Chapter D: G. F.” (1)

As has been already mentioned, Farragut had fully determined to run into the bay, on the 4th of August, but had been prevented from doing so by the non-arrival of the monitor Tecumseh. But on the afternoon of the 4th she arrived, and took up her anchorage behind Sand Island, with the others of her class--the Winnebago, Manhattan, and Chickasaw.

On the morning of the 5th, long before daylight, all hands were called “up hammocks,” and while the Admiral, his Fleet-Captain and Fleet-Surgeon were having breakfast, daylight was reported, with weather threatening rain. It was Friday, a day of bad omen for sailors; but the clouds worked round, and the day came fair, which was, on the other hand, a good omen. The wind was west-southwest, too, just where the fleet wanted it, for it would blow the smoke upon Fort Morgan.

At four o’clock the wooden ships formed in double column, lashed securely in pairs, in the following order, the first mentioned of each pair being the starboard vessel, or that next the fort. (The Admiral had concluded to let another ship lead, and he was second.) Here is the order:--

{Brooklyn, Captain James Alden.
{Octorara, Lieutenant-Commander Green.

{Hartford (flag-ship), Fleet-Captain Drayton.
{Metacomet, Lieutenant-Commander Jouett.

{Richmond, Captain Thornton Jenkins.
{Port Royal, Lieutenant-Commander Gherardi.

{Lackawanna, Captain Marchand.
{Seminole, Commander Donaldson.

{Monongahela, Commander J. H. Strong.
{Kennebec, Lieutenant-Commander McCann.

{Ossipee, Commander Wm. E. LeRoy.
{Itasca, Lieutenant-Commander George Brown.

{Oneida, Commander Mullany.
{Galena, Lieutenant-Commander Wells.

The Brooklyn was appointed to lead, because she had four chase guns and apparatus for picking up torpedoes.

At half-past five, while at the table, still sipping his tea, the Admiral quietly said, “Well, Drayton, we might as well get under way.”

Immediately the answering signals were shown from every vessel, and the wooden vessels promptly took up their respective stations, while the monitors came out from under Sand Island and formed on the right of the wooden ships, as follows: Tecumseh, Commander T. A. M. Craven; Manhattan, Commander J. W. A. Nicholson; (these were single-turreted, Eastern built, or sea monitors). The Winnebago, Commander T. A. Stevens; and the Chickasaw, Lieutenant-Commander Perkins, followed. The two last were double-turreted, Western built monitors, from the Mississippi river.

The leading monitor was abreast of the leading wooden ship.

The Confederate vessels took up position in single line, in _echelon_, across the channel, with their port batteries bearing to rake the advancing fleet. The ram Tennessee was a little westward of the red buoy spoken of already, and close to the inner line of torpedoes.

Farragut had ordered six light steamers and gun-boats to take up a position outside, and open a flank fire on Fort Morgan, but they could not get near enough to be of much service.

And now the attacking fleet steamed steadily in. At 6.47 the first gun was fired by the monitor Tecumseh, and Fort Morgan at once replied. As the wooden vessels came within shorter range Farragut made signal for “closer order,” which was promptly obeyed, each vessel closing up to within a few yards of the one ahead, and a little on the starboard quarter, thus enabling such ships as had chase guns to bring them to bear.

The battle had opened, but at that time the enemy had the advantage, and the fleet now received a raking fire from the fort, battery, and Confederate vessels. This they had to endure for fully half an hour, before they could bring their batteries to bear with any effect. At the end of that time the Brooklyn and Hartford were enabled to open their broadsides, which soon drove the gunners of the fort from the barbette guns and water batteries.

The scene on the poop of the flag-ship was now particularly interesting, as all were watching eagerly the movements of the leading monitor, Tecumseh. The Admiral stood in the port main rigging, a few ratlines up, where he could see all about him and at the same time communicate easily with the Metacomet, lashed alongside. Freeman, his trusty pilot, was above him, in the top. Captain Drayton was on the poop, with the officers of the Admiral’s staff, while Knowles, the Signal Quartermaster, attended to the signals. This petty officer, with the three seamen at the wheel, McFarland, Wood and Jassin, had been in every engagement of the ship, and steadily and coolly they now attended to their most important duties. All these were nearly stationary. The men at the wheel merely gave a spoke or two of helm, from time to time, in response to a short order.

On the deck below, the gun crews were working with a will, and all was animation and bustle.

As the smoke increased and obscured his view, the Admiral ascended the rigging, ratline by ratline, until he was up among the futtock shrouds, under the top. Captain Drayton, seeing him in this position, and fearing that some slight shock might precipitate him into the sea, ordered Knowles to take up a line, and make his position secure. Knowles says, “I went up with a piece of lead-line, and made it fast to one of the forward shrouds, and then took it round the Admiral to the after shroud, making it fast there. The Admiral said, ‘Never mind, I am all right,’ but I went ahead and obeyed orders, for I feared he would fall overboard if anything should carry away or he should be struck.” Here Farragut remained until the fleet entered the bay.

Loyall Farragut gives a striking extract from the journal of one of the Hartford’s officers, as follows: “The order was, to go slowly, slowly; and receive the fire of Fort Morgan. * * * * The fort opened, having allowed us to get into such short range that we apprehended some snare; in fact, I heard the order passed for our guns to be elevated for fourteen hundred yards some time before one was fired. The calmness of the scene was sublime. No impatience, no irritation, no anxiety, except for the fort to open; and after it did open full five minutes elapsed before we answered.

