Diary of Gideon Welles: Friday, February 7, 1863

Two or three Members of the House have had an opportunity to spend their wrath on me in relation to appointment of midshipmen. Calvert is quite angry on two or three matters and takes this opportunity to vent his spite. Washburne of Illinois, who has the reputation of being the “meanest man in the House,” is sore under my reply to his inquiry concerning the “vessel Varuna”; others but little better than Washburne were abusive.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 234

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: Capture and Occupation of New Orleans.

Of course I have not the time and space to give an account of the passing of the forts as it was described in the papers at that time and as I have seen it since, but two or three incidents are interesting to me and may be to the readers of this diary. One of these is the part Commodore Boggs took in the fight:

“He was in command of the Varuna, originally a passenger steamer transformed into a gunboat. It was frail, but a fast vessel. He saw it would not stand much pounding before the forts, so he requested the Admiral to let him run past the fort and fight the enemy's fleet above. He received permission on condition that he would not sink any gunboats in the channel so as to obstruct the river. Boggs had the barrels of pork that were on board for rations, placed in the boiler room, and soon some of it was hissing on the hot coals under the boilers, and the boat started up the river. Opposite the fort he poured in a broadside and then fired grape and canister as fast as the guns could be worked. The Varuna was soon above the fort without a shot hole in her. The shores seemed lined with rebel gunboats on both sides of the river. He opened his batteries on both sides, as well as his stern and bow guns. One vessel seemed to be loaded with soldiers. He sent a shot into that which struck the boiler and blew her up. It ran ashore in flames. Three other vessels soon ran ashore in the same condition. At daylight he saw an iron clad bearing down on him. It struck the Varuna in the side crushing in her timbers. It backed out and came on again striking her in the same place Boggs ordered the engineer to go ahead up stream. This turned the ironclad around exposing her wooden side, when he poured in five shells in quick succession. This fixed her and she ran ashore in flames. As soon as this was done another ironclad struck her in the side crushing it in so the water poured in in torrents. He then turned her prow to shore, working his guns until the trucks were under water. As soon as her prow struck the bank he ordered a chain cable ashore and wound it around a tree, keeping her bow above the water and the crew all escaped. Captain Bailey said, ‘He saw Boggs bravely fighting the wounded thing until her guns were level with the water.’ That made five vessels he put hors de combat with his wooden tub. Down the river opposite the forts the fight was raging fiercely. The white smoke rolled and heaved in vast volumes along the shuddering waters, and one of the wildest scenes in the history of the war now commenced. The fleet with full steam on was soon abreast the forts, and its rapid broadsides mingling in with the deafening explosions on shore turned night into fiery day. Louder than redoubled thunders the heavy guns sent their deafening roar through the gloom, not in distinct explosions, but in one long wild, protracted crash, as though the ribs of nature were breaking in final convulsions. Amid this hell of terror, a fire raft, pushed steadily forward by the ram Manassas, loomed through the smoke like a phantom from the unseen world. As if steered by adverse fate it bore straight down on the Hartford. Farragut sheered off to avoid the collision, and in so doing ran aground where the fire ship came full against him. In a moment the hungry flames leaped up the rigging and darted along the smoking sides of the Hartford. It seemed all up with the gallant Farragut, but for that stern discipline which he always maintained his fate would have been sealed. There was no panic on board at this awful catastrophe, every man was in his place, and in a moment the hose was unwound and a stream of water turned on the flames. The powerful engines were reversed, and soon forced the vessel off into deep water, though all aflame. The firemen cool and collected, plied their hose, while the gunners still stood to their guns, and poured in their broadsides, and still the signal ‘close action’ flamed above the staggering ship. The fire was at length got under, and Farragut again moved at the head of his column. And now came down the rebel fleet of thirteen gunboats and two ironclad rams to mingle in the combat, Broadside to broadside, hull crashing against hull, it became a gladitorial combat of ships. Farragut found himself at last past all the forts with thirteen out of seventeen vessels of the fleet. The Varuna, Commodore Boggs, was sunk. The Itasca, Winona, and Kennebec, were disabled so they had to turn back and float down the river. Thirteen out of the seventeen enemy's gunboats he had brought down to assist the forts in demolishing our fleet were driven ashore or wrecked or captured.” — [From “Farragut and Our Naval Commanders.” by J. T. Headley.

