrap iron out of the magnificent ironclads of Cervera's squadron off Santiago, Cook commanded the Brooklyn, Commodore Schley's flagship. Clark commanded the famous Oregon. Robley D. Evans (the popular "Fighting Bob") commanded the Iowa, and Taylor was captain of the Indiana, the three last named vessels being battleships. Colby M. Chester commanded a small squadron which made possible the occupation of Porto Rico by our army. Glass, the man who graduated No. i of the class, commanded the cruiser Charleston. He had a most amusing experience when he captured the Island of Guam in the Pacific. He ran boldly into the harbor and opened fire on the ancient" Moro" fort which was supposed to defend the place. While his guns were banging, the polite Spanish governor under the impression that Glass was paying him the compliment of a national salute, went on board the Charleston and apologized for his inability to return the attention as he had no powder. It was then that he learned for the first time that there was a war going on between Spain and the United States.
"Dick" Leary, of the brood, commanding the cruiser San Francisco, fired the last hostile gun of the war in reply to a shot from the Moro Castle, at Havana, which struck his vessel.
Rear Admiral Crowninshield, of the class, was Chief of the Bureau of Navigation, the most important position in the Navy Department, throughout that war.
Most of the naval archives of the late southern confederacy having been burned in the great conflagration when Richmond was captured, it is impossible to give the complete records of those of the "Brood of the Constitution," who followed the fortunes of the furled banner.
The careers of Goodwyn and Gardner, of Virginia, were very interesting. These two young officers were devoted friends and managed to serve together throughout the war. Their first opportunity to distinguish themselves came when they were detailed to accompany the boat cutting out expedition of Lieutenant John Taylor Wood on the Rappahannock River which boarded and captured the U. S. gunboats Reliance and Satellite. For their gallantry on this occasion they were both promoted at one jump to lieutenancies.
They served in the naval batteries on James River, and in the Tallahassee, a blockade runner which was converted into a cruiser. She ran through the blockade at Wilmington, and destroyed several vessels, returning through the blockade after a visit to Halifax, in which port she was also blockaded by a U. S. man-of-war. They were also on the Fredericksburg, an ironclad, which participated in the unsuccessful demonstration against General Grant's headquarters at City Point. Both Gardner and Goodwyn died while still young men.
Berrien served on the C. S. gunboats at Savannah, Ga., and at Richmond. He was also in the blockade runner Chickamauga which had been converted into a cruiser and ran the blockade out of Wilmington. She destroyed one or two vessels, and went only as far as Bermuda. She returned through the blockade only in time to have her guns landed to tike part in the defence of Fort Fisher when that stronghold was attacked by Admiral Porter's fleet. Berrien commanded one of the guns which had every man at it, with the exception of himself, killed or wounded.
O. A. Brown, of Virginia, was on the C. S. S. Patrick Henry in the fight in Hampton Roads when the Merrimac destroyed the U. S. frigates Congress and Cumberland. He afterwards ran the blockade and joined the C. S. Cruiser Shenandoah which vessel played havoc with the whaling fleet in Behring Sea, and kept the Confederate flag flying for months after Lee's surrender, in ignorance of the fact that the Confederacy had ceased to exist.
Bryan, of South Carolina, was in the C. C. Florida when that vessel, with only some 20 men, all told, aboard her, and most of them down with the yellow fever (Bryan and one other, being the only officers who were not suffering from the plague), ran into Mobile Bay in broad daylight, taking the broadsides of the three federal men-of-war guarding the port, as she passed. The Florida was much cut up and one of her men was killed and several were wounded. Bryan was not 16 years of age when this happened. When the Florida was repaired she again ran through the blockade and did much damage to commerce, finally being captured by the U. S. Sloop-of-war Wachusett in the neutral harbor of Bahia, Brazil. Bryan was imprisoned in Fort Warren, Boston harbor.
Baron Carter, of Georgia, served at Richmond and Savannah. He died while still young.
Carroll, of Maryland, was on the Patrick Henry during the great battle of Hampton Roads. When the ironclads, Galena, Monitor, and Naugatuck attacked Drury's Bluff, below Richmond, in May, 1862, he was cut in two and killed by a shell from the ironclads.
McClintoc, of Alabama, ran the blockade in the C. S. S. Nashville which vessel was blockaded in the port of Southampton, England by U. S. men-of-war. The Nashville succeeded in eluding them and returned to the Confederacy, running the blockade and arriving safely at New Berne, N. C., after a most exciting chase. The Nashville destroyed two merchant vessels during her short cruise.
McClintoc shortly after this severed his connection with the Confederate Navy, enlisted as a private in the army, and was killed.
Mayo, of Virginia, served at Norfolk, Va., and on the gunboat Yadkin, also on board the C. S. S. Chattahoochie on the river of that name, and for some time he was attached to the Wilmington station.
James C. Long, of Alabama, was a midshipman on board the Merrimac in the famous fights in Hampton Roads. He was also on board the Albemarle in her fight with a squadron of gunboats in Albemarle sound. He was attached to that vessel when the dashing Cushing sunk her with a torpedo. He also served in the gunboats stationed at Savannah and afterwards in the C. S. Ironclad Richmond on the James River.
Garrett, of Alabama, served at New Orleans and on the gunboat Morgan at Mobile.