“In the meantime the guns were trained as if at a target, and all the sounds I could hear were, ‘Steady! boys, steady! Left tackle a little; so! so!’ Then the roar of a broadside, and an eager cheer, as the enemy were driven from their water battery. Don’t imagine they were frightened; no man could stand under that iron shower; and the brave fellows returned to their guns as soon as it lulled, only to be driven away again.

“At twenty minutes past seven we had come within range of the enemy’s gun-boats, which opened their fire upon the Hartford, and as the Admiral told me afterward, made her their special target. First they struck our foremast, and then lodged a shot of 120 pounds in our mainmast. By degrees they got better elevation, and I have saved a splinter from the hammock netting to show how they felt their way lower. Splinters, after that, came by cords, and in size, sometimes, were like logs of wood. No longer came the cheering cry, ‘nobody hurt yet.’ The Hartford, by some unavoidable chance, fought the enemy’s fleet and fort together for twenty minutes by herself, timbers crashing, and wounded pouring down--cries never to be forgotten.”

By half-past seven the Tecumseh was well up with the fort, and drawing slowly by the Tennessee, having her on the port beam, when she suddenly reeled to port and went down, with almost every soul on board, destroyed by a torpedo. Commander Craven, in his eagerness to engage the ram, had passed to the west of the fatal buoy. If he had gone but the breadth of his beam to the eastward of it, he would have been safe, so far as the torpedoes were concerned.

This very appalling disaster was not immediately realized by the fleet. Some supposed the Tennessee had been sunk, or some signal advantage gained over the enemy, and cheers from the Hartford were taken up and echoed along the line. But the Admiral, from his lofty perch, saw the true state of things, and his anxiety was not decreased when the leading ship, the Brooklyn, just ahead of him, suddenly stopped. Hailing the top, above him, he asked Freeman, the pilot, “What is the matter with the Brooklyn? She must have plenty of water there.” “Plenty, and to spare, Admiral,” the pilot replied. Alden had seen the Tecumseh suddenly engulfed, and the heavy line of torpedoes across the channel made him pause.

The Brooklyn then began to back; the vessels in the rear pressing on those in the van soon created confusion, and disaster seemed imminent. “The batteries of our ships were almost silent,” says an eye-witness, “while the whole of Mobile Point was a living flame.

“What’s the trouble?” was shouted, through a trumpet, from the flag-ship to the Brooklyn. “Torpedoes!” was shouted back, in reply. “Damn the torpedoes!” said Farragut “Four bells! Captain Drayton, go ahead! Jouett, full speed!” And the Hartford passed the Brooklyn, assumed the head of the line, and led the fleet to victory. It was the one only way out of the difficulty, and any hesitation would have closed even this escape from a frightful disaster. Nor did the Admiral forget the few poor fellows who were struggling in the water when the Tecumseh went down, but ordered Jouett, of the Metacomet, to lower a boat and pick them up. This was done, the boat being commanded by a mere boy, an Acting Master’s mate, by the name of Henry Clay Nields, a native of Chester County, Pennsylvania, who lately died, a Lieutenant-Commander. This gallant fellow and his small boat’s crew pulled coolly into a perfect flurry of shot and shell, and while doing so (remembering the standing orders about boats showing flags), he coolly got his out and hoisted it, and then took his seat again, and steered for the struggling survivors of the Tecumseh. This was as conspicuous an act of gallantry as was performed on that eventful day.

A Confederate officer, who was stationed in the water battery at Fort Morgan, says the manœuvring of the vessels at this critical juncture was a magnificent sight. At first they appeared to be in inextricable confusion, and at the mercy of their guns, and when the Hartford dashed forward, they realized that a grand tactical movement had been accomplished.

The Hartford had passed nearly a mile ahead before the line could be straightened, but the vessels were soon able to pour in a storm of shell, shrapnel and grape, that completely silenced the batteries; not, however, before they had all suffered more or less. The Oneida, having the most exposed position, at the rear of the column, was severely handled. The wisdom of lashing the vessels two-and-two was now manifest; for this ship, though in a helpless condition, was easily towed along by her consort, the Galena, with the flood-tide. The Admiral’s theory, “that the safest way to prevent injury from an enemy is to strike hard yourself,” was exemplified in his warning to his captains, to run close to Fort Morgan, and use shell, shrapnel and grape freely. It is said that the Richmond and Brooklyn were saved from destruction at the time the line was being straightened, by the rapid broadsides of shrapnel which those ships poured into the water battery. The aim of the artillerists on shore was disconcerted by the dense smoke which enveloped the ships, and they were driven from their guns by the rapid firing. An officer who was in the engagement remarks, that it was “painfully apparent, judging from the number of shot that passed over the rail of my ship, that a few yards to the west would have increased the damage and casualties.”

As soon as the Hartford had crossed the torpedo-ground and was steaming rapidly up the channel, Buchanan, on the Tennessee, saw the blue flag of Farragut. He made a dash to ram the latter’s flag-ship, but failed to do so, the ships merely exchanging shots. By this time the Brooklyn and Richmond had passed safely over the obstructions, and were following in the wake of the Hartford. The Tennessee now turned her attention to the Brooklyn, making for her starboard bow; but when within about one hundred yards of that ship, she starboarded her helm and passed within two hundred feet of her, pouring in a broadside which went through and through her, doing great damage. Passing on, she attempted the same manœuvre with the Richmond, the next in line, apparently first attempting to ram, and then sheering off. Captain Jenkins saw her approaching, and placed marines on the forecastle, with orders to fire into the great ram’s ports whenever the iron shutters opened, at the same time giving orders to use solid shot in his heavy guns, and to aim at the Tennessee’s water-line. The two vessels passed each other at their best speed.

