comes over the water, the sailors make no reply, but bend to the oars,
and the boats fairly leap toward the wharf. Bang! goes the sentry's
rifle; and the men in the hold of the schooner come rushing up just as
the two boats dash against her side, and the sailors spring like cats
over the bulwarks. One man was found guarding the guns on the wharf,
and was shot down. Little time is needed to spike the guns, and then
those on the wharf turn in to help their comrades on the schooner.
Here the fighting is sharp and hand to hand. Nearly a hundred men are
crowded on the deck, and deal pistol-shots and cutlass-blows right and
left. Several of the crew of the schooner have climbed into the tops,
and from that point of vantage pour down on the attacking party a
murderous fire. Horrid yells go up from the enraged combatants, and
the roar of the musketry is deafening. The crew of the schooner are
forced backward, step by step, until at last they are driven off the
vessel altogether, and stand on the wharf delivering a rapid fire. The
men from the navy-yard are beginning to pour down to the wharf to take
a hand in the fight. But now a column of smoke begins to arise from
the open companionway; and the blue-jackets see that their work is
done, and tumble over the side into their boats. It is high time for
them to leave, for the Confederates are on the wharf in overwhelming
force. As they stand there, crowded together, the retiring sailors
open on them with canister from two howitzers in the boats. Six
rounds of this sort of firing sends the Confederates looking for
shelter; and the sailors pull off through the darkness to their ship,
there to watch the burning vessel, until, with a sudden burst of
flame, she is blown to pieces.

Considering the dashing nature of this exploit, the loss of life was
wonderfully small. Lieut. Blake, who commanded one of the boats, was
saved by one of those strange accidents so common in war. As he was
going over the side of the "Colorado," some one handed him a metal
flask filled with brandy, to be used for the wounded. He dropped it
into the lower pocket of his overcoat, but, finding it uncomfortable
there, changed it to the side pocket of his coat, immediately over his
heart. When the boats touched the side of the schooner, Blake was one
of the first to spring into the chains and clamber aboard. Just as he
was springing over the gunwale, a Confederate sailor pointed a pistol
at his heart, and fired it just as Blake cut him down with a savage
cutlass-stroke. The bullet sped true to its mark, but struck the
flask, and had just enough force to perforate it, without doing any
injury to the lieutenant.

The first death in the fight was a sad one. A marine, the first man to
board the schooner, lost his distinguishing white cap in his leap. His
comrades followed fast behind him, and, seeing that he wore no cap,
took him for one of the enemy, and plunged their bayonets deep in his
breast, killing him instantly. He was known to his comrades as John
Smith, but on searching his bag letters were found proving that this
was not his own name. One from his mother begged him to return home,
and give up his roving life. He proved to be a well-educated young
man, who through fear of some disgrace had enlisted in the marines to
hide himself from the world.

[Illustration: Capture of the "Harriet Lane."]

Another dashing event occurred on the Gulf Coast some months later,
although in this instance the Confederates were the assailants and the
victors. Galveston had for some time been in the hands of the Union
forces, and was occupied by three regiments of United States troops.
In the harbor lay three men-of-war, whose cannon kept the town in
subjection. It had been rumored for some time that the Confederates
were planning to recapture the city, and accordingly the most vigilant
lookout was kept from all the ships. On the 1st of January, 1863, at
half-past one A.M., as the lookout on the "Harriet Lane" was thinking
of the new year just ushered in, and wondering whether before the
end of that year he could see again his cosey Northern home and wife
and friends, he saw far up the river a cloud of black smoke, that rose
high in the air, and blotted from sight the shining winter stars. He
rubbed his eyes, and looked again. There was no mistake: the smoke was
there, and rapidly moving toward him. Clearly it was a steamer coming
down the river; but whether an armed enemy or a blockade-runner, he
could not say. He gave the alarm; and in a moment the roll of the
drums made the sailors below spring from their hammocks, and, hastily
throwing on their clothes, rush on deck. The drums beat to quarters,
and the crew were soon at their guns. Over the water came the roll of
the drums from the other ships, and from the troops on shore, now all
aroused and in arms. For thirty hours the Federals had been expecting
this attack, and now they were fully prepared for it.

The attacking vessels came nearer, and the men on the Union ships
strained their eyes to see by the faint starlight what manner of craft
they had to meet. They proved to be two large river-steamships, piled
high with cotton-bales, crowded with armed men, and provided with a
few field pieces. Clearly they were only dangerous at close quarters,
and the "Lane" at once began a rapid fire to beat them back. But the
bad light spoiled her gunners' aim, and she determined to rush upon
the enemy, and run him down. The Confederate captain managed his helm
skilfully, and the "Lane" struck only a glancing blow. Then, in her
turn, the "Lane" was rammed by the Confederate steamer, which plunged
into her with a crash and a shock which seemed almost to lift the
ships out of water. The two vessels drifted apart, the "Lane" hardly
injured, but the Confederate with a gaping wound in his bow which sent
him to the bottom in fifteen minutes. But now the other Confederate
came bearing down under a full head of steam, and crashed into the
"Lane." Evidently the Confederates wanted to fight in the old style;
for they threw out grappling-irons, lashed the two ships side to side,
and began pouring on to the deck of the Federal ship for a
hand-to-hand conflict. Cries of anger and pain, pistol-shots, cutlass
blows, and occasional roars from the howitzers rose on the night air,
and were answered by the sounds of battle from the shore, where the
Confederates had attacked the slender Union garrison. The sinking
steamer took up a position near the "Lane," and poured broadside after
broadside upon the struggling Union ship. But where were the other
three Union vessels all this time? It seemed as though their
commanders had lost all their coolness; for they ran their vessels
here and there, now trying to do something to help their friends on
shore, now making an ineffectual attempt to aid the "Harriet Lane."
But on board that vessel matters were going badly for the Federals.
The Confederates in great numbers kept pouring over the bulwarks, and
were rapidly driving the crew from the deck. Capt. Wainwright lay dead
at the door of the cabin. Across his body stood his young son, his
eyes blazing, his hair waving in the wind. He held in his right hand a
huge revolver, which he was firing without aim into the tossing mass
of struggling men before him, while he called on his dead father to
rise and help him. A stray bullet cut off two of his fingers, and the
pain was too much for the little hero only ten years old; and,
dropping the pistol, he burst into tears, crying, "Do you want to kill
me?" The blue-jackets began to look anxiously for help toward the
other vessels. But, even while they looked, they saw all hope of help
cut off; for with a crash and a burst of flame the "Westfield" blew
up. It turned out later, that, finding his ship aground, the captain
of the "Westfield" had determined to abandon her, and fire the
magazine; but in fixing his train he made a fatal error, and the ship
blew up, hurling captain and crew into the air. The men on the
"Harriet Lane" saw that all hope was gone, and surrendered their ship.
When the captains of the two remaining gunboats saw the stars and
stripes fall from the peak, they turned their vessels' prows toward
the sea, and scudded out of danger of capture. At the same moment,
cheers from the gray-coats on shore told that the Confederates had
been successful both by land and sea, and the stars and bars once more
floated over Galveston.

CHAPTER XIII.

     THE CAPTURE OF NEW ORLEANS. -- FARRAGUT'S FLEET PASSES FORT ST.
     PHILIP AND FORT JACKSON.

While Commodore Foote, with his flotilla of gunboats and mortar-boats,
was working his way down the Mississippi River, making occasional
dashes into the broad streams that flow from either side into the
father of waters, Admiral Farragut, with his fleet of tall-sparred,
ocean-going men-of-war, was laying his plans for an expedition
up-stream. But Farragut's first obstacle lay very near the mouth of
the broad, tawny river that flows for a thousand miles through the
centre of the United States. New Orleans, the greatest city of the
Confederacy, stands on the river's bank, only ninety miles from the
blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico. The Confederate authorities knew
the value of this great city to their cause, and were careful not to
let it go unprotected. Long before any thought of civil war disturbed
the minds of the people of the United States, the Federal Government
had built below the Crescent City two forts, that peered at each other
across the swift, turbid tide of the Mississippi River. Fort St.
Philip and Fort Jackson they were called, the latter being named in
honor of the stubborn old military hero who beat back the British
soldiers at the close of the war of 1812 on the glorious field of
Chalmette near New Orleans. Fort Jackson was a huge star of stone and
mortar. In its massive walls were great cavernous bomb-proofs in which
the soldiers were secure from bursting shells. It stood back about a
hundred yards from the levee, and its casemates just rose above the
huge dike that keeps the Mississippi in its proper channel. When the
river was high from the spring floods of the north, a steamer floating
on its swift tide towered high above the bastions of the fort. In the
casemates and on the parapets were mounted seventy-five guns of all
calibres. By its peculiar shape and situation on a jutting point of
land, the fort was able to bring its guns to bear upon the river in
three directions.

When the storm of civil war burst upon the country, the Confederates
of New Orleans were prompt to seize this and Fort St. Philip, that
stood on the other side of the river. They found Fort Jackson in the
state of general decay into which most army posts fall in times of
peace, and they set at work at once to strengthen it. All over the
parapet, bomb-proofs, and weak points, bags of sand were piled five or
six feet deep, making the strongest defence known in war. Steamers
plied up and down the river, bringing provision, ammunition, and new
cannon, and soon the fort was ready to stand the most determined
siege. Fort St. Philip, across the river, though not so imposing a
military work, was more powerful. It was built of masonry, and heavily
sodded over all points exposed to fire. It was more irregular in shape
than Fort Jackson, and with its guns seemed to command every point on
the river. Both were amply protected from storming by wide, deep moats
always filled with water.

In these two forts were stationed troops made up of the finest young
men of New Orleans. For them it was a gay station. Far removed from
the fighting on the frontier, and within an easy journey of their
homes, they frolicked away the first year of the war. Every week gay
parties of pleasure-seekers from New Orleans would come down; and the
proud defenders would take their friends to the frowning bastions, and
point out how easily they could blow the enemy's fleet out of water if
the ships ever came within range of those heavy guns. But the ships
did not come within range of the guns for many months. They contented
themselves with lying at the Head of the Passes, and stopping all
intercourse with the outer world, until New Orleans began to get
shabby and ragged and hungry, and the pleasure-parties came less often
to the forts, and the gay young soldiers saw their uniforms getting
old and tattered, but knew not where to get the cloth to replace them.

[Illustration: Levee at New Orleans before the War.]

In the city no rumble of commerce was heard on the streets. Grass grew
on the deserted levee, where in times of peace the brown and white
cotton-bales were piled by the thousand, waiting for strong black
hands to seize and swing them upon the decks of the trim Liverpool
packets, that lay three or four deep along the river front. The huge
gray custom-house that stood at the foot of Canal Street no longer
resounded with the rapid tread of sea-captains or busy merchants. From
the pipes of the cotton-presses, the rush of the escaping steam, as
the ruthless press squeezed the great bale into one-third its original
size, was no longer heard. Most of the great towering steamboats that
came rushing down the river with stores of cotton or sugar had long
since been cut down into squat, powerful gunboats, or were tied up
idly to the bank. Across the river, in the shipyards of Algiers, there
seemed a little more life; for there workmen were busy changing
peaceful merchant vessels into gunboats and rams, that were, the
people fondly hoped, to drive away the men-of-war at the river's mouth
and save the city from starvation. From time to time the streets of
the city resounded with the notes of drum and fife, as one after the
other the militia companies went off to the front and the fighting.
Then the time came when none were left save the "Confederate Guards,"
old gray-haired men, judges, bankers, merchants, gentlemen of every
degree, too old for active service at the front, but too young not to
burn for the grasp of a gun or sword while they knew that their sons
and grandsons were fighting on the bloodstained soil of Virginia and
Tennessee.

But, while the city was gradually falling into desolation and decay,
preparations were being made by the Federal navy for its capture. On
the 2d of February, 1862, Admiral Farragut sailed from Hampton Roads
in his stanch frigate the "Hartford," to take command of a naval
expedition intended to capture New Orleans. The place of rendezvous
was Ship Island, a sandy island in the Gulf of Mexico. Here he
organized his squadron, and started for his post in the Mississippi,
below the forts. The first obstacle was found at the mouth of the
river, where the heavy war-vessels were unable to make their way over
the bar. Nearly two weeks were occupied in the work of lightening
these ships until they were able to pass. The frigate "Colorado" was
unable to get over at all. The "Pensacola" was dragged through the mud
by the sheer strength of other vessels of the expedition. While they
were tugging at her, a huge hawser snapped with a report like a
cannon, and the flying ends killed two men and seriously wounded five
others. But at last the fleet was safely past all obstacles, and
Admiral Farragut found himself well established in the lower
Mississippi, with a force of twenty-five men-of-war, and twenty
mortar-schooners; one of the most powerful armadas ever despatched
against an enemy. Farragut lost no time in getting his ships prepared
for the baptism of fire which was sure to come. While he was
diligently at work on his preparations, he was visited by some French
and English naval officers, who had carefully examined the defences of
the Confederates, and came to warn him that to attack the forts with
wooden vessels, such as made up his fleet, was sheer madness, and
would only result in defeat. "You may be right," answered the brave
old sailor, "but I was sent here to make the attempt. I came here to
reduce or pass the forts, and to take New Orleans, _and I shall try it
on_." The foreigners remarked that he was going to certain
destruction, and politely withdrew.

