Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 51, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 January 1884 — RUNNING THE FORTS. [ARTICLE]

RUNNING THE FORTS.

Alex W. Pearson, of Vineland, N. J., writes a story of how Porter ran by Vicksburg. Mr. Pearson was paymaster on the steamer lied Bover, attached to the Mississippi squadron. He tells how the gauntlet was run in tiiis manner: Tho ironclads were anchored in the Mississippi, just below the mouth of the Yazoo, in the order of procession they were to take in passing the blockade. All seemed ready, and everybody was on the qui vive for the start. Past 10 o'clock that night we heard the deep tone of the boatswain’s mate, of the Louisville (he had a voice like a lion) calling; “All hands! Up anchor!” “There! They are off!” was the word, and wo hurried on deck to get a parting glimpse of our “forlorn hope." We breathlessly listened to the rattle of the chain cables as they came in, and oould distinguish the dark outlines of the iron-clads as they swung in the stream. Then there was a signal from the flagship, and again we heard the boatswain: “Let go anchor!” The cables rattled out again, and all was still. We drew a long breath. “They’re not going to-night!” “Something has happened!” Sd all hands turned in. Thus, upon successive nights, was the fleet practiced in the preliminaries of departure, pntil all became so used to the performance that the movement YLjjf as mechanical as auy other drill, ami spectators ceased to regard it with ©special interest. Meanwhile the three transports which were to go below were getting ready. It was decided to economize life by removing the crews, from these steamers, leaving only two pilots at the wheel and two engineers to handle the engines. The duty of guiding these large and defenseless steamers through the tempest ‘of fire they were .destined to traverse seemed extra hazardous. The post of the pilot particularly, perched up in the sky-parlor, was uncomfortably isolated and distinguished when 100pounder shot and shell were flying about regardless of consequences. The loneliness in itself was kind of “pokerish. ” Danger, like misery, loves company. To avoid the disagreeable responsibility of ordering chosen individuals to occupy these perilous positions, Admiral Porter called for volunteer pilots. Every pilot in the squadron volunteered! Even the two old Nestors who presided at the wheel of the Red Rover got me to write ab application requesting that they might be “permitted to have the pleasure” of taking one of the steam transports past Vicksburg. THE PILOTS OP THE MISSISSIPPI. Here was another difficulty. All were BO eager for the post of honor that it was a delicate matter to make selection, I cannot forbear digressing here to place on record my humble tribute of respect and admiration for the pilots of the Mississippi river. Taken as a class, their gallantry outvies comparison. Accustomed to grave responsibility in fiudden emergencies, bred to decide and act instantly, when upon such action may depend the safety of hundreds jponfiding in their care, in the face of imminent peril deliberate yet prompt, with a courage which has stood all tests, their seeming recklessness spr.ngs Biot from regardlessness, but from a heroic contempt of danger and in the performance of what 1 hey understood SO be legitimate duty. I verily believe 4h&t the pilot, if the Mississippi squadron would hive volunteered to take ihe tieet of steamers over Niagara falls. Those who were so fortunate as to be “permitted the pleasure” requested to «frapge their surroundings according to their judgment; that is, they didn’t want any surroundings. Reasoning philosophieally, that a cannon shot often does more harm by the splinters it Shatters than by itself, they had the mpot house, which shelters the wheel on the lofty decks of these Western * raceme rs, removed, leaving the wheel Sid themißelves exposed. This settled l the' splinter business, except such as gßtight come from a shot striking the Bpokes of the wheel. One of the pilots ttS&Baarked to me when inspecting his post of duty and honor, “They’ll have to take oenter shots to ‘raise’ the hair US now!” Still, there was an unusAl nakedness about the elevation calAMated to make one feel as I once felt when topping out a tall hay tack in the Bg|font rtf ft vindictive thunder-storm. I ijgjjy “bead oenter” just then, and HHHillk