Farragut now proceeded up the river with his fleet to New Orleans, on the way silencing a powerful battery at English Town. That city was now at his mercy. Lovell commanding the rebel troops there had taken himself away and left the affairs of the city in the hands of the mayor, Monroe. Farragut sent Captain Bailey and demanded the surrender of the city, and that the United States flag be hoisted on the City Hall, Mint and Custom House. Monroe sent a long winded reply containing this wonderful piece of bombast: “As to the hoisting of any flag other than the flag of our adoption and allegiance, let me say to you that the man lives not in our midst whose hand and heart would not be paralyzed at the thought of such an act.” And then wound up with an appeal to be very careful of the feelings of his gallant constituency, assuming an air of superiority and injured innocence I should style preeminently foolish. The reply of Admiral Farragut was so cool and to the point I cannot refrain from giving it here:

U. S. Flagship Hartford, Off City at New Orleans, April 26.

To His Honor the Mayor of New Orleans:

Your Honor will please give directions that no flag but that of the United States will be permitted to fly in the presence of this fleet so long as it has the power to prevent it; and as all display of that kind may be the cause of bloodshed, I have to request that you will give this communication as general a circulation as possible. I have the honor to be very respectfully,

Your obedient servant,

D. G. Farragut.

Refusing to confer further with the impudent mayor he sent Captain Morris to hoist the flag on the Mint. The latter sent a party on shore and “soon the old flag swung once more to the breeze in sight of the enraged population.” The officer in charge warned the spectators that if any one attempted to haul it down the building would be fired upon, and returned to the ship, leaving no guard to protect it, but directed the howitzers in the maintop of the Pensacola to be loaded with grape and trained upon it.

At eleven o'clock this morning the admiral ordered the church pennant to be hoisted on every vessel of the fleet, and that their crews assembled in humiliation and prayer, should make their acknowledgements to Almighty God for his goodness and mercy in permitting us to pass through the events of the last two days with so little loss of life and blood. The solemn service had progressed but a few minutes when the silence was broken by the discharge overhead of the howitzers by the lookout left in the maintop to watch the flag. It at once aroused every man from his devotions and all eyes turned towards the Mint. They saw four men on the roof of the building tearing down the flag. Instantly the gunners without waiting for orders sprang to the guns and pulled the lanyards. The next moment a whole broadside was expected to pour into the city, but not a gun went off. As it looked like rain the gunners had removed the wafers by which they were discharged, before the service commenced, so that only the click of the locks was heard. But for this a fearful destruction would have ensued. It is not altogether clear that this was not a providential circumstance, for after the warning Farragut had given him, it was clearly the duty of Monroe if he was going to pull down the flag, to warn the people in time to get out of the way. But still there was ground for fault finding. As it was the commander of a French war vessel in the harbor growled, and said Farragut’s note was virtually a threat for immediate bombardment. Neither England or France were very friendly to the United States at that time. Both were jealous of our growing power, and the Monroe doctrine was distasteful to every monarchy in Europe, and especially so to France; for she had already set up a kingdom in Mexico and placed a scion of the house of Hapsburg on the throne, and the stability of his government rested entirely on the success of the Confederate arms. So it is not surprising that they would like to see this fair fabric of ours crumble and fall into harmless fragments. Hence it was good policy that no act of vandalism could be construed in such a way that it would place blame at our doors. Farragut was disgusted with the wordy jangle and turned it over to Butler and went on up the river. We shall hear more of the flag incident anon.