In the mean time, the tars on the mortar-fleet were working
industriously to get their ships in fighting-trim. The topmasts were
stripped of their sails, and lowered; the loose and standing rigging
strapped to the masts; the spars, forebooms, and gaffs unshipped, and
secured to the outside of the vessels to avert the danger from
splinters, which, in naval actions, is often greater than from the
shots themselves. From the main-deck every thing was removed that
could obstruct the easy handling of the tremendous mortars; and the
men were drilled to skill and alertness in firing the huge engines of
death. The work was hastened on the mortar-schooners, because the plan
was to rush them into position, and let them harass the Confederates
with a steady bombardment, while the ships-of-war were preparing for
their part in the coming fight.

The mortar-fleet was under command of Admiral Porter, an able and
energetic officer. He soon had his ships ready, and began moving them
into position along the banks of the river, out of sight of the forts.
To further conceal them from the gunners in the forts, he had the
masts and rigging wrapped with green foliage; so that, lying against
the dense thickets of willows that skirt that part of the river, they
were invisible. Other boats that were in more exposed positions had
their hulls covered with grass and reeds, so that they seemed a part
of the swamp that bordered the river. After the line of fire had been
obtained by a careful mathematical survey, Porter got all his
mortar-boats into position, and began his bombardment. The gunners on
the mortar-boats could not see the forts; but the range had been
calculated for them, and they merely fired mechanically. A lookout,
perched on the masthead, could see over the low willow-forest, and
watch the course of the shells as they rushed high into the air, and
then, falling with a graceful curve, plunged into the forts. The
firing was begun on the 16th of April, and was kept up with a will.
The twenty huge mortars keeping up a constant fire, made a deafening
roar that shook the earth, and could be heard far up the river at New
Orleans, where the people poured out into the streets, and gayly
predicted defeat for any enemy who should attack "the boys in the
forts." The forts were not slow in returning the fire; but as the
mortar-vessels were hidden, and did not offer very large marks, their
fire was rather ineffective. Parties of Confederates, old
swamp-hunters, and skilled riflemen, stole down through the dense
thickets, to pick off the crews of the mortar-schooners. They managed
to kill a few gunners in this way, but were soon driven away by the
point-blank fire of the supporting gunboats. But all this time the
shells were falling thick and fast, driving the soldiers to the
bomb-proofs, and tearing to pieces every thing unprotected. One shell
set fire to some wooden structures that stood on the parade-ground in
Fort Jackson; and, as the smoke and flames rose in the air, the
gunners down the river thought that the fort was burning, and cheered
and fired with renewed vigor. The shells that burst upon the levee
soon cut great trenches in it, so that the mighty Mississippi broke
through with a rush, and flooded the country all about. But the forts
seemed as strong and unconquered as ever.

While the soldiers were crowded together in the bomb-proofs to escape
the flying bits of shell, the sailors on the little fleet of
Confederate vessels anchored above them were busily engaged in getting
ready a fire-raft which was to float down the river, and make havoc
among the vessels of the Union fleet. Two such rafts were prepared;
one of which, an immense affair, carrying cords of blazing pine-wood,
was sent down in the early morning at a time when the vessels were
utterly unprepared to defend themselves. Luckily it grounded on a
sandbar, and burned and crackled away harmlessly until it was
consumed. This warned Commander Porter of the danger in which his
mortar-vessels were of a second attack of the same nature; and
accordingly he put in readiness one hundred and fifty small boats
with picked crews, and well supplied with axes and grapnels, whose
duty it was to grapple any future rafts, and tow them into a harmless
position. They did not have long to wait. At sundown that night,
Commander Porter reviewed his little squadron of row-boats as they lay
drawn up in line along the low marshy shores of the mighty river. The
sun sank a glowing red ball beneath the line at which the blue waters
of the gulf and the blue arch of heaven seemed to meet. The long
southern twilight gradually deepened into a black, moonless night. The
cries of frogs and seabirds, and the little flashes of the fireflies,
were silenced and blotted out by the incessant roar and flash of the
tremendous mortars that kept up their deadly work. Suddenly in the
distance the sky grows red and lurid. "The fort is burning!" cry the
men at the guns; but from the masthead comes the response, "No, the
fire is on the river. It is another fire-raft." The alarm was
instantly given to all the vessels of the fleet. Bright colored
signal-lights blazed on the decks, and the dark, slender cordage stood
out against the brilliant red and green fires that flickered strangely
upon the dark wooded banks of the river. Rockets rushed high into the
air, and, bursting, let fall a shower of party-colored lights that
told the watchers far down the river that danger was to be expected.
Then the signal-lights went out, and all was dark and silent save
where the lurid glare of the great mass of fire could be seen floating
in the great curves of the tortuous river toward the crowded ships. It
was a time of intense suspense. The little flotilla of fire-boats,
organized by Commander Porter that day, was on the alert; and the
blue-jackets bent to their oars with a will, and soon had their boats
ranged along a bend far above the fleet. Here they waited to catch the
fiery monster, and save the ships. The danger came nearer fast.
Rapidly the flames increased in volume, until the whole surrounding
region was lighted up by the glare; while from the floating fire, a
huge black column of smoke arose, and blended with the clouds that
glowed as though they themselves were on fire. When the raft came into
view around a point, it was seen to be too big for the boats to handle
unaided, and two gunboats slipped their cables, and started for the
thing of terror. From every side the row-boats dashed at the raft.
Some grappled it, and the sailors tugged lustily at their oars,
seeking to drag the mass of flames toward the shore. Then the
"Westfield," under full head of steam, dashed furiously against the
raft, crashing in the timbers and sending great clouds of sparks
flying high in the air. From her hose-pipes she poured floods of water
on the crackling, roaring, blazing mass; while all the time, with her
powerful engines, she was pushing it toward the shore.

In the mean time, the sailors from the fleet of small boats were
swarming upon the raft wherever they could find a foothold free from
flame. Some carrying buckets dashed water upon the flames, some with
axes cut loose flaming timbers, and let them float harmlessly down the
river. It was a fight in which all the men were on one side; but it
was a grand sight, and was eagerly watched by those on the imperilled
vessels. The immediate arena of the conflict was bright as day, but
all around was gloom. At last the pluck and determination of the men
triumph over the flames. The raft, flaming, smouldering, broken, is
towed out of the channel, and left to end its life in fitful flashes
on a sandy point. The returning boats are greeted with cheers, and
soon darkness and silence fall upon the scene. The mortars cease their
thunderous work for the night; and ere long the only sounds heard are
the rush of the mighty waters, or the faint cry of the night birds in
the forest. The sentinel pacing the deck peers in vain through the
gloom. War gives way for a time to rest.

[Illustration: Fire-raft at Forts of the Mississippi.]

Hardly had the gray dawn begun to appear, when the roll of the drums
on the decks of the ships was heard; and, soon after, the roar of the
opening gun was heard from one of the mortar-schooners. Again the
bombardment was opened. The twenty boats in the mortar-fleet were
divided into three divisions, each of which fired for two hours in
succession, and then stopped for a time to allow the great cannon to
cool. Thus a continuous bombardment was kept up, and the soldiers in
the forts were given no time to repair the damages caused by the
bursting shells. Every mortar was fired once in five minutes; so that
one shell was hurled towards the fort about every minute, while
sometimes three shells would be seen sweeping with majestic curves
through the air at the same time. The shells weighed two hundred and
fifteen pounds; and when they were hurled into the air by the
explosion of twenty pounds of powder, the boat bearing the mortar was
driven down into the water six or eight inches, and the light railings
and woodwork of buildings at the Balize, thirty miles away, were
shattered by the concussion. The shells rose high in the air, with an
unearthly shriek, and after a curve of a mile and a half fell into
or near the forts, and, bursting, threw their deadly fragments in all
directions. Day after day, and night after night, this went on. If the
men on the mortar-schooners showed bravery and endurance in keeping up
so exhausting a fire so steadily, what shall we say for the men in the
forts who bore up against it so nobly? Before noon of the first day of
the bombardment, the soldiers of Fort Jackson saw their barracks
burned, with their clothing, bedding, and several days' rations.
Shells were pouring in upon them from vessels that they could not see.
The smooth-bore guns mounted in the embrasures would hardly send a
shot to the nearest of the hostile gunboats. Then the river broke
through its banks, and half the fort was transformed into a morass. An
officer in Fort Jackson said, after the surrender, that in two hours
over one hundred shells had fallen upon the parade-ground of that
work, tearing it up terribly. For six days this terrible fire was
endured; and during the latter half of the bombardment the water stood
knee deep on the gun-platforms, and the gunners worked at their guns
until their shoes, soaked for days and days, fairly fell from their
feet. For bed and bedding they had the wet earth, for rations raw meat
and mouldy bread. If there were glory and victory for the Union
sailors, let there at least be honor and credit granted the soldiers
of the gray for the dogged courage with which they bore the terrible
bombardment from Porter's flotilla.

While the mortars were pounding away through those six long days and
nights, Farragut was getting ready to take his ships past the forts.
Union scouts and spies had travelled over every foot of land and water
about the forts; and the exact strength of the Confederates, and the
difficulties to be overcome, were clearly known to the Federal
admiral. One of the chief obstructions was a chain of rafts and old
hulks that stretched across the channel by which the fleet would be
obliged to ascend the river. Under cover of a tremendous fire from all
the mortars, two gunboats were sent up to remove this obstruction. The
night was dark and favorable to the enterprise, and the vessels
reached the chain before they were discovered. Then, under a fierce
cannonade from the forts, Lieut. Caldwell put off in a row-boat from
his vessel, boarded one of the hulks, and managed to break the chain.
The string of hulks was quickly swept ashore by the swift current, and
the channel was open for the ascent of the Union fleet.

[Illustration: Breaking the Chain.]

On the 23d of April, Farragut determined that his fleet should make
the attempt to get past the forts the following day. He knew that
the enemy must be exhausted with the terrible strain of Porter's
bombardment, and he felt that the opportunity had arrived for him to
make a successful dash for the upper river. The fleet was all prepared
for a desperate struggle. Many of the captains had daubed the sides of
their vessels with the river mud, that they might be less prominent
marks for the Confederate gunners. The chain cables of all the vessels
were coiled about vulnerable parts, or draped over the sides amidships
to protect the boilers. Knowing that it was to be a night action, the
gun-decks had been whitewashed; so that even by the dim, uncertain
light of the battle lanterns, the gunners could see plainly all
objects about them. Hammocks and nettings were stretched above the
decks to catch flying splinters from the spars overhead. Late at night
the admiral in his longboat was pulled from ship to ship to view the
preparations made, and see that each captain fully understood his
orders.

It was two o'clock on the morning of the 24th of April, when the
Confederates on the parapets of their forts might have heard the
shrill notes of fifes, the steady tramp of men, the sharp clicking of
capstans, and the grating of chain cables passing through the
hawse-holes on the ships below. Indeed, it is probable that these
sounds were heard at the forts, and were understood, for the
Confederates were on the alert when the ships came steaming up the
river.

They formed in a stately line of battle, headed by the "Cayuga." As
they came up the stream, the gunners in the forts could see the
mastheads over the low willow thickets that bordered the banks of the
stream. The line of obstructions was reached and passed, and then the
whole furious fire of both forts fell upon the advancing ships.
Gallantly they kept on their way, firing thunderous broadsides from
each side. And, while the ships were under the direct fire of the
forts, the enemy's fleet came dashing down the river to dispute the
way. This was more to the taste of Farragut and his boys in blue. They
were tired of fighting stone walls. In the van of the Confederate
squadron was the ram "Manassas," that had created such a panic among
the blockading squadron a month before. She plunged desperately into
the fight. The great frigate "Brooklyn" was a prominent vessel in the
Union line, and at her the ram dashed. The bold hearts on the grand
old frigate did not seek to avoid the conflict, and the two vessels
rushed together. The ram struck the "Brooklyn" a glancing blow; and
the shot from her one gun was returned by a hail of cannon-balls from
the frigate's tremendous broadside, many of which broke through the
iron plating. Nothing daunted, the ram backed off and rushed at the
frigate again. This time she struck full on the frigate's side. The
shock was terrible. Men on the gun-deck of the ram were hurled to the
deck, with the blood streaming from their nostrils. The frigate keeled
over farther and farther, until all thought that she would be borne
beneath the water by the pressure of the ram. All the time the
spiteful bow-gun of the iron monster was hurling its bolts into her
hull. But the blow of the ram had done no damage, for she had struck
one of the coils of chain that had been hung down the "Brooklyn's"
side. The two vessels slowly swung apart; and, after a final broadside
from the "Brooklyn," the "Manassas" drifted away in the pitchy
darkness to seek for new adversaries. She was not long in finding one;
for as the gray dawn was breaking she suddenly found herself under the
very bows of the "Mississippi," which was bearing down upon her and
seemed sure to run her down. The captain of the "Manassas" was an able
steersman, and neatly dodged the blow; but in this quick movement he
ran his vessel ashore, and she lay there under the guns of the
"Mississippi," and unable to bring any of her own guns to bear. The
captain of the frigate was not slow in taking advantage of this chance
to be revenged for all the trouble she had given the Union fleet; and
he took up a good position, and pounded away with his heavy guns at
the iron monster. The heavy shots crashed through the iron plating and
came plunging in the portholes, seeking every nook and cranny about
the vessel. It was too much for men to stand, and the crew of the
"Manassas" fled to the woods; while their vessel was soon set on fire
with red-hot shots, and blew up with a tremendous report soon after.

