Memphis was captured soon afterward, by a Federal fleet, which dispersed the few Confederate gunboats that offered it a feeble resistance.
The fall of Fort Pillow and Memphis opened the way for the enemy, as far down the Mississippi as Vicksburg. Here Farragut’s and Porter’s fleets—the former from below, the latter from above—united in a joint attack upon the place, but Van Dorn beat them off.
The Confederates made an attempt to dislodge the enemy from Baton Rouge, the capital of Louisiana, about forty miles below the mouth of the Red River, but failed. The expedition was to be a joint naval and military one, but the naval portion of it failed by an unfortunate accident. Breckinridge, with less than 3000 men, fought a gallant action against a superior force, and drove the enemy into the town, but for want of the naval assistance promised could not dislodge him. We now occupied Port Hudson below Baton Rouge, and the enemy evacuated Baton Rouge in consequence. We thus held the Mississippi River between Port Hudson and Vicksburg, a distance of more than 200 miles.
General Bragg now made a campaign into Kentucky, which State he occupied for several weeks, but was obliged finally to evacuate, by overwhelming forces of the enemy. During this campaign, the battles of Richmond and Perryville were fought. Bragg gathered immense supplies during his march, killed, wounded, or captured 25,000 of the enemy’s troops, and returned with a well-clothed, well-equipped, more numerous, and better disciplined army than he had at the beginning of the campaign. The effect of this campaign was to relieve North Alabama and Middle Tennessee of the presence of the enemy for some months.
In September, 1862, Van Dorn attacked Rosencrans at Corinth, but was obliged to withdraw after a gallant and bloody fight. He retreated in good order.
After Lee’s retreat into Virginia, from his march into Maryland, which has been alluded to, McClellan remained inactive for some time, and the Northern people becoming dissatisfied, clamored for a change of commanders. Burnside was appointed to supersede him—a man, in every way unfit for the command of a large army. With an army of 150,000 men, this man of straw crossed the Rappahannock, and attacked Lee at Fredericksburg, in obedience to the howl of the Northern Demos, of “On to Richmond!” A perfect slaughter of his troops ensued. As far as can be learned, this man did not cross the river at all himself, but sent his troops to assault works in front which none but a madman would have thought of attempting—especially with a river in his rear. It is only necessary to state the result. Federal loss in killed, 1152; wounded, 7000. Confederate loss in killed and wounded, 1800. During a storm of wind and rain, the beaten army regained the shelter of its camps on the opposite side of the river. Burnside was now thrown overboard by the Northern Demos, as McClellan had been before him.
As the old year died, and the new year came in, the battle of Murfreesborough, in Middle Tennessee, was fought between Bragg and Rosencrans, which was bloody on both sides, and indecisive. Bragg retired from Murfreesborough, but was not molested by the enemy during his retreat. The year 1862 may be said, upon the whole, to have resulted brilliantly for the Confederate arms. We had fought drawn battles, and had made some retrograde movements, but, on the other hand, we had gained splendid victories, made triumphant marches into the enemy’s territory, and even threatened his capital. The nations of the earth were looking upon us with admiration, and we had every reason to feel encouraged.
One of the first events of the year 1863, was the dispersion of the enemy’s blockading fleet, off Charleston, by Commodore Ingraham, with two small iron-clads, the Chicora and the Palmetto State. This gallant South Carolinian, in his flag-ship, the Chicora, first attacked the Mercedita, Captain Stellwagen. Having run into this vessel, and fired one or two shots at her, she cried for quarter, and surrendered, believing herself to be in a sinking condition. In a few minutes, the Mercedita sent a boat alongside the Chicora, with her first lieutenant, who, by authority of his captain, surrendered the ship, and assented to the paroling of the officers and crew. The two little iron-clads then went in pursuit of the enemy’s other ships, and succeeded in getting a shot at one or two of them, but they were all too fast for them, and betaking themselves to their heels, soon put themselves out of harm’s way. In a short time there was not a blockader to be seen!
Judge of the surprise of Commodore Ingraham, when, upon his return, he found that his prize, the Mercedita, which he had left at anchor, under parole, had cleared out. Captain Stellwagen, and every officer and man on board the Mercedita, had solemnly promised on honor—for this is the nature of a parole—that they would do no act of war until exchanged. From the moment they made that promise, they were hors du combat. They were prisoners at large, on board the ship which they had surrendered to the enemy. And yet, when that enemy turned his back—relying upon the parole which they had given him—they got up their anchor, and steamed off to Port Royal, and reported to their Admiral—Dupont! Did Dupont send her back to Ingraham? No. He reported the facts to Mr. Secretary Welles. And what did Mr. Secretary Welles do? He kept possession of the ship at the sacrifice of the honor of the Department over which he presided. And what think you, reader, was the excuse? It is a curiosity. Admiral Dupont reported the case thus to Mr. Welles:—“* * * Unable to use his [Stellwagen’s] guns, and being at the mercy of the enemy, which was lying alongside, on his starboard quarter, all further resistance was deemed hopeless by Captain Stellwagen, and he surrendered. The crew and officers were paroled, though nothing was said about the ship; the executive officer, Lieutenant-Commander Abbot, having gone on board the enemy’s ship, and made the arrangements.” Mr. Welles, thus prompted by Admiral Dupont, adopted the exceedingly brilliant idea, that as nothing had been said about the ship—that is, as the ship had not been paroled, she might, like every other unparoled prisoner, walk off with herself, and make her escape! But to say nothing of the odd idea of paroling a ship, these honorable casuists overlooked the small circumstance that the ship could not make her escape without the assistance of the paroled officers; and it was an act of war for paroled officers to get under way, and carry off from her anchors, a prize-ship of the enemy. It was a theft, and breach of honor besides.
A few days after Ingraham’s raid, Galveston was recaptured by the Confederates, as already described when speaking of the victory of the Alabama over the Hatteras.