CHAPTER II
A NIGHT ATTACK BY A CONFEDERATE RAM
FROM the time of the Richmond’s arrival at the Bélize we found ourselves the object of deep interest to a black, snaky-looking steamer that fell into the way of coming down the river daily to take a look at us and see what we were doing.
If she had confined her attentions to a mere reconnaissance it would not have so much mattered, but she frequently varied the monotony of this proceeding by throwing a rifle shot at us from a long range. We soon learned that this persistent and pestilent visitor was the Confederate steamer Ivy, in charge of Lieutenant-Commander Fry.
The Ivy was a converted tugboat, a technical term to be understood in a temporal, not a spiritual sense. She mounted a rifle gun, evidently a new acquisition, and she was testing it on us.
Fry was a former officer in our service and had been shipmates with our executive officer, Lieutenant-Commander Cummings, which may have accounted for his unremitting efforts to make things lively for us. To be sure he never succeeded in hitting us, but it is very far from amusing to be potted at daily with a 30-pound rifle gun, and with no opportunity of returning the compliment, as she kept discreetly out of the range of our smooth bore Dahlgrens.
However, after the Water Witch joined our fleet, we had a little easier time, as she was always signaled to chase whenever the Ivy annoyed us too much. This arrangement was a great relief to us, and at least had the merit of keeping the Water Witch in a high state of efficiency.
To render the blockade more effectual and to obviate the necessity of guarding the three mouths of the river, it was at last decided to cross the bar and take the ships up to the Head of the Passes, some twenty miles above our present station.
At the point where the river branches off, forming the Southwest, Northeast, and L’Outre passes, it was proposed to erect a battery on shore and there establish a depot, if possible, in anticipation of a movement against the rebel forts and the city of New Orleans in the near future.
To this end we had brought round from Fort Pickens, Lieutenant McFarland, United States Engineers, to superintend the construction of the battery, and we also had on board a quantity of sand-bags, pickaxes, and intrenching tools, but as we found no sand, as there was only mud in the vicinity, a schooner was ordered to Ship Island for a supply.
On September 26 the Richmond steamed around to the Southwest Pass and endeavored to cross the bar, but we grounded and were kept hard at work for three days in forcing the ship over. At last we succeeded, and anchored off Pilot Town, six miles above. The next day we captured a small schooner, the Frolic, coming down the river with a Confederate flag flying, and from her we obtained a supply of late New Orleans papers.
October 1 we ran up to the Head of the Passes and anchored, where we were shortly joined by the Vincennes and the Preble, both old-fashioned sailing ships of war, the little Water Witch and a merchant schooner carrying the 8-inch guns for our proposed shore battery.
We had long discussed in the wardroom the many advantages of this coveted position in the river, as compared with the discomforts of our anchorage outside the bar, and now that we had achieved it, with nothing to annoy us but occasional visits from the Ivy, we settled down to the placid enjoyment of our environments.
In fact we discovered that we even had “society” at our present station. This consisted of the family of a precious old scoundrel, half-fisherman, half-pirate, I imagine, when opportunity presented, who had a wife and a brace of buxom daughters.
In default of anything better presenting itself, some of our younger officers used to visit this fellow’s cabin, ostensibly to purchase fish for their messes, but really with the hope of gleaning some information from him as to the condition of affairs at the forts above.
The family always seemed glad to see our officers, especially when they brought offerings of coffee or tobacco, and, posing as “an original Union family,” spun them some very tough yarns. Meanwhile, as we later discovered at our cost, they were quietly selling us to their rebel friends up the river.
On October 12 a schooner arrived with coal, and the Richmond took her alongside to fill her bunkers. During that day we got one of our 9-inch guns on the topgallant forecastle, where it could be given a greater elevation than in broadside, hoping thus to increase its range for the special benefit of the Ivy on her next visit.
At sundown, as we had not yet taken in our full supply of coal, Captain Pope decided to continue coaling at night, that we might the sooner dispatch the schooner back to Pensacola for some needed material for the battery,—which was fated never to be built.