[Illustration: Ram "Tennessee" at Mobile Bay.]

In the mean time, the ships of the Union fleet were doing daring work,
and meeting a determined resistance. The flagship "Hartford" was met
by a tug which pushed a huge burning fire-raft against her sides.
There the flaming thing lay right up against the portholes, the flames
catching the tarred rigging, and running up the masts. Farragut walked
his quarter-deck as coolly as though the ship was on parade. "Don't
flinch from that fire, boys," he sang out, as the flames rushed in the
portholes, and drove the men from their guns. "There's a hotter fire
than that for those who don't do their duty. Give that rascally
little tug a shot, and don't let her go off with a whole coat." But
the tug did get away, after all; and no one can feel sorry that men
plucky enough to take an unarmed tug into a terrible fight of frigates
and iron-clads should escape with their lives. The men on the
"Hartford" fought the flames with hose and buckets, and at last got
rid of their dangerous neighbor. Then they saw a steamer crowded with
men rushing toward the flagship without firing a shot, and evidently
intending to board. Capt. Broome, with a crew of marines, was working
a bow-gun on the "Hartford." Carefully he trained the huge piece upon
the approaching steamer. He stepped back, stooped for a last glance
along the sights, then with a quick pull of the lanyard the great gun
went off with a roar, followed instantly by a louder explosion from
the attacking steamer. When the smoke cleared away, all looked eagerly
for the enemy; but she had vanished as if by magic. That single shot,
striking her magazine, had blown her up with all on board.

Much of the hardest fighting was done by the smaller vessels on either
side. The little Confederate "cotton-clad" "Governor Moore" made a
desperate fight, dashing through the Union fleet, taking and giving
broadsides in every direction. The Union vessel "Varuna" also did
daring work, and naturally these two ships met in desperate conflict.
After exchanging broadsides, the "Governor Moore" rammed her
adversary, and, while bearing down on her, received a severe raking
fire from the "Varuna." The "Governor Moore" was in such a position
that none of her guns could be brought to bear; but her captain
suddenly depressed the muzzle of his bow-gun, and sent a shot crashing
through _his own_ deck and side, and deep into the hull of the
"Varuna." The vessels soon parted, but the "Varuna" had received her
death-wound, and sank in shallow water. The "Governor Moore" kept on
her way, but was knocked to pieces by the fire from the heavy guns of
the frigates shortly after.

And so the battle raged for five hours. To recount in full the deeds
of valor done, would be to tell the story of each ship engaged, and
would require volumes. Witnesses who saw the fight from the start were
deeply impressed by the majesty of the scene. It was like a grand
panorama. "From almost perfect silence,--the steamers moving through
the water like phantom ships,--one incessant roar of heavy cannon
commenced, the Confederate forts and gunboats opening together on the
head of our line as it came within range. The Union vessels returned
the fire as they came up, and soon the hundred and seventy guns of our
fleet joined in the thunder which seemed to shake the very earth. A
lurid glare was thrown over the scene by the burning rafts; and, as
the bombshells crossed each other and exploded in the air, it seemed
as if a battle were taking place in the heavens as well as on the
earth. It all ended as suddenly as it commenced."

While this gigantic contest was going on in the river abreast of the
forts, the people of New Orleans were thronging the streets, listening
to the unceasing roar of the great guns, and discussing, with pale
faces and anxious hearts, the outcome of the fight. "Farragut can
never pass our forts. His wooden ships will be blown to pieces by
their fire, or dashed into atoms by the 'Manassas,'" people said. But
many listened in silence: they had husbands, sons, or brothers in that
fearful fight, and who could tell that they would return alive? By and
by the firing ceased. Only an occasional shot broke the stillness of
the morning. Then came the suspense. Had the fleet been beaten back,
or was it above the forts, and even now sullenly steaming up to the
city? Everybody rushed for the housetops to look to the southward,
over the low land through which the Mississippi winds. An hour's
waiting, and they see curls of smoke rising above the trees, then
slender dark lines moving along above the tree-tops. "Are they our
ships?" every one cries; and no one answers until the dark lines are
seen to be crossed by others at right angles. They are masts with
yard-arms, masts of seagoing vessels, the masts of the invader's
fleet. A cry of grief, of fear, of rage, goes up from the housetops.
"To the levee!" cry the men, and soon the streets resound with the
rush of many feet toward the river. "The river is crooked, and its
current swift. It will be hours before the Yankees can arrive: let us
burn, destroy, that they may find no booty." Let one who was in the
sorrowful city that terrible April day tell the story. "I went to the
river-side. There, until far into the night, I saw hundreds of drays
carrying cotton out of the presses and yards to the wharves, where it
was fired. The glare of those sinuous miles of flame set men and women
weeping and wailing thirty miles away, on the farther shore of Lake
Pontchartrain. But the next day was the day of terrors. During the
night, fear, wrath, and sense of betrayal, had run through the people
as the fire had run through the cotton. You have seen, perhaps, a
family fleeing, with lamentations and wringing of hands, out of a
burning house; multiply it by thousands upon thousands: that was New
Orleans, though the houses were not burning. The firemen were out; but
they cast fire on the waters, putting the torch to the empty ships and
cutting them loose to float down the river.

[Illustration: New Orleans on Approach of Fleet.]

"Whoever could go was going. The great mass that had no place to go
to, or means to go with, was beside itself. 'Betrayed! betrayed!' it
cried, and ran in throngs from street to street, seeking some vent,
some victim for its wrath. I saw a crowd catch a poor fellow at the
corner of Magazine and Common Streets, whose crime was that he looked
like a stranger and might be a spy. He was the palest living man I
ever saw. They swung him to a neighboring lamp-post; but the Foreign
Legion was patrolling the town in strong squads, and one of its
lieutenants, all green and gold, leaped with drawn sword, cut the
rope, and saved the man. This was one occurrence; there were many like
it. I stood in the rear door of our store, Canal Street, soon after
re-opening it. The junior of the firm was within. I called him to look
toward the river. The masts of the cutter 'Washington' were slowly
tipping, declining, sinking--down she went. The gunboat moored next
her began to smoke all over and then to blaze. My employers lifted up
their heels and left the city, left their goods and their affairs in
the hands of one mere lad--no stranger would have thought I had
reached fourteen--and one big German porter. I closed the doors, sent
the porter to his place in the Foreign Legion, and ran to the levee to
see the sights.

"What a gathering!--the riff-raff of the wharves, the town, the
gutters. Such women! such wrecks of women! and all the juvenile
rag-tag. The lower steamboat-landing, well covered with sugar, rice,
and molasses, was being rifled. The men smashed; the women scooped up
the smashings. The river was overflowing the top of the levee. A
rain-storm began to threaten. 'Are the Yankee ships in sight?' I asked
of an idler. He pointed out the tops of their naked masts as they
showed up across the huge bend of the river. They were engaging the
batteries at Camp Chalmette, the old field of Jackson's renown.
Presently that was over. Ah, me! I see them now as they come slowly
round Slaughterhouse Point, into full view: silent, so grim and
terrible, black with men, heavy with deadly portent, the long banished
stars and stripes flying against the frowning sky. Oh for the
'Mississippi,' the 'Mississippi!' Just then she came down upon them.
But how? Drifting helplessly, a mass of flames.

"The crowds on the levee howled and screamed with rage. The swarming
decks answered never a word; but one old tar on the 'Hartford,'
standing with lanyard in hand, beside a great pivot-gun, so plain to
view that you could see him smile, silently patted its big black
breech and blandly grinned."

As the masts of the fleet came up the river, a young man stepped out
upon the roof of the City Hall, and swiftly hoisted the flag of the
State of Louisiana. When the ships came up, two officers were sent
ashore to demand the surrender of the city; and shoulder to shoulder
the two old sailors marched through a howling, cursing mob to the City
Hall. The mayor refused to surrender the city, saying that Farragut
already had captured it. The officers went back to their ships, and
the flag still floated. Two days later the officers, with a hundred
sailors and marines, returned and demanded that the flag be hauled
down. No one in the city would tear it down, and the Federals went up
to the roof to lower it themselves. The street and surrounding
housetops were crowded with a hostile people, all armed. No one could
tell that the fall of the flag would not be followed by a volley from
the undisciplined populace. The marines in front of the building stood
grouped about two loaded howitzers that bore upon the darkly muttering
crowd. Violence was in the air. As the two officers rose to go to the
roof, the mayor, a young Creole, left the room and descended the
stairs. Quietly he stepped out into the street, and without a word
stood before one of the howitzers, his arms folded, eying the gunner,
who stood with lanyard in hand, ready to fire at the word of command.
The flag fell slowly from the staff. Not a sound arose from the crowd.
All were watching the mayor, who stood coldly looking on death. The
Federal officers came down carrying the flag. A few sharp commands,
and the marines tramped away down the street, with the howitzers
clanking behind them. The crowd cheered for Mayor Monroe and
dispersed, and New Orleans became again a city of the United States.

CHAPTER XIV.

     ALONG THE MISSISSIPPI. -- FORTS JACKSON AND ST. PHILIP SURRENDER.
     -- THE BATTLE AT ST. CHARLES. -- THE RAM "ARKANSAS." --
     BOMBARDMENT AND CAPTURE OF PORT HUDSON.

While New Orleans was thus excited over the capture of the city, the
soldiers in the forts below were debating as to the course they should
adopt. They had not surrendered; and although the great bastions were
pounded out of shape by the heavy guns of the fleet, yet they were
still formidable defences, giving perfect security to the men in the
bomb-proofs. But their case was hopeless: for Farragut was at New
Orleans, and could cut off their supplies; while Porter, with his
mortar-boats, was below them, putting escape out of the question.
Every now and then a big shell would drop on the parade, and its
flying pieces would remind the garrison that their enemies were
getting impatient. After waiting a day or two, Porter sent a
lieutenant with a flag of truce to the fort, calling upon the
Confederate commander to surrender the two forts and the shattered
remnant of the Confederate navy. He complimented the Confederates upon
their gallant defence, but warned them, that, should they refuse to
surrender, he would recommence his bombardment with new vigor. The
Confederates refused to surrender until they heard from New Orleans;
and the next day the monotonous thunder of the heavy mortars began
again, and again the heavy shells began falling thick and fast upon
the forts. Wearily the gray-coated soldiers settled down to continue
what they felt must be a useless defence. The officers did their best
to inspirit the men; but all knew that a surrender must come before
long, and at last the men mutinously left their guns, and said they
would fight no longer. They had borne without flinching a terrible
bombardment, and now they felt that to fight longer would be a foolish
sacrifice of life. Many left the forts, and plunged into the woods to
escape the terrible shells. Gen. Duncan saw that all was lost, and on
the night of the 28th of April sent an officer to the fleet announcing
the surrender. On the following day Porter proceeded up-stream with
his squadron, and anchored off the fort. A boat, manned by six trim
sailors in dress uniforms, put off, and soon returned, bringing the
commander of the defeated forces and two or three officers. They were
received on the "Harriet Lane," and Commodore Porter had made great
preparations for the meeting. The crews of all the vessels were
dressed in snow-white mustering-suits, and the officers in
brass-buttoned blue coats and white trousers. The decks were scrubbed,
and all traces of the fight cleared away. As the Confederate officers
came up to the fleet, one of them, a former lieutenant in the Union
navy, said, "Look at the old navy. I feel proud when I see them. There
are no half-breeds there: they are the simon-pure." As the
Confederates came over the side, Porter stood, with his officers,
ready to receive them. The greatest politeness was observed on either
side; and Porter writes, "Their bearing was that of men who had gained
a victory, instead of undergoing defeat." While the papers of
capitulation were being signed, a message came from the deck that the
huge Confederate iron-clad "Louisiana" was drifting down upon them, a
mass of flames, and there was great danger that she would blow up in
the midst of the Union fleet. "This is sharp practice, gentlemen,"
said Porter, "and some of us will perhaps be blown up; but I know what
to do. If you can stand what is coming, we can; but I will make it
lively for those people if anybody in the flotilla is injured."

"I told Lieut. Wainwright to hail the steamer next him," writes Capt.
Porter, "and tell her captain to pass the word for the others to veer
out all their riding-chains to the bitter end, and stand by to sheer
clear of the burning iron-clad as she drifted down. I then sat down to
the table, and said, 'Gentlemen, we will proceed to sign the
capitulation.' I handed the paper to Gen. Duncan, and looked at the
Confederate officers to see how they would behave under the
circumstances of a great iron-clad dropping down on them, all in
flames, with twenty thousand pounds of powder in her magazines. For
myself, I hoped the fire would not reach the powder until the ship had
drifted some distance below us. My greatest fear was that she would
run foul of some of the steamers.

"While I was thinking this over, the officers were sitting as coolly
as if at tea-table among their friends.

"Just then there was a stir on deck, a kind of swaying of the vessel
to and fro, a rumbling in the air, then an explosion which seemed to
shake the heavens. The 'Harriet Lane' was thrown two streaks over, and
every thing in the cabin was jostled from side to side; but not a man
left his seat, or showed any intention of doing so.

"I was glad that I had signed before the explosion took place, as I
would not have liked to have my autograph look shaky."

