Chapter XXXVII: Preface (6)

About the 1st of March, 1862, a Norfolk newspaper contained a violent attack upon the Confederate authorities for their bad management in regard to the Merrimac, or “Virginia,” as they had re-christened her. The paper declared that her plating was a failure, that her machinery was defective, and that she very nearly sank when brought out of dock. This was all a ruse, for she was then making trials of machinery, and had her officers and crew on board and under drill.

The Navy Department was better informed than those in the immediate vicinity, and hurried up the means it had created to meet the ironclad.

In Hampton Roads, at that time, were the Minnesota, a fine steam-frigate, the Roanoke, of the same size, but crippled in machinery, and several other vessels of much less power, together with numerous transports, coal-ships, and others.

A few miles above, at Newport News, lay the Congress, a sailing frigate of 50 guns, and the Cumberland, a heavy sloop of 24 guns. These were the “insolent frigates” which, during many preceding months, had entirely prevented the Confederates from using the water communication between Richmond and Norfolk. The danger in leaving these vessels, without steam, in such a position, was fully recognized, and they were to be replaced by others about the middle of March.

On shore, at Newport News, was a camp of about four thousand men; and the Congress and Cumberland lay just off this camp, in the fair way of the channel, and about a quarter of a mile apart; the Cumberland being the furthest up the James river.

On Saturday, the 8th of March, the Merrimac at last appeared, accompanied by two or three tugs armed with rifled guns, and joined, eventually, by two armed merchant steamers from up the James. The Merrimac moved with great deliberation, and was seen from the vessels at Newport News, coming down the channel from Norfolk, towards Sewell’s point, at about half-past twelve. She could not then be seen from Hampton Roads, but when she did at last show herself clear of the point, there was great commotion there. But she turned up, at a right angle, and came up the channel toward Newport News. It is said by some that she came by a channel not generally known, or, at least, not commonly used.

The tide had just turned ebb, and the time selected was the best for the iron-clad, and the worst for the vessels at Newport News, for their sterns were down stream, and they could not be sprung round.

The Merrimac approached these ships with ominous silence and deliberation. The officers were gathered on the poops of the vessels, hazarding all sorts of conjectures in regard to the strange craft, and, when it was plain she was coming to attack them, or to force the passage, the drum beat to quarters. By about two o’clock the strange monster was close enough to make out her ports and plating, and the Congress fired at her from a stern gun. The projectile, a 32-pound shot, bounced off the casemate as a pebble would.

The ironclad threw open her forward ports, and answered with grape, killing and wounding quite a number on board the Congress. Then she steamed up past that frigate, at a distance of less than two hundred yards, receiving a broadside, and giving one in return. The shot of the Congress had no effect upon the Merrimac; but the broadside of the latter, upon the wooden frigate, had created great destruction. One of her shells dismounted an 8-inch gun, and either killed or wounded every one of the gun’s crew. The slaughter at other guns was fearful. There were comparatively few wounded, the shells killing, as a general rule.

After this broadside the Merrimac passed up the stream, and the Congress’ men, supposing she had had enough of it, began to cheer; and for many of them it was the last cheer they were ever to give. The iron-clad went up stream far enough to turn at right angles, and ran into the Cumberland with her ram. The Cumberland began to fill, at once, and in a few minutes sank, her flag flying, and having kept up her fire as long as her gun-deck was above water. Her mizzen-top remained out of water, but it was deeper under her forward part, and her fore and main top went under. A small freight boat, of the quartermaster’s department, and some tugs and row-boats put off from the wharf at the camp, to save the lives of her crew. These were fired at by the Rebel gun-boats, and the boiler of the freight boat was pierced, and the wharf itself damaged, but the greater part of those in the water were saved.

The Cumberland lost one hundred and seventeen out of three hundred on board. Buchanan, the Captain of the Merrimac, hailed Morris, the First Lieutenant of the Cumberland, and temporarily in command, saying, “Do you surrender?” “No, Sir!” shouted back Morris, whose ship was then sinking. The last gun was fired by acting Master Randall, now in the navy, but retired. The ship heeled suddenly as she sank, and the ladders were either thrown down, or became almost perpendicular, so as to render it difficult to get on deck. The Chaplain was drowned, on this account. One of the gunners’ mates got up safely, however, all the way from the magazine, and swam to the mizzen-top. The marine drummer boy was pushed and hoisted up by some of the men, holding fast to his drum, which he saved, and creating laughter, even at that terrible moment, by the way in which he clung to it.

When the survivors of the Cumberland reached the shore they were enthusiastically received by the soldiers, and flasks of whisky, plugs of tobacco, and other soldiers’ and sailors’ luxuries, forced upon them. Captain Radford, of the Cumberland, now Admiral Radford, was at Hampton Roads, sitting on a court-martial, when the Merrimac ran out. He went on shore, got a horse, and rode madly, in hopes of reaching Newport News in time; but he only got there to see his pendant waving from the truck, and sweeping the water which had swallowed up so many of his fine crew.

In ramming the Cumberland the Merrimac had twisted her prow or beak, but the leak it occasioned was not noticed at once. She then turned down stream, to renew her attack upon the Congress. The latter ship had been set on fire by the shell of the first broadside, and one of the seats of fire was aft, near the after magazine; this was never extinguished, and was the eventual cause of her destruction.