That night I was officer of the deck from eight to twelve o’clock. When I was relieved at midnight we were still coaling, with the two guns of the midship division run in on the port side to facilitate the work.
The night was very dark, the moon had set, and the mist, hanging low over the river, shut in the hulls of the other ships of the fleet near us, their masts and spars only being visible. Of course, the Richmond, from her size, must have been the most conspicuous object from the river, while the noise made in shoveling and hoisting the coal marked our position most admirably. A more favorable opportunity for a night attack could scarcely have been desired.
But a tired watch officer whose responsibilities have been turned over to his relief does not usually lose much time in reflecting upon possibilities; and I was soon sleeping the sleep of the just. For what transpired during the next four hours I have to depend upon the reports of others.
Master’s Mate Gibbs, in charge of the Frolic, anchored astern of us, says that at about 3.40 A. M., seeing a long, black object moving stealthily down the river, he hailed, “Richmond ahoy! There is a boat coming down the river on your port bow!”
He says that he repeated the warning, but the noise of the coaling probably prevented its being heard on board of our ship, as he received no response.
Commander French of the Preble reports that at 3.45 o’clock a midshipman rushed into his cabin, exclaiming, “Captain, here is a steamer right alongside of us!” When Captain French reached the deck, he says he “saw a ram, that looked like a large whale, steering toward us; but it changed its course to avoid us and made directly for the Richmond, and in an instant huge clouds of the densest black smoke rolled up from the strange vessel and we all expected to see the Richmond blow up!”
I, meanwhile, had been soundly sleeping, when I was rudely awakened by a tremendous shock, followed by the sound of the rattle we used as a signal to night quarters.
Jumping into my trousers, with my coat in one hand and my sword in the other, I, with the other wardroom officers, rushed on deck, fully expecting to find that we were boarded by the enemy,—as we very readily might have been in this moment of surprise!
Emerging from the hatchway, I saw on the port side amidships a smokestack just above our hammock nettings from which belched streams of black smoke! The vessel, whatever she was, was then slowly dropping astern, scraping our side, and at that moment she threw up a rocket, doubtless as a signal that she had accomplished her work!
I had but a moment to take in the condition of affairs, as I found sufficient occupation in getting the guns of my division run out.
Meanwhile, the ram had cleared herself from us and dropped slowly astern in the darkness. She soon reappeared again, however, steaming up stream as though preparing to give us another blow. As she came within range we depressed our guns and fired at her as best we could in the darkness. But as she was so low in the water and the mist was so thick she was a most difficult object to distinguish, and she soon disappeared.
By this time the Head of the Passes was in a state of tremendous excitement. The signal from the ram had been followed by the appearance of a line of fire-rafts up the river, drifting ominously down upon us, while by their light the spars of a bark-rigged vessel, and the smokestacks of two other steamers, could be seen in their rear. It was evidently a well planned attack in force.
Our little fleet, meanwhile, had all slipped their cables, and the Preble came standing across our stern under sail, her commander hailing: “What are my orders, sir?”
This was the critical point of the whole affair. Of course, it is very easy to say now what the orders should have been. But just at that moment things looked very squally for us. We had a hole five inches in diameter knocked clean through us and three planks were stove in two feet below the water line.
This was the result of the first blow from a ram that might, for all we knew, at any moment repeat her blow and send us to the bottom of the river. We had no idea then that she had disabled herself in her first essay, as proved to be the case, and might readily have been captured by us when daylight came.
We did know, however, that with the Richmond out of the way, our two sailing consorts in that swift-running river would prove an easy prey to the rebel steamers.
Oh no; it was not an easy question to decide in a moment. Farragut, as we all know, when in a tight place in Mobile bay, a year later, and the ship ahead of him answered his question why she had stopped with a reply, “Torpedoes ahead!” sang out: “Torpedoes be d—d; go ahead full speed!” But unfortunately in our navy in 1861 we did not have Farraguts “enough to go ’round.”
After hastily consulting with his executive officer, Captain Pope gave the order by night signal: “Proceed down the river.”
