THE NAVAL FIGHT AT MEMPHIS.
On the evening of the 5th of June, while we were lying above Memphis,
Commodore Montgomery, commanding the fleet of Rebel gunboats built by
the citizens and ladies of Memphis, was making a speech in the Gayoso
Hall of that city. There was great excitement. It was known at noon that
Fort Pillow was evacuated. The stores were immediately closed. Some
people commenced packing up their goods to leave,--expecting that the
city would be burned if the Yankees obtained possession. Commodore
Montgomery said:--
"I have no intention of retreating any farther. I have come here, that
you may see Lincoln's gunboats sent to the bottom by the fleet which you
built and manned."
The rabble cheered him, and believed his words. On the morning of the
6th, one of the newspapers assured the people that the Federal fleet
would not reach the city. It said:--
"All obstructions to their progress are not yet removed, and
probably will not be. The prospect is very good for a grand
naval engagement which shall eclipse anything ever seen
before. There are many who would like the engagement to
occur, who do not much relish the prospect of its occurring
very near the city. They think deeper water and scope and
verge enough for such an encounter may be found farther up
the river. All, however, are rejoiced to learn that Memphis
will not fall till conclusions are first tried on water, and
at the cannon's mouth."[28]
[Footnote 28: Memphis Avalanche, June 6, 1862]
I was awake early enough to see the brightening of the morning. Never
was there a lovelier daybreak. The woods were full of song-birds. The
air was balmy. A few light clouds, fringed with gold, lay along the
eastern horizon.
The fleet of five gunboats was anchored in a line across the river. The
Benton was nearest the Tennessee shore, next was the Carondelet, then
the Louisville, St. Louis, and, lastly, the Cairo. Near by the Cairo,
tied up to the Arkansas shore, were the Queen City and the Monarch,--two
of Colonel Ellet's rams. The tugs Jessie Benton and Spitfire hovered
near the Benton, Commodore Davis's flag-ship. It was their place to be
within call, to carry orders to the other boats of the fleet.
Before sunrise the anchors were up, and the boats kept their position in
the stream by the slow working of the engines.
Commodore Davis waved his hand, and the Jessie Benton was alongside the
flag-ship in a moment.
"Drop down towards the city, and see if you can discover the Rebel
fleet," was the order.
I jumped on board the tug. Below us was the city. The first rays of the
sun were gilding the church-spires. A crowd of people stood upon the
broad levee between the city and the river. They were coming from all
the streets, on foot, on horseback, in carriages,--men, women, and
children--ten thousand, to see Lincoln's gunboats sent to the bottom.
Above the court-house, and from flagstaffs, waved the flag of the
Confederacy. A half-dozen river steamers lay at the landing, but the
Rebel fleet was not in sight. At our right hand was the wide marsh on
the tongue of land where Wolfe River empties into the Mississippi. Upon
our left were the cotton-trees and button-woods, and the village of
Hopedale at the terminus of the Little Rock and Memphis Railroad. We
dropped slowly down the stream, the tug floating in the swift current,
running deep and strong as it sweeps past the city.
The crowd increased. The levee was black with the multitude. The windows
were filled. The flat roofs of the warehouses were covered with the
excited throng, which surged to and fro as we upon the tug came down
into the bend, almost within talking distance.
Suddenly a boat came out from the Arkansas shore, where it had been
lying concealed from view behind the forest,--another, another, eight of
them. They formed in two lines, in front of the city.
Nearest the city, in the front line, was the General Beauregard; next,
the Little Rebel; then the General Price and the Sumter. In the second
line, behind the Beauregard, was the General Lovell; behind the Little
Rebel was the Jeff Thompson; behind the General Price was the General
Bragg; and behind the Sumter was the Van Dorn.