On May the 6th, the 1st Louisiana was again on board the City of New York bound for New Orleans. We passed the Chandaleur group of islands. Next day ran in among rocks and had to drop anchor. In the afternoon a breeze sprang up and the ship was again on her course, entering the southwest pass on the 8th an ironclad nondescript lay partly submerged at the bar. The pilot boat Matansas came down from the lighthouse and took us in tow, and on the 10th of May we anchored off Fort Jackson. The fort bore marks of a terrible pounding. At this point we took in a supply of coal and started up stream. Next day took Yankee Blade in tow. Passed many beautiful and costly buildings, made possible by human slavery. John Smith, from Woodstock, fell overboard. A boat was lowered and he was picked up. On May 12, 1862, tied up to the wharf in New Orleans. Next day disembarked and was quartered in a cotton press. Unloaded ship stores, and on the 15th moved into the Custom House. In passing through the aristocratic St. Charles street but few people were seen and these did not seem at all glad to see us, although the regiment was in its best attire: shoulder scales, arms and equipments burnished for the occasion. But nobody vouchsafed us a smile, except when we passed the Clay monument the iron features of that old veteran statesman seemed to smile on us as if well pleased with the gentle visit. It seemed refreshing.

The 13th Conn. Vols. remained here doing guard duty at the Custom House and General Butler's headquarters in the St. Charles Hotel until July 4, 1862. The duties were quite arduous as we had to go on guard about every other day. It was the duty of the sergeant of the guard to examine passes. As the post office and General Butler's court were in this building, a continual stream of citizens was going in and coming out all day. Each relief was on two hours and off four. It was somewhat galling to some of the citizens to be obliged to go between a cordon of hated Yankee soldiers with a pass to get to the post office. This was particularly distasteful to the ladies, but there did not seem to be any other way. General Butler came down every morning with a pair of big bay horses and a barouche, and the guard must fall in before the entrance, open ranks, and present arms as he passed in.

Quite a number of events worth relating happened while we were on duty there. Somehow Butler found out who tore down the flag Admiral Farragut had raised over the United States mint the day the city was captured, and he had him arrested and put under guard in the Custom House. He was tried and sentenced to be hung at the Mint directly under the place where he tore down the flag. I visited him two or three times in his place of confinement and conversed with him. He was a man of diminutive size, dark hair and whiskers, wearing the latter quite long. He was a shoemaker by trade, I should say of French origin, but spoke quite good English. From what I could learn there were others more to blame than he. They simply made a catspaw of him and they kept out of harm's way. His name was William B. Mumford. The story I learned was that after the citizens got the flag they formed a procession and dragged it through the streets in the mud for awhile, and then divided it up as trophies. But if Farragut's guns had gone off when the lanyards were pulled there would have been no hoodlums to drag the flag, or Mumford to hang. At sunrise on the morning of June 7th, Mumford was led out between two lines of soldiers, placed in a common army wagon and seated on his coffin, a plain, unpainted pine box, guarded in front and rear and or. either side. The cavalcade started towards the Mint led by the band playing the Dead March. I was on duty that day as sergeant of the guard and so could not go, but from the top of the Custom House I saw them start off. His wife and two young daughters stood in the street below, and to see their grief was enough to wring tears from a stone. A beam was run out of a window directly under where the flag hung, and William B. Mumford paid the penalty of his crime with hanging by the neck thereon until he was dead.

SOURCE: George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 12-24

An Incident Of The Battle Of The Forts

Captain Boggs, of the Varuna, tells a story of a brave boy who was on board his vessel during the bombardment of the forts on the Mississippi river.  The lad, who answers to the name of Oscar, is thirteen years of age, but he has an old head on his shoulders, and is alert and energetic.  During the hottest of the fire he was busily engaged in passing ammunition to the gunners, and narrowly escaped death when one of the terrific broadsides of the Veruna’s rebel antagonist was poured in.  Covered with dirt and begrimed with Powder, he was met by Captain Boggs, who asked “Where he was going in such a hurry?”  “To get a passing box, sir; the other was smashed by a ball!”  And so throughout the fight, the brave lad held his place and did is duty.