The destruction of the "Louisiana" was a bit of trickery on the part
of the Confederate naval officers, which Farragut punished by sending
them North as close prisoners, while the army officers were granted
freedom under parole. So ended the Confederate control over the mouth
of the Mississippi; and Porter, after waiting long enough to see a
blue-coat garrison in Forts St. Philip and Jackson, started up the
river to rejoin his chief in New Orleans.

But, on reaching the city, he found that the energetic admiral had
already started out to clear the river of the Confederate batteries
that lined it on either side as far up as Vicksburg. This was a
service of no little danger, and one bringing but little satisfaction;
for no sooner had the gunboats left one point, from which by hard
firing they had driven the Confederates, than the latter would return
in force, build up again their shattered earthworks, mount new guns,
and be once more ready for battle. But more powerful than these little
one or two gun-batteries were the Confederate works at Port Hudson,
the destruction of which was absolutely necessary for further Union
successes on the great river. Between Port Hudson and Vicksburg, the
river was completely under the control of the Confederates; and it was
a powerful gunboat that could hope to navigate that stretch of water
unharmed. Farragut determined to attack Port Hudson, and set the 14th
of March, 1863, as the date for the action.

Port Hudson batteries were perched on a high bluff that overlooks one
of those abrupt curves around which the current of the Mississippi
River sweeps with such terrific force. The heavy guns bore down upon a
point at which the ships would almost inevitably be swept out of their
course by the swift stream, and where the river was filled with
treacherous shifting shoals. Naval officers all agreed that to pass
those batteries was a more difficult task than had been the passage of
the forts below New Orleans; yet Farragut, eager to get at the
stronghold of the foe in Vicksburg, determined to make the attempt.
The mortar-vessels were stationed below to drive the enemy from his
guns with well-directed bombs; while the fleet, led by the stanch old
"Hartford," should make a bold dash up the river.

Night fell upon the scene; and the ships weighed anchor, and started
upon their perilous voyage. To the side of each man-of-war was bound a
gunboat to tow the great vessel out of danger in case of disaster.
Silently the long string of vessels swept upward towards the
batteries; but, as the "Hartford" came into range, the watchful
Confederates gave the alarm, and the nearest battery at once opened
fire. Then from Porter's mortar-schooners far down the river came an
answering roar; and, as ship after ship came up into range, she opened
with shot and shell upon the works. On the dark river-banks great
alarm fires were kindled, lighting up the water with a lurid glare,
and making the ships clearly visible to the Confederate gunners. But
soon the smoke of battle settled down over all; and gunners, whether
on shore or on the ships, fired at random. The "Hartford" led the way,
and picked out the course; and the other vessels followed carefully in
her wake. In the mizzen-top of the flagship was stationed a cool old
river pilot, who had guided many a huge river steamer, freighted with
precious lives, through the mazy channels of the Mississippi. There,
high above the battle-smoke, heedless of the grape-shot and bits of
flying shell whistling around him, he stood at his post, calmly giving
his orders through a speaking-tube that led to the wheel-room. Now and
then the admiral on the deck below would call up, asking about the
pilot's safety, and was always answered with a cheery hail. But though
the "Hartford" went by the batteries, heedless of the storm and lead
poured upon her, she found herself alone, when, after firing a last
gun, she swept into the clear air and tranquil water out of range of
the enemy's guns. She waited some time for the other ships to come up,
while all on board watched eagerly, save those who lay moaning on the
surgeon's tables in the cock-pit below. The night wore on, and all on
board were consumed with anxiety for the fate of the vessels that had
dropped behind. The lookout in the tops reported that he could see far
down the river a bright red light that could only be caused by a
burning vessel. It proved to be the steamer "Mississippi," that had
grounded under the guns of the batteries, and had been fired and
abandoned by her crew. But of this the admiral knew nothing; and when,
after an hour or two he heard the dull, heavy boom of an explosion, he
went sadly to his cabin, fearing that the lives of many valiant
sailors had been sacrificed. There was no way to communicate with the
fleet below, and it was not until days afterward that the admiral
learned how his fleet had been beaten back by the heavy guns of the
Confederates and the swift current of the river. The "Richmond"
grounded at a point within easy range of the batteries, and her crew
fought desperately while shell after shell went crashing through her
hull. They saw the other vessels of the fleet go drifting by helpless
in the mighty current of the river, but they faltered not in their
brave defence until they saw their ship a wreck and in flames. Then
leaving their dead comrades with the "Richmond" for a funeral pyre,
they escaped to the shore, and threaded their way through miles of
morasses and dense thickets until they came to the mortar-boats, where
they found refuge and rest. And so that first attack on Port Hudson
ended with Farragut above the batteries, and his ships, below. It had
only served to prove, that, safe in their heavy earthworks, the
Confederates could defy any attack by ships alone. This fact was clear
to the Union authorities, and they began massing troops about the
hostile works. Two months later, Porter's mortar-boats, the frigates
and gunboats, and the batteries and muskets of an immense body of
troops, opened on the works. While the heavy fire was being kept up,
the Union armies were closing in, digging trenches, and surrounding
the Confederates on all sides. The firing came to be short-range work
and very deadly. "To show you what cool and desperate fighting it
was," says a Confederate, "I had at least twenty-five shots at
Federals not two hundred feet away. In one instance I fired upon a
lieutenant who was urging on his men. I wounded him in his left arm.
He fired at me with his revolver, and sent a bullet through my cap.
Next time I hit him in the hip, and he fell;, but, while I was
reloading, he raised himself up, and shot the man next to me through
the head. The officer was so close to me that I could tell the color
of his eyes, and detect a small scar on his face."

This sort of work continued for weeks, with occasional charges by the
Federals. Farragut's fleet kept up its bombardment, but did little
damage. One of the Confederate soldiers said, some time after the war,
"One can get used to almost any thing. After the first two or three
days, we took the bombardment as part of the regular routine. Pieces
of shell were continually flying about, and it was the regular thing
for a bomb to drop down among us at intervals. I have seen them come
down within fifty feet of a sentinel, and throw up a wagon-load of
dirt, without his even turning his head. We had but few men hurt by
the artillery-fire. I do not believe we averaged one man hit for every
thousand pounds of metal thrown. I remember that one day I counted
thirteen shells and bombs hurled at the spot where I was posted before
we had a man hurt, and he was only slightly wounded." Naturally, such
work as this could not drive the Confederates from their trenches; and
the fleet soon concluded to leave the army to capture Port Hudson,
while the ships steamed on up the river toward Vicksburg. The army
kept up the siege for weeks, until the Confederates, hearing of the
fall of Vicksburg, surrendered.

While the Union fleet was thus fighting its way up to Vicksburg, the
Confederates were working away at a great ram that they were building
in a secluded spot far up the Yazoo River. Work on the ram was being
pushed with the greatest energy; and the Union sailors, in their ships
on the Mississippi, listened daily to the stories of escaping negroes,
and wondered when the big ship would come down and give them a tussle.
The crew of the ram were no less impatient for the fray; for they were
tired of being hidden away up a little river, plagued by mosquitoes
and gnats. The dark shades of the heavy forests were seldom brightened
by a ray of sun. The stream was full of alligators, that lay lazily on
the banks all day, and bellowed dismally all night. The chirp of a
bird was rarely heard. In its place were the discordant screams of
cranes, or hisses of the moccasins or cotton-mouths. When at last the
carpenters' clatter had ceased, and the ram, ready for action, lay in
the little river, the crew were mustered on the deck, and told that
the new boat had been built to clear the Union vessels from the
Mississippi, and that purpose should be carried out. No white flag was
to flutter from that flagstaff; and she should sink with all her crew
before she would surrender. Any sailor who feared to enter upon such a
service might leave the ship at once. No one left; and the "Arkansas"
started down the river to look for an enemy. She was not long in
finding one. At the mouth of the Yazoo floated three Union
gunboats,--the "Carondelet," the "Tyler," and the "Queen of the West."
As the ram came down into sight, her men heard the roll of the drums
on the decks of the hostile vessels. The gunboats quickly opened fire,
which was as promptly returned by the "Arkansas;" and, as she came
swiftly rushing down the stream, the three vessels fled before her.
The men on the ram were all new recruits, and made awkward work of the
firing; but as she came to close quarters she sent her shells crashing
into the Union ships, while the shot she received in return rattled
harmlessly off her steel-mailed sides. The "Carondelet" was the first
vessel to come to grief. She had hardly fired four shots when a heavy
solid shot crashed through her side, and rattled against the most
delicate part of the engine. She was helpless at once; and hardly had
this damage been reported when a second shot came with a burst into an
open port, killed five men, and broke its way out the other side. In
ten minutes her decks were slippery with blood, and thick strewn with
wounded and dead men. The current of the river drifted her upon a
sandbar; and she lay there helplessly, now and again answering the
galling fire of her foe with a feeble shot. Pouring in a last
broadside, the "Arkansas" steamed past her, and, disregarding the
other two vessels, headed for Vicksburg, where she knew her aid was
sorely needed.

The news of her coming preceded her; and, when she came within sight
of the steeples of the city, at least ten thousand people were
watching her progress, and wondering whether she could pass by the
Federal batteries and through the Federal fleet. The Federal fleet was
all ready for her, and prepared such a gauntlet for the "Arkansas" as
had never been run by any vessel. As she came within range, every
Union gun that could be brought to bear opened; and shot and shell
rained from shore-batteries and marine guns upon the tough hide of the
ram. As she sped by the vessels, they gave her their broadsides, and
the effect was tremendous. As the huge iron balls struck the ship, she
keeled far over; and to her crew inside, it seemed as though she was
being lifted bodily out of the water. Not a shot broke through the
armor; but the terrible concussions knocked men down, and made blood
come pouring from their nostrils. For new men, her crew fought well
and bravely; though two fell flat on their faces, afraid to lift their
heads, lest they be taken off by a shell.

[Illustration: The "Arkansas" under Fire.]

When it was seen that the "Arkansas" was likely to pass through the
lines unscathed, the Federals tried to blockade her way; but she
deviated not an inch from her path. The vessel that stood before her
had to move aside, or take the chances of a blow from her terrible
iron beak. She came straight to the centre of the fleet before opening
fire; and when her portholes were opened, and the big guns peered out,
they found plenty of targets. Her first volley knocked a gunboat to
pieces; and in another minute she had crashed into the side of a Union
ram, sending that unlucky craft ashore for repairs. But the storm of
solid shot was too much for her; and she was forced to seek shelter
under the bluffs, where the heavy guns of the Confederate
shore-batteries compelled the Union ships to keep a respectful
distance. Here she lay for several weeks, beating off every assault of
the Federals, and making a valuable addition to the defences of the
city. But, in an evil hour, the Confederate authorities decided to
send her down the river to recapture Baton Rouge. When her journey was
but half completed, she was pounced upon by several United States
vessels, with the "Essex" in the lead. Her engines breaking down, she
drifted upon a sand-bank; and the attacking ships pounded her at their
leisure, until, with the fire bursting from her portholes, she was
abandoned by her crew, and blazed away until her career was ended by
the explosion of her magazine. She had given the Federal fleet some
hard tussles, but beyond that had done nothing of the work the
Confederates so fondly hoped of her.

While the flotilla of gunboats, led by the "Essex," were planning for
the destruction of the "Arkansas," a small naval expedition,
consisting of three gunboats, was threading its way up the narrow
channel of the White River in search of some Confederate batteries
said to be on the banks. Within twelve hours from the start, the
sailors learned from a ragged negro, whom they captured on the shore,
that the Confederates had powerful batteries only five miles farther
up, and that the river channel was obstructed by sunken vessels.
Anchor was cast for the night; and in the morning the troops
accompanying the expedition were landed, and plunged into the forest
with the plan of taking the fort by a rush from the rear. The gunboats
began a slow advance up the river, throwing shells into the woods
ahead of them. The blue-jackets kept carefully under cover; for,
though they could see no foe, yet the constant singing of
rifle-bullets about the ships proved that somewhere in those bushes
were concealed sharp-shooters whose powder was good and whose aim was
true. The "Mound City" was leading the gunboats, and had advanced
within six hundred yards of the enemy's guns, when a single shot,
fired from a masked battery high up the bluffs, rang out sharply amid
the rattle of small-arms. It was the first cannon-shot fired by the
Confederates in that engagement, and it was probably the most horribly
deadly shot fired in the war. It entered the port-casemate forward,
killed three men standing at the gun, and plunged into the boiler. In
an instant the scalding steam came hissing out, filling the ship from
stem to stern, and horribly scalding every one upon the gun-deck. The
deck was covered with writhing forms, and screams of agony rang out
above the harsh noise of the escaping steam and the roar of battle
outside. Many were blown overboard; more crawled out of the portholes,
and dropped into the river to escape the scalding steam, and
struggling in the water were killed by rifle-balls or the fragments of
the shells that were bursting all around. The helpless gunboat turned
round and round in the stream, and drifted away, carrying a crew of
dead and dying men. So great was the horror of the scene, that one of
the officers, himself unhurt, who saw his comrades thus tortured all
about him, went insane.

While this scene was going on before the fort, the Union troops had
come up behind it, and with a cheer rushed over the breastworks, and
drove the garrison to surrender. The Confederate banner fell from the
staff, and the stars and stripes went up in its place. But how great
was the price that the Federals had to pay for that victory! That
night, with muffled drums, and arms reversed, the blue-jackets carried
to the grave fifty-nine of their comrades, who twelve hours before
were active men. With three volleys of musketry the simple rites over
the sailors' graves were ended; and those who were left alive, only
said with a sigh, "It is the fortune of war."

