As Confederate troops continued their search, an exhausted Cushing eventually reached shore. He later said he was so fatigued that he was “unable even to crawl on hands and knees, nearly frozen, with my brain in a whirl.” But as tired as he was, he was firmly resolved to effect his escape. He fell asleep on the muddy bank. When he awoke, he discovered that he had lost his bearings during the night and his “refuge” was a section of swamp on the Plymouth side of the river bank and near the town’s outskirts. Cushing retreated into the swamp. That afternoon he discovered a flat-bottomed, square-ended skiff tied to a cypress root and carelessly left unguarded by lunching Confederate pickets that were using it for patrol. Cushing later said, “I quietly cast loose the boat and floated behind it some 30 yards around the first bend, where I got in and paddled away as only a man could whose liberty was at stake.”

Aided by the current, Cushing made his way down the Roanoke and into Albemarle Sound. By that time night had fallen. Using stars to guide him, he paddled to where he thought the Union blockade fleet was anchored. Finally, he saw the silhouette of a ship and hailed it. It was the gunboat Valley City. When the now thoroughly exhausted and barely conscious Cushing was brought aboard, the astonished captain of the gunboat, Acting Master J.A.J. Brooks, gasped, “My God, Cushing, is that you?” Cushing smiled and weakly acknowledged that it was.

“Is it done?”

“It is done.”

Within the hour, Cushing was heading to the flagship of Cmdr. W. H. Macomb, blockade squadron commander. When news of Cushing’s return and success reached other ships in the fleet, Cushing later said, “[R]ockets were thrown up and all hands were called to cheer ship.”

On Oct. 30, the Valley City transported Cushing to Hampton Roads so he could deliver a personal report to Porter. Earlier, Porter had received the news and transmitted it to Washington, where newspapers trumpeted the action with banner headlines.  On Nov. 9, Navy Secretary Wells wrote Cushing a long letter of praise that said in part, “The department has presented your name to the president for a vote of thanks, that you may be promoted one grade, and your comrades also receive recognition.” Additionally, in December, Cushing received the Thanks of Congress, which at the time was more esteemed than the Medal of Honor. Additional honors poured in from across the nation. “Albemarle Cushing,” as he was now known, made speeches and, in every town he visited, gala events were held in his honor. Cushing was promoted two grades to lieutenant commander, as of Oct. 27, 1864, the date of his attack on the Albemarle. He was the youngest of that rank in the Navy. When Plymouth was recaptured, the Albemarle was refloated and sold as a prize of war. In keeping with the custom of the period, Cushing was awarded a portion of the prize money. His share ultimately reached $56,000.

When the Civil War ended in 1865, the Navy Department would render Cushing its thanks five times. Of all the naval officers, Cushing would be second only to Rear Adm. David Glasgow Farragut, best known for the capture of New Orleans, in fame and acclaim. Even Rear Adm. David Porter acknowledged that Cushing “would undertake the most desperate adventures, where it seemed impossible for him to escape death or capture, yet he always managed to get off with credit to himself and loss to the enemy.”

The man who much later would be called “Lincoln’s commando” died at the young age of 32 on Dec. 17, 1874. He was buried in the U.S. Naval Academy cemetery, the school from which he had been ejected 13 years earlier. His obituary in The New York Times said that, “All through the war [he] distinguished himself by signal acts of perilous adventure. He combined coolness and sound judgment with a courage unsurpassed, and on all occasions proved himself a valuable officer.”

This article was first published in The Year in Special Operations: 2005 Edition.