When we reached the steamer, we found all the leading generals there except General Sherman, who had gone below to receive the fleet. McPherson, Logan, Belknap, Rawlins, Dodge, and all the others whose names have been made immortal in connection with the siege of Vicksburg, were there. The boat at once steamed down to Young’s Point, from Milliken’s Bend; and about midnight all the lights were extinguished, the fires screened, and the boat dropped down without the splash of a wheel, near the first batteries of Vicksburg. With what intense interest we watched for the coming of the fleet, peering out into the darkness of that black night. At last we saw a gunboat, blacker than that starless night, creeping past us like some great monster of the deep. Then another and another, right down under the guns. They passed the first batteries without being noticed; then the storm broke upon them in all its fury. Admiral Porter on his flag-ship, the _Benton_, led the way. The _Carondelet_, commanded by Captain Walke, and the _Tuscumbia_, followed. The three wooden steamers were the _Forest Queen_, the _Henry Clay_, and the _Silver Wave_. The first shot near us seemed to tear the sky to pieces above our heads. There was a flash of light all along the water-line of Vicksburg; great bonfires lighted up the river. The captain of our boat in his excitement put on steam and started up the river. General Grant, who was with us on the guards, rushed to the hurricane deck, and compelled the captain to drop back to the old position. Our long line of gunboats were now giving broadside after broadside, keeping well to the Vicksburg side, while the wooden steamers, with their heavily ladened scows or barges, ran through as rapidly as possible, keeping well to the Louisiana side. The great artillery duel was now on, every gun on both sides of the line was belching forth shot or shell. Our boat swayed with the concussion of sound. It was as though a thousand electric storms had burst upon us in all their fury. And yet each shot and shell had a voice of its own, and could be heard in thunder tones with awful distinctness. And running through the bass and treble of solid shot and screaming shells, the click of the musketry of the sharpshooters on the wharfs of Vicksburg could be heard, as, by the light of the bonfires blazing high, they aimed the deadly bullets at the captains and pilots who stood up unarmed in full view. My friend, Captain McMillen of Pittsburg, Pa., who owned the _Silver Wave_, and who commanded her on that expedition, stood on her deck in full view, amid the terrible rain of fire and lead.[1]