CHAPTER XV.

     ON TO VICKSBURG. -- BOMBARDMENT OF THE CONFEDERATE STRONGHOLD. --
     PORTER'S CRUISE IN THE FORESTS.

While the smaller gunboats were thus making dashes into the enemy's
country, destroying batteries and unfinished war-vessels, and burning
salt-works, the heavier vessels of the fleet were being massed about
Vicksburg, and were preparing to aid the army in reducing that city to
subjection. We need not describe the way in which Gen. Grant had been
rushing his troops toward that point, how for weeks his engineers had
been planning trenches and approaches to the Confederate works, until
toward the middle part of June, 1863, the people in that city found
themselves hemmed in by a huge girdle of trenches, batteries, and
military camps. Gen. Pemberton, with his army of Confederate soldiers,
had been forced backward from point after point, until at last he
found himself in Vicksburg, with the prospect of a long siege before
him, and no way to get past the inexorable lines of blue that
surrounded him. It is true that he had a wonderfully strong position,
and many were the tongues that said Vicksburg could never be taken.
But though stronger than Sebastopol, stronger than the Rock of
Gibraltar, Vicksburg was destined to fall before that mighty army that
encircled it, and was slowly starving the city into subjection.

But the Union soldiers, looking from their camps toward the
Confederate citadel, saw that they had before them some severe work
before that flag that flaunted over the city should be replaced by the
stars and stripes. The city stands on a towering bluff high above the
eastern bank of the Mississippi River. On that frowning height the
busy hands of Pemberton's soldiers had reared mighty batteries, that
commanded the Mississippi for miles up and down stream. To think of
carrying the works by assault, was madness. Sherman had tried, and was
beaten back with terrible loss. Then Grant, with nearly twenty
thousand men, and with the co-operation of the river-flotilla, came
upon the stage, and determined to take the city though it kept him at
bay for months.

All imaginable plans were tried to get the army below the city; for
Grant's command had come down from Cairo, and were at the northern and
most impregnable side of the enemy's works. As at Island No. 10, a
sharp bend in the river made a long peninsula right under the
Confederates' guns. Grant, remembering the plan adopted before, set to
work to cut a canal through the peninsula, so that the gunboats and
transports might get below the forts. Twelve hundred negroes worked
with a will upon this ditch for weeks. Then came a terrible
rain-storm: the swollen, muddy torrent of the river broke in upon the
unfinished canal, and that work was wasted. Then a new plan was
suggested, this time by Commodore David Porter, who all through the
war showed the greatest delight in taking his big gunboats into
ditches where nothing larger than a frog or musk-rat could hope to
navigate, and then bringing them out again safe after all.

The country back of Vicksburg was fairly honeycombed with shallow
lakes, creeks, and those sluggish black streams called in the South
bayous. Porter had been looking over this aqueous territory for some
time, and had sent one of his lieutenants off in a steam-launch to see
what could be done in that network of ditches. When the explorer
returned, he brought cheering news. He was confident that, with tugs
and gangs of axemen clearing the way, the gunboats could be taken up
the Yazoo River, then into a wide bayou, and finally through a maze of
small waterways, until they should reach the Mississippi again below
the Vicksburg batteries. Then the transports could follow, the troops
could march down the other side of the river, be met by the
transports, ferried across, and take Vicksburg on the flank. It was a
beautiful plan; and Porter went to Grant with it, full of enthusiasm.

Gen. Grant considered the matter for some time, but finally gave his
consent, and detailed a number of blue-coated soldiers to aid Porter's
blue-jackets in the work. They first cut the levees, and let the
mighty tide of the Mississippi sweep in, filling the bayous to the
brim, and flooding all the country round about. Then the gunboats
plunged in, and were borne along on the rushing tide until they
brought up, all standing, against the trunks of trees, or had their
smoke-stacks caught by overhanging branches.

Then came the tug of war; and the axemen were called to the front, and
set to work. They chopped their way along for some distance; the rapid
current from the river banging the vessels against the trees and
stumps, until all the standing rigging and light cabins were swept
away. After a good deal of work they saw before them a broad river,
wide enough for two vessels to steam abreast. Soon they drifted out
into it, and the commanding officer sang out cheerily, "On to
Vicksburg, boys, and no more trees to saw." And so they steamed on,
thinking how neatly they should take the "gray-coats" in the rear,
when suddenly a bend in the river showed them, just ahead, a fort in
the middle of the river, with the channel blocked on either side. That
was a surprise. The works were new, and the water was still muddy
about the sunken steamers. Clearly the wily Pemberton had heard of
this inland naval expedition, and was determined to check it
effectually.

The gunboats backed water, and crowded in confused groups. The gunners
in the fort took hurried aim, and pulled the lanyards of their cannon,
forgetting that those pieces were not loaded. It was hard to tell
which party was the more excited at the unexpected meeting. This gave
the blue-jackets a chance to collect their thoughts, and in a minute
or two the gunboats opened fire; but they were soon convinced that the
fort was too much for them, and they turned and crawled back through
the woods to the fleet above Vicksburg. Pemberton scored one point for
successful strategy.

But, even while this expedition was working its way back to the
station of the vessels on the Mississippi, Porter was starting another
through a second chain of water-courses that he had discovered. This
time he was so sure of getting into the rear of Vicksburg, that he
took four of his big iron-clads, and two light mortar-boats built
especially for work in the woods. Gen. Sherman, with a strong
army-force, marched overland, keeping up with the gunboats. Admiral
Porter, in his Memoirs, gives a graphic picture of this expedition.
Back of Vicksburg the country is low, and intersected in every
direction by narrow, tortuous bayous, lined on either side by gloomy
morasses or majestic forests. Into these little-known water-courses
Porter boldly led his ponderous iron-clads; while Sherman, with a
detachment of troops, advanced along the shore, keeping as near the
flotilla as possible. Seldom have naval vessels been detailed upon so
strange a service. For days they steamed on under the spreading
branches of trees, that often spanned the bayous in a mighty arch
overhead, shutting out all sunlight. For a time this navigation of
placid, shady waterways was pleasant enough; but, as they penetrated
farther into the interior, the jackies sighed for the blue waters of
the ocean, or even for the turbid current of the Mississippi. The
heavy foliage that gave so grateful a shade also harbored all sorts of
animals; and coons, rats, mice, and wildcats, that had been driven to
the trees for shelter during the prevailing high water, peered down
upon the sailors, and often dropped sociably down upon the decks of
the vessels gliding beneath.

At some portions of the voyage the flotilla seemed to be steaming
through the primeval forest. The bayou was but a few feet wider than
the gunboats, and its banks were lined by gnarled and knotted old
veterans of the forest,--live oaks, sycamore, and tupelo gum trees
that had stood in majestic dignity on the banks of the dark and sullen
stream for centuries. Sometimes majestic vistas would open; broad
avenues carpeted with velvet turf, and walled in by the massive tree
trunks, extending from the banks of the stream far back into the
country. Again, the stately forests would be replaced by fields of
waving corn or rice, with the tops of a row of negro cabins or the
columned front of a planter's house showing in the distance. Then, as
the flotilla steamed on, this fair prospect would disappear, and be
replaced by noisome cypress brakes, hung thick with the funereal
Spanish moss, and harboring beneath the black water many a noxious
reptile.

So through the ever-changing scenery the gunboats moved along, making
but little progress, but meeting with no serious obstacle, until one
morning there appeared on a bit of high ground, some yards in advance
of the leading gunboat, an army officer mounted on an old white horse.
It was Gen. Sherman, and his troops were in camp near by. He greeted
the naval forces cheerily, and, rallying Porter on the amphibious
service into which his gunboats had been forced, warned him that he
would soon have not a smokestack standing, nor a boat left at the
davits.

"So much the better," said the undaunted admiral. "All I want is an
engine, guns, and a hull to float them. As to boats, they are very
much in the way."

A short time only was spent in consultation, and then Sherman with his
forces left the bayou and plunged into the interior, first warning
Porter that he would have a hard time getting any farther, even if the
enemy did not come down and surround him. But Porter was not the man
to abandon the advance, so long as there was water enough to float his
gunboats. Besides, he had gained some ideas regarding navigation in
the forests, that enabled him to move his fleet forward with more
celerity than at first. When a tree blocked the course of the
iron-clads, they no longer stopped to clear it away by work with the
axes; but, clapping on all steam, the powerful rams dashed at the
woody obstruction, and with repeated blows soon knocked it out of the
way.

Soon after leaving Sherman, Porter saw that the difficulties he had
thus far met and conquered were as nothing to those which he had yet
to encounter. The comparatively broad stream up which he had been
steaming came to an end, and his further progress must be through
Cypress Bayou, a canal just forty-six feet wide..[??-second period a
smudge?] The broadest gunboat was forty-two feet wide, and to enter
that narrow stream made retreat out of the question: there could be no
turning round to fly. The levees rose on either side of the narrow
canal high above the decks of the iron-clads, so that the cannon could
not be sufficiently elevated to do effective work in case of an
attack. But there were nine feet of water in the great ditch; and that
was enough for Porter, who pressed boldly on.

The country into which the combined military and naval expedition was
advancing was in truth the granary of Vicksburg. On all other sides of
the beleaguered city, the Federal lines were drawn so closely that the
wagons laden with farm produce could not hope to pass. But here, back
of the city, and far from the camps of Grant's legions, the work of
raising produce for the gallant people of Vicksburg was prosecuted
with the most untiring vigor. The sight, then, of the advancing
gunboats aroused the greatest consternation. From the deck of his
vessel Porter could see the people striving to save their property
from the advancing enemy. Great droves of cattle were being driven
away far into the interior; negroes were skurrying in all directions,
driving poultry and pigs to the safe concealment of the forest; wagons
groaning under the weight of farm and garden produce could be seen
disappearing in the distance. What the inhabitants could not save they
destroyed, in order that it might not profit the invaders. A short
distance from the mouth of the bayou "were six thousand bales of
cotton piled up on opposite sides of the stream, ready to be taken
aboard a steamer when the war should end. As the gunboats advanced
slowly, making little headway against the two-knot current of the
bayou, Porter saw two men, carrying lighted pine-knots, dash up to the
cotton, and begin to set it afire. The admiral looked on in disgust.
"'What fools these mortals be!'" said he to an officer standing at his
side; "but I suppose those men have a right to burn their own cotton,
especially as we have no way of preventing them."

"I can send a howitzer shell at them, sir," said the officer, "and
drive them away."

But to this Porter demurred, saying that he had no desire to kill the
men, and that they might do as they liked with their own. Accordingly
the officers quietly watched the vandals, until, after twenty minutes'
work, the cotton was blazing, and a dense mass of smoke cut off all
vision ahead, and rose high in the air. Then Porter began to suspect
that he had made a mistake. The difficulties of navigation in the
bayou were great enough, without having smoke and fire added to them.
Yet to wait for the cotton to burn up might cause a serious delay. On
the high bank of the bayou stood a negro begging the sailors to take
him aboard.

"Hallo, there, Sambo!" sung out Porter, "how long will it take this
cotton to burn up?"

"Two day, massa," responded the contraband; "p'raps tree."

That ended the debate. "Ring the bell to go ahead fast," said the
admiral to the pilot; and away went the flotilla at full speed,
plunging into the smoke and fire. It was a hot experience for the
sailors. The heavy iron-clads made but slow progress, and were
scorched and blistered with the heat. The ports were all shut down,
and the crews called to fire-quarters, buckets in hand. To remain on
deck, was impossible. Porter and his captain made the trial, but had
hardly entered the smoke when the scorching heat drove both into the
shelter of an iron-covered deck-house. The pilot standing at the wheel
seized a flag, and, wrapping it about his face and body, was able to
stay at his post. As the flames grew hotter, the sailors below opened
the main hatch, and, thrusting up a hose, deluged the deck with floods
of water. So, without a man in sight, the huge iron ship moved along
between the walls of flame. Suddenly came an enormous crash. The
gunboat shivered, and for a moment stood still; then, gathering
headway, moved on again, though with much ominous grating beneath her
keel. Soon after she passed out of the smoke and heat, and all hands
rushed on deck for a whiff of the fresh, cool air. Their first thought
was of the cause of the collision; and, looking eagerly astern, they
saw a heavy bridge, about fifty feet of which had been demolished by
the tremendous power of the ram. This gave Porter a hint as to the
force he had at his command; and thereafter bridges were rammed as a
matter of course whenever they impeded the progress of the iron-clads.
The astonishment of the people along the shore may well be imagined.

The great and formidable obstacles that stood in the path of the
squadron were, as a rule, overcome by the exertion of the great powers
of the steam-driven, iron-plated vessels; but at last there came a
check, that, though it seemed at first insignificant, terminated the
sylvan manoeuvres of the iron-clad navy. After running the gantlet of
the burning cotton, butting down trees, and smashing through bridges,
the column entered a stretch of smooth water that seemed to promise
fair and unobstructed sailing. But toward the end of this expanse of
water a kind of green scum was evident, extending right across the
bayou, from bank to bank. Porter's keen eye caught sight of this; and,
turning to one of the negroes who had taken refuge on the gunboat, he
asked what it was. "It's nuffin' but willows, sah," he replied. "When
de water's out of de bayou, den we cuts de willows to make baskets
with. You kin go troo dat like a eel."

