FORTS JACKSON AND ST. PHILIP.
Undoubtedly the hero of our story was a brave, smart, and patriotic
young man; a good seaman, and fully devoted to his duty; but we do
not wish any of our enthusiastic readers to suppose he captured
Fort Jackson and Fort St. Philip alone, or even that he did any more
than his fair share of the work. The river was full of ships, brigs,
schooners, gunboats, and mortar-vessels. There were thousands of men,
and hundreds of guns; and the history of those tremendous events would
require a whole volume: so that we can only describe the part which our
sailor-boy acted in the memorable scenes of that glorious occasion.
For nearly a week, the mortar-fleet shook the very earth with the
roar of their ordnance; and the ponderous shells screamed through the
atmosphere like “fiends in upper air.” But no sensible impression
seemed to be produced upon the forts. They still held out; and the
intrepid flag-officer in command of the squadron prepared for more
decided measures. The ships had been made ready for the severe work
before them; and every heart in the fleet burned to meet the foe at
closer quarters.
On the afternoon before the great battle, the flag-officer visited
every ship in the squadron: and Jack Somers came to the conclusion
that this act meant something; which was the unanimous opinion of all
his top-mates. Every man on board the Harrisburg was in earnest, and
longing for the decisive moment; but though there was a great deal of
moving about in the fleet, a great many boats passing and repassing
during the rest of the day, the men were piped to supper as usual, and
the starboard watch turned in at the proper time.
At three bells in the morning, all hands were called; and, shortly
afterwards, the signal to get under way was made on board the
flag-ship: but it was half-past three before the fleet was under
way, owing to the difficulty which some of the ships experienced in
“purchasing” their anchors. The drum beat to quarters; and the ships,
in two lines, moved up the river. The chain which the rebels had
extended across the river, supporting it upon hulks of vessels, had
been partially removed, and the two lines of ships passed through. The
“column of the Red” was commanded by Captain Bailey; and the “column of
the Blue,” by Farragut himself,--the former occupying the right and the
latter the left.
It was night; but the scene was illuminated by the immense fires
which the enemy had kindled on shore to assist the aim of the gunners
in the forts, and by the fire-ships which were hurled down by the
rebel squadron with the intention of destroying the Federal fleet by
conflagration. The boat-brigade, which had been organized by Commodore
Porter, fought these fire-fiends both obstinately and successfully, and
not a ship was destroyed by them.
Before the Harrisburg reached the hulks, the forts opened fire upon
the fleet. Shot and shell rained down upon the devoted vessels. The
grandest and most terrible scene which the eye of man ever looked upon
succeeded. The river seemed to be a molten sea of fire; while the roar
of the cannon, the hissing of shot, and the screaming of shell, were
enough to appall the stoutest heart.
When the order was given, the Harrisburg poured her broadside into
Fort Jackson, which lay on the port-hand. The ship was shaken down
to her keel by the tremendous explosion, and Jack felt sure that the
rebel works were blown to pieces; for it seemed to him that nothing
which human hands had made could stand before such a tornado of iron
hail. He attempted to look through the port, to observe the destruction
which the broadside had caused; but the ship was enveloped in such
a dense volume of smoke, that nothing could be seen. The sulphurous
cloud rolled in at the port, and blinded him so that he could not even
discern the man on the opposite side of the gun.
There was no time to look around him; for the gun-crew sprang to their
duty with an energy which showed their zeal in the work before them.
Almost in the twinkling of an eye, the ponderous piece was ready for
a second discharge, and another broadside was poured into the fort.
Again Jack tried to obtain a view of the fortification. His position as
first-loader and second-boarder at the muzzle of the gun, when it was
drawn in, placed him near the port, where he had an opportunity to see
when there was anything to be seen.
“Somers, ahoy!” shouted the first-captain of the gun. “Stand by, and
take the cartridge!”
“Ay, ay!” replied Jack as he sprang to his duty.
“What are you star-gazing out the port for? Keep both eyes peeled!”
Jack was reminded by these remarks that it was his duty to assist in
knocking down the fort, and not to take notes for the future historian.
But the scene was different from what he had anticipated; and it
seemed hard to stand at the guns without the privilege of beholding
the mischief they were doing. It was nothing but smoke, however, in
every direction; and he might as well have been in the gloom of the
fore-hold, so far as seeing anything was concerned. He was nearly
stunned by the awful roar of the broadside; and, when the captain of
gun No. 9 shouted to him at the top of his lungs, his voice sounded
like that of a pygmy in the distance. The words which he spoke himself
did not seem to come from his own mouth.
In spite of the rebuke he had received, Jack Somers was thoroughly
alive to his duty; and he worked with so much zeal, that he soon wiped
out any imputation which his momentary neglect had produced.
At such a time as this, the splendid and punctilious discipline of the
navy is exhibited to the best advantage. What to the casual observer,
in the still waters of a peaceful harbor, may seem terribly formal and
ridiculously precise, is the foundation of success in the ordeal of a
mighty naval conflict. Every man knows his place, and has a definite
duty assigned to him in case of any emergency that can happen. Every
one of the gallant tars at gun No. 9 had a double, and some a triple,
duty assigned to him. Every manœuvre of the piece was performed in
order, with the utmost promptness and precision.