These boats were armed as follows:--
General Beauregard, 4 guns
Little Rebel (flag-ship), 2
General Price, 4
Sumter, 3
General Lovell, 4
General Thompson, 4
General Bragg, 3
General Van Dorn, 4
--
Total, 28
The guns were nearly all rifled, and were of long range. They were
pivoted, and could be whirled in all directions. The boilers of the
boats were casemated and protected by iron plates, but the guns were
exposed.
[Illustration: NAVAL FIGHT AT MEMPHIS, June 6, 1862.
1 Federal Gunboats.
2,2 General Beauregard.
3,3 Little Rebel.
4,4 General Price.
5,5 Sumter.
6,6 General Lovell.
7,7 General Thompson.
8,8 General Bragg.
9,9 General Van Dorn.
Q Queen City.
M Monarch.]
The accompanying diagram will show you the position of both fleets at
the beginning and at the close of the engagement.
Slowly and steadily they came into line. The Little Rebel moved through
the fleet, and Commodore Montgomery issued his orders to each captain in
person.
The Benton and St. Louis dropped down towards the city, to protect the
tug. A signal brought us back, and the boats moved up-stream again, to
the original position.
There was another signal from the flag-ship, and then on board all the
boats there was a shrill whistle. It was the boatswain piping all hands
to quarters. The drummer beat his roll, and the marines seized their
muskets. The sailors threw open the ports, ran out the guns, brought up
shot and shells, stowed away furniture, took down rammers and sponges,
seized their handspikes, stripped off their coats, rolled up their
sleeves, loaded the cannon, and stood by their pieces. Cutlasses and
boarding-pikes were distributed. Last words were said. They waited for
orders.
"Let the men have their breakfasts," was the order from the flag-ship.
Commodore Davis believed in fighting on full stomachs. Hot coffee,
bread, and beef were carried round to the men.
The Rebel fleet watched us awhile. The crowd upon the shore increased.
Perhaps they thought the Yankees did not dare to fight. At length the
Rebel fleet began to move up-stream.
"Round to; head down-stream; keep in line with the flag-ship," was the
order which we on board the Jessie Benton carried to each boat of the
line. We returned, and took our position between the Benton and
Carondelet.
I stood on the top of the tug, beside the pilot-house. Stand with me
there, and behold the scene. The sun is an hour high, and its bright
rays lie in a broad line of silver light upon the eddying stream. You
look down the river to the city, and behold the housetops, the windows,
the levee, crowded with men, women, and children. The flag of the
Confederacy floats defiantly. The Rebel fleet is moving slowly towards
us. A dense cloud of smoke rolls up from the chimneys of the steamers,
and floats over the city.
There is a flash, a puff from the Little Rebel, a sound of something
unseen in the air, and a column of water is thrown up a mile behind us.
A second shot, from the Beauregard, falls beside the Benton. A third,
from the Price, aimed at the Carondelet, misses by a foot or two, and
dashes up the water between the Jessie Benton and the flag-ship. It is a
sixty-four-pounder. If it had struck us, our boat would have been
splintered to kindlings in an instant.
Commodore Montgomery sees that the boats of the Federal fleet have their
iron-plated bows up-stream. He comes up rapidly, to crush them at the
stern, where there are no iron plates. A signal goes up from the Benton,
and the broadsides begin to turn towards the enemy. The crowd upon the
levee think that the Federal boats are retreating, and hurrah for
Commodore Montgomery.
There has been profound silence on board the Union gunboats. The men are
waiting for the word. It comes.
"Open fire, and take close quarters."
The Cairo begins. A ten-inch shot screams through the air, and skips
along the water towards the Little Rebel. Another, from the St. Louis. A
third, from the Louisville. Another, from the Carondelet, and lastly,
from the Benton. The gunners crouch beside their guns, to track the
shot. Some are too high, some too low. There is an answering roar from
all the Rebel boats. The air is full of indescribable noises. The water
boils and bubbles around us. It is tossed up in columns and jets. There
are sudden flashes overhead, explosions, and sulphurous clouds, and
whirring of ragged pieces of iron. The uproar increases. The cannonade
reverberates from the high bluff behind the city to the dark-green
forest upon the Arkansas shore, and echoes from bend to bend.
