Unfortunately for Captain Staples of Alina (named for his daughter), Waddell followed Semmes’ example. In this case, the cargo owner had not sworn before a magistrate that the iron was his property and that he was an Englishman; there was no seal and notary signature to that effect. The lack of this legal detail sealed the fate of the vessel. Waddell officially condemned her as a prize of the Confederate States of America. Upon hearing this, recorded Lieutenant Chew, the Yankee’s lips trembled. He remained silent for a time, then said, “[Captain], if you burn my ship you will make me a beggar. I have been going to sea for twenty three years. All my profits of these years of toil and danger are invested in that vessel.” Waddell replied, “It is a sad duty, but it is one I owe my government and my people. Think of the property destroyed, the orphans and widows made by the Yankee army.” With this, the hearing ended; the captain rose from the table and all followed.
Alina crewmen gathered personal property and were rowed over to Shenandoah. Lining boarded the prize: “Such a scene of indiscriminate plundering commenced as I never saw before or expect to again.” Grimball noted that she was brand new, in good order, and of good quality, “the prettiest barque I ever saw.” Everything that possibly could be of use was seized and put into boats. Waddell admitted that there were no people who understood the equipment of vessels so well as Yankee shipwrights. They carried off a variety of blocks, including ones suitable for the gun tackles, along with line and cotton canvas for sailmaking. Cabin doors were taken down, drawers from under bunks taken out, and furniture removed. Officers fitted themselves out with basins, pitchers, mess crockery, knives, and forks. Waddell obtained a spring-bottomed mattress. Chronometers and sextants were seized. The doctor recovered a store of canned meats for the wardroom as well as flour, bread, and other items.
They had not been working long when another vessel was sighted, possibly a Union warship, coming down from windward, “in which case the joke would be turned against us,” wrote Chew, now in charge on board the prize. Or maybe it was another Yankee merchantman. The captain wished to be ready in either case—chase or run. Chew received instructions to send over only valuable articles and to sink Alina immediately. The carpenter knocked a hole below the waterline and bored holes in the bottom with an auger. Boats scuttled back and were hoisted on board. Shenandoah steamed off, all attention focused on the strange sail.
The newcomer turned out to be a neutral vessel, so they turned back and saw Alina settling in the water. Mason stood on the poop watching, an entirely new spectacle for him. She was a beautiful little thing, he wrote, as neat as a pin. Yards were square, all sails set and sheeted home including royals and flying jib. At every pitch the doomed vessel seemed not to rise as much as before. At about 5 p.m., the sea reached deck level and swept over the stern. She pitched heavily once more and then reared up like a warhorse; thrust her bowsprit to the heavens; and, accompanied by a crescendo of cracking and tearing of rigging and sails, snapping lines, crashing masts, and tumbling and rumbling cargo, slipped straight out of sight, swallowed in an instant by the sea. As the bow went under, an enormous jet of water erupted into the air followed for some time by loose gear—hatch covers, blocks, spars, and flotsam—bursting the surface to splash among a boiling mass of wreckage.
“It was a grand and peculiar sight,” recorded Chew. “I was saddened at the thought of being in duty bound to such work. I felt very sorry for them even after thinking of the hellish work of the Yankees at home, of the tears they have wrung from once happy, beaming eyes. No, none of us took pleasure in it. None but fiends could.” Whittle described it as grand and awful: “You might go to sea for many a day and would not see a vessel sink. . . . She was in this position [like] a man going down for the first time and struggling to prevent it.” Lining wrote, “It was a beautiful, yet to me a melancholy sight, to see her go down, even though she was an enemy’s property. It is our duty to do it, & stern necessity alone makes it right.”
Alina’s captain watched to the last. The doctor could not help feeling sorry for him although he regretted it later: “[Captain Staples] was a black hearted rascal & will do us all the injury in his power. He showed a mean spirit during all his stay on board, for he was a real down-east Yankee.”
A sailor learns to love a ship as something almost animate, recalled Master’s Mate Cornelius E. Hunt: “To see one deserted in mid-ocean by her guardians and slowly settling in the unfathomable waters is like standing beside a deathbed to watch a soul sinking into the ocean of eternity. But I was fated to have a large experience in this direction ere the Shenandoah and I finally parted company.”11
The manner of destroying a vessel depended on her cargo, wrote Waddell; if it were heavily freighted like Alina, it would be better to scuttle. She would sink rapidly and disappear as a whole, leaving a few pieces of deck and bulkheads floating over the great abyss. More frequently it would be necessary to burn the ship, which was better than abandoning it disabled and a danger to navigation. But fire leaves a small portion of the keel and floor timbers afloat as a hazard; red glare in the sky could alarm Yankees within thirty miles; and a warship might be attracted or prospective prizes frightened off.
Under more favorable circumstances, captured ships could be sailed to a home or neutral port for adjudication by admiralty court. Each vessel would be formally condemned and sold with proceeds distributed to captain, officers, and crew. A ship could even be repurchased by original owners. However, Union blockaders restricted access to Southern harbors and neutral ones were closed to them. This was another of the Confederacy’s grievances with the British, who, concerned about appearing neutral, had prohibited both belligerents from bringing prizes to any port under their jurisdiction—a policy that in practice favored the North. When other nations followed suit, Confederates had no recourse but to sink or burn, concluding that Yankee howls about brutal rebel cruiser captains causing such maritime destruction should have been directed at the British government.
Chew evaluated the bill of lading and valued the ship and cargo at $95,000. The estimate was recorded in the ship’s log for the navy department to use in distributing prize money at the end of the war. “A long look ahead I must confess, yet we all hope to receive someday a reward for our present work.” For his part, Whittle considered it a good day’s effort notwithstanding the demoralizing nature of the work: “God grant that we may have many just such prizes.” He gave the order to splice the main brace, serving out an extra ration of grog.
Whittle did not care for Captain Staples either: “Oh how I do hate the whole [Yankee] race—and still, I can’t help from treating him kindly.” Without conscious irony and true to their heritage, these Southerners expected of their captives the same gentlemanly respect, courtesy, and calm resignation to the fortunes of war that they would expect of themselves. A few prisoners would earn respect for genteel behavior, but the Southerners’ scorn for most of them was hidden under a veil of hospitality, which probably helped them feel better about visiting destruction on helpless merchant vessels.12
Alina’s Captain Staples and two mates, paroled and promising not to interfere with operations, remained free of restraint. Lieutenant Chew penned a portrait of Staples as “a splendid specimen of the ‘down easter.’”; he was “cute and unprincipled.” When speaking, he would look at you, grin, squint one of his eyes, and then everything he says, he “calculates” or “guesses.” The vessel was built, Staples told Chew, after his own “idey.” But he was a good seaman, and Alina was a splendid specimen of naval architecture. Nine crewmembers, “all strong, fine looking fellows” according to Chew, were confined in irons. One volunteered to enlist and was directed to encourage the rest to do likewise. After a few days’ confinement, all joined except one Yankee; they did not want him anyway. Midshipman Mason noted with