William Drayton Goode, was from the District of Columbia, and was attached to the Resolute and Savannah on the Savannah River the Patrick Henry and the ironclad Fredericksburg, on the James River, and was in the gunboat Gaines at Mobile.
Cassius Meyer, of Louisiana, served in the campaigns on the Mississippi River and on the gunboats Beaufort and Patrick Henry and the ironclad Fredericksburg at Richmond.
Sevier, of Tennessee, served on the Patrick Henry at Richmond, the ironclad Palmetto State at Charleston, and the cruiser Chickamauga.
William W. Wilkinson, of South Carolina, served at Savannah and at the naval battery at Drury's Bluff below Richmond. He ran the blockade and joined the powerful ironclad ram Stonewall which escaped from England. The Stonewall was blockaded for a time in a Spanish port by the U. S. S. Niagara and Sacramento, but managed to elude them and reached Havana, Cuba, to find that the war was over.
James A. Peters, of Tennessee, was at the battle of Roanoke Island and was captured, paroled and exchanged. He was on the C. S. Ironclad Atlanta in the fight with the U. S. Ironclad Weehawken, was again captured. He also served on the ironclads in James River, and was with "Semmes" Naval Brigade at the surrender. Peters was of a naturally melancholy disposition, and when his father killed General Earl Van Dorn, he brooded constantly over his troubles until he ended them by committing suicide.
Raphael J. Moses, of Georgia, served in the gunboats at Savannah. He ran the blockade to join a cruiser, which, however never materialized.
Gale W. Sparks, of Louisiana, served on the Mississippi defences in 1862-63. Was on the ironclads at Charleston, 1863-64, and in the squadron of Admiral Buchanan at the battle of Mobile Bay.
A. O. Wright, of Alabama, was in the Savannah squadron in 1862-63. On the Patrick Henry at Richmond 1864. When the U. S. fleet attacked Fort Fisher he commanded one of the guns in the defences of that place and behaved with conspicuous gallantry.
Henry L. Vaughan, of Louisiana, served on the Mississippi defences in 1862-63. He served in the Savannah squadron in 1863-64. He was on board of the C. S. Chattahoochie in the river of that name in 1864. He was given the command of the federal gunboat Waterwitch which had been captured by boarding in 1864.
James Morris Morgan, of Louisiana, served in the McRae in 1861-62, was aide to Commodore Hollins, Commander-in-Chief of the Confederate naval forces on the Mississippi River. Was in the attack on the federal fleet at the" Head of the Passes," October 12, 1861, and in the - campaign of "Island No. 10" and New Madrid, Mo. was attached to the naval battery at Drury's Bluff on the James River when the U. S. ironclads, Galena, Monitor, and Naugatuck attacked that place in May, 1862. Attached to gunboat Beaufort on James River, 1862. Attached to ironclad Chicora at Charleston, 1862. As aide to Commodore Mathew F. Maury, ran the blockade out of Charleston and joined the Confederate cruiser Georgia off Ushant Island on the coast of France. In 1864 ran the blockade into. Wilmington in the Lillian, in daylight, under a heavy fire from the fleet. Was on the Patrick Henry at Richmond, 1864, and was stationed at the naval battery "Semmes" on James River, 1864-65. Was present at the unsuccessful assault on Fort Harrison in front of Richmond, 1865. When Richmond fell he accompanied Mrs. Jefferson Davis south.
Some of the "brood," such as Cassel, Sands, and Mullan of the United States Navy behaved with great gallantry in the fights at Chemulpo, Korea, and in the Island of Formosa. Rear Admirals Cooper and Sands became, in turn, superintendents of the U. S. Naval Academy. Rear Admirals Crowninshield and Taylor served as chiefs of the Bureau of Navigation. Rear Admiral Chester became superintendent of the U. S. Naval Observatory, and Rear Admiral Evans was at one time Secretary of the Light House Board.
Of those who left the United States Navy after the Civil War, A. D. Brown became president of a great university. Ernest Dichman became U. S. Minister to Colombia, and Maclay became a successful civil engineer. John Pegram and Pearson became very prominent citizens in Rhode Island.
Of the southerners who were thrown out of the naval profession by the result of the Civil War, Bryan, Phelps, and A. 0. Wright studied law and in time became judges. Bryan and Mayo became mayors of their native cities, Charleston and Norfolk. Wilkinson became a successful business man in Charleston, and Long was a prominent civil engineer in Chicago. Cassius Meyer prospered in New Orleans and died a millionaire. Yancey did not enter the Confederate Navy, but behaved himself with conspicuous gallantry in the army. He was the son of that William L. Yancey whose fiery oratory did more to bring on the war than, probably, that of any other man in the south.
Morgan, carrying letters of recommendation from Mr. Jefferson Davis, and General Robert E. Lee in 1869, entered the Egyptian Army as a captain of artillery, and served on the staffs of the Khedive, and Ratib Pasha, commander-in-chief, as a Lieut. Colonel. He also served on the staff of the late General W. W. Loring (Loring Pasha), formerly of the United States and Confederate armies. In 1885, Morgan was appointed U. S. Consul General to Australia. He was for many years an assistant manager of the International Banking Corporation.
Such is the scant record of the class which entered Annapolis in 1860, and imperfect as it is, it is doubtful if any other class that ever entered the Naval Academy has one better than that of the "Brood of the Constitution."