Satisfied with this explanation, the admiral ordered the tug which
led the column to go ahead. Under a full head of steam, the tug
dashed into the willows, but began to slow up, until, after going
about thirty yards, she stopped, unable to go forward or back.
Undaunted by this unexpected resistance, Porter cried out that the
"Cincinnati" would push the tug along; and the heavy gunboat,
withdrawing a short distance to gain headway, hurled herself forward,
and dashed into the willows with a force that would have carried her
through any bridge ever built. But the old fable of the lion bound
down by the silken net was here re-enacted. The gunboat did not even
reach the tug. The slender willow-shoots trailed along the sides,
caught in the rough ends of the iron overhang, and held the vessel
immovable. Abandoning the attempt to advance, the gunboat strove to
back out, but to no avail. Then hooks were rigged over the side to
break away the withes, and men slung in ropes alongside vigorously
wielded sharp cutlasses and saws; but still the willows retained their
grip. Matters were now getting serious; and, to add to Porter's
perplexity, reports came in that Confederate troops were coming down
upon him. Then he began to lose confidence in his iron-clads, and wish
right heartily for Sherman and his soldiers, of whose whereabouts he
could gain no knowledge. The enemy did not leave him long in doubts as
to their intention, and soon began a vigorous fire of shells from the
woods. Porter stopped that promptly by manning his mortars and firing
a few shells at a range measured by the sound of the enemy's cannon.
The immediate silence of the hostile batteries proved the accuracy of
the admiral's calculations, and gave him time to devise means for
escaping from his perilous position.

How to do it without aid from Sherman's troops, was a difficult
question; and in his perplexity he exclaimed aloud, "Why don't Sherman
come on? I'd give ten dollars to get a telegram to him." The admiral
was standing at the moment on the bank of the bayou, near a group of
negroes; and an athletic-looking contraband stepped forward, and,
announcing himself as a "telegram-wire," offered to carry the note "to
kingdum kum for half a dollar." After sharply cross-questioning the
volunteer, Porter wrote on a scrap of paper, "DEAR SHERMAN,--Hurry up,
for Heaven's sake. I never knew how helpless an iron-clad could be,
steaming around through the woods without an army to back her."

"Where will you carry this?" asked Porter, handing the despatch to the
negro.

[Illustration: Porter's Flotilla on the Red River.]

"In my calabash kiver, massa," responded the messenger with a grin;
and, stowing the paper away in his woolly hair, he darted away.

The telegram being thus despatched, Porter again turned his attention
to the willows; and, a fortunate rise in the water having occurred, he
was able to extricate his vessels and begin his retreat down the
bayou. He was somewhat perplexed by the silence of the Confederates,
from whom he had heard nothing since his mortars silenced their masked
batteries. The conundrum was solved by the sound of wood-chopping in
the forests ahead, and the discovery shortly after of two heavy logs
lying athwart the bayou, and stopping the progress of the vessels. An
hour's hard work with axe and saw removed this obstruction; and the
tug, slipping through first, shot ahead to prevent any more
tree-felling. The loud reports of her howitzer soon carried back to
the fleet the news that she had come up with the enemy, and was
disputing with them the right to the bayou.

The difficulties of the retreat were no less great than those of the
advance, with the intermittent attacks of the enemy added. The work of
removing heavy, soggy logs, half submerged beneath the black waters of
the bayou, clearing away standing trees, and breaking up and removing
Red-river rafts, wearied the sailors, and left them little spirit to
meet the enemy's attacks. The faint sounds of wood-chopping in the
distance told too well of the additional impediments yet in store for
the adventurous mariners. Scouts sent out reported that the enemy had
impressed great gangs of negroes, and were forcing them to do the work
of felling the trees that were to hem in Uncle Sam's gunboats, for the
benefit of the C.S.A. But the plans of the Confederates to this end
were easily defeated. Porter had not only many willing arms at his
command, but the powerful aid of steam. When the gunboats came to a
tree lying across the bayou, a landing party went ashore and fastened
large pulleys to a tree on the bank. Then a rope was passed through
the block; and one end having been made fast to the fallen tree, the
other was taken aboard a gunboat. The word was then given, "Back the
iron-clad hard;" and the fallen monarch of the forest was soon dragged
across the bayou and out of the way So expert did the jackies become
in this work, that they were soon able to clear away the trees faster
than the enemy could fell them. The tug then went ahead, and for a
time put an end to further tree-chopping, and captured several of the
negro axemen.

From the captured contrabands Porter learned that the attempt to cut
off his retreat was directed by the military authorities at Vicksburg.
This was a startling revelation. He had thought that the Confederates
were in entire ignorance of his movement; and now it turned out that
the wily Pemberton had kept a sharp lookout on the marauding gunboats,
and was shrewdly planning for their capture. While Porter was
pondering over this new discovery, a party of scouts came in, bringing
in four captured Confederates, two of whom were commissioned officers.
The commanding officer, a mere boy, was somewhat chagrined at being
captured, but felt confident that his friends would recapture him
shortly. Porter politely asked him to take a glass of wine and some
supper.

"I don't care if I do," responded the youngster; "and I have the less
compunction in taking it, as it belongs to us anyhow. In two hours you
will be surrounded and bagged. You can't escape. How in the Devil's
name you ever got here, is a wonder to me."

Porter smiled pleasantly, and, helping his guests lavishly, proceeded
to question them on the numbers and position of the Confederate
troops. He learned that a large body of troops had been sent out to
surround the iron-clads, and were even then closing in upon the
intruders. The danger was imminent, but Porter showed no trepidation.

"How far off are your troops?" he asked.

"About four miles. They will bag you at daylight," was the confident
response.

"Well, gentlemen," said the admiral, "Gen. Sherman is now surrounding
your forces with ten thousand men, and will capture them all before
daylight." And so saying the admiral went on deck, leaving his
captives lost in wonder; for the information carried to the Vicksburg
authorities had made no mention of troops.

Though Porter had put on so bold a front before his captives, he
really felt much anxiety for the fate of his iron-clads. He could hear
nothing from Sherman, who might be thirty miles away for all he knew.
Accordingly he retraced his course for a few miles, to throw the enemy
off the scent, and the next day began again his descent of the bayou,
bumping along stern foremost amid snags and standing trees. The enemy
soon gave evidence that he was on the watch, and opened fire with his
artillery from the rear. At this one gunboat steamed back and silenced
the artillery for a time, after which she rejoined her fellows.
Sharp-shooters in the thickets along the levee then began to grow
troublesome; and the whistle of the rifle-balls, with an occasional
_ping_ as one struck the smokestack, warned the sailors that the deck
of a gunboat in a narrow canal was no safe place in time of war. The
high levees on either side of the bayou made it impossible to use the
guns properly: so Porter turned them into mortars, and, by using very
small charges of powder, pitched shells up into the air, dropping them
into the bushes back of the levee. This somewhat checked the fire of
the sharp-shooters, but the decks were still dangerous places to
frequent. A rifle-ball struck Lieut. Wells in the head as he stood
talking to Porter; and he fell, apparently dead, upon the deck. The
admiral beckoned an officer to come and bear away the body; but the
newcomer was also hit, and fell across the body of the first. Porter
concluded that the locality was getting rather hot, and gladly stepped
behind a heavy plate of sheet-iron, which an old quarter-master
brought him with the remark, "There, sir, stand behind that. They've
fired at you long enough."

From behind his shield, Porter looked out anxiously at the forces by
which he was beleaguered. He could see clearly that the Confederates
were increasing in numbers; and, when at last he saw a long gray
column come sweeping out of the woods, his heart failed him, and for a
moment he thought that the fate of his flotilla was sealed. But at
that very moment deliverance was at hand. The Confederates were seen
to fall into confusion, waver, and give way before a thin blue
line,--the advance guard of Sherman's troops. The negro
"telegram-wire" had proved faithful, and Sherman had come on to the
rescue.

That ended the difficulties of the flotilla. The enemy, once brought
face to face with Sherman's men, departed abruptly; and soon the
doughty general, mounted on an old gray horse, came riding down to the
edge of the bayou, for a word with Porter. Seeing the admiral on the
deck of his gunboat, he shouted out, "Hallo! Porter, what did you get
into such an ugly scrape for? So much for you navy fellows getting out
of your element. Better send for the soldiers always. My boys will put
you through. Here's your little nigger. He came through all right, and
I started at once. Your gunboats are enough to scare the crows: they
look as if you had got a terrible hammering."

Somewhat crestfallen, Porter remarked, that he "never knew what
helpless things iron-clads could become when they got in a ditch, and
had no soldiers about." As Sherman declined to come aboard, Porter
went below to look after his two prisoners.

"Well, gentlemen," said he, as he entered the cabin, "you were right.
We are surrounded by troops."

The two Confederates were greatly exultant, but assured Porter that
they would see that he was kindly treated when taken into Vicksburg.

"To Vicksburg!" said he with mock amazement. "Who said any thing of
Vicksburg?"

"Why, of course you'll be taken there as a prisoner, now that our men
have surrounded you."

"Oh, you are mistaken there!" responded Porter. "The troops by whom I
am surrounded are Sherman's boys, six thousand strong." And at this
news the chagrined captives subsided, and began to consider the
prospects of a trip to the North, and incarceration in one of the
military prisons.

Sherman's army soon came up in force, and went into camp along the
road that skirted the levee. As night fell, the scene took on a wild
and picturesque air. In the narrow bayou lay the gunboats, strung out
in single file along a line of half a mile. They bore many signs of
the hard knocks they had received in their excursion through the
woods. Boats, davits, steam-pipes, and every thing breakable that rose
above the level of the deck, had been swept away by the overhanging
boughs, or dashed to pieces by falling trees. The smoke-stacks and
wheel-houses were riddled by the bullets of the Confederate
sharp-shooters. The decks were covered with rubbish of all kinds, and
here and there was a fissure that told of the bursting of some
Confederate shell. The paint was blistered, and peeling off, from the
effects of the cotton-fire through which the fleet had dashed.

On the shore blazed the camp-fires of Sherman's troops; and about the
huge flaming piles the weary soldiers threw themselves down to catch a
moment's rest, while the company cooks prepared the evening meal. Many
of the idle soldiers strolled down to the edge of the bayou, and,
forming a line along the levee, began chaffing the sailors on the
ludicrous failure of their attempt to perform naval evolutions in a
swamp.

"What's gone with your boats, Jack?" sung out one tall fellow in
cavalry garb. "Been in dry-dock for repairs?"

"How do you like playing mud-turtle?" said another. "Better stick to
salt water after this."

"Don't go bush-whacking again, unless you have the soldiers with you.
You look as if your mothers didn't know you were out." And at this a
yell of approval went up all along the line, while the badgered
sailors growled and tried to make sharp retorts to the stinging
ridicule of the landsmen.

So ended this memorable gunboat expedition. It is unparalleled in the
history of warfare. The feats performed by the unwieldy iron-clads in
the narrow bayous gained for them, from Lincoln, the title of
"web-footed" gunboats. They had traversed shallow and tortuous
channels; they had cleared their path of trees, snags, and even
bridges; they had run the gantlet of flaming cotton-bales and
Confederate bullets. After meeting and overcoming so many obstacles,
their final stoppage by a thicket of pitiful willow-shoots irritated
the blue-jackets and their commander extremely. Porter had penetrated
so far into the Yazoo country, that he could see how great damage
could be inflicted upon the Confederates, if the expedition could but
be carried out successfully. He had definite information to the
effect, that, at Yazoo City, the Confederates had a thriving shipyard,
at which they were pressing forward the construction of steam-rams
with which to sweep the Mississippi. To reach that point and destroy
the vessels, would have been a service thoroughly in accord with his
tastes; but the willows held him back. However, he was able to console
himself with the thought that the rams were not likely to do the
Confederates any immediate service; for a truthful contraband, brought
in by the Union scouts, informed the admiral that "dey has no bottom
in, no sides to 'em, an' no top on to 'em, sah; an' dere injines is in
Richmon'."

When the dangers encountered by the gunboats during this expedition
are considered, the damage sustained seems surprisingly small. Had the
Confederates acted promptly and vigorously, the intruders would never
have escaped from the swamps into which their temerity had led them. A
few torpedoes, judiciously planted in the muddy bed of the bayou,
would have effectively prevented any farther advance. More than once
the Confederates posted their artillery within effective range, and
opened a rapid and well-directed fire upon the gunboats, but erred in
using explosive shells instead of solid shot. "They were evidently
greenhorns," wrote Porter, exulting over his narrow escape, "and
failed to understand that we were iron-clad, and did not mind
_bursting_-shell. If they had used solid shot, they might have hurt
us." The infantry forces of the enemy were ample to have given the
marauding gunboats a vast deal of trouble, if the Confederate officers
had been enterprising, and had seized upon the opportunities afforded
them. Night after night the flotilla lay tied up in the centre of a
narrow bayou, with the levees towering so high above the gunboats'
ports, that the cannon were useless. At such a time, a determined
assault by a body of hostile infantry could hardly have been resisted.
Such an attack was the danger which Porter most feared throughout the
expedition, and he nightly made preparations for a desperate
resistance. The widest part of the bayou was chosen for the anchorage,
in order that a strip of water at least four feet wide might separate
the gunboats from the shore. The sides of the iron-clads were then
greased, and the guns loaded with grape, and elevated as much as
possible. Landing parties with howitzers were sent ashore, and posted
so as to enfilade any attacking force; scouts were sent out in all
directions; and the crews of the gunboats slept at their quarters all
night, ready for action at the first alarm. But it is doubtful whether
even these elaborate precautions could have saved the flotilla, had
the Confederates brought one regiment to the assault. However, the
enemy let the golden moment pass; and, after suffering the agonies of
suspense for several days, Porter at last saw his gunboats safely
anchored by the side of Sherman's protecting regiments.

