Farragut, from his lofty station, saw the Tecumseh disappear, and then
saw the Brooklyn, the ship ahead of him in the battle line, stop and
begin to back. It was an awful moment--the crisis of the fight and of
Farragut's career as well. The ships were halted in a narrow channel,
right beneath the forts; a few moments' delay meant that they would be
blown out of the water.
"What's the matter there?" he roared.
"Torpedoes!" came the cry from the Brooklyn's deck, for her captain had
perceived a line of little buoys stretching right across her path.
"Damn the torpedoes!" shouted the admiral. "Go ahead, Captain Drayton,"
he continued, addressing his own captain. "Four bells!" and the
Hartford, swinging aside, cleared the Brooklyn and took the lead.
On went the flagship across the line of torpedoes, which could be heard
knocking against her bottom as she passed, but not one of them exploded,
and a moment later, one of the most daring feats in naval history had
been accomplished. Farragut had seen, instantly, that the risk must be
taken, and so he took it.
The remainder of the fleet followed the flagship, the forts were passed,
and the battle virtually won. The Confederate fleet, and especially the
great ram, was still to be reckoned with, but before proceeding to that
portion of the task, Farragut steamed up the harbor and served breakfast
to his men.
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