Seeing the fate of the Cumberland, which sank in deep water, the Congress slipped her chains, set the top-sails and jib, and with the help of the tug Zouave, ran on the flat which makes off from Newport News point. Here she heeled over, as the tide continued to fall, leaving only two 32-pounders which could be fought, and these were in the stern ports, on the gun-deck.

The Minnesota and one or two other vessels had started up to the relief of the Congress and Cumberland, but they got on shore before they had achieved half the distance. It turned out to be well, for they would otherwise probably have shared the fate of the Cumberland, in which case the lives of their crews would have been uselessly jeopardized.

It was about half-past two when the Merrimac came to attack the Congress once more. She took up a position about one hundred and fifty yards astern of her, and deliberately raked her with rifled shells, while the small steamers all concentrated their guns upon the same devoted ship. A great many were now killed on board the Congress, including two officers. The ship kept up a fire from her two stern guns, having the crews swept away from them repeatedly. At last they were both dismounted. Nearly all the men in the powder division, below, were killed by this raking fire. This division was in charge of Paymaster Buchanan, who was a brother of the Captain of the Merrimac. Those now fared best whose duty kept them on the spar-deck. Even the wounded in the cockpit were killed, and the shells were momentarily setting fire to new places, rendering it necessary to drench the quarters of the wounded with ice-cold water. The commanding officer, Lieutenant Joseph B. Smith, was killed by a shell at this time.

The Congress had now borne this fire for nearly an hour, and had no prospect of assistance from any quarter, and was unable to fire a shot in return.

Under these circumstances there was nothing to do but to haul down the flag. A small gun-boat came alongside, the commanding officer of which said he had orders to take the people out, and burn the vessel. But before many could get on board the steamer she was driven off by the sharp-shooters of a regiment on shore. They now all opened on the Congress again, although she had a white flag flying, and could not be responsible for the actions of the soldiers on shore. After about fifteen minutes more, however, they all went down to attack the Minnesota, which ship was hard and fast aground. Fortunately they could not approach very near her, on account of the state of the tide, and night now drawing on, the whole flotilla withdrew, and proceeded up the Norfolk channel.

It was now necessary for the survivors of the Congress to get on shore as soon as possible, and this was done, by about dark, by means of the two boats which had the fewest shot-holes in them. These made repeated trips, taking the wounded first, and the officers last, and the wearied and exhausted people were hospitably received in the camp.

The poor old ship, deserted by all but the dead, who were left lying just as they fell, burned till about midnight, when she blew up, with a report that was heard for many miles.

The next morning was fine, but hazy, but it soon became clear, as if to afford an uninterrupted view of the first ironclad fight.

The camp was early astir; the regiments drawn up in line of battle, while the survivors of the two ships’ companies manned the howitzers and field pieces in the earthworks to the west of the camp. For it was certain the Merrimac would return that morning, to complete her work, while information had been received that General Magruder, with a large force, was marching over from Yorktown, to take the camp in the rear, and thus, in conjunction with the ironclad, force a surrender.

About six o’clock the Merrimac was seen, through the haze, coming down again, apparently intending to attack the Minnesota, which ship was still aground. Her proceedings were watched with breathless interest by thousands, on all sides of the broad sheet of water, which formed an amphitheatre, so to speak, on the southern side of which the spectators were filled with hope and confidence, while to the north well-grounded apprehension was felt. Passing up the James River channel again, the Merrimac opened fire upon the Minnesota with her bow guns, hulling her once or twice, when, suddenly, there darted out from under the shadows of the huge frigate a little raft-like vessel, almost flush with the water, and bearing on her deck a round, black turret.

At first no one in the camp seemed to know what it was, or how it came there, but at last it was conceded that it must be the strange, new ironclad, which was said to be building in New York, by Ericsson.

It was indeed the “Monitor,” and although too late to prevent a terrible loss, she was in the nick of time to prevent much more serious disaster.

And now for a few words about this remarkable vessel, whose exploits were the cause of a revolution in the building of ships-of-war, throughout the world.

And first, as to her name. Ericsson proposed to call her Monitor, because she would prove a warning to the leaders of the Southern rebellion, as well as to the authorities of other countries who should be inclined to break our blockade, or otherwise interfere in our affairs.

Captain Ericsson was a native of Sweden, and in his youth had served in both the army and navy of that country. Thence he went to England, to pursue his profession as an engineer, and came out to America, to superintend the construction of the United States screw steamer Princeton, in 1839. Here he remained, dying in 1895, far advanced in years. In 1854 he planned a shot-proof iron-plated vessel, the drawings for which he forwarded to Louis Napoleon, saying, among other things, that his invention would place an entire fleet of wooden vessels at its mercy, in calms and light winds. Louis Napoleon politely declined to accept his proposition to build such a vessel for the French Navy.

When it became evident that a long and arduous struggle was before us, at the opening of the Civil War, certain gentlemen entered into a contract to build such a vessel for our Government, on Ericsson’s plans, and under his superintendence. The ironclad was contracted for in October, 1861, to be ready in the shortest possible space of time. The contract price paid for her hull was seven and a half cents a pound, and Ericsson and his backers were to forfeit payment for the whole, unless she was found to work in a satisfactory manner.

