CHAPTER III
THE PASSAGE OF THE FORTS AND THE CAPTURE OF NEW ORLEANS
EARLY in March, 1862, while the Richmond was at Ship Island, where ten thousand troops had been brought together, Captain David Glasgow Farragut came out from New York in the United States steamship Hartford and took command of the West Gulf Squadron.
On the 20th of the month Major-General Benjamin F. Butler and his staff arrived at Ship Island, in the transport steamer Mississippi, and on the 25th the fourteen hundred troops on board of her were landed, and General Butler established his headquarters on shore.
Meanwhile from day to day, the vessels comprising Captain David D. Porter’s fleet of twenty-one bomb schooners were dropping in and anchoring in our vicinity, adding to the formidable appearance of the preparations now being actively made for the coming attack upon New Orleans by the army and navy.
There was at last no doubt that we were going at our work in good earnest, and although in the New Orleans papers, of which we occasionally obtained copies, the most exaggerated accounts were given of all that they were doing “to welcome the invaders to hospitable graves,” we of the navy were anxious to bring the matter to the test of battle as quickly as possible.
Of certain facts we were assured. We well knew that Forts Jackson and St. Philip mounted one hundred and twenty-eight heavy guns; that they were admirably situated in a bend of the river where it is but half a mile wide, and were calculated with their cross fire to repel a foe ascending the Mississippi against the current, which in the spring runs with great rapidity. We also knew that one, if not two heavy chains had lately been stretched across the river at this point; and we of the Richmond knew, from our own experience, that the rebels had at least one iron-plated ram capable of knocking a hole through any of the wooden vessels of our fleet.
Such of us as had read the history of the war of 1812 were also aware that the British fleet in 1815 ineffectually threw over one thousand 13-inch bombs—exactly such as we were now preparing to use—into Fort Jackson during a nine days’ siege of that work, which was then vastly inferior in strength to the present fort, and was the only defense of the river, where there were now two forts.
These facts we knew, but we were also informed by such deserters as came in to us, and also by the New Orleans papers, that a line of fortifications had been constructed all the way from the Forts to English Turn, just below the city, and also that two very large and very formidable iron-clad floating batteries were just being completed, to aid in making New Orleans impregnable against any force we could bring to bear upon it.
Against all this known and unknown force we had, under command of General Butler, fifteen thousand troops, most of them as yet untried in battle, and forty-seven vessels of war,—all wooden ships,—of which the Hartford, Richmond, Brooklyn, and Pensacola were the largest and heaviest armed ships, while seventeen of them were small gunboats of the Kennebec and Katahdin class, three were old-fashioned sailing vessels, of no particular value for the desired service, and twenty-one were mortar schooners, carrying one 13-inch mortar each, which threw shells weighing two hundred and fifteen pounds.
With this force Flag Officer Farragut was expected to accomplish a feat which up to that time had never yet been performed successfully,—to reduce two forts situated in swamps on the banks of a rapid stream, where there was no possibility of coöperation by the land forces, and then to pass seventy-five miles up a river guarded, as we believed, by earthworks bristling with guns, to the conquest of a city garrisoned by fifty thousand troops and defended by formidable iron-clad batteries!
Decidedly this was not to be child’s play, and although, as I have said, we of the fleet were eager for the coming fight, we were by no manner of means over-confident of success.
We were not to meet Indians nor Chinese; our battle was to be set against men whom we respected as foes, and who were quite as fertile in plans for defense as we possibly could be in our scheme of attack.
But during the next month, although we talked these matters over in the wardroom in the evenings, our days were too busily occupied for such thoughts. The first difficulty that confronted us was to get our fleet over the bar that jealously guards the delta of the Mississippi, and a full month of really hard work was required to accomplish this first step.
At last, however, on the 1st of April, all the vessels of the fleet were gathered something more than two miles below Fort Jackson, the bomb schooners moored close in to the right bank of the river.
The coast-survey officers at once went to work to establish marks and to construct a map for the purpose of getting the bomb vessels in proper position and in correct range for their attack upon the forts, and on the 18th of April the regular bombardment opened and was continued, almost without intermission, until our passage of the forts.
This bomb fire at first, to us of the fleet, was a matter of constant interest, and the topmast heads—we had sent down our topgallant and royal masts in stripping for the fight—were thronged with anxious spectators. But as no perceptible effect was produced on the forts by the bombardment, we soon lost our curiosity and came to the conclusion that after all this was simply to be the overture, but the real work would remain for us to accomplish.
Meanwhile the enemy were by no means inactive, and they soon resorted to one of their cherished plans of offense, from which they evidently hoped great things.