Whether from the rapidity of the movement or the precaution taken by Captain Jenkins to disconcert the aim of the gunners, the Tennessee’s shot passed over the Richmond.

She also missed the Lackawanna, but the fire from her heavy guns created sad havoc when they struck, while the shot from the Union fleet failed to make any impression on her mailed sides.

Captain Strong, in the Monongahela, now attempted to ram her, but she avoided the blow, and the two vessels collided at an acute angle, the ram swinging alongside of the Monongahela’s consort, the Kennebec, whose sharp cutwater sheared her barge in two. A shell from the Tennessee exploded on the Kennebec’s berth-deck, and came near setting her dangerously on fire; but, by the cool conduct of the officers, confidence was quickly restored.

The ram then attacked the crippled Oneida, running under her stern and delivering two broadsides in rapid succession, destroying her boats and dismounting a twelve-pound howitzer upon her poop. Captain Mullany was severely wounded at this time, after having escaped injury off the forts, where he had borne so heavy a fire.

The Tennessee then returned to her anchorage under the guns of Fort Morgan.

As soon as he was clear of the fire of the forts, Farragut had turned his attention to the enemy’s gun-boats. Their heavy raking fire had been a source of great annoyance. One shot from the Selma, alone, had killed ten men and wounded five. After the fleet had passed the obstructions these vessels had continued the contest, keeping up with the leading ships and exchanging shots, thus separating themselves widely from the Tennessee.

Soon the Gaines was in a sinking condition, and her commander ran her aground, under the guns of Fort Morgan, where she was afterwards set on fire.

A few minutes after she had quitted the fight, the Selma and Morgan, seeing the hopelessness of the encounter, also retreated, the former up the bay, and the latter down towards Navy Cove, some distance to the eastward.

It was then that the Admiral made the signal, “Gunboats chase enemy’s gunboats.” In a moment the Metacomet had cut the lashings which confined her to the flagship, and was off.

The Metacomet was the fastest of all the smaller vessels, and so it came that she engaged the Morgan. Just then firing was interrupted by a thick rain-squall. During the squall the Morgan, as was learned afterwards, grounded upon a long spit which runs out for about a mile from Navy Cove.

In the meantime the Metacomet, Port Royal, Kennebec, and Itasca had started after the Selma, and the Metacomet captured her, three or four miles up the bay. The Morgan backed off the shoal, and proceeded to Fort Morgan; and that same night, under a starlit sky, her captain, Harrison, made a hazardous but successful retreat up to Mobile, being pursued and fired at by several of the Union gun-boats.

Farragut’s fleet now came to anchor about three miles up the bay, with anchors hove short. They had scarcely done so when they saw the ram Tennessee steering directly for the flag-ship. Buchanan had anticipated Admiral Farragut, for the latter had intended to attack the ram the moment it was dark enough for the smoke to prevent Page, the commander of the fort, from distinguishing friend from foe. He had already made a plan to go in with the three monitors, himself in the Manhattan, and board her, if it was found feasible. He now accepted the situation, and signalled the fleet to “attack the ram, not only with their guns, but bows on, at full speed.”

The Monongahela was under way at the time, and Strong immediately dashed off for the ram at full speed; but the Tennessee paid no attention to her, merely putting her helm aport, which caused the Monongahela to strike her obliquely. The ram also fired two shots at the Monongahela, which pierced her through and through, while Strong’s shot glanced harmlessly from her sloping sides.

The Chickasaw at this time hit the ram with a solid bolt, which merely penetrated her armor, without doing serious damage.

The next vessel to bear down on the Tennessee was the Lackawanna, and she suffered more than the ram. She had a fair stroke at her, and stove her bow in for some feet above and below the water-line, while the shock to the Tennessee was slight, and she quickly righted, and moved steadily for the Hartford. The latter now took the aggressive, and, following in the wake of the Lackawanna, struck the ram a fearful blow, and then poured in a broadside, but all without effect.

The ram had one great advantage. She was surrounded by enemies, and could fire continually, while the Union vessels had to use the utmost care not to fire into or collide with one another. This did happen to the flag-ship, just as she was preparing to attack a second time, for the Lackawanna ran into her, and cut her down nearly to the water’s edge.

In the meantime the monitors, Manhattan, Winnebago and Chickasaw, had been pounding the ram with their heavy shot, and her steering apparatus and smoke-stack were shot away, and her port-shutters jammed, while one 15-inch shot had found a weak spot, and penetrated her armor. Admiral Buchanan was wounded, and the Tennessee showed a white flag and surrendered.

The success was complete, but had cost the Union fleet three hundred and thirty-five men.

Of one hundred and thirty souls in the Tecumseh, seventeen were saved, and one hundred and thirteen drowned. The other casualties, fifty-two killed and one hundred and seventy wounded, were distributed as follows: Hartford, twenty-five killed, twenty-eight wounded; Brooklyn, eleven killed, forty-three wounded; Lackawanna, four killed, thirty-five wounded; Oneida, eight killed, thirty wounded; Monongahela, six wounded; Metacomet, one killed, two wounded; Ossipee, one killed, seven wounded; Richmond, two slightly wounded; Galena, one wounded; Octorara, one killed, ten wounded; Kennebec, one killed, six wounded.

Knowles, the Signal Quartermaster already mentioned, says that the Admiral came on deck just as the poor fellows who had been killed were being laid out on the port side of the quarter-deck. He says, “It was the only time I ever saw the old gentleman cry, but the tears came in his eyes, like a little child.”

