Never were guns fired more rapidly; and the roar was tremendous, shaking all earth beneath, and enveloping the scene in dense volumes of smoke, above which, as it occasionally rolled away, might be seen the admiral, lashed to the main rigging of the Hartford. A glimpse at him never failed to call forth the most unbounded enthusiasm, among officers and seamen. With comparatively little injury the fleet passed the fort, and standing to the north-west to clear the Middle Ground, was out of the reach of its guns. Terrible stories of the torpedoes had been told by deserters and refugees, but the admiral's hopes had been realized; they had been so long in the water that they had become "innocuous." But a new and greater danger menaced the fleet. The rebel iron-clad Tennessee started out from under the guns of Fort Morgan. She was a formidable adversary; and though the monitors were depended upon to "neutralize" or destroy her, they moved so slowly and steered so badly, that the brunt of the battle was borne by the wooden ships. "Run her down," was the order from the admiral, which the signal officer interpreted on the quarter deck of the Chatauqua. [Illustration: The Battle of Mobile Bay.] Captain Cascabel instantly ordered full head of steam to be put on, and the ship, gathering headway, dashed down upon the Tennessee, striking her at right angles, near the after part of the casemate. The shock of the concussion was terrible. The men were thrown from their feet, and the ship groaned in bitterness of spirit at the hard usage to which she was subjected. Her stem was crushed in to the plank ends, and the water began to pour into the forward store-rooms. Expecting such an event, the carpenter and his gang were at the threatened point, and prevented any disaster from the collision. The effect upon the iron-clad was hardly perceptible, giving her a heavy list, but apparently inflicting no damage upon her. The Chatauqua swung round as she struck. Captain Cascabel, who had leaped into the mizzen rigging, gave his orders, which were promptly executed by Mr. Hackleford. Solid shot and shell were poured into the ram with a fury which would have been fatal to a less strongly built craft. As it was, one of her port shutters was struck and shattered, the rest of the shot bounding off like peas from an oak floor. "Hah, you bloody villains of Yankees!" shouted the rebels, at their ports. "How are you, Johnny Reb?" replied a fore-top man, as he hurled a spittoon in at the port. Another old salt dashed in a holy-stone, and then the marines opened fire upon them with their muskets. "Ram her again!" shouted the admiral from the main rigging of the Hartford, as the flag-ship dashed at the game. The Chatauqua swept round, and succeeded in striking the Tennessee again, but with no better result than before. At the same time she poured in shot and shell from every available gun.