The river is very narrow in front of the fort,—not more than a third of its usual width. It makes a sharp bend. The channel is deep, and the current rushes by like a mill-race. The Tennessee shore was lined with batteries on the bluff, which made it a place much stronger than Columbus or Island No. 10. But when General Beauregard was forced to evacuate Corinth, the Rebels were also compelled to leave Fort Pillow. For two or three days before the evacuation, they kept up a heavy fire upon the fleet.
On the 3d of June,—a hot, sultry day,—just before night, a huge bank of clouds rolled up from the south. There had been hardly a breath of air through the day, but now the wind blew a hurricane. The air was filled with dust, whirled up from the sand-bars. When the storm was at its height, I was surprised to see two of the rams run down past the point of land which screened them from the batteries, vanishing from sight in the distant cloud. They went to ascertain what the Rebels were doing. There was a sudden waking up of heavy guns. The batteries were in a blaze. The cloud was thick and heavy, and the rams returned, but the Rebel cannon still thundered, throwing random shots into the river, two or three at a time, firing as if the Confederacy had tons of ammunition to spare.
The dust-cloud, with its fine, misty rain, rolled away. The sun shone once more, and bridged the river with a gorgeous arch of green and gold, which appeared a moment, and then faded away, as the sun went down behind the western woods. While we stood admiring the scene, a Rebel steamer came round the point to see what we were about. It was a black craft, bearing the flag of the Confederacy at her bow. She turned leisurely, stopped her wheels, and looked at us audaciously. The gunboats opened fire. The Rebel steamer took her own time, unmindful of the shot and shell falling and bursting all around her, then slowly disappeared beyond the headland. It was a challenge for a fight. It was not accepted, for Commodore Davis was not disposed to be cut up by the shore-batteries.
The next day there were lively times at the fort. A cannonade was kept up on Commodore Davis’s fleet, which was vigorously answered. We little thought that this was to blind us to what was going on. At sunset the Rebels set fire to their barracks. There were great pillars of flame and smoke in and around the fort. The southern sky was all aglow. Occasionally there were flashes and explosions, sudden puffs of smoke, spreading out like flakes of cotton or fleeces of white and crimson wool. It was a gorgeous sight.
In the morning we found that the Rebels had gone, spiking their cannon and burning their supplies. That which had cost them months of hard labor was abandoned, and the river was open to Memphis.
On the 5th of June, Commodore Davis’s fleet left Fort Pillow for Memphis. I was sitting at dinner with the Commodore and Captain Phelps, on board the Benton, when an orderly thrust his head into the cabin, and said, “Sir, there is a fine large steamer ahead of us.”
We are on deck in an instant. The boatswain is piping all hands to quarters. There is great commotion.
“Out with that gun! Quick!” shouted Lieutenant Bishop. The brave tars seize the ropes, the trucks creak, and the great eleven-inch gun, already loaded, is out in a twinkling. Men are bringing up shot and shell. The deck is clearing of all superfluous furniture.
There she is, a mile distant, a beautiful steamer, head up-stream. She sees us, and turns her bow. Her broadside comes round, and we read “Sovereign” upon her wheelhouse. We are on the upper deck, and the muzzle of the eleven-inch gun is immediately beneath us. A great flash comes in our faces. We are in a cloud, stifled, stunned, gasping for breath, our ears ringing; but the cloud is blown away, and we see the shot throw up the water a mile beyond the Sovereign. Glorious! We will have her. Another, not so good. Another, still worse.
The Louisville, Carondelet, and Cairo open fire. But the Sovereign is a fast sailer, and is increasing the distance.