It was Friday, the 5th of August, 1864. The first violet streaks of dawn stole through the purple clouds that the wind had tossed up during the night. Admiral Farragut sat in his cabin, quietly sipping his tea, his fleet-captain, Drayton, by his side. Through the open ports they could see the dim masses of the ships of the fleet as, lashed two and two, they stretched in a long line to seaward. The wind no longer blew, and the shrill pipes and the creaking of the blocks as the light yards came down echoed clearly across the silent water.

“How is the wind, Drayton?” said the admiral, at last.

Drayton walked to the port.

“About west-sou’west, sir, I should say.”

The admiral smiled.

“A good omen. Our smoke will blow over their batteries.”

He raised his cup, drained it, and set it back on its saucer. Then he rose to his feet and walked slowly up and down the cabin, looking first at his watch and then out through the[221] starboard gallery, where the fleet lay. He turned, his genial face all aglow in the cool light of the morning, and reached to the table for his side-arms.

The moment had arrived.

“Well, Drayton,” he said, “we might as well get under weigh.”

Drayton knew, and Farragut knew, that the momentous day before them would decide the fate of the West Gulf and of the nation in the South. It was the supreme moment in the admiral’s career. But as he clasped his sword-belt his hands were as firm as though on inspection.

With a cheery “Aye, aye, sir,” Drayton went out of the door and up the companion, and soon the deck above resounded with the nimble feet as the men sprang joyfully to quarters. Old Knowles, the quartermaster, deftly sent his little ball of bunting, ready for an hour, to the yard-arm, and in a moment the row of multi-colored flags, tipped with the glow of the brightened east, fluttered proudly out into the morning breeze.

Then the bright answering pennants flew up from all the vessels of the fleet, and the black smoke poured from their dusky funnels as the white water churned up behind them on their way into line.

[222]

The admiral, on the quarter-deck, glass in hand, saw the black turrets of the monitors, with their grim, shiny muzzles, drift slowly inland towards the batteries, not a ripple showing behind them as they moved on their deadly mission towards the frowning battlements of Fort Morgan. Ahead of the “Hartford” was the broad stern of the “Brooklyn,” as she churned her way slowly onward, her smoke drifting in great clouds over her starboard bow towards the water-batteries. Beside the admiral, one hand on the rail, was Drayton, cool as though on a practice drill, and as he looked over the swarthy backs that shone bare in the morning sun he knew well that the flagship would give a good account of herself.

Behind him stood Watson, Gates, McKinley, and Brownell, watching the progress of the monitors. The calmness of the scene was sublime. Only an occasional order to the tacklemen, given in a quiet voice by the gun-captains, showed the deadly work ahead.

As the “Hartford” drew into range, the admiral walked over to the main rigging and clambered up into the shrouds; and his men below him at the batteries lovingly watched their “old man” as step by step he mounted to get a clearer view. They knew him for a gallant old sea-dog. They had seen him steam[223] past the batteries at Vicksburg and Port Hudson, and they smiled at his sternness at the capture of New Orleans, for they loved him. But at Mobile they learned that he feared nothing above the ocean or under it, if it stood in the way of the cause of his country. At this point Farragut stood a few feet above Jouett, on the wheel-house of the “Metacomet” alongside, and could hail the top above him, where Freeman, his trusty pilot, gave him his soundings and bearings.

At length the battle opened. A great puff of white smoke rolled along the water from the turret of the “Tecumseh,” and a yellow cloud of dust above the water-batteries marked where the shot had struck. Fort Morgan immediately replied, and, as the gunners got the range, the angry splash of the shots as they skipped across the water came clearly to the crew of the “Hartford,” who stood at their guns silent and motionless. As the shots rained about them and great white splinters were torn from the nettings and flew across the decks, they only looked up at their admiral, who, leaning slightly forward, was slowly scanning the breastworks. In his face there was no impatience, no irritation, no sign of anxiety, and while he could calmly wait, they could. The courage of the leader was reflected[224] in his men. It was the very perfection of human discipline.

Would the order to fire never come? Already a fragment of shell had struck a gun-captain in the breast, and they saw him carried past them, moaning piteously. A shot had struck the foremast, and a jagged splinter from the mainmast flew up and lodged in the rigging below where the admiral stood. They saw him take the glass from his eyes, and, turning towards Captain Drayton, hold up his hand.

The guns, already trained, belched forth their iron greeting to the gunboats, and the battle was on in earnest. Calm before, the men were calmer now, and they went about their work as though at target practice. The powder-boys flew like sprites, and the gunners sponged and loaded with rapidity. It was as if each gun and its crew were parts of one mechanism.

“Steady, boys, steady. Left tackle a little. So! so!”

And then came another broadside, followed by an eager cheer as the enemy were driven away from their water-battery.

THE ADMIRAL LASHED TO THE RIGGING

As the smoke from the broadsides increased and obscured his view, the admiral, ratline by ratline, ascended the rigging until he found[225] 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 p............