Brave Old Salt; or, Life on the Quarter Deck: A Story of the Great RebellionOptic, Oliver
History
Brave Old Salt; or, Life on the Quarter Deck: A Story of the Great Rebellion
Optic, Oliver
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
At half past five in the morning the Chatauqua, with the Androscoggin
lashed to her port side, took her position in the line of battle. The
Brooklyn was to lead the van, with the "Old Hartford," the flag-ship,
next in the line, though the doughty old admiral had but tardily acceded
to the request of his officers in taking this place. The position of the
Chatauqua was in the centre of the line of battle.
At the signal from the admiral, the fleet moved on. Every officer was
full of zeal and enthusiasm, though it was certain that some of them
would never behold the light of another day; that more or less of the
gallant vessels must soon be overwhelmed by the hidden engines of
destruction which had been planted in the channel. Somers regarded it as
the great day of his existence. He had read his Testament and said his
prayers that morning as though it were the last day he had to live, for
the most fearful and deadly strife of the whole war was anticipated. A
man is never so fully prepared to live well and do his duty faithfully
as when he is ready to die.
While the young officer thought even more tenderly than usual of the
loved ones in his far-off home, and of that other loved one who was
never forgotten when home was remembered, he felt that his country was
theirs, and that every blow struck for the nation was struck for them.
To die for his country was to die for them--for his own home; and he
asked no higher duty than to sacrifice his life, if such was the will of
God. "Thy will be done," he repeated many times, though life was full of
hopes and joys to him.
The fleet moved on, and the roar of the great guns in the monitors soon
announced that the action had commenced. The chase guns of the Chatauqua
opened first, and the ship trembled beneath the concussion.
"The Tecumseh has gone down," passed from mouth to mouth, as a
tremendous explosion saluted the ears of the seamen.
The monitor had struck upon a torpedo, and in a moment had disappeared
beneath the tide, carrying down with her nearly all her gallant crew.
But this incident, appalling as it was even to the battle-scarred
veterans on the decks of the fleet, was hardly heeded in the terrible
determination of purpose which animated every heart. The Brooklyn paused
to dodge some supposed torpedo buoys, and "Brave Old Salt" dashed ahead
in the Hartford to his proper place in the van of the battle.
The ships in pairs came up abreast of the fort; and according to the
orders of the admiral, the broadside and other guns opened upon the
works, not with solid shot, in futile attempts to batter down their
dense walls, but with grape, which drove the gunners of the fort from
their stations.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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