His plans were only partly drawn, and it is said that he frequently made his drawings, to overcome difficulties, the same day they were to be worked from.

The hull was built by Rowland, at Green Point, Long Island; the turret at the Novelty Works, New York; the machinery and mechanism of the turret at Delamater’s, in New York; while the massive port-stoppers, which swung down by machinery, as the guns fired and the turret revolved, were forged in Buffalo.

Wonderful to relate, this entirely novel structure was finished in one hundred days from the time the plates for her keel were laid. She was launched on the 30th of January, 1862, having large wooden tanks under her stern, to prevent her from running under water, as she went off the ways.

She was delivered to the naval authorities, at the New York Navy-yard, on the 19th of February, following. After two trial trips it was found to be necessary to hurry this novel and almost untried piece of complicated machinery down to Hampton Roads, to meet the formidable ironclad whose doings we have just been relating.

The officers and crew were in circumstances entirely new to them. “Calmly and terribly heroic,” says Dorr, “was the act of manning this coffin-like ship,” in which the crew was, as it were, hermetically sealed.

Lieutenant John L. Worden, of the Navy, having been ordered to the command, proceeded to select a crew from the receiving ships North Carolina and Sabine. He stated fairly to the men the difficulties and dangers which they might expect to encounter, and yet many more volunteered to go than were required. The officers were ordered in the usual way, except the First Lieutenant, S. D. Greene, who was a volunteer. Chief Engineer Stimers, of the navy, who had been employed as an inspector of some of the work, and who was interested in the performance of the vessel, went down in her as a passenger, and took part, as a volunteer, in her first action.

The Monitor’s orders to Hampton Roads were issued on the 20th of February, but necessary work detained her; and on March 4th Admiral Paulding, the Commandant at New York, directed Worden to proceed the moment the weather would permit; and informed him that a tug would be sent to tow him, and two small steamers would attend.

On the afternoon of March 6th the Monitor left Sandy Hook, with a moderate westerly wind, and a smooth sea. The “Seth Low” was hired to tug her, and the Currituck and Sachem formed the escort. At midday of the 7th she was off the Capes of the Delaware, with a strong breeze and a rough sea. Water came freely in at the hawse-pipes, around the base of the turret, and in other places. At 4 P. M., the wind still increasing, the water broke over the smoke and blower pipes, which were six and four feet high, respectively. This wet the blower bands, which slipped and broke. A failure in the machinery to supply air must soon be fatal, in such a craft, to all on board. The blowers being stopped there was no draft for the furnaces, and the fire and engine rooms soon filled with gas.

The engineer in charge, Isaac Newton, U. S. N., met the emergency promptly, but his department was soon prostrated by inhaling the gas, and they had to be taken up into the turret, to be revived.

The water was coming in rapidly, and the hand-pumps could not discharge it fast enough. Matters looked very gloomy, and the tug was hailed, and directed to head for the land. This she did at once, but made slow progress against wind and sea; but by evening she had got the Monitor into much smoother water; repairs were made, the gas had escaped, and at 8 o’clock she was on her course again. At midnight fears of disaster were again aroused by very rough water, in passing over the Chincoteague Shoals; and, to add to their troubles, the wheel-ropes jammed, and the vessel yawed so that the towing hawser was in danger of parting.

These difficulties were in turn overcome by the stout hearts and skillful hands on board; and at four in the afternoon of the 8th of March she passed Cape Henry. Heavy firing was now heard to the westward, which Worden at once conjectured to be the Merrimac fighting the vessels in the Roads. He at once prepared the Monitor for action, and keyed up the turret. A pilot boat which came out to meet them soon put them in possession of the news, and of the damage done to the ships at Newport News, as well as the position of the Minnesota. Reporting to the senior officer in Hampton Roads, Worden’s first care was to find a pilot for that place. None being found, acting Master Howard, who had a knowledge of the locality, volunteered to act as pilot.

The Monitor then went up, and anchored near the Minnesota, at one o’clock on Sunday morning. Worden went to see Captain Van Brunt, and informed himself, as well as he could, of the state of affairs, and then returned to the Monitor, after assuring the Captain that he would develop all the qualities of that vessel, both for offence and defence.

We now return to the moment when the Merrimac came down again, and the Monitor went out to meet her, Worden’s object being to draw her away from the Minnesota. The contrast between the opposing ironclads was most striking, the Monitor seeming a veritable pigmy by the side of the Merrimac. The two vessels met on parallel courses, with their bows looking in opposite directions. They then exchanged fire. Worden and the engineers had been very anxious about the effect of heavy shot striking the turret, and causing it to jam. The heavy shot of the Merrimac, _did_ strike the turret, and, to their great relief, it continued to revolve without difficulty. Thus one great source of anxiety was removed. Moreover, it was plainly to be seen that the 11-inch solid shot of the Monitor made a very considerable impression upon the Merrimac’s plating. The Monitor, though slow, steered well, and was much more agile than her long and heavy opponent, and she now ran across the Merrimac’s stem, close to her, in the hopes of damaging her propeller or rudder, but in this she did not succeed.

