THE FIGHT FOR NEW ORLEANS.
Military scholarship is a good thing; military genius is sometimes a
better thing. When it was resolved by the authorities to attempt the
capture of New Orleans it was assumed that the two forts on the river
below the city must be first destroyed or compelled to surrender. The
chief engineer of the Army of the Potomac, whose ability was
unquestioned, made a long report to the Navy Department, in which,
after describing the forts and their situation, he said: "To pass these
works merely with a fleet and appear before New Orleans is merely a
raid, no capture." And in describing the exact method of attack he
said: "Those [vessels] on the Fort Jackson side would probably have to
make fast to the shore; those on the Saint Philip side might anchor."
Substantially the same view was afterward taken by Captain David D.
Porter, who was to have an important part in the enterprise. It was
also assumed that the forts could be reduced by bombardment, if this
was only heavy and persistent enough. In accordance with this idea,
twenty-one large mortars were cast for the work. They threw shells that
were thirteen inches in diameter and weighed two hundred and
eighty-five pounds. For each of these mortars a schooner was built; and
so great was the concussion of the atmosphere when one was fired, that
no man could stand near it without being literally deafened. Therefore
platforms projecting beyond the decks were provided, to which the
gunners could retreat just before each shot. The remainder of the
fleet, when finally it was mustered, was made up of six sloops of war,
sixteen gunboats, five other vessels, and transports carrying fifteen
thousand soldiers to co-operate in the attack or hold the forts and the
city after it should be captured. The number of guns in the fleet was
more than two hundred.
[Illustration: Farragut and Dewey.]
After this expedition (the most powerful that ever had sailed under the
American flag) was planned and partly organized, and the mortar
schooners nearly completed, the Navy Department looked about for a
suitable officer to command it, and Secretary Welles finally chose
Captain David G. Farragut. This officer had his own ideas of the best
way to effect the capture. He would have preferred to dispense with the
mortars, in which he had no faith; but they had been prepared at great
expense, and that part of the fleet was to be commanded by his friend
Porter, and so he accepted them, and as soon as it could be got ready
the expedition sailed from Hampton Roads.
When it arrived at the mouths of the Mississippi there was a gigantic
task to be performed before the fleet could enter the stream. An
American poet has thus described the delta of the great river:
"Do you know of the dreary land,
If land such region may seem,
Where 'tis neither sea nor strand,
Ocean nor good dry land,
But the nightmare marsh of a dream--
Where the mighty river his death-road takes,
Mid pools and windings that coil like snakes--
A hundred leagues of bayous and lakes--
To die in the great Gulf Stream?"
There are five mouths or passes, spread out like the fingers of a hand.
Of course no one of them was as large and deep as the river above, and
the entrance of each was obstructed by a bar. The smaller
vessels--mortar schooners and gunboats--were taken in without
difficulty, but the larger ones required enormous labor to get them
over the bar. The Mississippi--of which Captain Melancton Smith was the
commander, and Lieutenant George Dewey the executive officer--was
lightened of everything that could be taken off, and even then had to
be dragged over by tugboats, with her keel a foot deep in the mud. She
was the only side-wheel war vessel in the fleet. It required two weeks'
labor to get the Pensacola in; and the Colorado could not be taken in
at all, as she drew seven feet more of water than there was on the bar.
The masts of the mortar schooners were dressed off with bushes so that
they could not be distinguished easily from the trees along the shore;
and as soon as they were moored in their chosen position the
bombardment was begun. The forts could not be seen from them, and the
gunners fired with a computed aim, throwing the immense shells high
into the air, that they might fall almost perpendicularly into the
forts and explode. The bombardment was kept up steadily for six days
and nights, nearly six thousand shells being thrown. They fell in and
around the fortifications, destroyed buildings, cut the levee, and
killed fourteen men and wounded thirty-nine. It is said that in modern
warfare a man's weight in lead is fired for every man that is killed;
in this instance about sixteen tons of iron were thrown for every man
that was injured. The main object, however, was not to disable the
garrisons, but to dismount the guns and render the fortifications
useless; and this result was not accomplished. The forts and their
armaments were in almost as good condition for service as ever.
Meanwhile, Farragut had made up his mind that to anchor abreast of
these fortifications and attack them would simply be to lose his
vessels. It is only in its ability to keep moving that a war ship (at
least a wooden one, and there was not an ironclad in this fleet) has an
advantage over land works of equal armament. To surrender this
advantage at the beginning is to lose the fight at the end.
