There was an ominous silence on the part of the forts. The look-outs at the mast-heads reported that the shells were doing their work at Fort St. Philip, and that there were twelve steamers in sight. The forts maintained profound silence during the day, and this circumstance occasioned much discussion on the Federal vessels. On consideration, it was deemed that the time had come to hazard an attempt to run the forts, destroy the rebel fleet, and ascend to New Orleans. The Itasca was selected as the picket boat, to advance and ascertain whether the chain had been repaired; and the fleet of ships and gunboats was alive with enthusiasm and excitement, at the prospect of running the gauntlet of fire which would be opened on either side when their desperate attempt became known. Not only were the two forts to be passed, but the rebel fleet, with its monster of destruction, the Manassas, and the fire-rafts which would be let loose upon them, to spread conflagration and death in their most fearful forms: while a foe desperate with energy and hate, was working the formidable engines of destruction.
At eleven o’clock, P. M., the Itasca signalled that the chain was clear. Everything was quiet around the fleet, save the hissing of the steam as it escaped from the boilers. The night was moderately dark, and a gentle southerly wind made the weather rather hazy. The mortar vessels kept up an incessant roar, and bright globes ascended high aloft to curve downward in fury at the forts. The second division, under Captain Bailey (of the Colorado), formed on the left bank of the river, while the third division was in the centre of the lines—the first division lying on the right bank of the river.
The fleet was to sail in the following order:—
First Division—Flag-officer Farragut commanding: Hartford, Brooklyn, Richmond.
Second Division—Captain Bailey commanding: Cayuga, Pensacola, Mississippi, Oneida, Varuna, Katahdin, Kineo, Wissahickon, Portsmouth, towed by J. P. Jackson.
Third Division—Captain Bell commanding: Sciota, Iroquois, Pinola, Itasca, Winona, Kennebec.
At one o’clock all hands were called, hammocks stowed, and everything put in readiness to weigh.
At two o’clock on the morning of the 24th, red lights at the peak of the Hartford announced the time to get underweigh. At three o’clock the moon rose, and a silvery path was marked out on the swift waters of the river, so soon to be the scene of one of the grandest naval fights known to history. The moon had lifted itself above the horizon just thirty minutes, when the fleet sailed in order for the battle-ground. In the dim distance could be seen the signal fires of the enemy, built to light up the river, and reveal the position of the fleet.
At precisely twenty minutes of four o’clock the enemy opened fire from Fort St. Philip. At that moment the star-spangled banner was hoisted at the peak of the Hartford. Full speed was given to the ship, the engineers performed their duty nobly, and on she went, as it were, into the jaws of death. At the time the enemy opened fire the mortar vessels went to work, and the rapidity with which they threw shells at the enemy was terrific.
At five minutes to four o’clock the bow gun of the Hartford belched forth fire and smoke, and a messenger, in the shape of a nine-inch shell, was sent to Fort Jackson. In a few minutes more the broadside firing was commenced. Both forts were replying as fast as they could. Broadside after broadside was delivered to them in rapid succession, while the mortar vessels lent their aid to make the scene one of wonderful grandeur.