After passing up on her port side, she crossed the Merrimac’s bow, to get between her and the Minnesota again. The Merrimac put on steam, and made for the Monitor, to ram her. Finding that she would strike her, Worden put his helm hard-a-port, and gave his vessel a sheer, so that the blow glanced off from the quarter. The Monitor was now obliged to haul off for a few minutes, to do some repair or other, and the Merrimac turned her attention to the Minnesota, hulling her, and exploding the boiler of a steam-tug lying alongside of her. The Minnesota’s battery was brought to bear, and her 8-inch shot must have hit the Merrimac more than fifty times, but glanced from her sloping roof without inflicting damage.

The gallant little Monitor now came up again, and interposed between the two. Her shot soon caused the Merrimac to shift her position, and in doing so she grounded for a few minutes, but was soon afloat again. The fight had now lasted for a long time, and just before noon, when within ten yards of the Merrimac, one of her shells struck the pilot-house, just over the lookout hole or slit. Worden had just withdrawn his face, which had been pressed against it. If he had been touching it he would probably have been killed. As it was, he was stunned, and blinded by the explosion, and bears the indelible marks of powder blast in his face to this day.

The concussion partly lifted the top of the pilot-house, and the helm was put a starboard, and the Monitor sheered off. Greene was sent for, from the turret, to take the command, but just at that time it became evident that the Merrimac had had enough of it; and, after a few more shots on each side she withdrew, and slowly and sullenly went up to an anchorage above Craney Island. Greene did not follow her very far, and was considered to have acted with good judgment; it not being necessary to enter into the reasons for his action here. He returned, and anchored near the Minnesota, where he remained until that vessel was extricated from her unpleasant predicament, on the following night.

It is probable that the Monitor would, in firing at such close quarters, have completely broken up the Merrimac’s armor plates, if a knowledge had existed of the endurance of the Dahlgren gun. The fear of bursting the 11-inch guns, in the small turret, caused the use of the service charge of fifteen pounds of powder. After that time thirty pounds were often used. Then we must remember that the crew had only been exercised at the guns a few times, and that the gun and turret gear were rusty, from having been kept wet during her late passage from New York.

The Monitor was 124 feet long, and 34 feet wide in the hull. The armor raft was 174 feet long, and 41 feet wide. Her stern overhung 34 feet, and her bow 15 feet. Her side armor was of five one-inch plates, backed by twenty-seven inches of oak. Her deck armor consisted of two half-inch plates, over seven inches of plank. The turret was twenty feet in inside diameter, covered with eight one-inch plates, and was nine feet high. The top of the turret was of railroad bars, with holes for ventilation. The pilot-house was built of bars eight inches square, and built up log-house fashion, with the corners notched. She was very primitive in all her arrangements, compared with the monitors Ericsson afterwards produced.

She carried two 11-inch guns, which threw spherical cast-iron shot, weighing 168 pounds. The charge of powder has been mentioned.

In this engagement she was struck twenty-one times; eight times on the side armor; twice on the pilot-house; seven times on the turret, and four times on deck.

The Merrimac carried ten heavy guns; sixty-eight-pounders, rifled. One of these was broken by a shot from the Cumberland, which shot entered her casemate, and killed seven men. Captain Buchanan was wounded on the first day, by a musket-ball, it is said; and the Merrimac was commanded, in her fight with the Monitor, by Lieutenant Catesby Jones, formerly of the United States Navy, as were, indeed, all her other officers. On the second day the Monitor injured many of her plates, and crushed in some of her casemate timbers.

From the day she retired before the Monitor to the 11th of May, when she was blown up by her own people, the formidable Merrimac never did anything more of note. There was, indeed, a plan concocted to capture the Monitor, as she lay on guard, in the Roads, by engaging her with the Merrimac, while men from two small steamers boarded her, and wedged her turret. Then the crew were to be driven out, by throwing balls of stinking combustibles below, by her ventilators. But nothing came of it.

The end of the Monitor must be told. After doing good service up the James River, during the eventful summer of 1862, she was sent down to Beaufort, South Carolina. On the night of the 30th of December, when off Hatteras, she suddenly foundered. About half of her officers and crew went down in her; the rest making their escape to her escort. The cause of her sinking was never known; but it was conjectured that the oak timbers which were fitted on the top rim of her iron hull had shrunk under the hot summer sun of the James River, and when she once more got into a rough sea, admitted the water in torrents.

Before we quit the subject of the Merrimac and Monitor, it may be of interest to mention that just about the time the Merrimac retired from the contest the head of Magruder’s column appeared on the river bank. But the camp at Newport News was too strong and well entrenched to be attacked without aid from the water. Magruder was just a day too late, and had to march back again. His troops were the same which, a few weeks later, were opposed to McClellan, in the earthworks at Yorktown.

FARRAGUT AT NEW ORLEANS.

About the close of the gloomy and disastrous year 1861, the Government of the United States determined to regain control of the Mississippi, the greater part of which, from Memphis to the Gulf, was held by the Confederates, who were thus enabled to transport immense supplies from the southwest to the seat of war. Moreover, the Rebels, as they were then called, had, at New Orleans, a constantly increasing force of rams and armored vessels, under able officers of the old Navy, with which to defend the approaches from the Gulf, as well as from up the river.

After long consideration, Farragut was chosen as the naval officer to command in the Gulf. The story of his southern birth, and of his steadfast loyalty to his flag, is too well known to be here repeated.

