Farragut now made up his mind to pass the forts at all hazards. It was a dangerous and heroic step. If he won, New Orleans must fall; if he failed--but he must not fail. Two gunboats were sent to cut the chain across the river. All night long the commander watched with intense anxiety the return of the boats, which under a galling fire had succeeded in breaking the chain, and thus making a passage for the fleet. At half past three o'clock on the morning of April 24, the fleet was ready to start. The _Cayuga_ led off the first division of eight vessels. Both forts opened fire. In ten minutes she had passed beyond St. Philip only to be surrounded by eleven Confederate gunboats. The _Varuna_ came to her relief, but was rammed by two Southern boats, and sunk in fifteen minutes. The _Mississippi_ encountered the enemy's ram, _Manassas_, riddled her with shot, and set her on fire, so that she drifted below the forts and blew up. Then the centre division, led by the _Hartford_, passed into the terrific fire. First she grounded in avoiding a fire-raft; then a Confederate ram pushed a raft against her, setting her on fire; but Farragut gave his orders as calmly as though not in the utmost peril. The flames were extinguished, and she steamed on, doing terrible execution with her shells. Then came the last division, led by the _Sciota_, and Commander Porter's gunboats. In the darkness, lighted only by the flashes of over two hundred guns, the fleet had cut its way to victory, losing one hundred and eighty-four in killed and wounded. "In a twinkling the flames had risen Half-way to maintop and mizzen, Darting up the shrouds like snakes! Ah, how we clanked at the brakes! And the deep steam-pumps throbbed under Sending a ceaseless glow. Our top-men--a dauntless crowd-- Swarmed in rigging and shroud; There ('twas a wonder!) The burning ratlins and strands They quenched with their bare hard hands. But the great guns below Never silenced their thunder. "At last, by backing and sounding, When we were clear of grounding, And under headway once more, The whole Rebel fleet came rounding The point. If we had it hot before, 'Twas now, from shore to shore, One long, loud thundering roar,-- Such crashing, splintering, and pounding And smashing as you never heard before. "But that we fought foul wrong to wreck, And to save the land we loved so well, You might have deemed our long gun-deck Two hundred feet of hell! For all above was battle, Broadside, and blaze, and rattle, Smoke and thunder alone; But down in the sick-bay, Where our wounded and dying lay, There was scarce a sob or a moan.