of the rams run down past the
point of land which screened them from the batteries, vanishing from
sight in the distant cloud. They went to ascertain what the Rebels were
doing. There was a sudden waking up of heavy guns. The batteries were in
a blaze. The cloud was thick and heavy, and the rams returned, but the
Rebel cannon still thundered, throwing random shots into the river, two
or three at a time, firing as if the Confederacy had tons of ammunition
to spare.

The dust-cloud, with its fine, misty rain, rolled away. The sun shone
once more, and bridged the river with a gorgeous arch of green and gold,
which appeared a moment, and then faded away, as the sun went down
behind the western woods. While we stood admiring the scene, a Rebel
steamer came round the point to see what we were about. It was a black
craft, bearing the flag of the Confederacy at her bow. She turned
leisurely, stopped her wheels, and looked at us audaciously. The
gunboats opened fire. The Rebel steamer took her own time, unmindful of
the shot and shell falling and bursting all around her, then slowly
disappeared beyond the headland. It was a challenge for a fight. It was
not accepted, for Commodore Davis was not disposed to be cut up by the
shore-batteries.

The next day there were lively times at the fort. A cannonade was kept
up on Commodore Davis's fleet, which was vigorously answered. We little
thought that this was to blind us to what was going on. At sunset the
Rebels set fire to their barracks. There were great pillars of flame and
smoke in and around the fort. The southern sky was all aglow.
Occasionally there were flashes and explosions, sudden puffs of smoke,
spreading out like flakes of cotton or fleeces of white and crimson
wool. It was a gorgeous sight.

In the morning we found that the Rebels had gone, spiking their cannon
and burning their supplies. That which had cost them months of hard
labor was abandoned, and the river was open to Memphis.

On the 5th of June, Commodore Davis's fleet left Fort Pillow for
Memphis. I was sitting at dinner with the Commodore and Captain Phelps,
on board the Benton, when an orderly thrust his head into the cabin, and
said, "Sir, there is a fine large steamer ahead of us."

We are on deck in an instant. The boatswain is piping all hands to
quarters. There is great commotion.

"Out with that gun! Quick!" shouted Lieutenant Bishop. The brave tars
seize the ropes, the trucks creak, and the grea