Frank a Prisoner.
In the afternoon of the following day, while it was Frank's watch on
deck, as the Ticonderoga came suddenly around an abrupt bend in the river,
a puff of smoke rose from behind an embankment, about half a mile in
advance, while a shell whistled over the vessel, and dropped into the
water without exploding.
Frank immediately requested the pilot to blow four whistles, which was a
signal to the other boats that they were attacked; and, after sending the
messenger-boy below to report to the captain, he raised his glass to his
eye, and found that they were directly in front of a good-sized fort,
built of cotton bales and embankments, and mounting at least five heavy
guns. A flag-staff rose from the center of the fort, and supported the
"stars and bars," which flaunted defiantly in the breeze. This was Fort
Pemberton, the only formidable fortification the rebels had between the
Mississippi and Yazoo Rivers.
The captain came on deck immediately, and ordered the vessel to be
stopped; and, when the other boats came up, they were ordered to take
their stations along the bank, on each side of the river, out of range of
the guns of the fort. When the entire fleet had assembled, the
Ticonderoga, in company with the Manhattan, steamed down, and opened fire
on the fort, with a view to ascertain its strength. The fort replied
vigorously, and, after an hour's firing, the vessels withdrew.
The next morning, at an early hour, the troops were landed, but, for some
reason, it was afternoon before they were ready to march. At three o'clock
they were drawn up in line in the woods, about two miles from the fort,
where the men stacked arms, and stretched themselves out in the shade of
the trees.
In the mean time the iron-clads had been preparing for the fight. The
magazines were opened and lighted; the casemates covered with a coat of
grease, to glance the shot which might strike them; the men were at their
stations, and when all was ready, they steamed down toward the fort, the
Ticonderoga leading the way.
Frank, by attention to his duties, had rapidly learned the gun-drill, and
had been promoted to the command of one of the guns in the turret. He
thought he had become quite accustomed to the noise of bullets, but he
could not endure the silence that then reigned in the ship. The men,
stripped to the waist, stood at their guns as motionless as so many
statues; and, although Frank tried hard to exhibit the same indifference
that they did, his mind was exceedingly busy, and it seemed to him that he
thought of every thing he had done during his life. Oh, how he longed to
hear the order passed to commence firing! Any thing was preferable to that
awful stillness.
At length, the captain came into the turret, where he always took his
station in action, and glanced hastily at the countenance of each of the
officers and men. He seemed satisfied with his examination, for he
immediately took his stand where he could see all that was going on, and
gave orders to the pilot to head the vessel directly toward the fort; and
then every thing relapsed into that horrible silence again. But this did
not continue long; for, the moment they came within range, the fort opened
on them, and a solid shot struck the casemate directly over Frank's gun,
with a force that seemed to shake the entire vessel. Frank glanced at the
captain, and saw him standing with his elbow on the starboard gun, and his
head resting on his hand, watching the fort as coolly as though they had
been engaged only in target practice.
The shells from the fort continued to fall around them, but the captain
neither changed his position nor gave the order to fire. The port-holes in
the turret were all closed, with the exception of the one at which the
captain stood, and, of course, no one could see what was going on. Frank
began to grow impatient. He did not like the idea of being shot at in that
manner without returning the fire. At length the captain inquired:
"What have you in your gun, Mr. Nelson?"
"A five-second shell, sir," answered Frank, promptly.
"Very well. Run out your gun and give them a shot."
The men sprang to their stations in an instant; the ports flew open with a
crash, and the heavy gun was ran out as easily as though it had been a
twelve-pounder. The first captain seized the lock string; there was a
deafening report, and an eleven-inch shell went booming into the fort. The
force of the discharge ran the gun back into the turret again, and the
ports closed as if by magic. They did not close entirely, however, for
there was a space of about four inches left between them, to allow for the
action of the rammer in loading. The gun was sponged, the cartridge driven
home, and the gunner's mate stood at the muzzle of the gun, removing the
cap from a shell, when a percussion shell from the fort struck in the
space between the shutters and exploded. The discharge set fire to the
shell which the gunner's mate was holding in his hand, and the unfortunate
man was blown almost to atoms.
