On they went, bravely, firing at the fort. But not a shot came back till the leading ships were in front of its strong stone walls. Then there began a terrible roar, and a storm of iron balls poured out at the ships. If the guns had been well aimed, dreadful work might have been done, but the balls went screaming through the air and hardly touched a ship. And the fierce fire from the ships drove many of the men in the fort from their guns.
But now there is a terrible tale to tell, a tale of death and destruction, of the sinking of a ship with her captain and nearly all her crew on board.
This was the monitor Tecumseh. It was steered straight out where the torpedoes lay thick. Suddenly there came a dull roar. The bow of the iron-clad was lifted like a feather out of the water. Then it sank till it pointed downward like a boy diving, and the stern was lifted up into the air. In a second more the good ship went down with a mighty plunge.
But with this there is also one fine story, the story of a gallant man. This was Captain Craven, of the Tecumseh. He and the pilot were in the pilot-house and both sprang for the opening. But there was room only for one. The brave captain drew back.
The pilot escaped, but the noble captain, with ninety-two of his men, sank to the depths.
A boat was sent to pick up the swimmers, with a gallant young ensign, H. C. Neilds, in charge. Out they rowed where the waters were being torn and threshed with shot and shell. The ensign was only a boy, but he had the spirit of a Perry. He saw that his flag was not flying, and he coolly raised it in the face of the foe, and then sat down to steer.
Brave men were there by the hundreds, but none were braver than their admiral, their immortal Farragut. The smoke blinded his eyes on deck, so he climbed to the top of the mainmast, and there, lashed to the rigging, he went in through the thick of the fire. Shells screeched past him, great iron balls hustled by his ears, but not a quiver came over his noble face. He had to be where he could see, he said. Danger did not count where duty called.
On past the forts went ships and monitors, heedless of torpedoes or of the fate of the Tecumseh. Only one captain showed the white feather. The Brooklyn held back.