Finally the battered English vessels drew off. The Hermes was found to be in such bad shape that she was set on fire by her crew and abandoned. Her destruction was completed by the explosion of her magazine. The British loss was 232, of which number 163 were killed. The American loss was 4 killed and 4 wounded. The British in this engagement outnumbered the Americans more than six times.
The great adventure of Fort Morgan’s life, however, was in the Civil War at the time of the taking of Mobile. The stronghold had been considerably enlarged and strengthened and had been re-christened by its Confederate possessors at the outbreak of that disastrous struggle between brother and brother. It is described in official records of the time as a pentagonal bastioned work, with a full scarp brick wall, 4, feet 8 inches thick, its armament consisting of 86 guns of various calibres. The garrison, including officers and men, numbered 640.
The force under Farragut consisted of fourteen large wooden steam vessels of war and four iron-clads of which the Tecumseh arrived from Pensacola just in time for the engagement. The wooden vessels were lashed together in pairs and the whole column was headed by the iron-clads.
It was on the morning of August 5, 1864, that Farragut commenced his passage into Mobile Bay. Long before the break of day through the whole fleet could be heard the boatswain’s whistles and the cheery cries of “all hands” and “up all hammocks.” The wind was west-southwest, just where Farragut wanted it, as it would blow the smoke of the guns on Fort Morgan. At four o’clock the fleet set in motion, led by the four monitors. At 6.47 the booming of the Tecumseh’s guns was heard and shortly afterward Morgan replied. The story may now be taken up in the words of an officer on board the flag-ship Hartford:
The order was to “go slowly, go slowly” and receive the fire of Fort Morgan. At six minutes past seven the fort opened, having allowed us to get into such short range that we apprehended some snare; in fact, I heard the order passed for our guns to be elevated for fourteen hundred yards some time before one was fired. The calmness of the scene was sublime. No impatience, no irritation, no anxiety, except for the fort to open; and after it did open full five minutes elapsed before we answered. In the meantime the guns were trained as if at a target and all the sounds I could hear were “steady boys, steady! Left tackle a little! So, so!” Then the roar of a broadside and the eager cheer as the enemy were driven from their water battery. Don’t imagine they were frightened; no man could stand under that iron shower; and the brave fellows returned to their guns as soon as it lulled, only to be driven off again.
At twenty minutes past seven we had come within range of the enemy’s gunboats which opened their fire upon the Hartford, and as the Admiral afterward told me made her their special target. First they struck our foremast and then lodged a shot of 120 pounds in our mainmast. By degrees they got better elevation; and I have saved a splinter from the hammock netting to show how they felt their way lower. Splinters after that came by cords, and in size sometimes were like logs of wood. No longer came the cheering cry “Nobody hurt yet.” The Hartford by some unavoidable chance fought the enemy’s fleet and fort together for twenty minutes by herself, timbers crashing and wounded pouring down,—cries never to be forgotten.
By half past seven the iron-clad Tecumseh was well up with the fort and drawing slowly by, when suddenly she reeled to port and went down straightway with almost every soul on board. She had struck a mine. For a time this appalling disaster spread confusion in the fleet.
“What’s the matter?” was shouted from the flag-ship to the Brooklyn just ahead.