The losses among the enemy’s vessels were confined to the Tennessee and Selma--ten killed and sixteen wounded. The loss in the forts is not known.

Next morning Farragut published the following:--

(GENERAL ORDER No. 12.)

UNITED STATES FLAG-SHIP HARTFORD,

MOBILE BAY, August 6, 1864.

“The Admiral returns thanks to the officers and crews of the vessels
of the fleet for their gallant conduct during the fight of yesterday.

“It has never been his good fortune to see men do their duty with
more courage and cheerfulness; for, although they knew that the enemy
was prepared with all devilish means for our destruction, and though
they witnessed the almost instantaneous annihilation of our gallant
companions in the Tecumseh by a torpedo, and the slaughter of their
friends, messmates and gun-mates on our decks, still there were no
evidences of hesitation in following their Commander-in-chief through
the line of torpedoes and obstructions, of which we knew nothing,
except from the exaggerations of the enemy, who had given out, ‘that
we should all be blown up as certainly as we attempted to enter.’

“For this noble and implicit confidence in their leader, he heartily
thanks them.

“D. G. FARRAGUT,

“_Rear-Admiral Commanding W. G. B. Squadron_.”

The gallantry of Acting Ensign Nields, in going to the rescue of the survivors of the Tecumseh has been alluded to. In connection with that lamentable event it is related that when the monitor was going down, Commander Craven and the pilot, whose name was Collins, met at the foot of the ladder leading to the top of the turret; Craven, knowing that it was through no fault of the pilot, but by his own order, that the course had been changed to the other side of the buoy, stepped back, saying, “After you, Pilot.” “There was nothing after me,” said Mr. Collins, in relating the event, “for when I reached the top round of the ladder the vessel seemed to drop from under me.” Among those who went down with Craven was Chief Engineer Faron, who rose from a sick bed, in the hospital at Pensacola, to go on board the Tecumseh.

Admiral Farragut highly complimented Fleet-Surgeon Palmer, for certain extra service. It happened that the Admiral’s steam barge came into the bay, under the port side of the Seminole. Fleet-Surgeon Palmer, having attended to the wounded on board the flag-ship, and leaving them in the hands of his assistants, wished to visit the wounded of the other vessels, and the Admiral gave him the steam barge. He had just shoved off when the Tennessee was seen steaming for the Hartford. The Admiral beckoned to Palmer, just before he made the general signal, and desired him to “go to all the monitors, and tell them to attack that Tennessee.” Afterwards he wrote to Dr. Palmer, and expressing some opinions in regard to war duty, says, * * * “I am happy to say that, from my own experience, _war_ is the time when I have always found the medical officers ready and willing to do their duty without regard to personal risk.” * * *

When a shot perforated the starboard boiler of the Oneida, scalding thirteen men, one gun’s crew wavered for a moment as the steam rushed out, but, at the order of Commander Mullany, “Back to your quarters, men!” they instantly returned to their gun. Mullany soon after lost his arm, and was wounded in several other places.

The incident of Farragut’s being lashed aloft has created much controversy. The fact of his being lashed in the futtock shrouds was shown in a picture by Page, which was afterwards presented to the Emperor of Russia. The fact was, that the Admiral did not remain long anywhere. While the fleet was entering the bay, he was in the port main rigging, where he was secured by Knowles, the Quartermaster, as has been mentioned. But when the ram made her attack he had come down on deck, and, as the Hartford was about to ram the Tennessee, he got into the port mizzen rigging, where, as his Flag-Lieutenant, J. Crittenden Watson, says, “I secured him by a lashing passed with my own hands, having first begged him not to stand in such an exposed place.”

Surgeon General Palmer writes: “The Richmond waved to me as I passed in the Loyall (the steam-barge), and told me that Admiral Farragut had partly signalled for me to return, which I did immediately. When I got near enough to the Hartford, the Admiral himself hailed, and directed me to go on board the captured ram and look after Admiral Buchanan, who was wounded. It was difficult, even from a boat, to get on board the Tennessee, and I had to make a long leap, assisted by a strong man’s hand. I literally scrambled through the iron port, and threaded my way among the piles of confusion, to a ladder, by which I mounted to where Admiral Buchanan was lying, in a place like the top of a truncated pyramid. Somebody announced me, and he answered (tone polite, but savage) ‘I know Dr. Palmer;’ but he gave me his hand. I told him I was sorry to see him so badly hurt, but that I should be glad to know his wishes. He answered, ‘I only wish to be treated kindly, as a prisoner of war.’ My reply was, ‘Admiral Buchanan, you know perfectly well you will be treated kindly.’ Then he said, ‘I am a Southern man, and an enemy, and a rebel.’ I felt a little offended at his tone, but rejoined carefully that he was at that moment a wounded person and disabled, and that I would engage to have his wishes fulfilled. As to the present disposal of his person, that Admiral Farragut would take him on board the Hartford, or send him to any other ship he might prefer. He said he didn’t pretend to be Admiral Farragut’s friend, and had no right to ask favors of him, but that he would be satisfied with any decision that might be come to. Dr. Conrad, lately an assistant Surgeon in our Navy, told me he was Fleet-Surgeon, and desired to accompany Buchanan wherever he might go. (It had been proposed by Dr. Conrad to amputate the injured leg of the Confederate Admiral, but Palmer dissented from his opinion, and declined to have the operation performed, and for his skillful management of the case received grateful acknowledgments, in after life, from Buchanan.) “I promised that he should, and returned to the Hartford, and reported to Admiral Farragut, circumstantially. This generous man seemed hurt at Buchanan’s irritated feeling, and said he (Buchanan) _had_ formerly professed friendship for him. I saw there must be some embarrassment in bringing them together, and therefore proposed that I should have a steamer to take all the wounded to Pensacola, and another one to send all ordinary invalids to New Orleans.”