Furthermore, he believed that as the sole purpose of the forts was to
protect the city, if he could lay the city under his guns the forts
would be abandoned. Consequently, in spite of the advice of the eminent
army engineer and his friend and brother officer, Porter, he determined
to pass the forts with his whole fleet (except the mortar schooners)
and appear before New Orleans.
This was a new thing in warfare, and it is important to note it here,
because George Dewey, who had been promoted to a lieutenancy at the
beginning of the war, was in that fleet, and Farragut was his
instructor as well as his commander.
The passage was to be made in the night, and Farragut--who had learned
to perform every duty that is ever required on shipboard, except those
of the surgeon--gave in his general orders minute instructions for
every preparation, and suggested that the officers and crew of each
vessel add any other precautions that their ingenuity might devise.
[Illustration: Whitewashing the decks.]
Every man in the fleet was busy. In the forecastle of the Mississippi a
group of sailors were making splinter nettings, criticising the
arrangements for the attack, and speculating as to the result.
"What's Bill Ammon going to do with that white paint?" said one.
"He's going to paint the gun deck," answered a comrade.
"What! paint it white?"
"Yes, white."
"What's that for? To make us a better target for the reb gunners?"
"It's to make it so that we can see what we're about, and find things
when we need them."
"That seems to say we're going up in the night," said the first
speaker.
"You've hit it," said another; "that's exactly what we are in for."
"Whose idea is this of painting the decks?" asked a fourth.
"Bill pretends it's his," said the boatswain's mate. "He thinks it's a
great idea. But I was by when he got his orders, and I know it
originated with Dewey."
"I don't care where the idea came from," said the sailmaker, "I don't
admire it."
"Why not?"
"Because it's just the wrong thing. The boys on the Pensacola and the
Oneida are rubbing the decks over with mud, so that the Johnnies will
have a hard time to distinguish them. I think that's the true idea."
"I can't agree with you there," said the boatswain's mate. "As soon as
we get fairly into it the smoke will be so thick that the Johnnies
can't see through it very perfectly anyway. And that's just when we
want to see everything on our own deck."
"It may be so," grumbled the sailmaker; "but if it comes to that, old
Dewey'd better have the river whitewashed, so that he can see to con
the ship."
This bit of sailor wit created laughter, of which the little company
were in much need, for some of them were not at all hopeful of the
coming contest.
"He'll con the ship all right," said another sailor, who had not spoken
before, and who answered to the nickname of Slippery Sim (his real name
being Simeon Nelson). "I knew him in Montpelier, and I know you can
depend on him every time."
"In Montpelier?" said the boatswain's mate. "Why, that was about Bill
Ammon's latitude and longitude, if my reckoning's right."
"It was, exactly," said Nelson.
"Then he ought to have known Dewey too," said the boatswain's mate.
"Know him?" said Nelson. "I should say he did know him. The most famous
of all the fights that ever took place among our boys was between him
and Dewey."
"Did you see it?" said the sailmaker eagerly.
"I did," said Nelson in an impressive tone. "I had the honor of holding
Ammon's coat."
"And which licked?" asked the sailmaker.
"Hold on!" said the boatswain's mate. "Don't answer that question.
Never spoil a good story by telling it stern foremost. Give us the
whole narratyve from beginning to end, and don't let us know which
licked till you get to the very last. If those two fellows were at it,
I know it must have been a tug. A good description of it ought to brace
us up for the lively fight that's before us."
"Yes," said another, "it may be the last story that some of us will
ever hear."
"Don't be down-hearted, Ned," said the first speaker. "I've sailed with
old Farragut nearly eighteen years, and I know he'll pull us through."
"I haven't any doubt that he'll pull the fleet through all right," said
Ned. "But even a victorious fleet generally has a few red spots on the
decks, and not so many gunners when it comes out as when it went in.
It's all right, of course. I'm not finding fault, and I'm not any more
afraid than I ought to be. I expect to stand up and do my duty, as I
know the rest of you will. But a man can't help being a human creature,
with human feelings, if he _is_ a sailor; and when he's killed he's
just as much killed, and all his pretty plans spoiled, whether it's in
a victory or in a defeat."
"That's all true enough, Ned," said the boatswain's mate; "but what we
want to cultivate just now is the spirit of fight, not the spirit of
philosophy. Save your philosophy till after the battle, and then you'll
have plenty of good company, for then everybody will be philosophizing
about it."