When the Varuna went down Captain Boggs missed his boy, and thought he was among the victims of the battle.  But a few minutes afterwards he saw the lad gallantly swimming towards the wreck.  Clambering on board of Captain Boggs’ boat, he threw his hand up to his forehead giving the usual salute, and uttering only the words, “All right, sir!  I report myself on board,” passed coolly to his station.  So young a lad, so brave and cool in danger, will make himself known as years go over his head.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, May 31, 1862, p. 2

Exit the Merrimac

Our skeleton in the closet has crumbled into dust, and nervous people inhabiting seacoast cities can sleep o’ nights hereafter without fear of being awakened by the thunder of the Merrimac’s guns at their very doors.  This vessel – the one navel success of the South, that accomplished the rare feat of compelling an American frigate to strike her colors to an enemy, and whose advent into Hampton Roads marks an era in conflicts at sea – was scuttled and sunk by the rebels to prevent her falling into the hands of our naval forces.  Her loss is more damaging to the rebellion than if an army of 50,000 men had been killed or captured.  Better to have lost Savannah, Charleston, Memphis or Richmond, than have destroyed this naval monster without a fight.  Had she gone down, as did the Cumberland or the Varuna, firing until the water closed over her, all the world would have wondered, and Southern valor, as well as Southern skill, would have claimed a proud page in the history of battles; but the pitiful panic which must have possessed the councils in which her destruction was determined upon will bring contempt upon the Confederate cause, even in those foreign circles whose interest or whose humor it has been to sustain and countenance the great rebellion.

It is to be regretted, for many reasons, that this vessel did not venture on another conflict with our fleet in Hampton Roads.  Her first exploit proved the folly of building any more wooden frigates.  The contest with the Monitor on the second day was of great scientific interest, as showing the relative value of heavy ordnance and thick iron plating in an actual sea fight.  The third fight, if a chance had been given, would have demonstrated the value of a swift steam ram against an iron clad vessel.  The Vanderbilt, the Arago, and the Baltimore, as is now well known, were in readiness to make the attempt, at least had she ventured into deep water or got out of the range of the guns at Sewall’s Point.  But this experiment is now postponed until another war takes place, for the rebels have no vessel left that a few guns would not sink with ease.

It is more than probable, although it has been denied by the rebel press, that the Merrimac was seriously injured in her contest with the Monitor, so much so as to disable her for another fight.  The report that she leaked continuously is no doubt true.

The destruction of the Merrimac is of the utmost consequence to us in the progress of the war.  After the occupation of Richmond the Galena, the Monitor, the Naugatuck and a large fleet of wooden vessels can pay their respects to Fort Sumter and reduce it promptly.  Gen. Hunter is already drawing his lines about the city of Charleston, but his work will be greatly expedited by the cooperation of these invulnerable vessels.  Iron-clad batteries, as against forts, were first tried by the rebels upon Sumter, but they took months to erect them, and finally opened fire upon a half-starved garrison of seventy men, let us show that the same work can be done against greater odds, and with much less fuss and waste of powder. – {N. Y. World.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, May 17, 1862, p. 3

Incidents of the Naval Fight on the Mississippi

The following incidents of the fight, from the correspondence of the Boston Journal, are very interesting:

CUTTING THE CHAIN ACROSS THE RIVER.

On Sunday night the gunboats Pinola and Itasca went up, under command of Flagg Captain Bell, to cut the chain.  The Pinola ran in the west bank, and after striking a sunken ship she succeeded in reaching one of the hulks, to which Mr. Kroehl, the experimenter, attached a heavy petard.  The wire connecting it to the battery on board the steamer was coiled up on de[ck] but the current ran so strong and the Pinola drifted so rapidly, that the wire was broken and the attempt failed.  In the meantime, the Itasca ran up to one of the hulks on the east side of the river, when Acting Masters Edward Jones and Amos Johnson, with eight men, boarded the schooner, and in half an hour succeeded in unshackling the chain from its moorings and dropping it down.