To carry out this suggestion Farragut addressed a note to Brigadier-General R. L. Page, commanding Fort Morgan (formerly of the United States Navy), informing him that Admiral Buchanan and others of the Tennessee had been wounded, and desiring to know whether he would permit one of our vessels, under a flag of truce, to convey them, with or without our wounded, to Pensacola, on the understanding that the vessel should take out none but the wounded, and bring nothing back that she did not take out. This was acceded to, and all the wounded sent.

In his official report to the Navy Department, Admiral Farragut, after awarding praise to many of the officers, mentioning them by name, says, “The last of my staff to whom I would call the attention of the Department is not the least in importance. I mean Pilot Martin Freeman. He has been my great reliance in all difficulties, in his line of duty. During the action he was in the main-top, piloting the ships into the bay. He was cool and brave throughout, never losing his self-possession. This man was captured, early in the war, in a fine fishing-smack, which he owned, and though he protested he had no interest in the war, and only asked for the privilege of fishing for the fleet, yet his services were too valuable to the captors, as a pilot, not to be secured. He was appointed a first-class pilot, and has served us with zeal and fidelity, and has lost his vessel, which went to pieces on Ship Island. I commend him to the Department.”

The importance of Farragut’s success was fully appreciated, both North and South, while an English Service paper named him as “the first naval officer of the day, as far as actual reputation, won by skill, courage and hard fighting, goes.”

General Granger’s troops, after Forts Gaines and Powell had surrendered, had been transferred to the rear of Fort Morgan, and that work was invested on August 9th.

Page was summoned to surrender, but firmly refused, and seemed disposed to hold out stubbornly. It then became a question of time. Troops were poured in, heavy siege guns placed in position, and the investing lines drawn closer and closer. Even the captured Tennessee’s formidable battery was turned against the fort. A battery of four nine-inch Dahlgren guns, manned by seamen from the fleet, and under the command of Lieutenant Tyson, of the Navy, also took part in the siege. General Granger, in his report of the operations, compliments them highly, not only for their faithful work “in getting their guns into the difficult position selected for their batteries,” but for “their distinguished skill and accuracy during the bombardment.”

After a furious cannonade, on August 22d, which was gallantly responded to by Morgan, that fort surrendered unconditionally on the 23d.

The total number of prisoners captured in the defences of Mobile was one thousand four hundred and sixty-four, with one hundred and four guns.

Mobile forts being once secured, Farragut next turned his attention to the dangerous work of taking up torpedoes, twenty-one of which were picked up in the main ship channel, from which many beside had been swept away, and many had sunk.

On September 1st despatches arrived from the North, marked ‘Important.’ These proved to be from the Navy Department, warning him not to attempt an attack upon the Mobile defences unless he was sure that he had a sufficient force, as powerful reinforcements would be sent to him as soon as possible. We can imagine his satisfaction in looking round him, and feeling that the work was done.

In his congratulatory letter to Admiral Farragut, Secretary Welles said: “In the success which has attended your operations, you have illustrated the efficiency and irresistible power of a naval force led by a bold and vigorous mind, and the insufficiency of any batteries to prevent the passage of a fleet thus led and commanded.

“You have, first on the Mississippi, and recently in the bay of Mobile, demonstrated what had been previously doubted, the ability of naval vessels, properly manned and commanded, to set at defiance the best constructed and most heavily armed fortifications. In these successive victories you have encountered great risks, but the results have vindicated the wisdom of your policy and the daring valor of your officers and seamen.”

The further operations about the City of Mobile need not be gone into.

Farragut’s health had somewhat failed, with the strain of the previous two years’ work and a long stay in the Gulf climate, and he was ordered home in November, 1864. Upon his arrival in New York great preparations were made for his reception, and formal congratulations were presented to him from the City of New York; the Chamber of Commerce, and other bodies.

On December 22d a bill creating the rank of Vice-Admiral was introduced into Congress, and passed both houses. On the 23d the President signed it, and named Farragut for the office, which nomination was immediately confirmed by the Senate.

On July 25th, 1866, Congress passed a law creating the grade of Admiral, which had never before existed in our Navy, and, as a matter of course, the office was immediately conferred upon Farragut.

(First-class French Ironclad, with Ram.)]

Thus was gratified his most legitimate ambition. When there was a talk of making him a candidate for the Presidency he said, “I am greatly obliged to my friends, but am thankful that I have no ambition for anything but what I am, an Admiral.”

CUSHING AND THE ALBEMARLE. OCTOBER, 1864.

The Sounds and waters of North Carolina were early the scenes of important enterprises by the combined Army and Navy of the United States. The Hatteras forts, Roanoke Island, Newbern, Plymouth and other places were early captured, some of them after regular actions. A position was gained from which the important inland communication was threatened, which was vital to the Confederacy, while the commerce of the Sounds was entirely put a stop to.

It was important for them to regain what they had lost, and to this end they put forth every effort.

Among other means they commenced and hastened to completion a formidable iron-clad vessel. In June, 1863, Lieutenant-Commander C. W. Flusser, an excellent and thoroughly reliable officer, had reported that a battery was building at Edward’s Ferry, near Weldon, on the Roanoke River, to be cased with pine sills, fourteen inches square, and plated with railroad iron. The slanting roof was to be made of five inches of pine, five inches of oak, and railroad iron over that.