His formal orders put him in command of the “Western Gulf Blockading Squadron,” and these were issued in January, 1862. But confidential instructions were also given him, by which he was especially charged with the “reduction of the defences guarding the approaches to New Orleans, and the taking possession of that city.”

He was to be assisted by a mortar-fleet of schooners, under Commander D. D. Porter.

Farragut had long before expressed a belief that he could take New Orleans, and he had little confidence in a mortar-fleet, and would rather have dispensed with it; but since Porter had already been ordered to prepare it, when he was detailed for the command, he acquiesced in the arrangement.

He turned out to be right, as he generally was in such matters.

On February 2d, 1862, Farragut sailed for the Gulf, in the sloop-of-war Hartford, which was so long to bear his flag, successfully, through manifold dangers.

The Hartford was a wooden screw-steamer, full ship-rigged, and of nineteen hundred tons burthen. She was of comparatively light draught, and, therefore, well suited to the service she was called upon to perform.

She then carried a battery of twenty-two nine-inch, smooth-bore guns, two 20-pounder Parrotts, and her fore and main-tops had howitzers, with a protection of boiler iron, a suggestion of Farragut’s. This battery was afterwards increased by a rifled gun upon the forecastle. Like Napoleon, Farragut believed in plenty of guns.

The Hartford arrived at her rendezvous, Ship Island, one hundred miles north-northeast of the mouths of the Mississippi, on February 20th.

A military force, to co-operate with Farragut’s fleet, was sent out, under General B. F. Butler, and arrived at Ship Island on March 25th. Butler’s plan was to follow Farragut, and secure, by occupation, whatever the guns of the fleet should subdue.

Let us now see a little about the scene of action.

Farragut’s son, in the “Life of Farragut,” from which we principally quote in this article, says (quoting another person), that the Delta of the Mississippi has been aptly described as “a long, watery arm, gauntleted in swamps and mud, spread out into a grasping hand,” of which the fingers are the five passes, or mouths.

At that time the mud brought down by the great river formed bars at each pass, which bars are always shifting, and require good pilots to keep account of their condition. In peace times the pilots are always at work, sounding and buoying, and the chances are that all the efforts of the “Delta Doctors” will only end in transferring the bars further out into the Gulf.

New Orleans, on the left bank of the river, is about one hundred miles from its mouth, and was by far the wealthiest and most important city of the Confederacy. Loyall Farragut states that, in 1860, it had about 170,000 inhabitants; while Charleston had but about 40,000; Richmond even a smaller population; and Mobile but 29,000 people.

Just before the war New Orleans had the largest export trade of any city in the world; and this fact, together with the importance of its position from a military point of view, made it the most important object for any military expedition.

There is a great bend in the Mississippi, thirty miles above the head of the passes, the lowest favorable locality for defence, where two forts had been erected by the United States Government, St. Philip on the left, or north bank, and a little further down, Fort Jackson, on the right bank. A single fort at this point had held a British fleet in check for nine days, in spite of a vigorous shelling by their guns and mortars. Fort St. Philip was originally built by the Spaniards, but had been completely reconstructed. It was a quadrangular earthwork, with a brick scarp, and powerful batteries exteriorly, above and below. Fort Jackson was more important, and rose twenty-five feet above the river and swamp, while St. Philip was only nineteen feet above them.

The Confederates had taken possession of these works, and had put them in complete order; Jackson mounted seventy-five powerful guns, and St. Philip forty. Fourteen of Fort Jackson’s guns were in bomb-proof casemates. The works were garrisoned by fifteen hundred men, commanded by Brigadier General Duncan; St. Philip being commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Edward Higgins, formerly an officer of the United States Navy.

Above the forts lay a fleet of fifteen vessels, under Commodore J. K. Mitchell, formerly of the United States Navy, which included the ironclad ram Manassas, and a huge floating battery, covered with railroad iron, called the “Louisiana.”

Just below Fort Jackson the river was obstructed by a heavy chain, brought from the Pensacola Navy-yard. This chain was supported by cypress logs, at short intervals; the ends made fast to great trees on shore, and the whole kept from sagging down with the current by heavy anchors.

This contrivance was swept away by a spring freshet, and was replaced by smaller chains, passed over eight dismasted hulks, anchored abreast, and partially by logs, as before. There was a battery at the end opposite Fort Jackson.

A number of sharpshooters patrolled the banks below, to give notice of any movements of the United States forces.

Farragut’s task was to break through the obstructions, pass the forts, destroy or capture the Rebel fleet, and then to place New Orleans under the guns of his own ships, and demand its surrender.

He had six sloops-of-war, sixteen gun-boats--all steam-vessels--and twenty-one schooners, each with a 13-inch mortar, and five sailing vessels, which were to act as magazines and store-ships. The fleet carried over two hundred guns, and was the largest that had ever been seen under our flag, up to that time; but was afterwards much exceeded by that which bombarded Fort Fisher.

There was little opportunity for General Butler and his fifteen thousand troops to co-operate in the passage of the forts; so they only held themselves ready to hold what Farragut might capture.

Farragut hoped to have taken the Colorado, a most powerful frigate, up the river, but she drew entirely too much water to be got over the bar. Great difficulty was experienced in getting the Brooklyn, Mississippi, and Pensacola into the river. The Mississippi, although lightened in every possible way, had to be dragged through at least a foot of mud.

