Farragut on the Mississippi (Part 3)

At length Farragut determined to run the rebel batteries, engage the gunboats and rams beyond, and then steam up to New Orleans, cost what it would. The chain had been cut a few nights before, and the schooners that sustained it were trailing along the river bank. On the 23d of April, everything being ready, at two o'clock signal lanterns were hoisted from the Hartford's mizzen peak, and soon the boatswain's call, "Up all hammocks," rang over the water. It was known the evening before that the desperate conflict would come off in the morning, and there was but little sleep in the fleet that night. The scene, the hour, and the momentous issues at stake made every man thoughtful. Not a breeze ruffled the surface of the river; the forts were silent above; the stars looked serenely down, while the deep tranquillity that rested on shore and stream was broken only by the heavy boom, every ten minutes, of a gun from the boats on watch. But the moment those two signal lanterns were run up on the flag-ship, all this was changed. The rattling of chains, the heaving of anchors, and commands of officers transformed the scene of quietness into one of bustle and stern preparation. In an hour and a half everything was ready, and the flag-ship, followed by the Richmond and Brooklyn and six gunboats, turned their prows up the river, steering straight for Fort Jackson. The Pensacola, Mississippi, Oneida, and Varuna, under Captain Bailey, with four gunboats, came next, and were to engage Fort Philip. The Harriet Lane, Westfield, Owasco, Miami, Clifton, and Jackson, under Porter, came last, and were to take position where they could pour an enfilading fire of grape and shrapnel into Fort Jackson while Farragut hurled his heavy broadsides into it in front. As soon as the fleet started on its terrible mission, all the mortar-boats opened their fire, and, canopied by the blazing shells, that, crossing and recrossing in every direction, wove their fiery net-work over the sky and dropped with a thunderous sound into the doomed works, the flag-ship, accompanied by her consorts, steamed swiftly forward through the gloom. As soon as they came within range, signal rockets darted up from the low fortifications, and the next instant the volcano opened. Taking the awful storm in perfect silence, Farragut kept steadily on till he was close abreast, when his broadsides opened. As each ship came up, it delivered its broadside, and on both sides of the river it was one continuous stream of fire, and thunder-peal that shook the shores like an earthquake. For half an hour it seemed as if all the explosive elements of earth and air were collected there. The vessels did not stop to engage the forts, but, delivering their broadsides, swept on towards the gunboats beyond. Fire-rafts now came drifting down the tide, lighting up the pandemonium with a fiercer glare, and making that early morning wild and awful as the last day of time. The shot and shell from nearly five hundred cannon filled all the air, and it seemed as if nothing made with human hands could survive such a storm. The Ithaca, with a shot through her, was compelled to drop out of the fight, in doing which she came under the close fire of the fort, and was completely riddled, yet, strange to say, only two of her crew were struck. Exploding shells filled the air, hot shot crashed through the hulls, yet the gallant fleet, wrapped in the smoke of its own broadsides, moved on in its pathway of flame, while the river ahead was filled with fire-rafts and iron-clad gun-boats, whose terrible fire, crossing that of the fort, swept the whole bosom of the stream. Sharp-shooters crowded the rigging, dropping their bullets incessantly upon our decks, yet still the commander's signal for close action streamed in the morning breeze, and still that fleet kept on its determined way. An immense iron-clad vessel, the Louisiana, lay moored near Fort Jackson, armed with heavy rifled guns, which sent the shot through and through our vessels, while ours rattled like peas on her mailed sides. The famous ram Manassas came down on the flag-ship, pushing a fire-raft before her. In attempting to avoid the collision, Farragut got aground, when the raft came plump alongside. The flames instantly leaped through the rigging, and ran along the sides of his vessel, and for a moment he thought it was all up with him. But, ordering the hose to turn a stream of water upon the fire, he succeeded in extinguishing it, and, backing off, again poured in his broadsides.