Over the line of mines they flew at full speed, and the men below could hear them as they scraped along the hull. It was the one way out of the difficulty, and a second’s hesitation would have closed even this escape from a frightful calamity. The admiral looked astern at the manœuvring of his vessels with a smile of satisfaction. It was a magnificent sight. At first they appeared to be fouling each other in dire confusion, at the mercy of the guns which still belched forth a merciless fire. But as the “Hartford” dashed forward, one by one, as if by magic, they took their places. And he knew a grand tactical movement had been accomplished. Nor did he forget the poor men of the “Tecumseh,” struggling in the water where their ship had gone down, but, going down the rigging, ordered Jouett to lower a boat immediately and pick up the survivors. The “Hartford” was nearly a mile ahead before the line could be straightened, and single-handed she fought the batteries and the gunboats, making straight for Buchanan’s invincible ram, the “Tennessee.” Amid the fire of shot and bursting shell the admiral walked calmly back to his quarter-deck, giving a word of advice here and an order there. But soon the other vessels were able to pour in a storm of shot and shell that completely silenced the batteries. One by one he saw the gunboats sink, until only the “Tennessee” had to be accounted for. The admiral tried to ram her, and the solid shot of his broadsides rolled down her iron sides; but she slipped away, pouring in a terrific fire at close range. She riddled the “Brooklyn,” “Richmond,” and “Monongahela,” all three of which dashed at her, bows on, at fearful speed. The admiral again struck her a fearful blow, but apparently with no effect whatever. The ram had one great advantage: she was surrounded by enemies and could fire continually, while the Union vessels had to use the utmost care not to fire into or collide with one another. An accident of this kind now happened to Farragut’s ship. The “Hartford” and the “Lackawanna” were both making at full speed for the ram. The “Hartford” had the better position; and the “Lackawanna,” sheering off to avoid another ship, ran into the quarter of the flagship, just where the admiral was standing, cutting her down nearly to the water’s edge. The shock of the impact nearly took him off his feet, but in a moment he was climbing over the side to see what damage had been done. His crew thought he was looking out for himself. Immediately there was a cry, “Get the admiral out of the ship.” The whole thought of his crew, unmindful of themselves, was to get him to a place of safety. It was a mere sudden impulse. But Farragut was not the man to look to himself. Having satisfied himself that the “Hartford” could last, he again gave the order, “Full speed,” and set his prow again for the “Tennessee.”