When the arduous labor was finished, and the time for action arrived, Butler’s troops were embarked on the transports, and Porter’s mortar-schooners were placed on each bank, below the forts; being protected from the view of those in the batteries by the forest trees, and by having great branches lashed at their mast-heads, which blended with the foliage on the banks.

The mortars threw shells weighing two hundred and eighty-five pounds, and their fire was guided by a careful triangulation, made by Mr. Gerdes, of the Coast Survey. Fort Jackson received most of the shells, of which about a thousand a day were thrown, for six days. The Confederates had a good many killed and wounded by this means, and much damage was done, but the forts were not silenced; and Lieutenant Weitzel reported, after their surrender, that they were as strong as before the first shell was fired.

One schooner was sunk, and one steamer disabled by the return fire from the fort.

In the course of the delay waiting for the result of the bombardment, many of Farragut’s ships were damaged by collisions, caused by strong winds and currents, and by efforts to avoid the fire-rafts which the enemy sent down. Only one of the latter put the ships in any danger, and that was at last turned off. These fire-rafts were flatboats piled with dry wood, sprinkled with tar and turpentine. They were towed out of the way by the ships’ boats.

Farragut had issued orders to his commanding officers in regard to preparing their ships for this particular service. After providing for the top hamper, and dispensing with many masts and spars, he says, “Make arrangements, if possible, to mount one or two guns on the poop and top-gallant-forecastle; in other words, be prepared to use as many guns as possible, ahead and astern, to protect yourself against the enemy’s gun-boats and batteries, bearing in mind that you will always have to ride head to the current, and can only avail yourself of the sheer of the helm to point a broadside gun more than three points forward of the beam.

“Have a kedge in the mizzen-chains (or any convenient place) on the quarter, with a hawser bent and leading through in the stern chock, ready for any emergency; also grapnels in the boats, ready to hook on to and to tow off fire-ships. Trim your vessel a few inches by the head, so that if she touches the bottom she will not swing head down the river. Put your boat howitzers in the fore and main tops, on the boat carriages, and secure them for firing abeam, etc. Should any accident occur to the machinery of the ship, making it necessary to drop down the river, you will back and fill down under sail, or you can drop your anchor and drift down, but in no case attempt to turn the ship’s head down stream. You will have a spare hawser ready, and when ordered to take in tow your next astern, do so, keeping the hawser slack so long as the ship can maintain her own position, having a care not to foul the propeller.

“No vessel must withdraw from battle, under any circumstances, without the consent of the flag-officer. You will see that force and other pumps and engine hose are in good order, and men stationed by them, and your men will be drilled to the extinguishing of fires.

“Have light Jacob-ladders made to throw over the side, for the use of the carpenters in stopping shot-holes, who are to be supplied with pieces of inch board lined with felt, and ordinary nails, and see that the ports are marked, in accordance with the ‘ordnance instructions,’ on the berth deck, to show the locality of the shot-holes.

“Have many tubs of water about the decks, both for the purpose of extinguishing fire and for drinking. Have a heavy kedge in the port main-chains, and a whip on the main-yard, ready to run it up and let fall on the deck of any vessel you may run alongside of, in order to secure her for boarding.

“You will be careful to have lanyards on the lever of the screw, so as to secure the gun at the proper elevation, and prevent it from running down at each fire. I wish you to understand that the day is at hand when you will be called upon to meet the enemy in the worst form for our profession. You must be prepared to execute all those duties to which you have been so long trained in the Navy without having the opportunity of practicing. I expect every vessel’s crew to be well exercised at their guns, because it is required by the regulations of the service, and it is usually the first object of our attention; but they must be equally well trained for stopping shot-holes and extinguishing fire. Hot and cold shot will, no doubt, be freely dealt to us, and there must be stout hearts and quick hands to extinguish the one and stop the holes of the other.

“I shall expect the most prompt attention to signals and verbal orders, either from myself or the Captain of the fleet, who, it will be understood, in all cases, acts by my authority.”

After the bombardment had continued three days Farragut, who had made up his mind to attempt the passage of the forts in any event, called a council of his Captains, to obtain their opinion as to the best manner of doing so.

Immediately after the council Farragut issued the following general order:--

“UNITED STATES FLAG-SHIP HARTFORD,
MISSISSIPPI RIVER, April 20th, 1862.

“The Flag-Officer, having heard all the opinions expressed by the
different commanders, is of the opinion that whatever is to be
done will have to be done quickly, or we shall be again reduced
to a blockading squadron, without the means of carrying on the
bombardment, as we have nearly expended all the shells and fuses and
material for making cartridges. He has always entertained the same
opinions which are expressed by Commander Porter; that is, there
are three modes of attack; and the question is, which is the one to
be adopted? his own opinion is, that a combination of two should
be made; viz., the forts should be run, and when a force is once
above the forts, to protect the troops, they should be landed at
quarantine, from the Gulf side, by bringing them through the bayou,
and then our forces should move up the river, mutually aiding each
other as it can be done to advantage.

“When, in the opinion of the Flag-Officer, the propitious time
has arrived, the signal will be made to weigh and advance to the
conflict. If, in his opinion, at the time of arriving at the
respective positions of the different divisions of the fleet, we have
the advantage, he will make the signal for close action, number 8,
and abide the result, conquer, or be conquered, drop anchor or keep
under way, as in his opinion is best.