The following letter from Capt. Caldwell, of the gunboat Itasca, gives an account of the affair:

* * * The operator on board the Pinola did not succeed in blowing up the chain, as the connecting wire broke and the vessel could not be blown up as the current pressed the Pinola upon her with such force that it took half an hour to clear her.  The Itasca took the next schooner, and in half an hour stripped the chain, but unfortunately before she could get well clear, the current cast her over on to the east shore, grounding the schooner lashed to her and running the Itasca’s fore foot into the mud, where she remained nearly two hours exposed to the fire of both forts.  The Pinola parted two 5-inch hawsers in trying to pull her off, but at last started her with an 11-inch hawser.  After running this schooner on shore, the others swung most favorable, leaving a wide passage for the fleet.

On Wednesday night Capt. Caldwell, with Acting Master Jones, and eleven of the Itasca’s men, pulled up to the schooners after dark, to make a final reconnaissance of the schooners.  They pulled up and sounded round the schooners on the west bank, and then crossed over and did the same with the schooners on the east bank.  They found the channel more than sufficiently wide and entirely unobstructed.  The rebels had lighted a fire on the east bank exposing everything attempting to pass up, but the boat, with muffled oars, passed safely up, and made all their observations unobserved, although they could hear the orders given at the fort, and hear the men calling and talking very loudly about some business they were carrying on outside the fort.  The boat then returned and made the joyful signal, “all right” – the Itasca’s night number, two white and one red lanterns.  Soon after the flag ship hoisted another preconcerted signal, two red lanterns.  This was to get under weigh, prepare for battle and pass up the river.  Within two hours the fleet performed one of the most wonderful and brilliant feats that ever honored any navy, and made the glorious passage of the river.

CHAIN-CLAD SLOOPS OF WAR.

The most conspicuous feature in the outward appearance of the fleet was the iron-linked mail of the sloops of war Richmond, Brooklyn, and Pensacola, each of which had their engines and boilers protected by chain cables, hung in bites on the outside and triced to eyebolts and rods running fore and aft.  The chains were dropped from the height of the gun-deck to below the water-line, and connected together by strong cordage.  This was equivalent to four inch plates, provided it withstood the effects of glancing or oblique shots.  The only danger apprehended from the chains on the steamers was from raking shots tearing them off, in which case it was feared they would become entangled with the propellers.  To guard against this, some of the ships unshackled the chain in short lengths, so that it might reach astern.  The machinery of the Iroquois was protected in the same way, the credit of originating which plan is due to Assistant Engineer Hoyt of the Richmond, upon which ship it was first adopted, the other vessels following her example.

Among the most efficient of the internal arrangements for the protection of the boilers, the destruction of which by a shot or shell was the most to be dreaded, although this was not the only dangerous part of the ships, was that adopted on board the sloop of war Mississippi, the machinery of which, being more above the water line, was consequently more exposed to the fire of the enemy.  The preparations of the ship for the action involved an immense amount of labor, which engaged her officers and crew for weeks before the attack.  Under the direction of Chief Engineer Lawton, Mr. Bartleman, the First Assistant, worked night and day with a strong force, and constructed a temporary roof in the coal bunkers just below the water line, about which the heavy chain cables of the ship were packed in layers, running fore and aft. – The ends of the shaft of the Mississippi were protected by four bales of bagging on the outside of each wheel.  The bows of several of the ships, including the Richmond and Harford, were protected by sand bags piled up beneath the forecastle, and intended to be removed aft to break the force of raking shot after the ships should have passed the forts.  I alluded in a former letter to the log packing of the boilers of the gunboat Owasco.  The bulkheads of other gunboats were strengthened in like manner, and also by sand bags, and the coal bunkers of all being kept full, supplied the wants of extra barriers to shot and shell.  From the moment the sloop of war Portsmouth arrived in the river, her officers and crew engaged in putting the ship into fighting trim.  She wore a mail constructed of her sheet chains, for the protection of her bow against a raking fire, and spread a complete spar netting of strong ropes to prevent her lofty spars – cut away by cannon balls – from falling on deck.

SKILLFUL PREPARATIONS.

The sloop of war Richmond, taken altogether, was by far the best fitted ship in the squadron.  Her hull, standing rigging, and in fact every part of the vessel which could afford the least mark for the rebel artillerists, received a coating of mud paint; she wore splinter nettings running fore and after over her decks.  In addition to the iron mail, which she wore externally, her machinery was protected by sand bags, packed against her bulkheads.

