As the smoke from the broadsides increased and obscured his view, the admiral, ratline by ratline, ascended the rigging until he found himself partly above the futtock bands and holding on to the futtock shrouds. The watchful eye of Drayton saw him perched high up, all unconscious of himself, thinking only of the great movements about him. A shock, and he would be thrown into the sea. The captain gave an order to Knowles, the quartermaster, who lay aloft briskly with a piece of lead-line. The admiral did not even see him, and only when Knowles passed the line around him did Farragut take his glasses down. “Never mind,” said he, with a smile, “I’m all right.” But the quartermaster lashed him, nevertheless, and lay below.
Then from his lofty position the admiral saw a magnificent but terrible thing. The monitor “Tecumseh” was up well with the fort, and drawing slowly on, when, without a warning, a great column of water shot up under her starboard bow. She heeled over to port and went down with every soul on board. She had struck a torpedo. Captain Craven, in his eagerness to engage the “Tennessee” in battle, had passed to the west of the fatal buoy.
This disaster was not immediately realized by the men. Some supposed the “Tennessee” had been sunk, and cheer after cheer was taken up and echoed along the line.
But the admiral knew the danger that was coming. His anxiety was not decreased when the “Brooklyn,” just ahead of him, suddenly stopped. The frown on his brows deepened, and loudly he hailed his pilot, Freeman, in the top, a few feet above him,—
“What’s the matter with the Brooklyn?” he shouted. “She must have plenty of water there.”
Freeman’s head appeared promptly at the lubber’s hole.
“Plenty and to spare, admiral,” he answered.
Then the admiral knew. Captain Alden had seen the “Tecumseh” go down, and the heavy line of torpedoes across the channel made him pause. The backing screw churned up the water, and the “Hartford” every moment was bearing down on her. The vessels in the rear, pressing on those in the van, created a terrible confusion, and in the uncertainty the batteries of Farragut’s ships ceased fire, while the whole of Mobile Point was a living flame. Disaster was imminent.
But not a second did Farragut pause. A harsh voice from the “Hartford” broke the brief but ominous silence.
“What’s the trouble?”