for starting. The
storm was at its height, and the roll of the thunder would drown the
beat of the steamer's paddles. The word was given; and the
"Carondelet," with her two protecting barges, passed out of sight of
the flotilla, and down towards the cannon of the enemy. For the first
half-mile all went well. The vessel sped along silently and unseen.
The men on the gun-deck, unable to see about, sat breathlessly,
expecting that at any moment a cannon-ball might come crashing through
the side into their midst. Suddenly from the towering smoke-stacks,
burst out sheets of flame five feet high, caused by the burning soot
inside, and lighting up the river all about. Quickly extinguished,
they quickly broke out again; and now from the camp of the alarmed
enemy came the roll of the drum, and the ringing notes of the bugle
sounding the alarm. A gunboat was bearing down on the works, and the
Confederates sprang to their guns with a will. The men on the
"Carondelet" knew what to expect, and soon it came. Five signal
rockets rushed up into the sky, and in an instant thereafter came the
roar of a great gun from one of the batteries. Then all joined in, and
the din became terrible. With volley after volley the Confederates
hurled cannon-balls, shells, musket, and even pistol-bullets at the
flying ship, that could only be seen an instant at a time by the
fitful flashes of the lightning. On the "Carondelet" all was still as
death. The men knew the deadly peril they were in, and realized how
impossible it was for them to make any fight. In the black night,
threading the crooked and ever-changing channel of the Mississippi
River, it was impossible to go more than half-speed. In the bow men
were stationed casting the lead, and calling out the soundings to the
brave old Capt. Hoel, who stood on the upper deck unprotected from the
storm of bullets, and repeated the soundings to Capt. Walker. So
through the darkness, through the storm of shot and shell, the
"Carondelet" kept on her way. Past the land-batteries, past the rows
of cannon on the island, and past the formidable floating battery, she
swept uninjured. Heavy and continuous as was the fire of the
Confederates, it was mainly without aim. The hay-barge was hit three
times, but not a scar was on the gunboat when she stopped before the
water-front of New Madrid after twenty minutes' run through that
dreadful fire.

And now the roar of the great guns had died away, and the men on the
v