Unfortunately, the light-draught monitors, which should have been on hand to meet this vessel, turned out failures, and the light wooden gun-boats and “double enders” employed in the Sounds had to encounter her. She was accompanied by a ram, which the Union fleet had no vessel fit to meet.

In April, 1864, the Albemarle being completed, the Confederates were ready to carry out their plan of attack, which was first to recapture Plymouth, by the assistance of the ram, and then send her into Albemarle Sound, to capture or disperse our fleet. A force of ten thousand men, which they had collected, made an advance, and gained possession of the town.

Lieutenant-Commander Flusser was then at Plymouth, with four vessels, the Miami, a “double-ender,” and three ferry-boats, armed with nine-inch guns, and exceedingly frail in structure, called the Southfield, Ceres and Whitehead. At half-past nine, on the evening of April 18th, he wrote to Admiral Lee that there had been fighting there all day, and he feared the enemy had had the best of it. “The ram will be down to-night or to-morrow. * * * I shall have to abandon my plan of fighting the ram lashed to the Southfield. * * * I think I have force enough to whip the ram, but not sufficient to assist in holding the town, as I should like.”

Six hours after writing this, Flusser lay dead upon the deck of his ship.

Very early on the morning of the 19th of April the Whitehead, which had been stationed up the river, reported that the ram was coming down.

The Whitehead was in a critical position when she discovered the ram, for she was between her and a rebel battery. Some obstructions had been placed to stop the Albemarle, but she passed them easily. A narrow passage or “thoroughfare” led down to Plymouth beside the main channel, and the Whitehead managed to run into this, unperceived by the ram, and so got down ahead of the Confederate vessel, which did not attack until half-past three in the morning. When the ironclad was seen coming down, the Miami and Southfield were lashed together, and Flusser, from the Miami, ordered them to meet her, at full speed.

The Albemarle came on silently, with closed ports, and struck the Miami a glancing blow on her port bow, doing some damage, but causing no leak. She then crushed the side of the Southfield, so that she at once began to sink. As she passed between the two vessels, the forward lashings parted, and the Miami swung round. The after lashings were cut, and, after a number of the Southfield’s men had succeeded in reaching the Miami that vessel steamed off down the river, leaving her consort to sink. The officer left in command by Flusser’s death thus speaks of this unfortunate affair:--

“As soon as the battery could be brought to bear upon the ram, both steamers, the Southfield and Miami, commenced firing solid shot from the 100-pound Parrott rifles and 11-inch Dahlgren guns, they making no perceptible indentations in her armor. Commander Flusser fired the first three shots from the Miami personally, the third being a ten-second Dahlgren shell, 11-inch. It was directly after that fire that he was killed by pieces of shell; several of the gun’s crew were wounded at the same time. Our bow hawser being stranded, the Miami then swung round to starboard, giving the ram a chance to pierce us. Necessity then required the engine to be reversed in motion, to straighten the vessel in the river, to prevent going on the bank of the river, and to bring the rifle-gun to bear upon the ram. During the time of straightening the steamer the ram had also straightened, and was making for us. From the fatal effects of her prow upon the Southfield, and of our sustaining injury, I deemed it useless to sacrifice the Miami in the same way.”

The gun-boats being driven off, the Confederates captured Plymouth on April 20th. As it was expected that the Albemarle would at once enter the Sound, and attack the squadron there, all possible preparations were made to meet her.

Four of the squadron were “double enders,” the Miami, Mattabesett, Sassacus and Wyalusing. The smaller vessels were the Ceres, Commodore Hull, Seymour and Whitehead. They were all armed with 9-inch guns and 100-pound rifles.

The Senior Officer in the Sounds, Captain M. Smith, ordered the large vessels to pass as close as possible to the ram, delivering their fire, and rounding to immediately for a second discharge. He also suggested the vulnerable points of the ram, and recommended that an endeavor be made to foul her propeller, if possible.

He also directed, among other things, that a blow of the ram should be received as near the stern as possible, and the vessel rammed was to go ahead fast, to prevent her from withdrawing it, while the others attacked the propeller. If armed launches accompanied the ram they were to be met by the smaller vessels, with shrapnel, when approaching, and hand grenades when near. He leaves the question of ramming to each commander, on account of the peculiar construction of the “double-enders.”

Small steamers were placed on picket, at the mouth of the Roanoke, and on the 5th of May the ram made its appearance, and chased the picket boats in. Signals were made, and the vessels got under way, and stood up to engage the ironclad. The Albemarle was accompanied by a small steamer which she had captured not long before. At about half-past four in the afternoon the Albemarle opened the battle by a shot which destroyed a boat and wounded several men on board the Mattabesett. The second shot damaged the same vessel’s rigging. By this time the Mattabesett was very near the little steamer, which immediately surrendered. The Mattabesett then gave the ram a broadside, at about one hundred and fifty yards, then rounded to under her stern, and came up on the other side. Her shot either broke, or glanced off the ram’s armor, without any effect. She had the muzzle knocked off of one of her two guns, by a shot from the ram, but continued to use it during the remainder of the action.

The Sassacus came gallantly on, in like manner, delivering her fire at the Albemarle. The latter then attempted to ram the Sassacus, but the latter crossed her bows, by superior speed.

