Steaming Through A Hornet’s Nest: The Mound City at Vicksburg

Working in the darkened engine room of the gunboat U.S.S. Mound City, Engineer John M. Hartnett recalled the experience as his gunboat ran the batteries at Vicksburg on the night of April 16-17, 1863.

“For about 30 minutes there was a constant stream of shot whizzing and shells screeching over and around us, mostly over,” he noted. “No person that has never been under fire of batteries can have any idea of the charming sensation produced by these shells. My position, of course, was in the engine room as it was of all the other engineers so that in case should be killed or disabled, another could take his place. We were obliged to handle the engine in the dark as no lights were allowed on the ship, which made it very disagreeable for us as we could not see anything that was going on outside but could hear distinctly the shots as they passed and those that struck us.”

          Engineer Hartnett’s account of running the batteries at Vicksburg first saw publication in the May 9, 1863, edition of the Waukegan Weekly Gazette.

 

The U.S.S. Mound City was built in 1861 by James Eads and featured 2-12" armor over most of the vessel except the stern. Displacing 512 tons, the gunboat featured 13 guns and was manned by a crew of 251 officers and men. Engineer Hartnett's tale of how the vessel was nearly sunk during the Red River campaign the following spring will be featured in a future blog post. 

U.S. Gunboat Mound City

30 miles below Vicksburg, Mississippi

April 20, 1863

          Believing that you have no correspondent in the fleet of Admiral [David Dixon] Porter and supposing that any good news would be welcome. I will endeavor to give you an idea of how we ran the blockade, or rather how we fought and passed the renowned stronghold of Vicksburg.

          A day or two after we returned from our expedition up Deer Creek and Steele’s Bayou, while at anchor at the mouth of the Yazoo River, we received orders to place logs on the side of our boat where it was not protected by iron. We did so; then orders came for us to report to the admiral when ready. After putting about 50 bales of pressed hay on our stern and over our magazines we reported as ready on the 13th instant. From some cause, we were delayed until the night of the 16th when we left our rendezvous about 9:30 in the following order: the flagship Benton with the Admiral on board, then the Lafayette, General Sterling Price, Louisville, Mound City, Tuscumbia, Carondelet, and the Pittsburg, each boat having a barge of coal in tow. There were also three transports in the rear which kept well on the opposite side of the river from the batteries. They were protected about their boilers with cotton bales; their names were the Henry Clay, Forest Queen, and the Silver Wave. [please see “Running the Vicksburg Batteries in the Forest Queen"]

          We floated down, keeping as well as we could about 300 yards apart. The night was bright starlight; everything seemed deathly still as if taking a long breath for what was soon to come. All hands were at their various stations waiting for the word to fire. On we went, keeping close to the Vicksburg side. The first we heard was the roll of the drum; in a moment after crashed a volley of musketry, then the shot and shell began to pour in and about each boat as it passed by.

Soon after the volley of musketry we received, the Rebels made a very large fire on a raft which illuminated the river so they could distinguish every boat perfectly while it blinded us. All we had to shoot at was the flashes of their guns. I thought we got into a hornet’s nest in that fight at Arkansas Post where I was first introduced to the music of flying shot and shell, but that was nothing comparatively. Never were guns served more lively than the Rebels handled theirs.

The U.S.S. Mound City was fifth in the line of eight gunboats that steamed past the Vicksburg batteries on the night of April 16-17, 1863. 

          For about 30 minutes there was a constant stream of shot whizzing and shells screeching over and around us, mostly over. No person that has never been under fire of batteries can have any idea of the charming sensation produced by these shells. My position, of course, was in the engine room as it was of all the other engineers so that in case should be killed or disabled, another could take his place. We were obliged to handle the engine in the dark as no lights were allowed on the ship, which made it very disagreeable for us as we could not see anything that was going on outside but could hear distinctly the shots as they passed and those that struck us.

          We received a shot in a bale of hay, one which glanced on a log, one through our side just forward of our iron plating about 6 feet above the gun deck. This last shot in passing through the ship cut off an oak stanchion eight inches square, through a ventilator, out the opposite side, doubling over as if it were tin 2-1/2” iron, falling into the coal barge. Another shot struck the coal barge just above the water line. The shot that went through us wounded four men by splinters, all of whom will recover.

All the boats were struck more or less. The Lafayette received 10 shots through her; I have heard of only one man being killed. The Louisville at one time ran against the shore under the batteries. The Rebels ran down the bank with planks to board her; she swung around and gave them her broadside guns, loaded with grape and canister, and mowed them down right and left. The Tuscumbia also ran aground but got off all right. It seems that the great light blinded the pilots.

          We might have passed the batteries in half the time but that was not altogether the object; it was to fight and pass them contemptuously. So, I don’t want it said that we ran the blockade. The transport Henry Clay was burned; the Forest Queen had one of her steam pipes shot away and was towed to the other side of the river below Vicksburg and left to repair. The Silver Wave came down all right. After we had passed Vicksburg a few miles, we stopped to see if all the boats were safe before we passed the Warrenton batteries. All got in line again and steamed down to Warrenton, running close in shore, when they opened on us with all vengeance. We poured it into them hot and fast and they soon dried up. I think they were badly scared as they fired but a few shots.

          Our next fight will be at Grand Gulf 25 miles below. The intention is to pass the batteries and fight them upstream. They have some very heavy guns there- four from the Indianola are mounted there. The remains of the Indianola lie partly above water on the other side of the river from us. The Rebel story was that they raised her and had her in fighting trim; it is not so. I expect we will move down the river tomorrow. We have plenty of hot work ahead; there are four Rebel rams a little ways below us. The only way for us to get out now is to fight out. We are now between Vicksburg, Port Hudson, and Grand Gulf.

Source:

Engineer John M. Hartnett, U.S.S. Mound City, Waukegan Weekly Gazette (Illinois), May 9, 1863, pg. 2

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