"They will, indeed," said the sailmaker, "and a good many of them will
be telling how they could have managed it better that we did. The great
trouble in this war is that so many of our best generals and admirals
who ought to be in the field or on shipboard have jobs in barber shops
that they don't like to give up, or can't be spared from country stores
and newspaper offices."
"Oh, belay your sarcasm," said the boatswain's mate. "Let's have the
story of the big fight between Dewey and Ammon, Sim."
Thereupon Nelson gave a minute and graphic account of that schoolboy
contest.
"I don't see," said Ned, "why Bill Ammon never has mentioned that he
was a schoolmate of Dewey's. I should think he would be proud of it."
"The reason is plain enough," said the sailmaker. "He was afraid that
might lead up to the story of this fight. Probably he would be quite
willing that it should remain untold."
"Well, whatever he was in school days," said Ned, "Bill's a pretty good
fellow now; and I don't see that he has much to be ashamed of. It seems
he put up a good stiff fight then, and I think he'll do his duty with
the best of us now."
"Yes, that's so!" responded two or three.
"Talking about that whitewashing," said the sailor who had opened the
conversation, "I think it's all right enough, but it seems to me it
might have been applied where it would have done still more good."
"Where's that, Tom?" said the boatswain's mate.
"I suppose you know," said Tom, "that the Itasca and Pinola went up
last night to break the chain and make an opening for the fleet to pass
through. Caldwell did that all right. But it's going to be a mighty
hard matter to steer these big sea-going vessels through that narrow
place in the current of a river like this and in the smoke of battle.
The thing I'm most afraid of is that some one of our ships will get
tangled up among those hulks, and then the rebs can just pound her as
if they had her in a mortar. Suppose the ship at the head of the line
should get caught across the opening, where would the whole fleet be
then?"
"Of course there is great risk," said the boatswain's mate, "but how
are you going to avoid it? They took up a new-fangled torpedo to blow
up some of the hulks and make a wider opening, but the thing wouldn't
work. Those machines that are to go off under water seldom do work."
"I was thinking," said Tom, "that if they had whitewashed the decks of
the hulks next to the opening it would go far to prevent such an
accident."
"You didn't go up there with Caldwell, and neither did your brother,"
said the sailmaker. "If you had, I don't think you'd have been anxious
to whitewash anything and make yourselves a better target for the
sharpshooters on shore. Our men were fired on all the while as it was."
"I think I could have managed it," said Tom.
"Tell us how."
"I would have taken up some buckets of white paint--I see you smile,
but you've got ahead of your reckoning. No, I wasn't going to say I'd
take some brushes along and make a nice job painting the decks. I'd
keep the buckets covered up till just as we were ready to come away,
and then I'd simply overturn them on the decks and push off. That would
whiten them enough to help our pilots through."
"I'm not sure but that's a good idea," said another sailor.
"Is it?" said the boatswain's mate. "I guess you've never sailed with
Caldwell or Dewey. If you had you'd know that either of them would be
more horrified at the idea of any such sloppy work, even on the deck of
an old hulk, than at doubling the risk of his ship. They're dandies,
both of 'em."
"If anything gets afoul of the hulks," remarked a sailor who had not
spoken before, "it will probably be this old spinning wheel. The
Secretary of the Navy that ordered a side-wheeler for a war ship must
have been born and brought up in the backwoods. If we could have got
the Colorado over the bar I wouldn't be here. She's the ship we ought
to have if we're going to knock those forts to pieces."
"I'm not sure that the largest ships are the best for this work," said
the sailmaker. "This whole fleet was built for sea service, and it's
out of place in a river like this."
"Of course it's a loss not to have the Colorado with us," said the
boatswain's mate. "But the best thing that was aboard of her _is_ with
us."
"What's that?" said several.
"That old sea dog Bailey," answered the boatswain's mate. "He's no
dandy, but he knows what to do with a ship in a fight or in a storm or
anywhere else. I was with him on the Lexington in forty-six, when we
went round Cape Horn to California. That was the beginning of the
Mexican War. We carried troops and army officers. Bill Sherman, who
commanded a brigade at Bull Run, was among them. So was General
Halleck--he was only a lieutenant then."
"Bailey's on the Cayuga now," said the sailor from the Colorado, "and
if Farragut understands his business he'll let him lead the line,
unless Farragut leads it himself in the flagship. I wish I could be
with him; but when we had to leave the Colorado outside they scattered
our crew all through the fleet, and I just had the luck to be sent to
this old coffee mill."
