Half of the congregation are from the army and navy. Commodore Foote is there, a devout worshipper. Before coming to church he visited each gunboat of his fleet, called the crews together, read to them his general orders, that no unnecessary work should be done on the Sabbath, and enjoining upon the commanders the duty of having worship, and of maintaining a high moral character before the men.
Let us on Monday accept the kind invitation of Commodore Foote, and go on board the Benton, his flag-ship, and make an inspection of the strange-looking craft. It is unlike anything you ever saw at Boston or New York. It is like a great box on a raft. The sides are inclined, made of stout oak timbers and plated with iron. You enter through a porthole, where you may lay your hand upon the iron lips of a great gun, which throws a ball nine inches in diameter. There are fourteen guns, with stout oaken carriages. The men are moving about, exercising the guns,--going through the motions of loading and firing. How clean the floor! It is as white as soap and sand can make it. You must not spit tobacco-juice here, if you do, the courteous officer will say you are violating the rules. In the centre of the boat, down beneath the gun-deck in the hull, are the engines and the boilers, partly protected from any shot which may happen to come in at a porthole, or which may tear through the sides,--through the iron and the oak. Near the centre is the wheel. The top of the box, or the _casemate_, as it is called, is of oak timbers, and forms the upper deck. The pilot-house is on this upper deck, forward of the centre. In shape it is like a tunnel turned down. It is plated with thick iron. There, in the hour of battle, the pilot will be, peeping out through narrow holes, his hands grasping the wheel and steering the vessel.
Its guns, which the sailors call its battery, are very powerful. There are two nine-inch guns, and also two sixty-four-pounders, rifled, at the bow. There are two forty-two-pounders at the stern, and those upon the side are thirty-twos and twenty-fours. There are rooms for the officers, but the men sleep in hammocks. They take their meals sitting on the gun-carriages, or cross-legged, like Turks, on the floor.
Captain Foote is the Commodore of the fleet. He points out to you the _Sacred Place_ of the ship,--a secluded corner, where any one of the crew who loves to read his Bible and hold secret devotion may do so, and not be disturbed. He has given a library of good books to the crew, and he has persuaded them that it will be better for them to give up their allowance of grog than to drink it. He walks among the men, and has a kind word for all, and they look upon him as their father. They have confidence in him. How l.u.s.tily they cheer him! Will they not fight bravely under such a commander?
On Monday afternoon, February 2d, the gunboats Cincinnati, Ess.e.x, St.
Louis, Carondelet, Lexington, Tyler, and Conestoga sailed from Cairo, accompanied by several river steamboats with ten regiments of troops.
They went up the Ohio to Paducah, and entered the Tennessee River at dark. The next morning, about daylight, they anch.o.r.ed a few miles below Fort Henry. Commodore Foote made the Cincinnati his flag-ship.
A party of scouts went on sh.o.r.e and called at a farm-house. "You never will take Fort Henry," said the woman living there.
"O yes, we shall; we have a fleet of iron-clad gunboats," said one of the scouts.
"Your gunboats will be blown sky-high before they get up to the fort."
"Ah! how so?"
The woman saw that she was letting out a secret, and became silent. The scouts mistrusted that she knew something which might be desirable for them to know, and informed her that, unless she told all she knew, she must go with them a prisoner. She was frightened, and informed them that the river was full of torpedoes, which would blow up the gunboats.
The scouts reported to Commodore Foote. The river was searched with grappling-irons, and six infernal machines were fished up; but they were imperfectly constructed, and not one of them would explode.
Looking up the river from the deck of one of Commodore Foote"s gunboats you see Panther Island, which is a mile from the fort. It is a long, narrow sand-bank, covered with a thicket of willows. There is the fort on the eastern bank. You see an irregular pile of earth, about fifteen feet above the river, with sand-bag embrasures, which at first sight you think are blocks of stone, but they are grain-sacks filled with sand.