“Unless the signal above mentioned is made, it will be understood
that the first order of sailing will be formed after leaving Fort
St. Philip, and we will proceed up the river in accordance with the
original opinion expressed.

“The programme of the order of sailing accompanies this general
order, and the commanders will hold themselves in readiness for the
service as indicated.

“D. G. FARRAGUT,
“_Flag-Officer Western Gulf Blockading Squadron._”

Having decided to run by the forts, he confided to Fleet-Captain Bell the dangerous mission of proceeding, with the gunboats Pinola and Itasca, to make a passage for his fleet through the chain obstructions.

Lieutenant Caldwell, of the Itasca, and his party, with great coolness and bravery, boarded one of the hulks, and succeeded in detaching the chains. They were accompanied by the inventor of a new submarine petard, which he placed under one of the hulks. But a movement of the Pinola in the swift current snapped the wires, and it could not be exploded. In spite of a very heavy fire directed upon them, the party at last succeeded in making a sufficient opening for the fleet to pass through.

Farragut wrote, the next day: “* * * Captain Bell went last night to cut the chain across the river. I never felt such anxiety in my life, as I did until his return. One of his vessels got on shore, and I was fearful she would be captured. They kept up a tremendous fire on him; but Porter diverted their fire with a heavy cannonade. * * * * Bell would have burned the hulks, but the illumination would have given the enemy a chance to destroy his gunboat, which got aground. However, the chain was divided, and it gives us space enough to go through. I was as glad to see Bell, on his return, as if he had been my boy. I was up all night, and could not sleep until he got back to the ship.”

Farragut had determined to run by the forts at the end of five days’ bombardment; but he was detained for twenty-four hours by the necessity of repairing damages to two of his vessels. At first he had determined to lead, in the Hartford, but was dissuaded from that, and appointed Captain Bailey, whose ship, the Colorado, drew too much water to get up, to lead the column, in the gun-boat Cayuga, Lieutenant Commanding N. B. Harrison.

Long before this--on the 6th of April--Farragut had himself reconnoitred the forts, by daylight, going up in the gun-boat Kennebec in whose cross-trees he sat, glass in hand, until the gunners in the fort began to get his range.

On the night of the passage, April 23-24, the moon would rise about half-past three in the morning, and the fleet was ordered to be ready to start about two.

In this, as in most other important operations during the war, the enemy were mysteriously apprised of what was to be done.

At sunset there was a light southerly breeze, and a haze upon the water. Caldwell was sent up, in the Itasca, to see if the passage made in the obstructions was still open. At eleven at night he signalled that it was, and just at that time the enemy opened fire upon him, sent down burning rafts, and lighted immense piles of wood which they had prepared on shore, near the ends of the chain.

Soon after midnight the hammocks of the fleet were quietly stowed, and the ships cleared for action.

At five minutes before two, two ordinary red lights were shown at the peak of the flag-ship, the signal to get under way, but it was half-past three before all was ready. This was the time for the moon to rise, but that made little difference, with the light of the blazing rafts and bonfires.

The mortar-boats and the sailing sloop Portsmouth moved further up stream, to engage the water battery, as the ships were going by. This they promptly did, and then Captain Bailey led off, with his division of eight vessels, whose objective point was Fort St. Philip. All of these passed safely through the opening in the cable.

The forts opened on them promptly, but in five minutes they had reached St. Philip, and were pouring grape and canister into that work.

In ten minutes more the Cayuga had passed beyond range of the fort, to find herself surrounded by eleven Rebel gun-boats. Three of these attempted to board her at once. An 11-inch shot was sent through one of them, at a range of about thirty yards, and she was at once run ashore and burned up.

The Parrott gun on the Cayuga’s forecastle drove off another; and she was preparing to close with the third, when the Oneida and Varuna, which had run in close to St. Philip, thus avoiding the elevated guns of that fort, while they swept its bastions with grape and shrapnel, came to the assistance of the Cayuga. S. P. Lee, in the Oneida, ran full speed into one of the enemy’s vessels, cut her nearly in two, and left her floating down the current, a helpless wreck.

She fired right and left into two others, and then went to the assistance of the Varuna, which had got ashore on the left bank, hard pressed by two Rebel gun-boats, one of which was said to be the Manassas. The Varuna was rammed by both of them, and fifteen minutes after, she sunk. In that time she had put three 8-inch shells into the Governor Moore, besides so crippling her with solid shot that she surrendered to the Oneida. She also forced another to take to the bank by her 8-inch shell. The Varuna was commanded by Commander (now Admiral) C. S. Boggs. It is said that, before sinking, he also exploded the boiler of another small steamer.

The Pensacola steamed slowly and steadily by, firing her powerful battery with great deliberation, and doing especial execution with her 11-inch pivot gun and her rifled eighty-pounder. In return she received a heavy fire, and lost thirty-seven in killed and wounded; the greatest number of any of the fleet. Her boats were lowered, and sent to assist the sinking Varuna.

The Mississippi came up next in line to the Pensacola, but escaped with light loss of life. She it was that met the ram Manassas, and the latter gave her a severe cut, below the water, on the port-quarter, and disabled her machinery. But the Mississippi riddled her with shot, boarded her, and set her on fire, and she drifted down below the forts and blew up.