One night three enormous fire-rafts appeared bearing down upon us, blazing high with burning pitch and turpentine and sending out dense clouds of smoke. But for these we were prepared with an organized naval fire brigade, and before they came dangerously near our ships a fleet of boats was sent out with grapnels, which they fastened to the rafts and then quickly towed them into the middle of the river, where they drifted harmlessly past the ships, affording us an illumination on a grand scale.
The night of April 20 it was determined to make an attempt to cut the chain cable in preparation for our ascent of the river. This chain was stretched across the river from a point abreast of Fort Jackson to the opposite side of the river, where a small land battery had been constructed to cover it. The cable was supported by passing over a line of seven hulks anchored in the river.
Our plan was to blow up one of these hulks by a petard, to be exploded by an electric wire, and a “petard-man,” one Kroehl, was on board the flagship to work the apparatus.
This delicate and dangerous duty was placed in charge of Captain Bell, with the gunboats Pinola and Itasca, supported by the Kennebec, Winona, and Iroquois.
It was a wild night selected for the expedition, dark, rainy, with half a gale of wind blowing down the river. But few of us in the fleet went below that night, for we were all impressed with the importance and danger of the work, and we peered out into the darkness as the hour of ten drew nigh and the two leading vessels steamed noiselessly past us, every light concealed and their low hulls only visible by the closest observation.
To cover the attack the bomb schooners kept up a terrific and continuous fire upon the forts; five, seven, and once I counted nine of these enormous shells, with their trains of fire, in the air at the same time.
Anxiously we waited for the expected explosion of the petard, but time passed and nothing was seen or heard of our brave fellows! At last a signal rocket was thrown up from the left bank of the river, which was immediately answered by one from Fort Jackson, and then both forts opened fire.
Evidently our attack had been discovered. But had it failed? Not a sound came from our little fleet! A half hour lengthened out to an hour of fearful expectation. Where were our ships, were they all captured or destroyed?
Our men were frenzied with excitement, and murmurs went up, even from our well-disciplined crew, at our seeming inactivity!
At last a light was seen coming down the river, and then another, until one by one our gunboats appeared in the darkness and passed us to their anchorage. We counted them and found none missing, but we were compelled to possess our souls in patience, for not until morning could we learn the story of their gallant exploit.
The Pinola, with the petard-man on board, ran up to the cable, and, selecting a hulk near the middle of the line, the petard was successfully thrown on board, but in backing the ship off the wire became entangled and broke before the exploding current could be turned on.
The Itasca, under command of Captain Caldwell, had singled out her schooner, and running alongside, a party of men was thrown on board, and while they were endeavoring to unshackle the cable, the signal rocket was thrown up, warning the forts of our attack.
But nothing prevented Caldwell from accomplishing the work he had come to do. For, notwithstanding the fire of the fort, our boys deliberately cut the large cable, using a cold chisel and sledge hammer, and as the chain was severed and fell overboard, the line of schooners, with the Itasca fast to her prize, swung down stream, and our ship found herself grounded on the eastern shore!
Fortunately, the Pinola discovered the Itasca’s condition and came to her assistance, tugging at her for over an hour and parting two hawsers before she got her afloat; but at last she succeeded, and our little fleet returned triumphant, having removed the famous barrier and successfully accomplished one of the most gallant feats recorded in naval history.
As a token of their disgust the rebels sent down, toward morning, the very largest fire-raft they had yet constructed. In fact, it was so large that the Westfield, a former Brooklyn ferry boat, now armed and attached to our fleet, was sent out to tackle it.
She quietly put her nose under the raft, and turning on her steam hose, quenched the fire sufficiently to prevent taking fire herself, when she pushed it ashore, where it made a superb blaze until daylight.
On April 23 each ship of our fleet received an order from Farragut announcing that the passage of the forts would be attempted that night, and notifying all the commanding officers of the proposed order of battle.
The mortar boats were to remain in position and keep up a continuous fire. The six steamers attached to the mortar fleet were to join in the attack, but were not to attempt to pass the forts. The other ships were to pass in three lines, Farragut leading in the Hartford, we following him in the Richmond, with the Brooklyn astern of us, forming one division and passing on the Fort Jackson side.
Captain Theodorus Bailey led the line on the Fort St. Philip side, in the Cayuga, followed by the Pensacola, Mississippi, Oneida, Varuna, Katahdin, Kineo, and Wissahickon.
Captain Bell was to take the middle of the river in the Scioto, with the Iroquois, Pinola, Winona, Itasca, and Kennebec following. The order to all the ships was to keep in line and to push on past the forts as best they might.
