THE BATTLE OF MOBILE BAY.
In order to appreciate the importance of the tremendous action in Mobile
Bay, it is necessary to consider that Mobile and Wilmington were the
only available ports of the rebels east of the Mississippi. The
resources of the Confederacy were exhausted by three years of wasting
war, and it was dependent upon foreign supplies for the means of
continuing the strife. The earnest attention of the government at
Washington, therefore, was directed to the shutting up of these ports.
To form a correct idea of the obstacles to the closing of Mobile Bay,
which had been intrusted to Admiral Farragut, it should be remembered
that its entrance was guarded by two strongly-built and heavily-armed
forts; that the only available channel for large vessels, but three
fourths of a mile in width, ran under the guns of Fort Morgan, the
stronger of the two forts; that this channel was filled with sunken
torpedoes, which, experience had demonstrated, were fatal to any vessels
subjected to the explosion; and that the rebels had a fleet of gunboats
and iron-clads, which could operate with every advantage against an
advancing fleet.
"Brave Old Salt" had estimated all these obstacles, and believing that
"success was a duty," he had resolved to overcome them. All the
expedients which the ingenuity of a thorough seaman could devise were
adopted to strengthen and protect the ships. The plan of the battle was
entirely original, and displayed the genius of its author. The admiral
modestly declares that he only obeyed the orders of the navy department,
and disclaims the credit so lavishly awarded to him by his admiring
fellow-citizens; but the government did not tell him how to do it--and
in that consisted the doing of it--did not order him to "lash ships" and
take his elevated position in the main rigging; did not bid him "butt"
the rebel rams with his wooden prows; and for all these things does the
whole world sound his praise.
At half past five in the morning the Chatauqua, with the Androscoggin
lashed to her port side, took her position in the line of battle. The
Brooklyn was to lead the van, with the "Old Hartford," the flag-ship,
next in the line, though the doughty old admiral had but tardily acceded
to the request of his officers in taking this place. The position of the
Chatauqua was in the centre of the line of battle.
At the signal from the admiral, the fleet moved on. Every officer was
full of zeal and enthusiasm, though it was certain that some of them
would never behold the light of another day; that more or less of the
gallant vessels must soon be overwhelmed by the hidden engines of
destruction which had been planted in the channel. Somers regarded it as
the great day of his existence. He had read his Testament and said his
prayers that morning as though it were the last day he had to live, for
the most fearful and deadly strife of the whole war was anticipated. A
man is never so fully prepared to live well and do his duty faithfully
as when he is ready to die.
While the young officer thought even more tenderly than usual of the
loved ones in his far-off home, and of that other loved one who was
never forgotten when home was remembered, he felt that his country was
theirs, and that every blow struck for the nation was struck for them.
To die for his country was to die for them--for his own home; and he
asked no higher duty than to sacrifice his life, if such was the will of
God. "Thy will be done," he repeated many times, though life was full of
hopes and joys to him.
The fleet moved on, and the roar of the great guns in the monitors soon
announced that the action had commenced. The chase guns of the Chatauqua
opened first, and the ship trembled beneath the concussion.
"The Tecumseh has gone down," passed from mouth to mouth, as a
tremendous explosion saluted the ears of the seamen.
The monitor had struck upon a torpedo, and in a moment had disappeared
beneath the tide, carrying down with her nearly all her gallant crew.
But this incident, appalling as it was even to the battle-scarred
veterans on the decks of the fleet, was hardly heeded in the terrible
determination of purpose which animated every heart. The Brooklyn paused
to dodge some supposed torpedo buoys, and "Brave Old Salt" dashed ahead
in the Hartford to his proper place in the van of the battle.
The ships in pairs came up abreast of the fort; and according to the
orders of the admiral, the broadside and other guns opened upon the
works, not with solid shot, in futile attempts to batter down their
dense walls, but with grape, which drove the gunners of the fort from
their stations.
Never were guns fired more rapidly; and the roar was tremendous, shaking
all earth beneath, and enveloping the scene in dense volumes of smoke,
above which, as it occasionally rolled away, might be seen the admiral,
lashed to the main rigging of the Hartford. A glimpse at him never
failed to call forth the most unbounded enthusiasm, among officers and
seamen.
With comparatively little injury the fleet passed the fort, and standing
to the north-west to clear the Middle Ground, was out of the reach of
its guns. Terrible stories of the torpedoes had been told by deserters
and refugees, but the admiral's hopes had been realized; they had been
so long in the water that they had become "innocuous."
But a new and greater danger menaced the fleet. The rebel iron-clad
Tennessee started out from under the guns of Fort Morgan. She was a
formidable adversary; and though the monitors were depended upon to
"neutralize" or destroy her, they moved so slowly and steered so badly,
that the brunt of the battle was borne by the wooden ships.
"Run her down," was the order from the admiral, which the signal officer
interpreted on the quarter deck of the Chatauqua.
[Illustration: The Battle of Mobile Bay.]
Captain Cascabel instantly ordered full head of steam to be put on, and
the ship, gathering headway, dashed down upon the Tennessee, striking
her at right angles, near the after part of the casemate. The shock of
the concussion was terrible. The men were thrown from their feet, and
the ship groaned in bitterness of spirit at the hard usage to which she
was subjected. Her stem was crushed in to the plank ends, and the water
began to pour into the forward store-rooms. Expecting such an event, the
carpenter and his gang were at the threatened point, and prevented any
disaster from the collision.