The Katahdin ran close to the forts, passed them rapidly, got near the head of the line, and was engaged principally with the ironclad Louisiana. The Kineo ran by, close under St. Philip, and then assisted the Mississippi with the ram Manassas: but she was afterwards attacked by three of the enemy’s gun-boats at once, and, having had her pivot-gun-carriage injured, withdrew, and continued up stream.

The Wissahickon, the last of the eight vessels of the first division, was less fortunate. She got ashore before she reached the forts, got off and passed them, and ran on shore again above.

It must be remembered that these operations were carried on in the darkness and thick smoke, lighted only by the lurid flashes of more than two hundred guns.

The second division of the fleet was led by Farragut himself, in the Hartford, followed by the Brooklyn and Richmond. These were three formidable vessels. The Hartford opened fire on Fort Jackson just before four in the morning, and received a heavy fire from both forts. Soon after, in attempting to avoid a fire-raft, she grounded on a shoal spot, near St. Philip. At the same time the ram Manassas pushed a fire-raft under her port-quarter, and she at once took fire. A portion of her crew went to fire-quarters, and soon subdued the flames, the working of her guns being steadily continued. Soon she backed off, into deep water; but this movement set her head down stream, and it was with difficulty that she was turned round against the current. When, at last, this was accomplished, she proceeded up the river, firing into several of the enemy’s vessels as she passed. One of these was a steamer, packed with men, apparently a boarding party. She was making straight for the Hartford, when Captain Broome’s gun, manned by marines, planted a shell in her, which exploded, and she disappeared.

During the critical period when she was slowly turning up river, the Admiral stood aft, giving orders, and occasionally consulting a little compass attached to his watch-chain. During most of the engagement, however, he was forward, watching the progress of the fight.

The Brooklyn was also detained by getting entangled with a raft, and running over one of the hulks which held up the chain, during which time she was raked by Fort Jackson, and suffered somewhat from the fire of St. Philip.

Just as she was clear, and headed up stream, she was butted by the Manassas, which had not headway enough to damage her much, and slid off again into the darkness. Then the Brooklyn was attacked by a large steamer, but she gave her her port broadside, at fifty yards, and set her on fire. Feeling her way along, in a dense cloud of smoke from a fire-raft, she came close abreast of St. Philip, into which she poured such tremendous broadsides that by the flashes the gunners were seen running to shelter, and for the time the fort was silenced. The Brooklyn then passed on, and engaged several of the enemy’s gun-boats. One of these, the Warrior, came under her port broadside, when eleven five-second shells were planted in her, which set her on fire, and she was run on shore. The Brooklyn was under fire an hour and a half, but did not lose quite so many as the Pensacola.

The Richmond, a slow ship, was the third and last of the centre division. She came on steadily, and without accident, working her battery with the utmost regularity. Her loss was not heavy, which her commander attributed mainly to a complete provision of splinter nettings.

The gun-boat Sciota, carrying Fleet-Captain Bell, led the third division. She steamed by the forts, firing as she passed, and above them burned two steamboats. Then she sent a boat to receive the surrender of an armed steamboat, but the latter was found to be fast ashore.

The Iroquois, Commander John DeCamp, had not such good fortune. She passed so close to Fort Jackson as to escape much injury, but received a terrible raking from St. Philip, and was also raked by the armed steamer McCrea, with grape. She drove off the McCrea with an eleven-inch shell and a stand of canister, and then went through a group of the enemy’s gun-boats, giving them broadsides as she passed. The Iroquois’ losses were heavy.

The gun-boat Pinola passed up in line, firing her eleven-inch pivot and Parrott rifles at the flashes of the guns of the forts, which were all that Commander Crosby could see; then she emerged from the smoke cloud, steered towards St. Philip, and by the light of the blazing rafts, received the discharges of its forty guns.

The Pinola was the last vessel which passed the forts, and she got up in time to fire a few shell at the enemy’s flotilla.

Of the other three gun-boats of the division, the Kennebec got out of her course, became entangled in the rafts, and did not get free until it was broad daylight, and too late to attempt a passage. The Itasca, upon arriving in front of Fort Jackson, received a shot in her boiler, incapacitating her, and she was obliged to drift down stream.

The Winona got astray among the hulks, and when she came within range of Fort Jackson it was broad daylight, and the fleet had gone on. Fort Jackson opened upon her, and she soon lost all the crew of her rifled gun but one man. Still she kept on, to endeavor to get through, but St. Philip opening upon her, from her lower battery, at less than point blank range, the little Winona was forced to turn and descend the stream.

Thus did Farragut accomplish a feat in naval warfare which had no precedent, and which is still without a parallel, except the one furnished by himself, at Mobile, two years later.

Starting with seventeen wooden vessels, he had passed, with all but three of them, against the swift current of a river, there but half a mile wide, between two powerful earthworks, which had long been prepared for him, his course impeded by blazing rafts, and immediately thereafter had met the enemy’s fleet of fifteen vessels, two of them ironclad, and either captured or destroyed every one of them.

All this was done with the loss of but one vessel from his own squadron. Probably few naval men would have believed that this work could have been done so effectually, even with ironclads.