the plan of marching his men overland as soon as the water subsided, and running the batteries meanwhile with gunboats and transports. These weeks of waiting tested his patience sorely.
The North, in its anxiety and peril, began again to grumble, and finally to cry out. The mutter of criticism swelled to a roar as February and March went by. The soldiers were said to be dying like sheep in the trenches or useless canals. The cost of keeping such an army idle
was constantly harped upon, and immense pressure was again brought to bear upon Lincoln to remove Grant from command. Disappointed tradesmen, jealous officers, "Copperheads," and non-combatants alike joined in the cry against him. McClernand wrote an impassioned letter to Governor Yates, asking him to join with the governors of Iowa and Indiana in demanding a competent commander. Many of Grant's friends deserted him, and added their voices to the clamor of criticism.
At last Lincoln himself became so doubtful of Grant's character and ability that he consented to allow the Secretary of War to send Charles A. Dana (who had been the managing editor of the New York "Tribune," and was a friend of the Secretary of War) to the front to report the condition of the army and study the whole situation, so that the War Department could determine whether Grant was a man to be trusted. General Lorenzo Thomas arrived at Commodore Porter's headquarters with an order relieving Grant of his command, if such an order should be found necessary. Porter told General Thomas that he would be tarred and feathered if news of the order got abroad. For various reasons, the order never saw the light. Halleck, however, stood manfully by Grant.
Grant betrayed his anxiety, but he did not express doubt or irritation. He knew he could do the work. He never boasted, never asked favors, and never answered charges. When he communicated with Lincoln or Stanton it was officially.
His plan was now mature. As soon as the roads emerged from the water he intended to run the batteries with gunboats and transports, marching his troops across the land meanwhile to a point below Vicksburg, and there, by means of the boats, transport a division across the river and storm Grand Gulf, the enemy's first outpost to the south. Thence, after co-operating with Banks in the capture of Port Hudson, it was his purpose to swing by a mighty half wheel to the rear of Vicksburg, cutting off supplies from Central Mississippi and capturing General Pemberton's army.
He had all to gain and little to lose in this bold plan, which he first mentioned to Porter and Sherman. Porter agreed, and was ready to move; so also was McClernand; but the audacity of the campaign alarmed the other officers. Sherman did not believe in it and protested decidedly.[1]
The running of the batteries took place on the 16th of April, and was one of the most dramatic and splendid actions of the war. The night was dark and perfectly still when brave Admiral Porter, on his flagship "Benton," dropped soundlessly into the current. Each boat was protected as well as possible by bales of cotton, and had no lights except small guiding lamps astern. They were ordered to follow each other at intervals of twenty minutes, Grant and his staff occupied a transport anchored in the middle of the river as far down as it was safe to go.
For a little time the silence of the beautiful night remained unbroken. The hush was painful in its foreboding intensity, Along the four miles of battery-planted heights there was no sound or light to indicate the wakefulness of the gunners, but they were awake! Suddenly a flame broke from one of the lower batteries—a watch-dog cannon had sounded the warning. Then a rocket arose in the air with a shriek. The alarum was taken up, and each grim monster had his word, and from end to end of the line of hills, successive rosy flashes broke and roar joined roar. Flames leaped forth, bonfires flared aloft to light the river and betray the enemy to the gunners. Then the Union gunboats awoke, and from their sullenly silent hulks answering lightning streamed upward, and the whole fleet became visible to the awed army and to the terrified city.
The sky above the city was red with the glare of flaming buildings on the hills and burning boats and bales of cotton on the river, and the thunder of guns was incessant. It seemed as though every transport would be sunk. But the tumult died out at last. The gunboats swept on out of reach. The flames on the land sank to smoldering coals, and the stillness and
- ↑ Admiral Porter relates that at a meeting of officers on board his flagship, the night before the running of the batteries was to be undertaken, all except himself and Grant argued against it. Grant listened to all they had to say; then replied: "I have considered your arguments, but continue in the same opinion. Be prepared to move to-morrow morning."