The space between the fleets is gradually lessening. The Yankees are not
retreating, but advancing. A shot strikes the Little Rebel. One tears
through the General Price. Another through the General Bragg. Commodore
Montgomery is above the city, and begins to fall back. He is not ready
to come to close quarters. Fifteen minutes pass by, but it seems not
more than two. How fast one lives at such a time! All of your senses are
quickened. You see everything, hear everything. The blood rushes through
your veins. Your pulse is quickened. You long to get at the enemy,--to
sweep over the intervening space, lay your boat alongside, pour in a
broadside, and knock them to pieces in a twinkling! You care nothing for
the screaming of the shot, the bursting of the shells. You have got over
all that. You have but one thought,--_to tear down that hateful
flaunting flag, to smite the enemies of your country into the dust_!
While this cannonade was going on, I noticed the two rams casting loose
from the shore. I heard the tinkle of the engineer's bell for more fire
and a full head of steam. The sharpshooters took their places. The Queen
came out from the shelter of the great cottonwoods, crossed the river,
and passed down between the Benton and Carondelet. Colonel Ellet stood
beside the pilot, and waved his hand to us on board the Jessie Benton.
The Monarch was a little later, and, instead of following in the wake of
the Queen, passed between the Cairo and the St. Louis.
See the Queen! Her great wheels whirl up clouds of spray, and leave a
foaming path. She carries a silver train sparkling in the morning light.
She ploughs a furrow, which rolls the width of the river. Our boat
dances like a feather on the waves. She gains the intervening space
between the fleets. Never moved a Queen so determinedly, never one more
fleet,--almost leaping from the water. The Stars and Stripes stream to
the breeze beneath the black banner unfolding, expanding, and trailing
far away from her smoke-stacks. There is a surging, hissing, and
smothered screaming of the pent-up steam in her boilers, as if they had
put on all energy for the moment. They had;--flesh, blood, bones, iron,
brass, steel,--animate and inanimate,--were nerved up for the trial of
the hour!
Officers and men behold her in astonishment and admiration. For a moment
there is silence. The men stand transfixed by their guns, forgetting
their duties. Then the Rebel gunners, as if moved by a common impulse,
bring their guns to bear upon her. She is exposed on the right, on the
left, and in front. It is a terrible cross-fire. Solid shot scream past.
Shells explode around her. She is pierced through and through. Her
timbers crack. She quivers beneath the shock, but does not falter.
On--on--faster--straight towards the General Beauregard.
The commander of that vessel adroitly avoids the stroke. The Queen
misses her aim. She sweeps by like a race-horse, receiving the fire of
the Beauregard on one side and the Little Rebel on the other. She comes
round in a graceful curve, almost lying down upon her side, as if to
cool her heated smoke-stacks in the stream. The stern guns of the
Beauregard send their shot through the bulwarks of the Queen. A splinter
strikes the brave commander, Colonel Ellet. He is knocked down, bruised,
and stunned for a moment, but springs to his feet, steadies himself
against the pilot-house, and gives his directions as coolly as if
nothing had happened.
The Queen passes round the Little Rebel, and approaches the General
Price.
"Take her aft the wheelhouse," says Colonel Ellet to the pilot. The
commander of the Price turns towards the approaching antagonist. Her
wheels turn. She surges ahead to escape the terrible blow. Too late.
There is a splintering, crackling, crashing of timbers. The broadside of
the boat is crushed in. It is no more than a box of cards or thin
tissue-paper before the terrible blow.
There are jets of flame and smoke from the loop-holes of the Queen. The
sharpshooters are at it. You hear the rattling fire, and see the crew of
the Price running wildly over the deck, tossing their arms. The
unceasing thunder of the cannonade drowns their cries. A moment, and a
white flag goes up. The Price surrenders.