Sherman and Porter held a consultation that night, and concluded that
it was useless to try to get around Vicksburg by hauling the gunboats
through the woods; and the following morning the flotilla started back
to the Union headquarters on the Mississippi.

Gen. Grant was beginning to get impatient. Weeks had passed away, and
there were still no gunboats or transports below the Vicksburg
batteries to aid him in carrying out his military plans. He held a
long consultation with Porter, the outcome of which was that the
admiral decided to run his gunboats and transports right through the
fire of the Confederate guns.

[Illustration: Dummy Gunboat passing Forts on the Mississippi.]

But, before sending a vessel through, Porter thought that he would
test the accuracy of the Confederate gunners by giving them a dummy
to fire at. He took a large flat boat, and built it up with logs and
lumber until it looked like a powerful ram. Two huge wheel-houses
towered amidships, on each of which was painted, in great, staring
letters, "Deluded Rebels, cave in." From the open ports, the muzzles
of what appeared to be heavy rifles protruded; though the guns that
seemed so formidable were really only logs of wood. Two high
smoke-stacks, built of empty pork-barrels, rose from the centre of
this strange craft; and at the bottom of each stack was an iron pot,
in which was a heap of tar and oakum that sent forth volumes of black
smoke when lighted. One dark night the fires in this sham monster were
lighted, and she was towed down to the Confederate batteries, and set
drifting down the river. She was quickly discovered, and the batteries
on the bluffs opened on her with a roar. There was nothing about the
dummy to be hurt, however; and it was impossible to sink her. So she
sailed majestically through the plunging hail of solid shot, and past
the terrible batteries that were thought to be a match for any thing
afloat. The Confederates in the trenches looked at each other in
astonishment and dismay. Word was sent to Gen. Pemberton that a
powerful Yankee iron-clad had passed the batteries unhurt, and was
speeding down the stream. The General's first thought was of a
gunboat, the "Indianola," lately captured from the Federals, and now
being converted into an iron-clad ram. She must be saved from
recapture, even if it should be necessary to destroy her. Word was
hurriedly sent down the river that a formidable ram was bearing down
upon the "Indianola;" and, if the latter vessel was not in condition
to do battle, she should be blown up. Accordingly, while the dummy
ram, caught in an eddy of the river, was whirling helplessly around
just below Vicksburg, the Confederates put the torch to their new
war-vessel, and she was soon a heap of ashes. Porter's little joke was
a good one for the United States.

But all the time that the Union navy was making these futile attempts
to get the better of the wily general who held the fort at Vicksburg,
a constant bombardment of the city was kept up. From gunboats and land
batteries, shells were hurled into the streets of the town, tearing
down houses, killing men, women, and children, and driving the
inhabitants to their cellars, or to deep caves dug in the hills. The
fire from the Union gunboats was most destructive, for they could drop
down to an advantageous point, shell the city until tired, then steam
back into safety again.

Cave-digging in the city became a regular business; and caves brought
from twenty to fifty dollars, according to their size. They generally
consisted of two or three rooms, and people lived in them quite
cheerfully during the time that the iron hail was falling in the
city's streets.

A Northern woman, who was pent up in Vicksburg during the siege, tells
graphically the story of the bombardment:--

"For many nights we have had but little sleep, because the Federal
gunboats have been running past the batteries. The uproar when this is
happening is phenomenal. The first night the thundering artillery
burst the bars of sleep, we thought it an attack by the river. To get
into garments, and rush up-stairs, was the work of a moment. From the
upper gallery we have a fine view of the river; and soon a red glare
lit up the scene, and showed a small boat, towing two large barges,
gliding by. The Confederates had set fire to a house near the bank.
Another night, eight boats ran by, throwing a shower of shot; and two
burning houses made the river clear as day. One of the batteries has a
remarkable gun they call 'whistling Dick,' because of the screeching,
whistling sound it gives; and certainly it does sound like a tortured
thing. Added to all this is the indescribable Confederate yell, which
is a soul-harrowing sound to hear. I have gained respect for the
mechanism of the human ear, which stands it all without injury. The
streets are seldom quiet at night: even the dragging about of cannon
makes a din in these echoing gullies. The other night we were on the
gallery till the last of the eight boats got by. Next day a friend
said to H----, 'It was a wonder you didn't have your heads taken off
last night. I passed, and saw them stretched over the gallery; and
grape-shot were whizzing up the street just on a level with you.' The
double roar of batteries and boats was so great, we never noticed the
whizzing. Yesterday the 'Cincinnati' attempted to go by in daylight,
but was disabled and sunk. It was a pitiful sight: we could not see
the _finale_, though we saw her rendered helpless.

[Illustration: Passing the Vicksburg Batteries.]

"Since that day the regular siege has continued. We are utterly cut
off from the world, surrounded by a circle of fire. Would it be wise,
like the scorpion, to sting ourselves to death? The fiery shower of
shells goes on day and night. H----'s occupation, of course, is gone,
his office closed. Every man has to carry a pass in his pocket. People
do nothing but eat what they can get, sleep when they can, and dodge
the shells. There are three intervals when the shelling
stops,--either for the guns to cool, or for the gunners' meals, I
suppose,--about eight in the morning, the same in the evening, and at
noon. In that time we have to both prepare and eat ours. Clothing
cannot be washed, or any thing else done. On the 19th and 22d, when
the assaults were made on the lines, I watched the soldiers cooking on
the green opposite. The half-spent balls, coming all the way from
those lines, were flying so thick that they were obliged to dodge at
every turn. At all the caves I could see from my high perch, people
were sitting, eating their poor suppers at the cave doors, ready to
plunge in again. As the first shell again flew, they dived; and not a
human being was visible. The sharp crackle of the musketry-firing was
a strong contrast to the scream of the bombs. I think all the dogs and
cats must be killed or starved: we don't see any more pitiful animals
prowling around.... The cellar is so damp and musty, the bedding has
to be carried out and laid in the sun every day, with the forecast
that it may be demolished at any moment. The confinement is dreadful.
To sit and listen as if waiting for death in a horrible manner, would
drive me insane. I don't know what others do, but we read when I am
not scribbling in this. H---- borrowed somewhere a lot of Dickens's
novels, and we re-read them by the dim light in the cellar. When the
shelling abates, H---- goes to walk about a little, or get the 'Daily
Citizen,' which is still issuing a tiny sheet at twenty-five and fifty
cents a copy. It is, of course, but a rehash of speculations which
amuses a half-hour. To-day he heard, while out, that expert swimmers
are crossing the Mississippi on logs at night, to bring and carry news
to Johnston. I am so tired of corn-bread, which I never liked, that I
eat it with tears in my eyes. We are lucky to get a quart of milk
daily from a family near, who have a cow they hourly expect to be
killed. I send five dollars to market each morning, and it buys a
small piece of mule-meat. Rice and milk is my main food: I can't eat
the mule-meat. We boil the rice, and eat it cold, with milk, for
supper. Martha runs the gauntlet to buy the meat and milk once a day
in a perfect terror. The shells seem to have many different names. I
hear the soldiers say, 'That's a mortar-shell. There goes a Parrott.
That's a rifle-shell.' They are all equally terrible. A pair of
chimney-swallows have built in the parlor chimney. The concussion of
the house often sends down parts of their nest, which they patiently
pick up and re-ascend with."

Grant's impassable lines about the beleaguered city soon made
starvation more to be feared than even the terrible shells from the
cannon of the gunboats. Necessaries of all sorts became woefully
scarce in Vicksburg. Five dollars could purchase only a little bit of
mule's flesh, hardly enough for a meal for two people. Flour was not
to be had at any price. Bread was made of coarse corn-meal or grated
peas. The ammunition of the soldiers in the trenches soon began to
give out, and the utmost economy was exercised. Many of the soldiers
were armed with muskets that required caps, and it was not many days
before caps were at a great premium. They were generally smuggled into
the city through the Union lines by fleet-footed carriers, who ran a
long gauntlet of Union pickets. Many were shot down in the attempt,
but more succeeded. One man who brought in sixteen thousand caps, was
nine days travelling thirteen miles, and was fired on more than twenty
times.

But, though Grant could have starved the city into subjection by
simply sitting and waiting, he grew tired of this, and determined to
force matters to an issue. The first thing to be done was to get the
gunboats and transports past the batteries. The transports were put
into shape to stand a cannonade by having their weaker parts covered
with cotton-bales; and on one dark night in June, the flotilla started
down the river, with the iron-clad gunboats in advance. Admiral Porter
led in the "Benton." At eleven o'clock the fleet got under way; and,
as the "Benton" came abreast of the first batteries, the alarm was
given in the Confederate camp, and a fierce cannonade began. Huge
fires were lighted on the shores to light up the river, and make the
gunboats visible to the Confederate cannoneers. The warships swung
grandly around the bend, responding with rapid broadsides to the fire
of the forts. All the vessels were hit once or oftener. The heavy
smoke that accompanies such fierce cannonading hung over the river,
cutting off all view of the surroundings from the sailors. The eddying
currents of the river caught the steamers, swinging them now this way,
now that, until the perplexed pilots knew not which way their vessels
were headed. The blue-jackets at the guns worked away cheerily,
knowing that enemies were on every side of them, and that, no matter
which way their missiles sped, an enemy was to be found. More than one
vessel turned completely around; and once, when the rising breeze
cleared away the smoke, the pilot of the "Benton" found that he was
taking his ship up-stream again, and was in imminent danger of
running down a friendly gunboat. But they all passed on without
receiving any severe injuries, and at five o'clock in the morning lay
anchored far below the city, ready to begin the attack upon the
Confederate batteries at Grand Gulf, which were called "the key to
Vicksburg."

CHAPTER XVI.

     VICKSBURG SURRENDERS, AND THE MISSISSIPPI IS OPENED. -- NAVAL
     EVENTS ALONG THE GULF COAST.

The first grand step toward the capture of Vicksburg was made when the
river-flotilla followed Porter down the Mississippi, and past the guns
of the Confederate batteries. Grant, with his army, had followed along
the western bank of the great river; and we now find him ready to
cross the river, and move upon the Vicksburg batteries from the south.
But, before this could be done, the Confederate works at Grand Gulf
must be silenced; and it again happened that the navy was to be the
chief factor in the contest. For this new battle all the blue-jackets
were ready and anxious. Admiral Porter says that "when daylight broke,
after the passage of the fleet, I was besieged by the commanding
officers of the gunboats, who came to tell me of their mishaps; but,
when I intimated that I intended to leave at Carthage any vessel that
could not stand the hammering they would be subject to at Grand Gulf,
they suddenly discovered that no damage had been done to their
vessels, which, if any thing, were better prepared for action than
when they started out!"

The Confederate works at Grand Gulf mounted eighteen guns; and, as
they stood upon high bluffs overlooking the river, they were most
formidable. It was decided by the Federals that the navy alone should
undertake the task of reducing the fortifications,--a decision that
was of benefit to the Confederates, for their strongest position was
along the river-front. Four of the guns held a raking position up and
down the long stretch of muddy water that swirled and eddied by with a
current of seven miles an hour.

While the fort had the advantage of position, the gunboats were much
stronger in their armament; and the contest was looked forward to as
one bound to be desperate. The position of every gun in the batteries,
and the size of the garrison, were well known to every commander of a
Union vessel; and they made the most careful preparations for the
assault.

The Confederates knew that the result of that day's battle would
decide the ownership of Vicksburg, and they were prepared to offer the
most desperate resistance. The orders at every battery were to use
shell alone; and the men were instructed to fire carefully, and only
after taking deadly aim. In a high tree just outside the fort a
lookout was stationed; and at early daylight, on the morning of the
29th of April, 1863, he signalled that the fleet of gunboats was
bearing down upon the works.

Men who were in the fort that morning saw a strange panorama. The
stillness was most profound on the shore and on the river. The boats
moved slowly and grandly down, not a man in sight, and with no sign of
life. The trees up the river were black with Federal spectators; and
the chirp of birds was all about the men who stood waiting beside the
huge cannon.

Porter went at his work with a vim which made the forest tremble and
the river bubble. For the first few minutes the Confederates were
appalled by the fierceness of the fire, which stands on record as the
fastest in the war; but, when the forts did get down to their work,
they went in with a roar that almost deafened the Federal soldiers
three miles away. Great shells burst over the gunboats, or, falling
into the water close by their sides, threw up columns of water that
deluged the decks. The vessels found the greatest difficulty in
getting good positions for the swift-eddying current. One moment they
were bow on, the next headed down stream, or up, or whirling around in
circles. Of course this greatly hurt the aim of the gunners, but it
likewise made the vessels poor targets for the Confederates.