"As long as Doc. Dewey's on the bridge you needn't be afraid of her,"
said Sim Nelson, "whether she's a spinning wheel or a coffee mill--and
your opinion seems to vary on that point. There was lots of good
fighting before propellers were invented, but you appear to think we
can't do anything without a propeller."
"A propeller isn't very likely to be struck by a shot," said the man
from the Colorado; "but these old windmill sails going round on each
side of this tub can hardly help being hit."
"Now you just quit worrying, and settle your mind on an even keel,"
said Sim Nelson. "There's such a thing as ability, and there's such a
thing as luck. Ability and luck don't always go together--more's the
pity! There's McDowell at Bull Run, as able as any general there, and
he planned the battle well, and our boys put up a good stiff fight; but
just at the last the luck turned against him, and then where was he?
'Tisn't so with Doc. Dewey. I've known him ever since we were boys, and
his ability and luck always went together. I've no doubt there are
plenty of good officers in the fleet, but I'm glad to have him on the
bridge of the ship that I sail in, whether it's an old spinning wheel,
or a coffee mill, or a windmill, or whatever other name you may invent
for it."
The man from the Colorado said no more, and a few minutes later the
boatswain called away half of the men who were making netting to assist
in protecting the boilers and machinery. They piled up hammocks and
coal in such a way as to stop a good many shots that might otherwise
reach these vital parts of the ship.
They had not quite finished this task when there was a cry of "Fire
raft!" followed quickly by an order to man two boats. Hardly any time
seemed to elapse before the boats swung down from the davits and the
oarsmen pulled away with a strong, steady stroke. In the stern of each
stood two men with a long pole, on the end of which was an iron hook.
Up the stream a little way was an immense mass of flame, gliding down
with the current. In the center it was crackling, at the side
occasionally hissing where a burning stick touched the water, and above
it rose a dense column of smoke, curved at the top and swaying in the
light breeze.
"That's the fifth of those villainous valentines they've sent us," said
the man from the Colorado.
"Well, we took good care of the other four," said the boatswain, "and I
guess we can take care of this, though it's the biggest and ugliest of
all. It won't be long now before we send 'em the answer, post paid.
Back water, there! back water!"
This command was uttered and obeyed none too quickly. Two of the
gunboats--the Kineo and the Sciota--trying to avoid the fire raft,
collided violently, and the mainmast of the Sciota went overboard with
a crash and just missed striking the boat. Then both the gunboats
dragged across the bows of the Mississippi, but skillful management
prevented any further damage there, and the two small boats pulled up
close to the windward side of the fire raft, at the same time with four
boats from two other ships. The men in the stern struck their hooks
into the side of the flatboat that formed the base of the blazing pile,
and the oarsmen pulled for the shore. The heat almost shriveled the
skin on their faces, but they bent to the work with a will, and slowly
towed the monster away from the line of the fleet, down stream more
than two miles, and then over to the western bank, where they pushed it
into the shallow water and mud and left it to burn itself away, a
beautiful and harmless spectacle.
As they pulled back to their ships they noticed that the various crews
were at work "stopping" the sheet cables up and down the sides, in the
line of the engines.
"That's a splendid idea; whose is it?" asked the man at the stroke oar.
"Yes," said the boatswain, "it makes them ironclad as far as it goes.
They say it was suggested by Engineer Moore, of the Richmond."
"Splendid fellow!" said the man from the Colorado. "He was a schoolmate
of mine."
"Where was that?" said the boatswain.
"Detroit," said the man from the Colorado. "He and I used to run away
from school together and swim across to Windsor."
"Um--about half a mile," said the boatswain, musingly, "and current
eight miles an hour--very good swimming for boys. But," he added aloud,
"Mr. Moore ought to know about that. He thinks he was born and brought
up in Plattsburg, New York--I heard him say so--and that his father was
in the battle of Lake Champlain. What funny mistakes men make about
themselves sometimes!"
The man from the Colorado said no more.
Two o'clock in the morning of April 24, 1862, was fixed as the hour for
the fleet to weigh anchor and steam up the river. The moon would rise
an hour and a half later, and it was the intention to pass the forts in
darkness and have the benefit of moonlight after the gauntlet had been
run. Five minutes before two the signal was given--two red lights at
the masthead of the flagship; but it was moonrise before all were ready
and in motion. The question of a moon, however, was no longer of any
consequence, for the Confederates had observed the preparations, and
had set fire to immense piles of wood that they kept for the purpose at
the ends of the chain, so that the whole scene was as light as day.
This did not stop Farragut, who had made up his mind to pass the forts
and lay the city under his guns.
