“We presume so, but we know nothing of naval matters here.”
Just at this moment the hot guns began to go off and throw shot and shell at random amongst friends and foes.
Commander Porter, with severe coolness of manner, only said: “Then we will go on with our business, gentlemen. If you don’t mind the effect of the explosion which is soon to come, we can stand it.”
Fortunately, the Louisiana drifted across towards St. Philip, and exploded her magazine when just abreast of it. The sound of the explosion was heard for miles up and down the river. When the smoke cleared away the battery had gone into fragments and sunk in the Mississippi. If it had drifted upon the Harriet Lane, as had been intended, and blown into smithereens the consulting officers of both North and South, that would have been a consequence of treachery almost worse than the insults of the New Orleans ladies or the indiscreet edict of General Butler.
Fort Jackson had crumbled into powder under the impact of the huge shells from the mortars. On the first night of the bombardment the magazine was in such danger that only wet blankets saved it from blowing up. One bomb came leaping into the officers’ mess-room when they were dining. With a thud and a rumble it rolled under the very table. All rose and clustered in a corner in some consternation, expecting to go skywards with the crockery. They waited one minute, two minutes. Not yet had death come! Then a young officer crawled under the table and burst into a hearty laugh.
“What is it, Jimmy?”
“Oh, you can go on with that Irish stew now. The fuse is out.”
They returned to their dinners with such appetite as they could. Fortunately, men who are living at high pressure and strain, meeting death at every turn, are easily moved to see the funny side of things.