But the Queen has another antagonist, the Beauregard. The Queen is
motionless, but the Beauregard sweeps down with all her powers. There is
another crash. The bulwarks of the Queen tremble before the stroke.
There is a great opening in her hull. But no white flag is displayed.
There are no cries for quarter, no thoughts of surrendering. The
sharpshooters pick off the gunners of the Beauregard, compelling them to
take shelter beneath their casemates.
We who see it hold our breaths. We are unmindful of the explosions
around us. How will it end? Will the Queen sink with all her brave men
on board?
But her consort is at hand, the Monarch, commanded by Captain Ellet,
brother of Colonel Ellet. He was five or ten minutes behind the Queen
in starting, but he has appeared at the right moment. He, too, has
been unmindful of the shot and shell falling around him. He aims
straight as an arrow for the Beauregard. The Beauregard is stiff,
stanch, and strong, but her timbers, planks, knees, and braces are
no more than laths before the powerful stroke of the Monarch. The
sharpshooters pour in their fire. The engineer of the Monarch puts his
force-pumps in play and drenches the decks of the Beauregard with
scalding water. An officer of the Beauregard raises a white cloth upon
a rammer. It is a signal for surrender. The sharpshooters stop firing.
There are the four boats, three of them floating helplessly in the
stream, the water pouring into the hulls, through the splintered
planking.
Captain Ellet saw that the Queen was disabled, and took her in tow to
the Arkansas shore. Prompted by humanity, instead of falling upon the
other vessels of the fleet he took the General Price to the shore.
The Little Rebel was pierced through her hull by a half-dozen shots.
Commodore Montgomery saw that the day was lost. He ran alongside the
Beauregard, and, notwithstanding the vessel had surrendered, took the
crew on board, to escape. But a shot from the Cairo passed through the
boilers. The steam rushed out like the hissing of serpents. The boat was
near the shore, and the crew jumped into the water, climbed the bank,
and fled to the woods. The Cairo gave them a broadside of shells as they
ran.
The Beauregard was fast settling. The Jessie Benton ran alongside. All
had fled save the wounded. There was a pool of blood upon the deck. The
sides of the casemate were stained with crimson drops, yet warm from the
heart of a man who had been killed by a shell.
"Help, quick!" was the cry of Captain Maynadier.
We rushed on board in season to save a wounded officer. The vessel
settled slowly to the bottom.
"I thank you," said the officer, "for saving me from drowning. You are
my enemies, but you have been kinder to me than those whom I called my
friends. One of my brother officers when he fled, had the meanness to
pick my pocket and steal my watch!"
Thus those who begun by stealing public property, forts, and arsenals,
did not hesitate to violate their honor,--fleeing after surrendering,
forsaking their wounded comrade, robbing him of his valuables, and
leaving him to drown!
There is no cessation of the cannonade. The fight goes on. The Benton is
engaged with the General Lovell. They are but a few rods apart, and both
within a stone's-throw of the multitude upon the shore.
Captain Phelps stands by one of the Benton's rifled guns. He waits to
give a raking shot, runs his eye along the sights, and gives the word to
fire. The steel-pointed shot enters the starboard side of the hull, by
the water-line. Timbers, braces, planks, the whole side of the boat
seemingly, are torn out.
The water pours in. The vessel settles to the guards, to the ports, to
the top of the casemate, reels, and with a lurch disappears. It is the
work of three minutes.
The current sets swiftly along the shore. The plummet gives seventy-five
feet of water. The vessel goes down like a lump of lead. Her
terror-stricken crew are thrown into the current. It is an appalling
sight. A man with his left arm torn, broken, bleeding, and dangling by
his side, runs wildly over the deck. There is unspeakable horror in his
face. He beckons now to those on shore, and now to his friends on board
the boats. He looks imploringly to heaven, and calls for help.
Unavailing the cry. He disappears in the eddying whirlpool. A hundred
human beings are struggling for life, buffeting the current, raising
their arms, catching at sticks, straws, planks, and timbers. "Help!
help! help!" they cry. It is a wild wail of agony, mingled with the
cannonade.