At quarters, the men are stationed on each side of the gun; and the
same crew handle the gun on the opposite side of the ship,--a division
consisting of three guns on the starboard, and three on the port-side.
As the Harrisburg went up the river on this momentous occasion, her
port-battery first engaged Fort Jackson; but when she reached Fort St.
Philip, on the other side of the river, her starboard battery delivered
the terrible broadside. The second-captain of gun No. 9, with his crew,
went over to the other side, and manned the other gun No. 9.
Jack Somers, as we have before stated, was first-loader and
second-boarder. The man opposite to him was first-boarder and
second-loader. The next was a shot-and-wad-man, who was also a pumpman
and pikeman. The third was a sponger, who was also a boarder. The
fourth was a crow-and-handspike-man, who was also a fireman and
sail-trimmer. The fifth was a train-tackleman, and also a boarder.
The sixth was a captain of the gun. The men on the opposite side had
corresponding duties; and each is designated by his proper ordinal, as
first-boarder, second-boarder, etc.
The gun is secured by three classes of ropes. The breeching is the
heavy piece of cable passing through an eye at the breech of the gun,
with each end fastened to the side of the ship, which prevents the
recoil from throwing the piece out of position. The train-tackle is a
rope with double blocks, attached at one end to the carriage, and at
the other to a ring in the deck, by which the gun is hauled back from
the port, or secured for loading. The side-tackles are the purchases
attached to the side of the carriage, by which the gun is drawn up to
the port.
Modern gun-carriages have but two wheels, the aftermost part resting
on the deck. A handspike with rollers on the end, called a rolling
handspike, by which the carriage is pried up and made to bear upon the
rollers, is now used when the gun is to be run out at the port. The
cartridges are brought up from below, one at a time, in a leathern
bucket having a cover, which removes the liability to accident.
Shot-stands are placed near the breech of the gun, to hold the
balls,--five in each,--which are replenished as occasion requires.
The perfect discipline which prevailed on board the Harrisburg inspired
every man with zeal and courage for he knew that he was one wheel in
the vast machine whose action was essential to the operation of the
whole. Every one supported every other one, and was in turn supported
by them; and entire confidence reigned throughout the ship.
The Harrisburg passed Fort Jackson, and poured her broadside into St.
Philip. It was the same scene over again, but intensified by the hopes
of success, and by the continued tension upon the nervous systems of
its actors. But hardly had the ship passed the second fort before she
got aground; and, at the same instant, the vessel seemed to be wrapped
in flames. It was an awful moment to the devoted tars, who could not
yet comprehend the nature or the extent of the calamity which had
overtaken the ship; but, to their honor and glory, not one of them
deserted his station. The port-battery still roared, as it poured its
destructive missiles into the enemy.
An immense fire-raft had been pushed forward by one of the rebel rams;
and the Harrisburg, in attempting to avoid it, had been run into shoal
water, and grounded. The ship was on fire, the flames leaping up to
her tops; and her destruction seemed to be inevitable. The firemen
were called away; and, after exertions almost superhuman, the fire was
extinguished, and the noble ship was then backed off from the shoal.
The severest part of the day’s work was yet to come. What the officer
saw was soon patent to all the crew,--that the river was swarming with
rebel gunboats and ironclads. The roar of battle increased; and the
shot and shell crushed through the sides of the Harrisburg, scattering
splinters and other missiles in every direction. Wounded men were borne
down to the cockpit, where Dr. Sawsett was busily discharging the
duties of his profession; and the dead lay silent and calm amid the
awful din.
Still our noble ship continued to pour a terrible fire into the rebel
vessels; and still her men, nerved to desperation by the thunder
and crash of battle, worked like heroes. Now she butted against a
rebel ram, and now she poured her death-dealing broadsides into the
iron-mailed vessels that assailed her.
Jack Somers was only a hero among heroes. Stunned by the roar, blinded
by the smoke, he maintained his position at gun No. 9, without knowing
what was transpiring even a few feet from him. As the ship changed her
place, he obtained an occasional glance at a rebel gunboat; and he saw
one of them crushed like a paper-box by the great guns of the Pensacola.
Still he exerted himself to the utmost. When he saw a solid shot crush
the head of poor Lawrence,--one of his top-mates,--he felt dizzy for an
instant; but, even from this shock, he recovered under the stimulus of
the awful excitement.
Such a furious and destructive action could not long continue. The roar
began to diminish; for the guns of the rebel fleet had been silenced.
Of the fifteen which had appeared, eleven had been destroyed, driven
ashore in a sinking condition, or sent to the bottom of the great river.
The columns of the Federal squadron moved on. Three or four vessels
were missing. The Varuna had been sunk, after she had done deeds which
immortalized her name and that of her heroic commander. The smoke
cleared away, and the fleet steamed up the river. Silence reigned when
the storm of battle had spent itself. The victory was complete; and
cheer on cheer rent the air, and gave a thrill of inspiration to the
poor fellows who had been wounded, as the grateful sounds reached their
ears.