You count the guns, seventeen in all. One ten-inch columbiad, one sixty-pounder, twelve thirty-two-pounders, one twenty-four-pounder, and two twelve-pounders. They are nearly all pivoted, so that they may be pointed down the river against the boats or inland upon the troops. The river is nearly a half-mile wide, and on the opposite bank is another fort, not yet completed. All around Fort Henry you see rifle-pits and breastworks, enclosing twenty or thirty acres. Above and below the fort are creeks. The tall trees are cut down to obstruct the way, or to form an _abatis_, as it is called. It will not be an easy matter to take the fort from the land side. Inside these intrenchments is the Rebel camp,--log-huts and tents, with accommodations for several thousand men.
Commodore Foote has planned how to take the fort. He is confident that he can sh.e.l.l the Rebels out just as you can pound rats from a barrel or a box, and if General Grant will get in rear and watch his opportunity, they will all be caught.
General Grant lands two brigades of troops on the west side of the river, and three brigades on the east side, about four miles below the fort. Those on the west side are to look after any Rebels which may be in or around the unfinished fort, while those upon the east side, under General McClernand, work their way through the woods to gain the rear of the fort. This is the order to General McClernand:--
"It will be the special duty of this command to prevent all reinforcements of Fort Henry or escape from it. Also to be held in readiness to charge and take Fort Henry by storm, promptly on receipt of orders."
General Grant and Commodore Foote agreed that the gunboats should commence the attack at twelve o"clock.
"I shall take the fort in about an hour," said the Commodore. "I shall commence firing when I reach the head of Panther Island, and it will take me about an hour to reach the fort, for I shall steam up slowly. I am afraid, General, that the roads are so bad the troops will not get round in season to capture the enemy. I shall take the fort before you get into position."
General Grant thought otherwise; but the roads were very muddy, and when the engagement commenced the troops were far from where they ought to have been.
Commodore Foote had prepared his instructions to the officers and crews of the gunboats several days before. They were brief and plain.
"The four iron-clad boats--the Ess.e.x, Carondelet, St. Louis, and Cincinnati--will keep in line. The Conestoga, Lexington, and Tyler will follow the iron-clads, and throw sh.e.l.ls over those in advance."
To the commanders he said:--
"_Do just as I do!_"
Addressing the crews, he said:--
"Fire slowly, and with deliberate aim. There are three reasons why you should not fire rapidly. With rapid firing there is always a waste of ammunition. Your range is imperfect, and your shots go wide of the mark, and that encourages the enemy; and it is desirable not to heat the guns.
If you fire slowly and deliberately, you will keep cool yourselves, and make every shot tell."
With such instructions, with all things ready,--decks cleared for action, guns run out, shot and sh.e.l.l brought up from the magazines and piled on deck,--confident of success, and determined to take the fort or go to the bottom, he waited the appointed hour.
The gunboats steam up slowly against the current, that the troops may have time to get into position in rear of the Rebel intrenchments. They take the channel on the west side of the island. The Ess.e.x is on the right of the battle line, nearest the island. Her Commander is William D. Porter, who comes from good stock. It was his father who commanded the Ess.e.x in the war with Great Britain in 1813, and who fought most gallantly a superior force,--two British ships, the Phebe and Cherub,--in the harbor of Valparaiso.
Next the Ess.e.x is the Carondelet, then the Cincinnati,--the flag-ship, with the brave Commodore on board,--and nearest the western sh.o.r.e the St. Louis. These are all iron-plated at the bows. Astern is the Lexington, the Conestoga, and the Tyler.
[Ill.u.s.tration: FORT HENRY.
1 Ess.e.x.
2 Carondelet.
3 Cincinnati.
4 St. Louis.
5 Lexington.
6 Conestoga.
7 Tyler.
8 & 9 Rebel intrenchment.]
The boats reach the head of the island, and the fort is in full view. It is thirty-four minutes past twelve o"clock. There is a flash, and a great creamy cloud of smoke at the bow of the Cincinnati. An eight-inch sh.e.l.l screams through the air. The gunners watch its course. Their practised eyes follow its almost viewless flight. Your watch ticks fifteen seconds before you hear from it. You see a puff of smoke, a cloud of sand thrown up in the fort, and then hear the explosion. The commanders of the other boats remember the instructions,--"Do just as I do!"--and from each vessel a sh.e.l.l is thrown. All fall within the fort, or in the encampment beyond, which is in sight. You can see the tents, the log-huts, the tall flagstaff. The fort accepts the challenge, and instantly the twelve guns which are in position to sweep the river open upon the advancing boats. The shot and sh.e.l.l plough furrows in the stream, and throw columns of water high in air.