There is no help for them on shore. There, within a dozen rods, are
their friends, their fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, wives,
children, they who urged them to join the service, who compelled them to
enlist. All are powerless to aid them!
They who stand upon the shore behold those whom they love defeated,
crushed, drowning, calling for help! It is an hour when heart-strings
are wrung. Tears, cries, prayers, efforts, all are unavailing.
Commodore Davis beholds them. His heart is touched. "Save them, lads,"
he says.
The crews of the Benton and Carondelet rush to their boats. So eager are
they to save the struggling men that one of the boats is swamped in the
launching. Away they go, picking up one here, another there,--ten or
twelve in all. A few reach the shore and are helped up the bank by
lookers-on; but fifty or sixty sink to rise no more. How noble the act!
How glorious! Bright amid all the distress, all the horror, all the
infamous conduct of men who have forsworn themselves, will shine
forever, like a star of heaven, this act of humanity!
The General Price, General Beauregard, Little Rebel, and General
Lovell--one half of the Rebel fleet--were disposed of. The other vessels
attempted to flee. The Union fleet had swept steadily on in an unbroken
line. Amid all the appalling scenes of the hour there was no lull in the
cannonade. While saving those who had lost all power of resistance,
there was no cessation of effort to crush those who still resisted.
A short distance below the Little Rebel, the Jeff Thompson, riddled by
shot, and in flames, was run ashore. A little farther down-stream the
General Bragg was abandoned, also in flames from the explosion of a
nine-inch shell, thrown by the St. Louis. The crews leaped on shore, and
fled to the woods. The Sumter went ashore, near the Little Rebel. The
Van Dorn alone escaped. She was a swift steamer, and was soon beyond
reach of the guns of the fleet.
The fight is over. The thunder of the morning dies away, and the birds
renew their singing. The abandoned boats are picked up. The Jeff
Thompson cannot be saved. The flames leap around the chimneys. The
boilers are heated to redness. A pillar of fire springs upward, in long
lances of light. The interior of the boat--boilers, beams of iron,
burning planks, flaming timbers, cannon-shot, shells--is lifted five
hundred feet in air, in an expanding, unfolding cloud, filled with loud
explosions. The scattered fragments rain upon forest, field, and river,
as if meteors of vast proportions had fallen from heaven to earth,
taking fire in their descent. There is a shock which shakes all Memphis,
and announces to the disappointed, terror-stricken, weeping, humiliated
multitude that the drama which they have played so madly for a
twelvemonth is over, that retribution for crime has come at last!
Thus in an hour's time the Rebel fleet was annihilated. Commodore
Montgomery was to have sent the Union boats to the bottom; but his
expectations were not realized, his promises not fulfilled. It is not
known how many men were lost on the Rebel side, but probably from eighty
to a hundred. Colonel Ellet was the only one injured on board the Union
fleet. The gunboats were uninjured. The Queen of the West was the only
boat disabled. In striking contrast was the damage to Montgomery's
fleet:--
Sunk, General Price, 4 guns.
" General Beauregard, 4 "
" General Lovell, 4 "
Burned, Jeff Thompson, 4 "
Captured, General Bragg, 3 "
" Sumter, 3 "
" Little Rebel, 2 "
--
24
The bow guns of Commodore Davis's fleet only were used in the attack,
making sixteen guns in all brought to bear upon the Rebel fleet. The
Cairo and St. Louis fired broadsides upon the crews as they fled to the
woods.
* * * * *
The retreating of the Rebel fleet carried the Union gunboats several
miles below the city before the contest was over. At ten o'clock
Commodore Davis steamed back to the city. There stood the multitude,
confounded by what had taken place. A boat came off from the shore,
pulled by two oarsmen, and bringing a citizen, Dr. Dickerson, who waved
a white handkerchief. He was a messenger from the Mayor, tendering the
surrender of the city. There were some men in the crowd who shook their
fists at us, and cried, "O you blue-bellied Yankees! You devils! You
scoundrels!" We could bear it very well, after the events of the
morning. A few hurrahed for Jeff Davis, but the multitude made no
demonstration.