And down the river we all went, the Preble ahead, followed by the Vincennes, and we in the Richmond bringing up the rear. Captain Winslow of the Water Witch appears to have understood our signal as, “Act at discretion;” as he reports that he steamed over to the other side of the river, then northerly, easily clearing the fire-rafts, which drifted harmlessly ashore. At 5.30 A. M. he says “he made out our fleet three or four miles down the river and no enemy in sight above; although he could see the smoke of three or four steamers four or five miles up the river.” He then steamed down after us, picking up the Frolic on the way.
At early daylight I was directed by the captain to go up to the mizzen topmast crosstrees and report what was in sight. I found the Water Witch and Frolic steaming down to us, and far up the river I could distinguish the smoke of the Confederate steamers.
We soon came to the bar, and the Preble passed over safely, the Vincennes followed, but struck the bar with her stern up stream, and we came last and also took the bottom, fortunately swinging broadside up stream.
Meanwhile, with the daylight, the Ivy, the McCrea, and another rebel steamer came down, and, keeping at a very safe distance commenced their old game of firing at us at long range. It was very evident that they had a wholesome objection to our 9-inch guns at closer quarters.
Their shells passed over us and fell near us, but only one, a spent shell, came in through an after port, but fortunately it failed to explode, and Lieutenant Edward Terry calmly picked it up and threw it overboard.
The usual signal, “Chase the enemy,” was made to the Water Witch, and like a bantam rooster she steamed up toward the two steamers, and they withdrew out of range.
We now piped to breakfast, and made a signal to two coal ships anchored outside the bar to “get under weigh.” I was officer of the deck at the time, and, to my surprise, the quartermaster came to me at 9.30 and reported, “The Vincennes is being abandoned by her crew, sir!”
“Abandoned! What do you mean, Knight?”
“They are filling up her boats, sir, as fast as they can. Just look for yourself, sir!”
I hurried aft, as she lay somewhat on our port quarter, not more than three hundred yards distant, and sure enough, her boats were at her gangway and were being filled with men.
I sent the orderly down to report the matter to Captain Pope, and in a few moments the first boat reached us, and I received Captain Robert Handy, who came over the side with a very anxious face, and with a large American flag tied about his waist.
As he met Captain Pope he said: “In obedience to your signal, sir, I have abandoned my ship, leaving a slow match, connected with the magazine, burning!”
I shall never forget the expression of poor old Captain Pope’s face as he listened to this astonishing report. He was anything but a profane man in his daily habit, and I am sure that the Recording Angel dropped a tear over the swear words with which our commander emphasized his reply.
Meanwhile the important consideration in our minds was, how long that “slow match” might be expected to burn, and what effect the explosion of all the powder on board the Vincennes might have upon us,—perilously close neighbors as we unfortunately were.
By some fortunate chance, however, the match went out, and after waiting a proper time Captain Handy and his crew were sent back to their ship, one of her officers being detached, and sent in the Frolic to Barrataria, to bring the South Carolina to our assistance.
At 1 P. M. a steamer was seen coming out of Pass à L’Outre which proved to be the transport McClellan from Fort Pickens. She had supplies for us, and, best of all, our long-desired Parrott rifle gun, and had actually been almost up to the Head of the Passes in search of us.
It was a miracle that she had not been captured by the Confederates. Late that night the South Carolina, Captain James Alden, arrived.
Our Comedy of Errors is nearly ended. The following morning, with the aid of the two steamers, our fleet was all got afloat. All was saved but our honor, and that we felt very anxious about, for as the news of our affair got around to Pensacola, the other ships seemed to think we had made too good time down the river, and they spoke of our brush as “Pope’s Run.”
The outcome of this was that our ship sent a special request to be allowed to join in the coming attack upon Fort McCrea at Pensacola. Our request was granted and we joined with the Niagara on November 24 in that fight.
We were the inside ship, were struck several times, and had several killed and wounded. This made us all feel better, and during the next two years the Richmond was in all of Farragut’s fights. She was at New Orleans, twice passed the batteries at Vicksburg, was at Port Hudson, with a battery of our guns on shore during the siege, and was finally in the glorious Mobile fight. So that the Richmond made a record that placed her among the historic ships of the navy.