fort was too much for them, and they turned and crawled back through
the woods to the fleet above Vicksburg. Pemberton scored one point for
successful strategy.

But, even while this expedition was working its way back to the
station of the vessels on the Mississippi, Porter was starting another
through a second chain of water-courses that he had discovered. This
time he was so sure of getting into the rear of Vicksburg, that he
took four of his big iron-clads, and two light mortar-boats built
especially for work in the woods. Gen. Sherman, with a strong
army-force, marched overland, keeping up with the gunboats. Admiral
Porter, in his Memoirs, gives a graphic picture of this expedition.
Back of Vicksburg the country is low, and intersected in every
direction by narrow, tortuous bayous, lined on either side by gloomy
morasses or majestic forests. Into these little-known water-courses
Porter boldly led his ponderous iron-clads; while Sherman, with a
detachment of troops, advanced along the shore, keeping as near the
flotilla as possible. Seldom have naval vessels been detailed upon so
strange a service. For days they steamed on under the spreading
branches of trees, that often spanned the bayous in a mighty arch
overhead, shutting out all sunlight. For a time this navigation of
placid, shady waterways was pleasant enough; but, as they penetrated
farther into the interior, the jackies sighed for the blue waters of
the ocean, or even for the turbid current of the Mississippi. The
heavy foliage that gave so grateful a shade also harbored all sorts of
animals; and coons, rats, mice, and wildcats, that had been driven to
the trees for shelter during the prevailing high water, peered down
upon the sailors, and often dropped sociably down upon the decks of
the vessels gliding beneath.

At some portions of the voyage the flotilla seemed to be steaming
through the primeval forest. The bayou was but a few feet wider than
the gunboats, and its banks were lined by gnarled and knotted old
veterans of the forest,--live oaks, sycamore, and tupelo gum trees
that had stood in majestic dignity on the banks of the dark and sullen
stream for centuries. Sometimes majestic vistas would open; broad
avenues carpeted with velvet turf, and walled in by the massive tree
trunks, extending from the banks of the stream far back into the
country. Again, the stately forests would be replaced by fields of
waving corn or rice, with the tops of a row of