The mortar schooners moved up stream to a point near Fort Jackson, and
began a heavy bombardment. Then the fleet, in a long line, steamed
steadily up the river, passed through the opening in the chain, and
with rapid broadsides swept the bastions of the forts as they went by.
It was in three divisions. The first, consisting of eight vessels, was
led by Captain Theodorus Bailey in the Cayuga; the second, of three
vessels, by Farragut in the Hartford; and the third, of six vessels, by
Captain Henry H. Bell in the Sciota.
[Illustration: Order of attack on Forts Jackson and St. Philip.
FIRST DIVISION--_Leading under command of Captain Theodorus Bailey_.
1. Cayuga, Flag-Gunboat, Lieut.-Com. Harrison.
2. Pensacola, Captain H. W. Morris.
3. Mississippi, Captain M. Smith.
4. Oneida, Commander S. P. Lee.
5. Varuna, Commander C. S. Boggs.
6. Katahdin, Lieut.-Com. G. H. Preble.
7. Kineo, Lieut.-Com. Ransom.
8. Wissahickon, Lieut.-Com. A. N. Smith.
CENTER DIVISION--_Admiral Farragut_.
9. Hartford, Commander Wainwright.
10. Brooklyn, Captain T. T. Craven.
11. Richmond, Commander J. Alden.
THIRD DIVISION--_Captain H. H. Bell_.
12. Sciota, Lieut.-Com. Edward Donaldson.
13. Iroquois, Com. John De Camp.
14. Kennebec, Lieut.-Com. John H. Russell.
15. Pinola, Lieut.-Com. P. Crosby.
16. Itasca, Lieut.-Com. C. H. B. Caldwell.
17. Winona, Lieut.-Com. E. T. Nichols.
18. COMMANDER PORTER'S GUNBOATS.
19. Sloop Portsmouth, Commander S. Swartwout.]
Following the gunboat Cayuga in the first division was the sloop-of-war
Pensacola; and next came the side-wheel steamer Mississippi, commanded
by Captain Melancton Smith. Her conning bridge rested with its ends on
the tops of the high paddle-boxes, and Lieutenant George Dewey, the
executive officer, was stationed there to direct her course.
When the signal was given to go ahead Captain Smith asked, a little
anxiously, "Do you know the channel, sir?"
"Yes, sir," answered Dewey.
The question was repeated at intervals, and every time it received the
same confident answer. The lieutenant afterward admitted that his
knowledge of the channel was gained by study of a chart, which was
supplemented by his confidence that he could tell from the appearance
of the water. Here his usual luck stood him in good stead, as the
sailor in the forecastle had declared.
As soon as the Cayuga had passed through the opening in the chain, both
forts began to fire on her. Within a few minutes she was pouring a
sheet of grape and canister across Fort St. Philip, but she did not
slacken her pace, and in ten minutes more was engaged with the
Confederate fleet that was waiting for her up the stream.
The Pensacola, next in line, steamed steadily but slowly by, firing
with perfect regularity, and doing specially fine execution with a
rifled eighty-pounder and an eleven-inch pivot gun. But she paid for
her deliberation, as her loss--thirty-seven men--was the greatest in
the fleet.
Then came the Mississippi--the old spinning wheel, coffee mill,
windmill, as the discontented sailor called her. By this time the air
was so thick with smoke from the guns, bonfires, and fire rafts that it
was only by the flashes that the gunners could see where to aim. The
Mississippi went by the forts in good style, pouring in her fire as she
passed, and suffering but slight loss from them. But immediately
afterward, like the two vessels that had preceded her, she encountered
the Confederate fleet, which consisted of the ironclad ram Manassas,
the unfinished ironclad floating battery Louisiana, and a dozen
gunboats, some of which were fitted to be used as rams. The Manassas
drove straight at the Mississippi, with intention to sink her, and
would have done so had not Dewey ordered a quick shift of the helm,
which changed the direct blow into a slanting one. This, indeed, gave
her a severe cut on the port quarter, and disabled some of her
machinery; but at the same moment the Mississippi poured a tremendous
fire into the ram. Then she found herself in the thick of the fight
with the Confederate fleet. The Oneida and the Varuna came close after
her, and here was the most desperate encounter. Shells, round shot, and
canister were exchanged as rapidly as the guns could be handled, some
of which tore through the sides and found their way to the interior,
there to break the machinery or burst and scatter death, while some
swept along the decks and struck down the men at the guns. In an action
like that the men are under the greatest excitement, with every muscle
tense and every nerve strained; and when a ball strikes one it shivers
him as if he were made of glass, and scatters ghastly fragments over
his comrades. In the confined space where the men work the guns, and
with the smoke of battle enveloping them, there is no opportunity to
dodge the shot or know they are coming before they have done their
work. The only defense consists in rapid and accurate firing by the