At this time the ram had partially turned, and exposed her side to the Sassacus, when the wooden double-ender rushed at her, under full steam, in hope of either crushing in her side, or of bearing her down until she should sink. The Sassacus struck the ironclad fairly, and received, at the same moment, a 100-pounder rifle shot, which went through and through her. She struck the Albemarle a heavy blow, careening her, and bearing her down till the water washed across her deck.

The Sassacus kept her engines going, in the attempt to push the ram down, while many efforts were made to throw hand grenades down her deck hatch, and powder down her smoke stack, but without success, as there was a cap upon the stack.

Soon the ram swung round, and as soon as her guns would bear, another 100-pound rifle shot went through the side of the Sassacus, through her coal bunker, and crashed into her starboard boiler. Instantly the whole ship was filled with steam, which scalded and suffocated her crew. All her firemen were scalded, and one was killed; and twenty-one men were instantly placed _hors de combat_. She was forced to withdraw from action.

The other gun-boats continued the fight, and the Miami endeavored to explode against the ram a torpedo which she carried. But the Albemarle was skillfully handled, and succeeded, each time, in avoiding the blow. Two of the other gun-boats endeavored to foul the propeller of the ram by laying out seines in her track. Although the nets seemed all about her, she escaped them. An observer from the shore has likened this curious scene to a number of wasps attacking a large horny beetle.

In fine, the Albemarle proved invulnerable to the guns of the gun-boats, even when discharged almost in contact with her sides.

The action lasted for three hours, or until night came on. Everything that brave men could do to destroy the enemy it was their duty to encounter was done by the gun-boats, but the ironclad went back to Plymouth without serious damage, and without the loss of a man, after being the target, at short range, for more than two hundred shot from 11-inch and 9-inch guns, and more than one hundred shot from 100-pounder rifles.

The gun-boats, other than the Sassacus, were very much damaged, and it was plain that they were unfit to meet the Albemarle, however ably handled or gallantly fought.

The ram came out again on the 24th of May, but did not enter the Sound, apparently fearing torpedoes. The next day a party left the Wyalusing in a boat, with two torpedoes, to endeavor to destroy the Albemarle, as she lay at Plymouth.

They carried the torpedoes across the swamps on a stretcher, and then two of the party swam across the river with a line, and hauled the torpedoes over to the Plymouth shore. These were then connected by a bridle, so that they should float down and strike on each side of the ram’s bows. Unfortunately, they were discovered, and the plan failed.

Lines of torpedoes were then placed at the mouth of the Roanoke, to destroy the ram if she should come down again, and as this proceeding could not be kept secret, the ironclad did not again venture down. She lay quietly at Plymouth until the latter part of October, a constant threat to our fleet in the Sounds, and preventing any attempt to recapture the town. She was very securely moored to a wharf, and a guard of soldiers was placed on board, in addition to her crew.

Every night fires were made on shore, to prevent the approach of an enemy unseen. More than this, she was surrounded by large logs, moored some thirty feet from her hull, all round, to keep off any boat which might approach with a torpedo. From the mouth of the Roanoke to where the Albemarle lay is about eight miles, and the stream there about two hundred yards wide.

The banks were well picketed by the enemy.

About a mile below Plymouth was the sunken wreck of the Southfield, and about her were some schooners, which also formed a picket-station in mid-stream.

It seemed impossible for a boat to get up the river and not be discovered, and yet Lieutenant William B. Cushing, of the United States Navy, not only undertook to do so, but succeeded in destroying this formidable craft, “the terror of the Sounds.”

Admiral Ammen, of the Navy, has given a capital sketch of Cushing, in the _United Service Magazine_, from which we shall borrow freely.

“William B. Cushing was born in Wisconsin, in November, 1842, and entered the Naval Academy in 1857, but resigned in March, 1861, entering the naval service afloat, as an Acting Master’s Mate. His disposition and temperament would not permit him to remain at a naval school in time of war, as he would not have been able to give a single thought to theoretical study.

“In October, 1861, he was restored to his rank as Midshipman, and on the 16th of July following he was, with many other young officers, made a Lieutenant, owing to the exigencies of the service growing out of the civil war.

“Henceforth, for nearly three years, his career was singularly conspicuous in deeds of daring, in a service where a lack of gallantry would have brought disgrace. It is plain, therefore, that it was the sagacity of his plans and his boldness in carrying them out that distinguished him.

“At the close of the war he was barely twenty-two and a half years of age, rather slightly built, about five feet in height, and boyish looking. He had large, gray eyes, a prominent, aquiline nose, yellowish hair, worn quite long, and withal, a rather grave expression of countenance. When speaking his face would light up with a bright and playful smile. A comrade likened his springy, elastic step, high cheek bones and general physiognomy to that of an Indian. The first impression of a stranger who heard him speak, either of what he had done or hoped to do, would be that he was a boaster--but with those who knew him best there was no such idea; his form of speech was a mere expression, frankly uttered, of what he had done, or what he intended to do.”

The foregoing is Admiral Ammen’s estimate of the man. To some of it the writer must dissent. He accompanied Cushing on a short journey soon after the Albemarle affair, while the country was still ringing with his brilliant exploit, and when steamboats, railroads and hotels were refusing to accept any money from either him or his chance companions; and all sorts and conditions of men were being introduced to him, to have the honor of shaking his hand; and yet a more simple, boy-like, unassuming manner no one placed in such a position ever had.

He early received command of a small steamer, engaged in blockading, and would make expeditions in the inland waters, in his boat, sometimes lying concealed all day, but always having some definite object commensurate with the risks involved. He more than once obtained important information in this way.

