making sternway to
the Hartford, so as to stop her also. It was the crisis of the fight
and the crisis of Farragut's career. The column was halted in a narrow
channel, right under the fire of the forts. A few moments' delay and
confusion, and the golden chance would have been past, and the only
question remaining would have been as to the magnitude of the disaster.
Ahead lay terrible danger, but ahead lay also triumph. It might be that
the first ship to go through would be sacrificed to the torpedoes; it
might be that others would be sacrificed; but go through the fleet must.
Farragut signaled to the Brooklyn to go ahead, but she still hesitated.
Immediately, the admiral himself resolved to take the lead. Backing hard
he got clear of the Brooklyn, twisted his ship's prow short round, and
then, going ahead fast, he dashed close under the Brooklyn's stern,
straight at the line of buoys in the channel. As he thus went by the
Brooklyn, a warning cry came from her that there were torpedoes ahead.
"Damn the torpedoes!" shouted the admiral; "go ahead, full speed;" and
the Hartford and her consort steamed forward. As they passed between the
buoys, the cases of the torpedoes were heard knocking against the
bottom of the ship; but for some reason they failed to explode, and the
Hartford went safely through the gates of Mobile Bay, passing the forts.
Farragut's last and hardest battle was virtually won. After a delay
which allowed the flagship to lead nearly a mile, the Brooklyn got her
head round, and came in, closely followed by all the other ships. The
Tennessee strove to interfere with the wooden craft as they went in, but
they passed, exchanging shots, and one of them striving to ram her, but
inflicting only a glancing blow. The ship on the fighting side of the
rear couple had been completely disabled by a shot through her boiler.

As Farragut got into the bay he gave orders to slip the gunboats, which
were lashed to each of the Union ships of war, against the Confederate
gunboats, one of which he had already disabled by his fire, so that she
was run ashore and burnt. Jouett, the captain of the Metacomet, had
been eagerly waiting this order, and had his men already standing at the
hawsers, hatchet in hand. When the signal for the gunboats to chase
was hoisted, the order to Jouett was given by word of mouth, and as his
hearty "Aye, aye, sir," came in answer, the hatchets fell, the hawsers
parted, and the Metacomet leaped forwa