Another round from the fleet. Another from the fort. The air is calm, and the thunder of the cannonade rolls along the valley, reverberating from hill to hill. Louder and deeper and heavier is the booming, till it becomes almost an unbroken peal.
There is a commotion in the Rebel encampment. Men run to and fro. They curl down behind the stumps and the fallen trees, to avoid the shot.
Their huts are blown to pieces by the sh.e.l.ls. You see the logs tossed like straws into the air. Their tents are torn into paper-rags. The hissing sh.e.l.ls sink deep into the earth, and then there are sudden upheavals of sand, with smoke and flames, as if volcanoes were bursting forth. The parapet is cut through. Sand-bags are knocked about. The air is full of strange, hideous, mysterious, terrifying noises.
There are seven or eight thousand Rebel soldiers in the rifle-pits and behind the breastworks of the encampment in line of battle. They are terror-stricken. Officers and men alike lose all self-control.
They run to escape the fearful storm. They leave arms, ammunition, tents, blankets, trunks, clothes, books, letters, papers, pictures,--everything. They pour out of the intrenchments into the road leading to Dover, a motley rabble. A small steamboat lies in the creek above the fort. Some rush on board and steam up river with the utmost speed. Others, in their haste and fear, plunge into the creek and sink to rise no more. All fly except a brave little band in the fort.
The gunboats move straight on, slowly and steadily. Their fire is regular and deliberate. Every shot goes into the fort. The gunners are blinded and smothered by clouds of sand. The gun-carriages are crushed, splintered, and overturned. Men are cut to pieces. Something unseen tears them like a thunderbolt. The fort is full of explosions. The heavy rifled gun bursts, crushing and killing those who serve it. The flagstaff is splintered and torn, as by intensest lightning.
Yet the fort replies. The gunners have the range of the boats, and nearly every shot strikes the iron plating. They are like the strokes of sledge-hammers, indenting the sheets, starting the fastenings, breaking the tough bolts. The Cincinnati receives thirty-one shots, the Ess.e.x fifteen, the St. Louis seven, and the Carondelet six.
Though struck so often, they move on. The distance lessens. Another gun is knocked from its carriage in the fort,--another,--another. There are signs that the contest is about over, that the Rebels are ready to surrender. But a shot strikes the Ess.e.x between the iron plates. It tears through the oaken timbers and into one of the steam-boilers. There is a great puff of steam. It pours from the portholes, and the boat is enveloped in a cloud. She drops out of the line of battle. Her engines stop and she floats with the stream. Twenty-eight of her crew are scalded, among them her brave commander.
The Rebels take courage. They spring to their guns, and fire rapidly and wildly, hoping and expecting to disable the rest of the fleet. But the Commodore does not falter; he keeps straight on as if nothing had happened. An eighty-pound sh.e.l.l from the Cincinnati dismounts a gun, killing or wounding every gunner. The boats are so near that every shot is sure to do its work. The fire of the boats increases while the fire of the fort diminishes. Coolness, determination, energy, perseverance, and power win the day. The Rebel flag comes down, and the white flag goes up. They surrender. Cheers ring through the fleet. A boat puts out from the St. Louis. An officer jumps ash.o.r.e, climbs the torn embankment, stands upon the parapet and waves the Stars and Stripes. "Hurrah!
hurrah! hurrah!" You hear it echoing from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e.
General Lloyd Tilghman commanded in the fort. He went on board the flag-ship.
"What terms do you grant me?" he asked.
"Your surrender must be unconditional, sir. I can grant you no other terms."
"Well, sir, if I must surrender, it gives me pleasure to surrender to so brave an officer as you."
"You do perfectly right to surrender, sir; but I should not have done it on any condition."