THE NAVAL ATTACK.
On the night of February 11th, the St. Louis, (the flag-ship,) Louisville, and Pittsburg, sailed from Cairo. The Carondelet, as already stated, had been dispatched a day or two in advance, and at Paducah, on the noon of the 12th, the fleet was joined by the Conestoga and Tyler. Of these the three first were iron-clad vessels. From Paducah the fleet was accompanied by sixteen transports, carrying six thousand infantry, and cavalry and artillery.
The fleet followed the flag-ship of Commodore Foote, as they turned out of the Ohio, and began the ascent of the Cumberland. Passing onward from the Ohio, sweeping through Kentucky and Tennessee up to the western boundaries of Virginia, the fleet carried the national ensign, which was met with continual cheers and responses from the people on the banks.
About four o’clock in the afternoon, a messenger steamer, the Alps, met the fleet, with a dispatch from General Grant, requesting all haste to be made, as the gunboats were anxiously expected. Putting on steam, the Alps took the St. Louis and Louisville in tow, leaving the transports to hasten as rapidly as they could be urged. The former arrived within two miles of the fort at twelve o’clock, on the night of Thursday, the 13th.
On the morning of that day, the Carondelet, by order of General Grant, had bombarded the fort, and single-handed, commenced the attack on the works. On the previous day she had advanced and fired eight shots, but without drawing out any reply. The attack of the 13th was differently met by the fort, as the shells were briskly responded to, and a vigorous fire was maintained for two hours. The Carondelet kept her bows hard on the fort, carefully guarding against presenting her broadside to the enemy. She fired one hundred and twenty-eight shots in ninety-five minutes. At the end of that time, a ball from one of the 128-pound guns entered her port-bow, and struck a portion of her machinery. Six men were slightly wounded by the splinters which flew from the ship’s timbers. She retired beyond the range of the guns, to ascertain the amount of damage, and in the afternoon, after repairing, was again ordered to the charge, and fired a number of shots, but without sensible effect.
The morning of the 14th found the flotilla lying in the wake of the flag-ship. The transports had arrived, and the troops, with the artillery, were landed about two miles from the fort. The arrival of the fleet, and the thousands of determined soldiers, inspired the troops already at the scene of action with new vigor; long and tumultuous cheers came down the hills from the army under General Grant, which could be seen in the distance, watching the movements of the fleet. General Grant and his staff had gone on board the St. Louis, before daylight, and an attack by the land forces was agreed upon, to be made as soon as the signal gun should be given from the river. Accordingly, at two o’clock, P. M., all the vessels comprising the flotilla, the iron-clad boats St. Louis, Carondelet, Pittsburg, and Louisville, and the two wooden boats, Conestoga and Tyler, got under way. They were then about two miles from the fort. The line of battle was immediately formed, the flag-ship taking the extreme right, with the Louisville, Pittsburg, and Carondelet at the left, four abreast; the Conestoga and Tyler, not being iron clad, remained in the rear, about a quarter of a mile. The fleet proceeded at a speed of about three miles an hour, up the river. At twenty-five minutes to three o’clock they reached the termination of a long range of woods to the right, and came in full view of the fort.
The fortifications were distinctly visible, consisting of three tiers of frowning batteries, on the slope of a steep hill, one hundred and fifty feet in height. About half-past two o’clock, the enemy opened fire from a battery about twenty feet above water level, by discharging a 32-pounder, but the shot fell far short. This was followed by another ball of larger dimensions, which also fell short. The Union men were anxious to show the enemy a specimen of their fighting power, but the Commodore would not permit them to fire a gun for fifteen minutes, until they got within certain range of the fort. At a few minutes before three o’clock, the St. Louis opened the battle on the national side, and the other boats quickly followed. For a while all the shot fell short of the mark.
The boats kept advancing slowly and steadily for about half an hour, when the order was given to slack the engines, so as to prevent them from coming in too close range. The firing then increased to a terrific rate on both sides. The enemy poured 32 and 64-pound balls into the vessels with great effect, and the gunners returned their 8-inch shell and 64-pound rifle balls with unusual skill. In the heat of the action, a shot from the enemy’s water battery carried away the flagstaff of the St. Louis; almost the next shot took the chimney guys of the same boat. A well sent ball from the St. Louis soon struck the flagstaff of the enemy, which was on the top of the hill behind the batteries. This terrible fire lasted about half an hour, when a 64-pound ball from the middle battery cut the tiller ropes of the gunboat Louisville, rendering her steering apparatus unmanageable. About the same time a shot entered one of the windows of the pilot-house of the Carondelet, mortally wounding the pilot. Thus the control of two Union boats was in a great degree lost. Shortly after this, a 32-pound ball penetrated the pilot-house of the St. Louis, mortally wounding one of the pilots, injuring two other pilots, and severely wounding Flag-officer Foote. There were five men in the pilot-house at the time, only one of whom escaped injury. The room was filled with pieces of the broken wheel, chains, room furniture and rubbish of every sort; there was no one there to take the helm save the Commodore—no chance to call another to his aid—so, equal to the emergency, the gallant old Commodore seized the remaining handles of the wheel, and for a quarter of an hour acted the double part of commander and pilot, and at last, when compelled to fall back, he kept bow to the foe, and gave his orders as calmly and coolly as when first entering the action.
At about the middle of the engagement, a 32-pound rifle shot took away the flagstaff and Commodore’s pennant. In a moment half a dozen men sprang out of the ports, caught the mutilated staff upon their shoulders, hoisted the “blue flag” to its place, where they stood and held it for several minutes, in the face of a most murderous fire.
Thus three powerful vessels were disabled by accidents that do not happen twice in a hundred times. The men on board were unwilling to give up the fight. The enemy had been driven from the lower battery, and their fire had slackened perceptibly. What remained to be done? To fight in such a current, with unmanageable boats, would, the Commodore knew, be worse than folly. Reluctantly, therefore, he ordered them to fall back.