Three gunboats--the "Benton," "Tuscumbia," and "Lafayette"-- engaged
the upper battery; and nowhere in naval history is found the record of
faster firing than was done by these ships. Their huge shells tore
away at the walls of earth, throwing up tons of dirt with each
explosion, but not seeming to affect the strength of the fort at all.
Not a shot entered an embrasure, though many came near it. One of the
Confederate artillerists said after the fight,--

"There was not one single minute in all that five hours in which I did
not expect death. We all worked away as if in a nightmare, and we all
felt that any moment might be our last. The 'Benton' fired repeatedly
at my gun; and as many as twenty of her shells struck the opening,
tearing holes in the parapet ten feet back. Twenty times we were
almost buried out of sight under the clouds of dirt, and the loose
earth was knee deep around our gun when the fight closed. Not one of
us was hit hard enough to draw blood, and yet we all felt ten years
older for that five hours' work. I sighted the gun, and saw fourteen
of my shot hit the 'Benton,' and six plunge into another."

The gunboats fought in a way that showed desperate determination. The
first gun from the "Lafayette" was answered by a shell which crashed
through her side and exploded in a wardroom, knocking every thing into
chips. Three times the carpenter came up and reported to the captain
that the ship was sinking; and each time the reply was, "Very well,
sir: keep right on firing until the guns are under water." When the
ship came out of the fight, she counted up fifty scars.

The long-range firing that was carried on at first did not satisfy the
"Mound City." One particular gunner on the Confederate works seemed to
cherish a spite against her; and every time the flame leaped from the
muzzle of his gun, a solid shot banged against the gunboat's side.
This was not to be tamely borne; and the "Mound City" rushed up so
close to the bank that her bow stirred up the mud, and from that
position opened fast and furiously upon the forts with grape and
canister. A hail of rifle-bullets fell upon her decks; but she stuck
to her post, and succeeded in driving the enemy to the bomb-proofs.

But, with all their pluck and rapid firing, the gunners of the fleet
were making no impression on the works. Gen. Grant, who was watching
the engagement from a tug in mid-stream, saw this, and determined to
rush his soldiers past the fort in transports, while the navy engaged
the enemy's guns. This was done quickly, and towards night the ships
returned to their post up the river, leaving the Confederates in
possession of the batteries. But the great point had been gained; and
Grant's army was moving on Vicksburg, with nothing to interfere with
its besieging operations.

Then began that series of attacks and repulses, of building trenches,
paralleling, and advancing steadily, until the lines of the Federals
and the Confederates were so close together that the men used to shout
jokes and taunts over the breastworks. All the Confederates were known
as "Johnnies," and all Union soldiers as "Yanks." Often "Johnny" would
call out, "Well, Yank, when are you coming into town?" Sometimes the
answer was, "We propose to celebrate the Fourth of July there." The
"Johnnies" did not believe this; but it was true, nevertheless, for on
July 4 Grant's victorious army marched into Vicksburg. A day or two
later the Confederate works at Port Hudson and Grand Gulf were
surrendered to the Federals, and the Mississippi was again open for
commerce throughout its length.

When the fall of Vicksburg had thus left the river clear, Admiral
Porter was ordered to take his fleet up the Red River, and clear away
any Confederate works that he might find on the banks of that stream.
Gen. A. J. Smith, with a strong body of troops, accompanied him; while
Gen. Banks was to march his troops overland from Texas, and join the
expedition at Shreveport. For several days the gunboats pressed
forward up the crooked stream, meeting with no opposition, save from
the sharp-shooters who lined the banks on either side, and kept up a
constant fire of small-arms.

Shreveport was reached in safety; and, after a short halt, the
flotilla started again on their voyage up the river. They had
proceeded but a short distance when a courier came galloping down the
river's bank, waving a despatch, which he handed to Admiral Porter.

[Illustration: Manning the Yards.]

"The despatch read, 'Gen. Banks badly defeated; return,' Here was a
dilemma to be placed in,--a victorious army between us and our own
forces; a long, winding, shallow river wherein the vessels were
continually grounding; a long string of empty transports, with many
doubtful captains, who were constantly making excuses to lie by or to
land (in other words, who were trying to put their vessels into the
power of the Confederates); and a thousand points on the river where
we could be attacked with great advantage by the enemy; and the
banks lined with sharp-shooters, by whom every incautious soldier who
showed himself was shot."

But, though the admiral clearly saw all the dangers he was exposed to,
and which he recounts in the foregoing paragraph, he did not propose
to return, but pressed forward. He soon reached the scene of battle,
and with the big guns of his boats covered the retreat of the troops;
then, having done all there was to be done, started down the river.

But now came the great trouble of the whole expedition. Those Southern
rivers are accustomed in summer to fall rapidly until they become mere
dry ditches, with a narrow rivulet, hardly deep enough to float a
row-boat, flowing down the centre. This was the summer season, and the
Red River was falling fast. The banks swarmed with gray-coated
soldiery, anxious to be on hand to capture the ships. At Grand Écore
the "Eastport" became unmanageable, and was blown up. The fleet
continued on its way quietly, until a serious obstacle was met.
Admiral Porter writes:--

"One of the 'Cricket's' guns was mounted on the upper deck forward, to
command the banks; and a crew of six men were kept stationed at it,
ready to fire at any thing hostile.

"We went along at a moderate pace, to keep within supporting distance
of each other. I was sitting on the upper deck, reading, with one eye
on the book and the other on the bushes, when I saw men's heads, and
sang out to the commanding officer, Gorringe, 'Give those fellows in
the bushes a two-second shell.' A moment after the shell burst in the
midst of the people on the bank.

"'Give them another dose,' I said, when, to my astonishment, there
came on board a shower of projectiles that fairly made the little
'Cricket' stagger. Nineteen shells burst on board our vessel at the
first volley. It was the gun-battery of which our prisoner had told
us. We were going along at this time about six knots an hour; and,
before we could fire another gun, we were right under the battery and
turning the point, presenting the 'Cricket's' stern to the enemy. They
gave us nine shells when we were not more than twenty yards distant
from the bank, all of which burst inside of us; and, as the vessel's
stern was presented, they poured in ten more shots, which raked us
fore and aft.

"Then came the roar of three thousand muskets, which seemed to strike
every spot in the vessel. Fortunately her sides were musket-proof.

"The 'Cricket' stopped. I had been expecting it. How, thought I, could
all these shells go through a vessel without disabling the machinery?
The Rebels gave three cheers, and let us drift on: they were
determined to have the whole of us. They opened their guns on the two
pump-boats, and sunk them at the first discharge. The poor negroes
that could swim tried to reach the shore; but the musketeers picked
off those that were in the water or clinging to the wrecks. It was a
dreadful spectacle to witness, with no power to prevent it; but it
turned out to be the salvation of the 'Cricket.' All this took place
in less than five minutes.

"The moment the 'Cricket' received the first discharge of artillery, I
went on deck to the pilot-house, saluted by a volley of musketry as I
passed along; and, as I opened the pilot-house door, I saw that the
pilot, Mr. Drening, had his head cut open by a piece of shell, and the
blood was streaming down his cheeks. He still held on to the wheel. 'I
am all right, sir,' he said: 'I won't give up the wheel.'

"Gorringe was perfectly cool, and was ringing the engine-room bell to
go ahead. In front of the wheel-house, the bodies of the men who
manned the howitzer were piled up. A shell had struck the gun, and,
exploding, had killed all the crew,--a glorious death for them."

Porter now found himself in a bad fix. His guns could not be elevated
enough to bear on the batteries that stood on the crest of the high
bluffs. There was nothing to do but to run by at the best possible
rate of speed. Suddenly the engine stopped, and the vessel floated
helplessly down the stream. Porter rushed below to discover the
trouble. In the engine-room stood the engineer leaning heavily against
the throttle. Porter shouted at him, but received no reply; then,
putting his hand on the man's shoulder, found him dead. The admiral
threw the body aside, pulled open the throttle, and the "Cricket"
glided along past the batteries to a safe refuge down-stream. The
other ships came down safely, although more or less cut up; and the
flotilla continued its retreat down the stream. For a day or two all
went smoothly as a holiday excursion; then came a sudden reverse,
that, for a time, seemed to make certain the loss of the entire fleet.
At Alexandria the Red-river bottom is full of great rocks that make it
impassable except at the highest water. When Porter's gunboats
arrived, they found themselves caught in a trap from which there
seemed to be no hope of escape. The army was encamped along the banks
of the river, and the soldiers began again their jokes upon Porter's
habit of taking gunboats for an overland journey. The army generals
began to get impatient, and advised Porter to blow up his ships, as
the troops must soon march on and leave him. Porter was sick in bed,
but this suggestion aroused him. "Burn my gunboats!" he cried,
springing to his feet. "Never! I'll wait here for high water if I have
to wait two years." And, indeed, it began to look as though he would
be forced to wait nearly that long.

[Illustration: Bailey's Dam on the Red River.]

In this time of suspense, there arose a man equal to the emergency. A
certain Lieut-Col. Bailey, who had been a Wisconsin lumberman, came to
Porter, and suggested that a dam should be built to raise the water
fourteen feet above the falls. Porter jumped at the suggestion, and
eight thousand men were set to work.

"It will take too much time to enter into the details of this truly
wonderful work," writes Admiral Porter. "Suffice it to say that the
dam had nearly reached completion in eight days' working-time, and the
water had risen sufficiently on the upper falls to allow the 'Fort
Hindman,' 'Osage,' and 'Neosho' to get down and be ready to pass the
dam. In another day it would have been high enough to enable all the
other vessels to pass the upper falls. Unfortunately, on the morning
of the 9th instant the pressure of water became so great that it swept
away two of the stone barges which swung in below the dam on one side.
Seeing this unfortunate accident, I jumped on a horse, and rode up to
where the upper vessels were anchored, and ordered the 'Lexington' to
pass the upper falls if possible, and immediately attempt to go
through the dam. I thought I might be able to save the four vessels
below, not knowing whether the persons employed on the work would ever
have the heart to renew their enterprise.

"The 'Lexington' succeeded in getting over the upper falls just in
time, the water rapidly falling as she was passing over. She then
steered directly for the opening in the dam, through which the water
was rushing so furiously that it seemed as if nothing but destruction
awaited her. Thousands of beating hearts looked on, anxious for the
result. The silence was so great as the 'Lexington' approached the
dam, that a pin might almost be heard to fall. She entered the gap
with a full head of steam on, pitched down the roaring torrent, made
two or three spasmodic rolls, hung for a moment on the rocks below,
was then swept into deep water by the current, and rounded to safely
into the bank. Thirty thousand voices rose in one deafening cheer, and
universal joy seemed to pervade the face of every man present."

After the dam was repaired, the rest of the fleet passed down safely.

With the escape of the Red-river flotilla, the career of Admiral
Porter on the rivers ended. Indeed, there was but little work for the
river navy remaining. The Mississippi, Tennessee, and Cumberland
Rivers were opened; and the Confederate works on the smaller streams
were unimportant, and could be left to fall with the fall of the
Confederacy, which was near at hand. There was work for fighting
sea-captains along the Atlantic coast, and thither Admiral Porter was
ordered. He will re-appear at the bombardment of Fort Fisher.

An event which caused the greatest excitement in naval circles at this
time, and which for courage and dash has probably never been equalled
in the history of the world, was the run of the Confederate privateer
"Florida" past the United States fleet blockading the harbor of
Mobile. The "Florida" was originally a merchant-ship, known as the
"Oreto;" and under that name she sailed from Liverpool, carrying a
peaceful cargo, and manned by sailors who had no idea that any thing
beyond a peaceable voyage was planned. She was commanded by an English
sea-captain; and, although the United States consul at Liverpool
looked on her with some suspicion, yet he could find no pretext upon
which to oppose her departure.

Hardly had the ship passed the mouth of the Mersey, when her course
was shaped for Nassau, the haven of privateers and blockade-runners.
At Nassau several officers of the Confederate navy were living; and
from the anxiety with which they scanned the horizon day after day,
through their telescopes, it would seem that they were watching for
some friendly craft. The "Oreto" arrived safely at Nassau; and a young
gentleman who had come with her made all possible haste ashore, and
delivered to the watchful gentlemen in the town certain letters, which
made them first look with the greatest satisfaction at the newly
arrived ship, and then begin again their outlook for vessels. The
letters were from Capt. Bulloch, the agent in London of the
Confederacy; and by them he notified his brother naval officers that
he delivered to them the "Oreto," an admirably built ship, suited for
an armed cruiser. "It has been impossible to get the regular battery
intended for her on board," wrote Capt. Bulloch; "but I have sent out
four seven-inch rifled guns, with all necessary equipments, in the
steamship 'Bahama,' bound for Nassau."

So here were the naval officers and their ship, but the guns were yet
to come; and, when they did come, some shrewd planning would be
necessary to get the guns mounted without alarming the British
authorities. By the time the "Bahama" arrived, the plans were all
made. As the steamer came up to the dock, a small schooner slipped
alongside, and eight or ten heavy cases were transferred from the
larger vessel's hold to the deck of the coaster. Then the little
vessel sailed over to Green Cay, a desert island about sixty miles
from Nassau, where she was soon joined by the "Oreto." There the work
of changing the peaceful merchantman "Oreto" into the war-cruiser
"Florida" began.

The work of transferring the armament, and mounting the guns, was very