The boats kept advancing slowly and steadily for about half an hour, when the order was given to slack the engines, so as to prevent them from coming in too close range. The firing then increased to a terrific rate on both sides. The enemy poured 32 and 64-pound balls into the vessels with great effect, and the gunners returned their 8-inch shell and 64-pound rifle balls with unusual skill. In the heat of the action, a shot from the enemy’s water battery carried away the flagstaff of the St. Louis; almost the next shot took the chimney guys of the same boat. A well sent ball from the St. Louis soon struck the flagstaff of the enemy, which was on the top of the hill behind the batteries. This terrible fire lasted about half an hour, when a 64-pound ball from the middle battery cut the tiller ropes of the gunboat Louisville, rendering her steering apparatus unmanageable. About the same time a shot entered one of the windows of the pilot-house of the Carondelet, mortally wounding the pilot. Thus the control of two Union boats was in a great degree lost. Shortly after this, a 32-pound ball penetrated the pilot-house of the St. Louis, mortally wounding one of the pilots, injuring two other pilots, and severely wounding Flag-officer Foote. There were five men in the pilot-house at the time, only one of whom escaped injury. The room was filled with pieces of the broken wheel, chains, room furniture and rubbish of every sort; there was no one there to take the helm save the Commodore—no chance to call another to his aid—so, equal to the emergency, the gallant old Commodore seized the remaining handles of the wheel, and for a quarter of an hour acted the double part of commander and pilot, and at last, when compelled to fall back, he kept bow to the foe, and gave his orders as calmly and coolly as when first entering the action. At about the middle of the engagement, a 32-pound rifle shot took away the flagstaff and Commodore’s pennant. In a moment half a dozen men sprang out of the ports, caught the mutilated staff upon their shoulders, hoisted the “blue flag” to its place, where they stood and held it for several minutes, in the face of a most murderous fire. Thus three powerful vessels were disabled by accidents that do not happen twice in a hundred times. The men on board were unwilling to give up the fight. The enemy had been driven from the lower battery, and their fire had slackened perceptibly. What remained to be done? To fight in such a current, with unmanageable boats, would, the Commodore knew, be worse than folly. Reluctantly, therefore, he ordered them to fall back.