At the mouth of the bay the two islands upon which the forts stood were less than a mile apart. The pa.s.sage had been strewn with torpedoes by the Confederates, and only a narrow strip of water was left clear.
Through this strip went Farragut"s fleet: the _Tec.u.mseh_ first, the _Brooklyn_ next, the _Hartford_ third. Suddenly the prow of the _Tec.u.mseh_ lifted: she veered and sank. The _Brooklyn_ backed and held Farragut"s ship directly under the guns of Fort Morgan. Shot and sh.e.l.l hurtled in the air. The smoke grew dense. The fire from the cannons lit the heavens. Men shouted and fell.
"What"s the matter!" called Farragut.
"Torpedoes," some one answered.
Never a profane man, he now gave vent to an oath, and cried out, "Full speed, Jouett. Four bells, Captain Drayton."
The _Hartford_ steamed to the front. The torpedoes crackled under her as she sped on; but the forts were pa.s.sed. And high in the rigging of his ship, in full view of the enemy and imminent danger of the fiery missiles, was seen Farragut, whence he directed all the ships"
maneuvers. An officer, observing him standing there, feared lest a shot would cause his fall, and carried a rope and lashed him to the mast.
In maddened fury the ironclad _Tennessee_ plunged straight at the _Hartford_. All the fleet bore down upon the Confederate ship. And crowding together, the _Lackawanna_, needing room, struck the flagship by accident, and came near striking the commander. Against the _Tennessee_ every Federal ship now redoubled her efforts, until, battered and bruised and despairing, she struck her colors.
The captain of the _Tennessee_ was Buchanan, the same who commanded the _Merrimac_ in her fight with the _Monitor_ in Hampton Roads. "The _Tennessee_ and Buchanan are my prisoners," wrote Farragut home. "He has lost a leg. It was a hard fight, but Buck met his fate manfully."
Fort Morgan and Fort Gaines surrendered and Farragut"s fierce conflicts were at an end. Nearly so was his path of life. Congress honored him with the rank of admiral, the highest honor to be conferred. America and foreign nations extended him the most distinguishing courtesies. And then--the unseen Pilot steered his course across the unknown sea unto the harbor of the city Eternal.
FARRAGUT
FARRAGUT, Farragut, Old Heart of Oak, Daring Dave Farragut, Thunderbolt stroke, Watches the h.o.a.ry mist Lift from the bay, Till his flag, glory-kissed, Greets the young day.
Far, by gray Morgan"s walls, Looms the black fleet.
Hark, deck to rampart calls With the drums" beat!
Buoy your chains overboard, While the steam hums; Men! to the battlement, Farragut comes.
See, as the hurricane Hurtles in wrath Squadrons of clouds amain Back from its path!
Back to the parapet, To the gun"s lips, Thunderbolt Farragut Hurls the black ships.
Now through the battle"s roar Clear the boy sings, "By the mark fathoms four,"
While his lead swings.
Steadily the wheelmen five "Nor" by East keep her."
"Steady," but two alive: How the sh.e.l.ls sweep her!
Lashed to the mast that sways Over red decks, Over the flame that plays Round the torn wrecks, Over the dying lips Framed for a cheer, Farragut leads his ships, Guides the line clear.
On by heights cannon-browed, While the spars quiver; Onward still flames the cloud Where the hulls shiver.
See, yon fort"s star is set, Storm and fire past.
Cheer him, lads--Farragut, Lashed to the mast!
Oh! while Atlantic"s breast Bears a white sail, While the Gulf"s towering crest Tops a green vale, Men thy bold deeds shall tell, Old Heart of Oak, Daring Dave Farragut, Thunderbolt stroke!
WILLIAM TUCKEY MEREDITH.
August, 1864.
PINE AND PALM
(GRANT AND LEE)
Charles Francis Adams in address before Chicago Chapter of Phi Beta Kappa, June 17, 1902.
I NOW come to what I have always regarded--shall ever regard as the most creditable episode in all American history,--an episode without a blemish,--imposing, dignified, simple, heroic. I refer to Appomattox.
Two men met that day, representative of American civilization, the whole world looking on. The two were Grant and Lee,--types each. Both rose, and rose unconsciously, to the full height of the occasion,--and than that occasion there has been none greater. About it and them, there was no theatrical display, no self-consciousness, no effort at effect. A great crisis was to be met; and they met that crisis as great countrymen should.
That month of April saw the close of exactly four years of persistent strife,--a strife which the whole civilized world had been watching intently. Then, suddenly, came the dramatic climax at Appomattox, dramatic I say, not theatrical,--severe in its simple, sober, matter-of-fact majesty. The world, I again a.s.sert, has seen nothing like it; and the world, instinctively, was at the time conscious of the fact.
I like to dwell on the familiar circ.u.mstances of the day; on its momentous outcome; on its far-reaching results. It affords one of the greatest educational object lessons to be found in history; and the actors were worthy of the theater, the auditory, and the play.
A mighty tragedy was drawing to a close. The breathless world was the audience. It was a bright, balmy April Sunday in a quiet Virginia landscape, with two veteran armies confronting each other; one game to the death, completely in the grasp of the other. The future was at stake. What might ensue? What might not ensue? Would the strife end then and there? Would it die in a death-grapple, only to reappear in that chronic form of a vanquished but indomitable people, writhing and struggling, in the grasp of an insatiate but only nominal victor?
The answer depended on two men,--the captains of the contending forces.
Think what then might have resulted had these two men been other than what they were,--had the one been stern and aggressive, the other sullen and unyielding. Most fortunately for us, they were what and who they were,--_Grant and Lee. Of the two, I know not to which to award the palm._ Instinctively, unconsciously, they vied not unsuccessfully each with the other, in dignity, magnanimity, simplicity.
THE CONQUERED BANNER
LIKE several other poems of renown, "The Conquered Banner" was written under stress of deep emotion.
Abram J. Ryan (Father Ryan) had been ordained as a Catholic priest.
Shortly after his ordination he was made a chaplain in the Confederate army.
When the news came of General Lee"s surrender at Appomattox he was in his room in Knoxville, where his regiment was quartered.
He bowed his head upon the table and wept bitterly.
He then arose and looked about him for a piece of paper, but could find nothing but a sheet of brown paper wrapped about a pair of shoes.
Spreading this out upon the table, he, "in a spirit of sorrow and desolation" as expressed in his own words, wrote upon it "The Conquered Banner."
The following morning the regiment was ordered away, and the poem upon the table was forgotten. To the author"s surprise it appeared over his name, in a Louisville paper, a few weeks later, having been forwarded to the paper by the lady in whose house he had stopped in Knoxville.
The poem was widely copied, and was read at gatherings throughout the South with ardor and often with tears.
As an expression of sorrow without bitterness it is considered a fine example.
THE CONQUERED BANNER