A regiment landed, and marched up Monroe Street to the court-house. I
had the pleasure of accompanying the soldiers. The band played Yankee
Doodle and Hail Columbia. How proudly the soldiers marched! They halted
in front of the court-house. An officer went to the top of the building,
tore down the Rebel flag, and flung out the Stars and Stripes.
Wild and hearty were the cheers of the troops. The buried flag had risen
from its grave, to wave forevermore,--the emblem of power, justice,
liberty, and law!
Thus the Upper Mississippi was opened again to trade and the peaceful
pursuits of commerce. How wonderfully it was repossessed. The fleet lost
not a man at Island No. 10, not a man at New Madrid, not a man at Fort
Pillow, not a man at Memphis, by the fire of the Rebels! How often had
we been told that the strongholds of the Rebels were impregnable! How
often that the Union gunboats would be blown up by torpedoes, or sent to
the bottom by the batteries or by the Rebel fleet! How often that the
river would never be opened till the Confederacy was recognized as an
independent power! General Butler was in possession of New Orleans,
Memphis was held by Commodore Davis, and the mighty river was all but
open through its entire length to trade and navigation. In one year this
was accomplished. So moves a nation in a career unparalleled in history,
rescuing from the grasp of pirates and plunderers the garnered wealth of
centuries.
In 1861, when Tennessee seceded, the steamer Platte Valley, owned in St.
Louis, belonging to the St. Louis and Memphis Steamboat Company, was the
last boat permitted to leave for the North. All others were stolen by
the secessionists, who repudiated the debts they owed Northern men. The
Platte Valley, commanded by Captain Wilcox, was in Commodore Davis's
fleet of transports. Captain Wilcox recognized some of his old
acquaintances in the crowd, and informed them that in a day or two he
would resume his regular trips between St. Louis and Memphis! They were
ready to send up cargoes of sugar and cotton. So trade accompanies the
flag of our country wherever it goes.
This narrative which I have given you is very tame. Look at the scene
once more,--the early morning, the cloudless sky, the majestic river,
the hostile fleets, the black pall of smoke overhanging the city, the
forest, the stream, the moving of the boats, the terrific cannonade, the
assembled thousands, the glorious advance of the Queen and the Monarch,
the crashing and splintering of timbers, the rifle-shots, the sinking of
vessels, the cries of drowning men, the gallantry of the crews of the
Benton and Carondelet, the weeping and wailing of the multitude, the
burnings, the explosions, the earthquake shock, which shakes the city to
its foundations! These are the events of a single hour. Remember the
circumstances,--that the fight is before the city, before expectant
thousands, who have been invited to the entertainment,--the sinking of
the Union fleet,--that they are to see the prowess of their husbands,
brothers, and friends, that their strength is utter weakness,--that,
after thirteen months of robbery, outrage, and villany, the despised,
insulted flag of the Union rises from its burial, and waves once more
above them in stainless purity and glory! Take all under consideration,
if you would feel the moral sublimity of the hour!
In these pages, my young friends, I have endeavored to make a
contribution of facts to the history of this great struggle of our
beloved country for national life. It has been my privilege to see other
engagements at Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Gettysburg, and if this
book is acceptable to you, I hope to be able to tell the stories of
those terrible battles.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors;
otherwise every effort has been made to be faithful to the author's
words and intent.
2. In the edition from which this e-text has been transcribed, the
printers omitted the words "At a" from the 9th paragraph of Chapter IV.
The research staff at the University of Northern Colorado, Greely,
Colorado, were kind enough to locate their edition, and find the correct
words to commence the sentence.
3. Page numbering in the List of Diagrams for "A Rebel Torpedo" has
been changed to reflect the illustration's final placement in this
e-text.