Not only did he have frequent engagements, in his little vessel, with field batteries of the enemy, but was successful in destroying schooners with supplies, salt-works, and other things which tended to cripple his enemy.

In the winter of 1864, when blockading the Cape Fear River, Cushing determined to pay a visit to Smithville, in a boat, with only six men. In entering the river he had to pass Fort Caswell, and at Smithville, two miles above, he knew there was a battery of five guns, and a considerable garrison.

About eleven o’clock at night he landed, one hundred yards above the battery, came into the village, and into a large house with a piazza, which was the headquarters of General Hebert.

A Major and Captain, of the General’s staff, were about going to bed, in a room on the piazza, when, hearing footsteps, and supposing his servant was there, the Major threw up a window, and a navy revolver was at once thrust in his face, with a demand for surrender. He pushed the pistol aside, and escaped through the back door, calling to his companion to follow, as the enemy were upon them. The latter failed to understand, and was taken prisoner by Cushing, and carried off. He pushed off down the river, knowing that an immediate alarm would be given. It was a beautiful moonlight night, but Cushing escaped unharmed.

This audacious effort to capture General Hebert was characteristic of Cushing, and was only frustrated by the fact that the General happened to spend the night in Wilmington, instead of his own quarters.

At the capture of Newbern, Cushing distinguished himself, in command of a battery of navy howitzers.

In landing in the marsh Cushing had lost his shoes, and, while pressing on, he encountered the servant of a Captain Johnson, of the army, who had a pair of spare boots slung over his shoulder. Cushing asked who was the owner of the boots, and said, “Tell the Captain that Lieutenant Cushing, of the Navy, was barefooted, and has borrowed them for the day,” and then, in spite of the remonstrances of the servant, put on the boots in haste, and pursued his way to the fight.

In the destruction of the Albemarle we see Cushing in another, and a truly heroic light. The newspaper correspondents had managed to make his task as difficult as possible, for they had, for several weeks, apprised the public, and of course the enemy, that Cushing was on his way from the North, with a torpedo-boat, to blow up the Albemarle. No method could have been taken to render the enemy more watchful, and the destruction of the ironclad impossible.

We have already spoken of the “cordon” of logs, enclosing her as in a pen; the extra guards and fires, the howitzers ready loaded, and the pickets down the river. The enemy was very vigilant, and Cushing’s approach was discovered. Yet we find him perfectly cool amidst a heavy fire from small arms and howitzers, standing forward in his launch, pushing his way at full speed over the logs, and only intent upon lowering his torpedo and striking the enemy’s vessel at the proper time. He did this most effectually, but, at the very moment of doing so, a shell from one of the heavy guns of the Albemarle struck the torpedo-boat, and she went down, swamped by the column of water and spray which rose high in the air when the torpedo exploded.

Nothing could be more graphic or characteristic than Cushing’s report of the affair, as follows:--

“ALBEMARLE SOUND, N. C.,
October 30th, 1864.

“SIR:--I have the honor to report that the Rebel ironclad “Albemarle”
is at the bottom of the Roanoke river. On the night of the 27th,
having prepared my steam-launch, I proceeded up towards Plymouth
with thirteen officers and men, partly volunteers from the squadron.
The distance from the mouth of the river to the ram was about eight
miles, the stream averaging in width some two hundred yards, and
lined with the enemy’s pickets.

“A mile below the town was the wreck of the Southfield, surrounded by
some schooners, and it was understood that a gun was mounted there
to command the bend. I therefore took one of the Shamrock’s cutters
in tow, with orders to cast off and board at that point, if we were
hailed.

“Our boat succeeded in passing the pickets, and even the Southfield,
within twenty yards, without discovery, and we were not hailed
until by the lookouts on the ram. The cutter was then cast off,
and ordered below, while we made for our enemy under a full head of
steam. The Rebels sprung their rattle, rang the bell, and commenced
firing, at the same time repeating their hail, and seeming much
confused.

“The light of a fire ashore showed me the ironclad made fast to the
wharf, with a pen of logs around her, about thirty feet from her side.

“Passing her closely, we made a complete circle, so as to strike her
fairly, and went into her, bows on. By this time the enemy’s fire
was very severe, but a dose of canister, at short range, served to
moderate their zeal and disturb their aim.

“Paymaster Swan, of the Otsego, was wounded near me, but how many
more I know not. Three bullets struck my clothing, and the air seemed
full of them. In a moment we had struck the logs just abreast of the
quarter port, breasting them in some feet, and our bows resting on
them. The torpedo-boom was then lowered, and by a vigorous pull I
succeeded in diving the torpedo under the overhang, and exploding it,
at the same time that the Albemarle’s gun was fired. A shot seemed to
go crashing through my boat, and a dense mass of water rushed in from
the torpedo, filling the launch, and completely disabling her.

“The enemy then continued his fire, at fifteen feet range, and
demanded our surrender, which I twice refused, ordering the men to
save themselves, and, removing my own coat and shoes, springing into
the river, I swam with others into the middle of the stream, the
Rebels failing to hit us. The most of our party were captured, some
were drowned, and only one escaped besides myself, and he in another
direction. Acting Master’s Mate Woodman, of the ‘Commodore Hull,’ I
met in the water half a mile below the town, and assisted him as best
I could, but failed to get him ashore.

“Completely exhausted, I managed to reach the shore, but was too weak
to crawl out of the water until just at daylight, when I managed to
creep into the swamp, close to the fort. While hiding, a few feet
from the path, two of the Albemarle’s officers passed, and I judged,
from their conversation, that the ship was destroyed.