A CONSIDERATE ADMIRAL. When Admiral Porter was ready to start on his excursion past Vicksburg we learned it 6n the hospital ship. Porter always had a fatherly care for and interest in the comfort and satisfaction of those of his comrades who had suffered by the fortune of war. He knew that the poor wounded and helpless heroes languishing in the wards of the Red Rover felt a keen sympathy with him and with those he would like with him in this desperate undertaking, and he knew that all eagerly wished to see what might be seen of a spectacle which promised to be one of tremendous import and excitement. One day he intimated to Dr. Pickney that he might take tho Rover down to the bend above Vickburg toward evening (just for an airing) and anchor there for the night. We knew what that meant. And all the weary sufferers on board soon knew it, too. It was better than a dose of quinine. There is no tonic like going into action, or seeing yonr friend go in. At sunset we weighed anchor and stood down the river and took “orchestra seats” as spectators and auditors of a drama which would be lit by the lurid blaze of artillery and accompanied by the music of its thunder. It was a clear and splendid evening, but as the shades of night closed in the sky, though starlit, became hazy, and a gloom settled over the river, which rendered almost undistinguishable the outlines of its shores. As the darkness th.ckened I heard the remark often repeated among our invalid boarders; “It is just the night for it.” It was touching to see wounded veterans who that morning would have thought it impossible to leave their cots, straining their crippled sinews to clamber up to the hurricane deck, where they might have the best view of the scene to be enacted. There was little conversation on board that evening. Anticipation was too busy for words. We were oppressed with that sense of expectanoy of something undefined and fearful which engrosses the attention and renders language mute. The time seemed interminable. We thought the devoted squadron would never appear. We strained our sight to pierce the thickening shadows, and held our breath to listen for the pantings of the steam. At last we tired of watching and waiting. Midnight was at hand and we began to fancy that something had caused a postponement of the movement. A SPECTRAL PROCESSION. Just then some one in the pilot house exclaimed, in a stage whisper, but which was heard by all, so intently silent wore we: “Thore they cbmo!” We gazed up the channel and saw the dark town of the Benton evolve itself out of the invisible. Like Banquo’s line! of the others followed. There was no gleam of light, no wreath of vapor, no pulse of the paddle wheels, and no respiration of the steam. The long column swept by us in majestic but horrible silence. There was a weird ghostliness about this death-like apparition more impressive and appalling than if it had shone with the flashes and shivered with the roar of the grim monsters we knew were frowning from those dusky portholes. I have witnessed wild and thrilling scenes,,but all fade beside the memory of the awe-inspiring passage of that spectral procession. The transports oame last, and defined against the glimmer of the sky we could distinguish the outlines of our friends the pilots, statue-like, at t ither side of the naked wheels. Not a man aboard ship but envied them the rapture of the fierce experience before them. As the shadowy sqnadro \ appeared so it vanished. It glided out of the night and departed into it again. It left us breathless, awe-struck. We rubbed our eyes and w ondered if the vision had been real. Then there was another interval of excruciating suspense. We waited anxiously. The last scene was about to open. THE THUNDEROUS ERUPTION. At length we saw a single flash. Then anothef and another and another, then a whole sheet of flame, followed by the deep crashing thunder of the “dread artillery." The sky lit with the light of a conflagration. The §nemy, provident for this event, had' filled vacant buildings with oombustibles, and now fired them to illuminate the river and give their cannoneers a better chance for aim. But the night was still, and the dense smoke of the burning structures and of the busy batteries hunglike a lurid sheet over the surface of the stream. Everything was enveloped in a vapory veil, through which could only be descried the quick eruptions cf the volcano of guns as they hurled their iron tempest at the passing squadron. So bewildering was the storm that the pilot of the Tuscnmbia lo this bearings, and finally turned his ship completely around, heading up the stream! While in this position, but without yet suspecting it, her commander, who was on deck, told me that he looked up rind; saw close above him the upper works of one of the steam transports as she swept by. The pilots, standing at the naked wheel, loomed out like gigantic specters! He hailed them to know how they were getting on. “All right, by G—d!” they shouted back, ancl on.they went. The passing of Yioksburg took not many minu ;es, but thef were capacious, and had a good deal crowded into them. We lost, ohe of “the transpoi ts (the Henry Clay) and had another so disabled that She had to be towed out of range, i Otherwise the damage was less serious than had been expected. Most of thle enemy’s shot were thrown away. Acburacv in shooting on the wing with 100-pounders when all hands are in a Inirry is not easy. Boon the glare of tl|e conflagrations failed again into darkness; the last echoes of artillery thunders rolled away over the Warrenton hills; the quiet of a summer midnight descended once more upon the troubled bosom of the river, and we knesr that the gauntlet Of Yicksburg defenses had been run.— Philadelphia Times. | . !.S ■ Old putty can he removed without injury to tile sash or glass by passing a hot soldering iron over it. The heat of the iron sffltens it readily, and permits its removal with a knife or chisel without much trouble.