We had not been mere idle observers during the past month on board the Richmond, but had been devising every method possible to strengthen our means of offense and defense. Among other ideas, we originated, through the suggestion of our first assistant engineer Hoyt, a plan that was adopted by other ships in the fleet, of protecting the boilers against shot by hanging our spare chain cables in lengths outside, in the line of the boilers, thus improvising an armor that was found quite effectual against solid shot as well as shell.
After receiving our final orders, Lieutenant-Commander Cummings, our executive officer, who was afterward killed at Port Hudson, directed that our decks should be whitewashed, a novel conceit, but one that enabled us to distinguish in the darkness any loose articles on deck, such as might otherwise have been difficult to find in the excitement of action.
When hammocks were piped down that evening, it was with the understanding that the men might sleep until midnight, when all hands were to be called quietly, without any of the customary noisy signals.
That was indeed a solemn time for us all as we gathered at the evening meal in the wardroom. We now had immediately before us a task the outcome of which none could predict; but, even if we were successful, it was highly improbable that the little band of eighteen officers who had now been together for two years, in the close and intimate relations that can only be found in the wardroom of a man-of-war, would ever again meet at the table in an unbroken body. Who would be the missing ones the next morning?
There was none of the merry jesting that usually marked our meals, and when the table was cleared every officer went to his stateroom, and I think each of us wrote some lines to his nearest and dearest in anticipation of what might happen before we saw another sun. I know, at least, that I wrote such a letter. Then lights were extinguished and all was quiet throughout the ship; such absolute quiet as is never found except just before a battle.
It seemed to me that I had scarcely closed my eyes when the quartermaster, with his hooded lantern, touched me, and said quietly, “All hands, sir!”
I hastened on deck. The night was dark and the air was chill. Officers and men were hurriedly but quietly going to their stations for action, which in our case was at the port battery.
My own division was amidships, where I had four 9-inch guns. My men came to their stations stripped for work, some of them without their shirts, their monkey-jackets knotted by the sleeves, hanging loosely about their shoulders.
Guns were at once cast loose and provided, and then all stood quietly awaiting developments. In the mean time our anchor was hove short, and we only waited the order to trip it and steam ahead. Down in the engine-room I could see, by the hatch near one of my guns, that the engineers were also on the alert, and the indicator showed that we had a heavy pressure of steam on.
Ah! here comes the Hartford, steaming up on our starboard quarter. As she comes abreast of us, our anchor is tripped, hove up, and we fall into place, a cable’s length astern of her, and steam ahead.
The other two divisions are dimly seen moving up in echelon. Everything is done with the utmost silence, save for the thunder of the mortar fleet, which has now gone at it, hammer and tongs, and the air above us is filled with the hurtling shells, made visible in their passage, like comets, by their trains of fire.
As yet our movement has not become known to the enemy, and every instant we are getting nearer to the forts, as yet unharmed.
Ah! they have seen us at last; and Fort Jackson belches out upon the Hartford a hail of shot and shell. We go ahead at full speed! Now we are ourselves under fire, and “Load and fire at will” is the order from the quarter deck!
Our ship throbs with the beat of the engines below and trembles with the shock from the continuous fire of our great guns.
For the next hour it is all madness! The captain of one of my guns is struck full in the face by a solid shot and his head is severed from his body; as he falls the lockstring in his hand is pulled and his gun is discharged! “Hurry the body below and load again!”
I call my junior officer to take my place while I go to my forward gun, and as I turn a shell explodes and tears his right arm away!
A young master’s mate hurries past me bearing a message to the captain, who is on the topgallant forecastle; as he goes up the ladder and touches his cap to his commander a rifle ball from the fort, whose walls we are close abreast of, strikes him in the forehead, and the poor boy falls dead, his message not yet delivered!
Now we are so close to the fort that we can look in at the lighted portholes; a solid shot passes between two of my men and buries itself in the mainmast not six inches above my head! I am covered with splinters, but unharmed.
The early dawn is breaking, and by its dim light and the blaze of a fire-raft drifting down past us I see just abreast of us a light river-boat crowded with rebel troops. As I look at her the captain of my No. 5 gun loads with grape and cannister, and depresses his gun as he trains it point blank upon the crowd of trembling wretches.
I dash at him and catch the lockstring from his hand, just in time to save them from an awful fate! We are all savages now, burning with the passion to kill, and the man looks at me resentfully as I frustrate his plan for a wholesale battue!
The fire upon us slackens, then ceases; I glance through a porthole; we are past the forts; both of them are astern of us, and, thank God, the battle is won!