men, with skill and quick judgment on the part of him who directs the
movements of the ship. Everything was ablaze, and the roar was
terrific, when a great shot bounced in at one of the ports of the
Mississippi, knocked over a gun, killed one gunner and wounded three
others, and passed out on the other side. Almost at the same moment the
ship from which it was fired received a discharge from the Mississippi
that swept away a whole gun's crew. Then there were rapid maneuvers, to
ram or avoid ramming, rake or avoid raking, and all the while the guns
were booming, shot and splinters were flying across the decks, man
after man was struck down, and blood ran out at the scuppers. Signal
men in the rigging, sailors with howitzers and muskets in the tops,
officers on the bridges, gunners between decks, engineers, firemen, and
surgeons below--all were in a state of intense action. The largest of
the Confederate vessels, a powerful steamer fitted as a ram, attacked
the Varuna, and was subjected to a murderous raking fire from that
ship. Finding that his bow gun was mounted too far aft to strike her
when at such close quarters, the Confederate commander depressed it and
fired through the bow of his own vessel. Then another ram came up and
joined in the attack, and the Varuna was reduced to a wreck and driven
ashore.
Meanwhile, the second division of the fleet came up, led by the
Hartford. This vessel, in attempting to avoid a fire raft, struck on a
shoal; then the ram Manassas pushed another blazing raft against her
quarter, and in a moment she was on fire. The great excitement thus
produced on board the flagship did not for a moment interfere with the
discipline. A part of her crew were called to fire quarters and put out
the flames, while the rest continued to work the guns with perfect
regularity. Then she was backed off into deep water, and continued up
stream, firing into every enemy she could reach. A steamer loaded with
men (probably intended as a boarding party) bore down upon the
flagship, but the marines promptly fired a shell into her which
exploded, and she disappeared.
[Illustration: Farragut's fleet passing the forts.]
While the Mississippi was engaged in this desperate battle an officer
on board kept his eye on Lieutenant Dewey--for on him every movement of
the ship depended--and he has described the figure of the young officer
on the high bridge as it was alternately hidden by the smoke and
illuminated by the flashes of the artillery.
"Every time the dark came back," he says, "I felt sure that we never
should see Dewey again. His cap was blown off, and his eyes were
aflame; but he gave his orders with the air of a man in thorough
command of himself."
The ram Manassas, after her encounter with the Mississippi, had passed
down the river in pursuit of other prey, and delivered a blow at the
Brooklyn which failed to sink her only because she was promptly turned
so as not to receive it at right angles. Then the ram was discovered
coming up stream, and Captain Smith signaled to the flagship for
permission to attack her with the Mississippi. This being promptly
granted, the brave old side-wheeler swung about in the stream and went
straight for her dangerous enemy. She failed in an attempt to run down
the ram, but crippled it and drove it ashore, when the crew were seen
to come out at the little hatch, jump to the levee, and disappear in
the swamp. The Mississippi then poured into her another broadside, and
she drifted down the stream and blew up.
Fourteen of Farragut's seventeen vessels had succeeded in passing the
obstructions and participating in the battle. One of these, the Varuna,
was destroyed. All the others carried the scars of battle, and all save
one had casualties on board, varying in number from thirty-seven on the
Pensacola, thirty-five on the Brooklyn, and twenty-eight on the
Iroquois, to a single one on the Portsmouth. The Mississippi lost two
men killed and six wounded. The total loss in the fleet was
thirty-seven men killed and a hundred and forty-seven wounded. On the
other hand, the Confederate fleet was destroyed, the last vessel
afloat--the ironclad Louisiana--being blown up by her commander three
days later; and the next day after that a land force commanded by
General Butler came up in rear of the forts, and they were surrendered.
When the dead were laid out side by side on the decks for the last
rites, there were manly tears on the faces of many of their shipmates,
and the eyes of dear old Farragut were not dry.
The larger part of the fleet pushed on up the river, and the next day
the city of New Orleans was captured.
No such battle as this had been seen before, and no such ever will be
seen again. A fleet of wooden vessels, all built for sea service, had
entered a river and fought against obstructions, fire rafts,
fortifications, rams, ironclads, and gunboats, and had won a complete
victory over all. This was a wonderful school for a young officer.