The gunboats Katahdin, Lieutenant Commanding Preble, and the Harriet Lane wore their boarding nettings, and other gunboats and ships were provided wiht the same barriers against the enemy.  Many of the ships carried kedge anchors on their yard arms, and grappling hooks on their jib booms, with which to fasten the gunboats and fire rafts of the enemy.

CAPT. BOGGS’ ACCOUNT OF THE VERONA’S [sic] ACTION.

The following is an extract from a letter of Captain Boggs, of the Verona, addressed to his family in New Jersey.  It was of course, not intended for the public eye.  Sailor-like, the gallant captain identifies himself with his ship, and with as much directness and force as he fights:

MISSISSIPI RIVER,

U. S. Steamer Harriet Lane, April 23, 1862

As Captain Porter is about to dispatch a vessel for Havanna with communications for our government, I have only a few moments to say that, thanks to good Providence, I am safe, and without even a scratch.

Yesterday our great battle was fought.  The squadron passed the forts under as severe a fire as any fleet probably ever endured.  The ships were much cut up, and there were many killed and wounded.

I can only give a hasty narrative of what occurred on board the Verona, as in that you will take a special interest.

“We started at 2 o’clock, A. M., and received the first fire at 3.30, just as the moon was rising.  My vessel was terribly bruised, but we returned the fire with interest.  On passing the forts I found myself the leading ship, and surrounded by a squadron or rebel steamers, who annoyed me much by their fire; so that I steered as close to them as possible, giving to each a broadside in succession as I passed; driving one on shore, and leaving four others in flames.

“During this time the firing of guns, whistling of shot and bursting of shells was terrible; the smoke dense.  As this cleared off, finding more steamers ahead, I stopped to look for the rest of the squadron.  The ship was leaking badly; but thus far none were hurt.  Astern, I saw the Oneida engaged with a rebel steamer.  The latter shortly after came up the river, when I engaged him, but found my shot of no avail, as he was iron-clad about the bow.  He tried to run me down; and I to avoid him and reach his vulnerable parts.  During these movements he raked [me], killing three and wounding seven, and attempted to board; but we repulsed him.  Driving against me he battered me severely, but in these efforts exposed his vulnerable side, and I succeeded in planting a couple of broadsides into him, that crippled his engine and set him on fire.  He then dropped off, and as he moved slowly up the river and passed me I gave him another and parting broadside.

“I now found my ship on fire from his shells, and it was great difficulty that it was put out.  Just then another iron-clad steamer bore down and struck heavily on my port quarter, and backed off for a second blow.  This second blow crushed in my side; but at the same instant I gave him a full complement of shot and shell that drove him on shore and in flames.

“Finding myself in a sinking condition I ran my bow into the bank and landed my wounded, still keeping up a fire on my first opponent, who at last hauled down his flag.  My last gun was fired as the decks went under water.

“No time to save anything, the officers and crew escaping with the clothes they had on their backs.  We were taken off by boats from the squadron, who had now come up, the crews cheering as the Veruna went down with her flag flying; victorious in defeat, and covered with glory.

“I think we have done well.  Eleven steamers destroyed by the squadron.*  The old ram Manassas sunk by the Mississippi.

“This has been a gallant fight, no less than 170 guns playing on us.  The forts are cut off from succor, and must soon surrender.  The way to New Orleans is open, and the city is probably ours at this moment; for the fleet immediately passed up the river.

“The commodore, as a post of honor, dispatched me in my only remaining boat, with a picked crew from Veruna’s men, to carry dispatches to Gen. Butler.

Having been in the boat for twenty six hours after such a day’s previous work, you may imagine I am somewhat exhausted.  What my next position may be I do not know – perhaps to go home for another ship, or possibly to become naval aid to – Major General Butler.”

(Capt. Boggs is too modest to say that he destroyed six out of the eleven. – ED.)

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, May 17, 1862, p. 2