From a painting by Admiral Walke.
This unexpected attitude of Foote delayed the capture of the island about two weeks. At the suggestion of Schuyler Hamilton, a channel was cut through the trees of the swamp from the Mississippi to New Madrid. There was water enough there to float shoal transports and barges, and when this work was done and the transports for ferry use were lying in the bayou behind New Madrid, Foote gave Captain Walke, of the Carondelet, permission to try running the batteries.
Captain Walke got his orders on March 30th. To prepare his ship for the iron deluge he put extra planking over her deck, and then ranged her chain cables across it to serve as additional armor—a use of chain cables that became famous in the one great naval duel of the Civil War, as will appear further on. Lumber and cord wood were piled where they would protect the boiler and engines, and the pilot-house was wrapped with ropes to a thickness of eighteen inches, while the escape-pipes were changed so as to exhaust in the wheel-box, that thus the puffing or coughing noise of the high-pressure engines then in use should be drowned. To still further protect her, a barge loaded with baled hay was lashed on the left side, which was the one that must receive the Confederate fire. The resourcefulness of Captain Walke was well shown in these preparations.
The night of April 10, 1862, was selected for the dash. The moon set at 10 o’clock that night and, as fortune favored, a heavy thunderstorm came on. Lifting her anchors as the first breath of the squall arrived, the Carondelet swung around and headed down the stream. The crew were at quarters, and every man but two was under cover. One, a seaman, Charles Wilson, stood at the rail heaving the lead, while Theodore Gilmore stood half-way between him and the pilot-house to pass the whispered call of the leadsman. By the time they were heading their course the rain began to fall in sheets, and the monotonous words “no bottom” from the leadsman were drowned, as was the puffing of the engine. Not a lamp was burning anywhere about the ship. The pilot, William R. Hall, was a man who could feel his way. But just before the batteries were reached, the boat met the one contingency for which no provision was made. Wood was used as fuel in the furnaces, and the soot in the chimney caught fire and went blazing up from the top of the smoke-stack. The lightning, too, was streaming across the sky, and “the gallant little ship floated like a phantom” before the eyes of the Confederates, who ran to their guns, and in a moment set the batteries flaming. The roar of the cannon echoed to the boom and rumble of the thunder. But the lightning that revealed the “phantom ship” blinded the eyes of the gunners, and they strove in vain to aim their guns with accuracy. The Carondelet passed unharmed, and the fate of Island No. 10 was sealed.
The hardy spirit of the brave Walke has never been sufficiently appreciated. This was because other batteries were run safely later on. But Walke was not only the pioneer. He alone of all the captains in Foote’s command favored the project from the first. The others “believed that it would result in the almost certain destruction of the boat, passing six forts under the fire of fifty guns.” He was willing to face the danger when all previous experience made even the most daring of his associates believe the task impossible. Nor was the danger from the batteries the only one, for it must not be forgotten that the Confederates had a half dozen well-armed gunboats at New Orleans, besides the ram Manassas, that created so great a panic at the mouth of the Mississippi. The Carondelet, when below the Confederate batteries, was for the time cut off from all support. The power of the Confederate fleet was exaggerated at the time, as we now know, but the officers of Foote’s flotilla had no means of learning the real facts. Moreover, it would have been rank folly for them to underestimate the power of the enemy.
It is worth telling that Island No. 10 has disappeared under the action of the current, and the main channel lies where the Confederate batteries stood.
On April 6th Pope crossed over to Tiptonville under cover of Walke’s guns. On that day, also, Grant fought the Confederates at Pittsburg Landing on the Tennessee. The Taylor, under Lieutenant Gwin, and the Lexington, Lieutenant Shirk, had part in that battle. During the afternoon the Confederates made a desperate attempt to turn Grant’s left and capture the landing place and transports. Gwin opened fire and silenced their batteries. At 4 o’clock the Lexington arrived, and the two gunboats silenced the Confederate batteries three-quarters of a mile above the landing. Again at 5.30 the Confederates came in such force against Grant’s left that they arrived within an eighth of a mile of the landing, but the boats then drove them back in confusion. It is not unlikely that Grant would have been entirely overwhelmed by the superior force of the Confederates but for the support of the gunboats. They enabled him to hold out until reinforcements came. And that night, to quote a Confederate account, “the enemy broke the men’s rest by a discharge, at measured intervals, of heavy shells thrown from the gunboats.” The Confederates could not sleep because a great shell was dropped somewhere in their camp, bringing death and disaster every fifteen minutes. Imagine those soldiers lying there all night counting the time as they waited for the next shell.
The Carondelet Running the Gauntlet at Island No. 10.
From a painting by Admiral Walke.