The effect upon the iron-clad was hardly perceptible, giving her a
heavy list, but apparently inflicting no damage upon her. The Chatauqua
swung round as she struck. Captain Cascabel, who had leaped into the
mizzen rigging, gave his orders, which were promptly executed by Mr.
Hackleford. Solid shot and shell were poured into the ram with a fury
which would have been fatal to a less strongly built craft. As it was,
one of her port shutters was struck and shattered, the rest of the shot
bounding off like peas from an oak floor.
"Hah, you bloody villains of Yankees!" shouted the rebels, at their
ports.
"How are you, Johnny Reb?" replied a fore-top man, as he hurled a
spittoon in at the port.
Another old salt dashed in a holy-stone, and then the marines opened
fire upon them with their muskets.
"Ram her again!" shouted the admiral from the main rigging of the
Hartford, as the flag-ship dashed at the game.
The Chatauqua swept round, and succeeded in striking the Tennessee
again, but with no better result than before. At the same time she
poured in shot and shell from every available gun.
At this moment one of the ships struck the Hartford, by accident, in the
dense smoke, and knocked two of her ports into one. It was believed that
the flag-ship would go down, for her planking was stove in within two
feet of the water-line.
"Save the admiral! save the admiral!" shouted the men; and there was
not one of them who would not have died by fire or water to rescue their
beloved leader.
Somers sprang upon the rail, to observe the catastrophe, and to be in
readiness to save the admiral if an opportunity occurred. While he stood
there, a shot hit the rail diagonally, a splinter struck him in the
side, and he dropped helpless into the water.
"Mr. Somers is wounded and fallen overboard!" shouted the captain of the
pivot gun amidships.
The words were hardly out of his mouth, before another man dropped into
the water from one of the ports. It was Tom Longstone. He found his
young friend, and bearing him up with his strong arm, both were rescued
from their perilous position.
"She shows the white flag! She surrenders!" was the cry, as the
boatswain and Somers reached the deck.
The young officer was borne to the ward-room at the moment of victory,
while the cheers of the brave tars were ringing through the fleet.
The Tennessee and the Selma had surrendered, the Gaines had been driven
ashore, and the Morgan was for the present safe under the guns of the
fort. The victory was complete and decisive.
Somers was severely, if not dangerously, injured. He was borne tenderly
to his state-room by his brother officers, as the cheers for the great
victory were sounding through the fleet. There had been seven men killed
and thirty-five wounded on board the Chatauqua. The surgeon was in the
cockpit, busily engaged in attending to the wounds of the poor fellows,
and could not immediately examine the young officer, who, it was
evident, required no surgical operation.
The ship, though considerably cut up by the shots from the fort and from
the rebel steamers, was still in condition for active service. The fleet
anchored in the bay, out of the reach of the guns of Fort Morgan.
Officers were busy in making the necessary surveys, and the men were
occupied in repairing damages and restoring order about the decks and
rigging.
"How do you feel, Mr. Somers?" asked Mr. Hackleford, entering the
sufferer's room, as soon as he could leave the deck.
"I do not suffer much pain, sir; but I am afraid I am badly damaged in
the hull," replied Somers, with a languid smile.
He was very pale, and lay very still. He was numb from the effects of
the shock given him by the splinter, and some of the functions of his
frame seemed to be suspended. The first lieutenant was alarmed, and sent
a second messenger for the surgeon, who presently made his appearance,
having disposed of the severest cases in the cockpit.
"What do you think of him, doctor?" asked Mr. Hackleford.
"I fear he is badly injured," replied Dr. De Plesion, shaking his head.
"Dangerously?" whispered the first lieutenant.
The surgeon shook his head.
"Speak out, doctor," said the patient, faintly. "I am not afraid to die
for my country. Please tell me the truth."
"I cannot tell yet, Mr. Somers. Three of the ribs are fractured, but if
he is not injured internally, he will do very well," added the surgeon,
to Mr. Hackleford.
"I have but little pain," said the patient.
"You will have more, Mr. Somers, by night," continued Dr. De Plesion. "I
do not discover any internal injury."
"I hope there is none," said the first lieutenant. "You are too good an
officer to be spared, Mr. Somers,--I mean for even a brief period, of
course."
The report of the surgeon was anxiously awaited by the captain and all
the ward-room officers, for the third lieutenant had been a universal
favorite, and his capture of the Ben Lomond, and his gallant conduct
during the action with the forts and the Tennessee, had not diminished
his popularity. Of all who waited the doctor's decision, none took the
matter so much to heart as the boatswain, who had saved him from
drowning while he was helpless in the water. Mr. Hackleford noticed him
at his duty, still wet to the skin, and kindly gave him permission to
visit his young friend.
"I shall not go by the board, Tom," said Somers. "You and I may yet make
another cruise together."
"Thank God! I hope so," exclaimed the boatswain, encouraged by these
cheerful words.
"Tom, I owe my life to you."
"O, never mind that, my darling! What would I have done if you had
slipped your wind?"
"You would have done your duty, as you always do, my good fellow."
"I dare say I should, Mr. Somers, but I can only thank God that you are
alive now," replied the boatswain, as the tears flowed down his bronzed
cheek, and he turned to leave the room.