est vapors the men worked, and more than a thousand
were sent to the hospital with chills and fever, and rheumatism. The
most venomous snakes lurked in the dark recesses of the swamp; on
cypress-stumps or floating logs the deadly water-moccason lay
stretched out, ready to bite without warning. Wherever there was a bit
of dry ground, the workers were sure to hear the rattle of the
rattlesnake. Sometimes whole nests of these reptiles would be
uncovered.

The work was continued day and night. When the failing daylight ceased
to make its way through the thickly intwined branches of trees and
climbing vines, great torches would be lighted, and by their fitful
glare the soldiers and sailors worked on in the water and mud. The
light glared from the furnaces of the steamers, lighting up the
half-naked forms of the stokers. Now and then some dry vine or tree
would catch a spark from a torch, and in an instant would be
transformed into a pillar of fire. After eight days of work the canal
was finished, and was found to be of sufficient depth for the passage
of the transports. And now Commodore Foote saw that the time had come
when he must attempt to run his gunboats past the forts, be the danger
what it might.

On April 1, Foote ordered a reconnoissance of the batteries, and this
order evoked one of the most daring deeds in the history of the war.
The night was pitchy dark, and heavy clouds were driven across the sky
by a strong, damp wind, that told of a coming storm. In five boats a
party of fifty sailors and fifty soldiers put off from the fleet,
prepared to go down and beard the Confederate lion in his den. Hardly
had they started on their perilous expedition, when the rain began
falling in sheets, and now and again flashes of lightning made the
dark shores visible for an instant, then the black night hid every
thing again from view. It was midnight, and the fierceness of the wind
added to the terror of the moment. On the banks, the great
forest-trees were bending and groaning before the blast, while the
broad surface of the river was lashed into foaming billows. Under
cover of the darkness the little band passed rapidly down the river;
past the shore-batteries and past the Confederate picket-boats, they
sped unseen. When they were within a few feet of the shore, a flash of
lightning revealed them for just an instant to the sentries. Then all
was black, save for the quick flashes of the sentries' guns as they
gave the alarm