In naval actions there is nothing which will carry such terror and dismay
among a ship's company as the bursting of one of their own shells; and the
scene which followed the explosion in the turret of the Ticonderoga
beggars all description. Old seamen, who had been in many a hard-fought
battle, and had stood at their guns under the most deadly fire the enemy
could pour upon them, without flinching, now deserted their stations, and
ran about through the blinding and suffocating smoke that filled the
turret, with blanched cheeks, trampling each other under their feet, and
utterly disregarding the commands of their officers, who ran among them
with drawn swords, and endeavored to force them back to their guns. It was
some time before quiet was restored, and then Frank found, to his horror,
that, out of twenty-five men which had composed his gun's crew, only ten
were left. Four had been instantly killed, and eleven badly wounded. The
deck was slippery with blood, and the turret was completely covered with
it. The shrieks and groans of the wounded and dying were awful. Frank had
never before witnessed such a scene, and, for a moment, he was so sick he
could scarcely stand. But he had no time to waste in giving away to his
feelings. After seeing the dead and wounded carried below, he returned to
his station, and, with what was left of his gun's crew, fought bravely
during the remainder of the action.
The fight continued until after dark, when the captain, knowing that it
would be impossible to capture the fort without the assistance of the
troops, ordered a retreat.
That same night a consultation of the naval and military commanders was
held, and it was decided to renew the attack on the following morning. A
battery of two thirty-pounder Parrotts was taken off one of the
"tin-clads" and mounted on the bank, about half a mile back in the woods,
and a mile from the fort. Captain Wilson, who commanded one of the
mosquito boats, was ordered to take command of it, and Frank, at his own
request, was permitted to accompany him as his aid. He started early the
next morning with fifty men, who had been detailed from the gun-boats, and
at sunrise was at his station.
The battery was masked, and the rebels knew nothing of its existence. The
captain's orders were, not to fire until they heard the action opened by
the iron-clads. Twenty-eight men were required to man the guns, and the
others, armed with Spencer rifles, were to act as sharp-shooters. Frank,
to his surprise, soon learned that this was all the support they were to
have, the troops having been ordered to take the same station they had
occupied the day before, and to hold themselves in readiness to charge
upon the fort, as soon as the iron-clads had silenced the guns.
About ten o'clock the fort commenced firing, and Frank knew that the
gun-boats were again under way. At length a loud report, which he could
have recognized among a thousand, blended with the others, and, in
obedience to the order of the captain, the men tore away the bushes which
had masked the battery, and the fight became general.
Frank directed his fire upon a pile of cotton-bales, which protected one
of the largest guns of the fort; but, as fast as he knocked them down, the
rebels would recklessly spring out of the fort and put them up again. At
length Captain Wilson ordered she sharp-shooters to advance five hundred
yards nearer the fort. The rebels soon discovered this, and the
cotton-bales were allowed to remain where they had fallen.
In half an hour that part of the fort was completely demolished; and the
rebels, being without protection against the sharp-shooters, were obliged
to abandon the gun.
While Frank was congratulating himself on the fine shooting he had done,
and wondering why the troops were not ordered to charge, he was startled
by the rapid report of muskets behind him. Three of his men fell dead
where they had stood; and Frank turned just in time to see a party of
rebels issuing from the woods. They came on with loud yells; and one of
them, who appeared to be the leader, called out:
"Surrender, now, you infernal Yankees. Shoot down the first one who
resists or attempts to escape," he added, turning to his men.
"Stand to your guns, my lads!" shouted Captain Wilson. "Don't give ground
an inch."
The sailors, always accustomed to obedience, gathered around their
officers, and poured a murderous fire upon the advancing enemy, from their
revolvers. The rebels, who were greatly superior in numbers, returned the
fire, and the captain fell, mortally wounded. But the sailors stubbornly
stood their ground, until the rebels closed up about them, and Frank saw
that escape was impossible. But he fought like a young tiger, and
determined that he would die before he would surrender; for even death was
preferable to a long confinement in a Southern prison.
"Drop that pistol!" exclaimed a rebel, pointing his rifle directly at
Frank's head, "or I'll blow your brains out."
"Blow away!" exclaimed Frank, seizing the rebel's rifle, with a quick
movement, and firing his revolver full in his face; "I'll never surrender
as long as I have strength left to stand on my feet. Give it to 'em,
lads!"
The next moment Frank was prostrated by a severe blow on the head from the
butt of a musket, and the sailors, finding that both their officers were
gone, lost all heart, and threw down their weapons.
The rebels had scarcely time to collect their prisoners and retreat, when
the troops, who had heard the noise of the conflict, and started to the
rescue, arrived. But they were too late; for in less than half an hour
Frank and his men were safe in the fort, and confined under guard.