ADMIRAL DAVID GLASCOE FARRAGUT

But no better name could be found than Farragut’s with which to recommence that roll of renown. His father was born on the island of Minorca, in the Mediterranean Sea, but came to this country in 1776, at the opening of the great struggle for our independence. Entering at once into the spirit of that contest, like Kosciusko, Steuben, and Pulaski, he joined the ragged, ill-paid army of the colonies, and by his gallant conduct rose to the rank of Major. At the close of the war he married Miss Shire, of North Carolina, and settled down on our western frontier near Knoxville, Tennessee. Here, at Campbell’s station, in 1801, David Glascoe Farragut was born. Alth6ugh his early childhood was passed among the great forests of the West, his mind turned to the distant ocean, and in 1810, though but nine years of age, he obtained a midshipman’s berth under Capt. Porter. This place was probably secured through the influence of his father, who was a warm friend of the captain, they being at that time sailing-masters in the navy together. A mere boy, of an age needing a mother’s care, and scarce big enough to climb to the top of the bulwarks of his vessel, he was launched forth on the sea and the world together. Two years after, the war with England broke out, and he put to sea in the Essex, bearing on her defiant flag, "Free Trade and Sailors’ Rights." Porter sailed in April, and as he passed down by the battery, he sent five shots into Castle William, to "try its strength; "then floating through the Narrows, swept off into the broad Atlantic. Young Farragut’s first experience of a battle on that element which was to be his future home and field of renown, was in August. On the 13th the English sloop-of-war Alert hove in sight, and thinking to make an easy prey of the Essex, ran boldly down on her weather quarter, and giving three cheers, poured in a broadside. The Essex: returned it with such fury that in eight minutes the English vessel had seven feet of water in her hold, and struck her colors. Young Farragut had gone to school in a wild sort of fashion, and his first lesson was one he was not likely ever to forget. A fortnight after, Porter came in sight of an English frigate just at dark, and fearing his powerful antagonist might lose him in the night, he hoisted a light, but in the morning the enemy was nowhere to be seen. Four days later he found himself near St. George’s bank, close upon two ships of war, which immediately gave chase. As night came on he found the enemy gaining rapidly on him, and so he determined to heave about, and try to pass the largest ship unobserved, and in case he failed to do so, to give him one broadside and board him. He called the crew about him and made known his plans. Three cheers greeted the bold determination, and soon the vessel was bowling along in the darkness in the direction where his powerful adversary was last seen. He, however, passed him without being observed.

Not long after Farragut received another lesson in naval matters which his after-career shows was not lost on him. Sir James Yeo, of the frigate Southampton, sent a challenge to Porter in which, after presenting his compliments, he said he "would be glad to have a tête-à-tête anywhere between the Capes of Delaware and the Havana, when he would have the pleasure to break his own sw7ord over his d-d head, and put him down forward in irons." To this Porter replied that he "accepted with pleasure his polite invitation," and "would prefer meeting near the Delaware Capes, where Capt. P. pledges his honor that no other American vessel shall interrupt their tête-à-tête. The Essex may be known by a flag bearing the motto “Free Trade and Sailors’ Rights.” And when that is struck to the Southampton, Capt. Porter will deserve the treatment promised by Sir James." The blustering Englishman, however, did not take advantage of the offer, but one can see that the boy Farragut was to study his profession under a competent teacher.

But young David was soon transferred to a different scene. In October, Commodore Bainbridge having sailed from Boston with the Constitution and Hornet, Porter, then lying in the Delaware with the Essex, was ordered to join him in Port Praya, in St. Jago, or at Fernando, Norenha. But the capture of the Java by the Constitution, and of the Peacock by the Hornet, caused a change in the plans of Bainbridge; and Porter not finding him at either of the places above mentioned, or off Frio, another rendezvous designated by the Commodore, he was left to cruise where he thought best. After revolving various schemes, he at length, in midwinter, took the bold resolution to go alone into the Pacific, where he had not a depot of any kind) or a place in which a vessel could be refitted, while all the neutral ports were under the influence of our enemy, and make a dash at the British fishermen, and obtain his supplies from, them. His prow was at once turned southward. Fierce storms off Cape Horn again and again beat him back; but he held on, and at length took the breezes of the Pacific, and stretched northward. Cruising here, he captured several vessels, until he had quite a little fleet. One of them, the Atlantic, he named the Essex Junior, and put it under the command of Lieut. Downes. Finding at length it was necessary to refit, and hearing that English cruisers were after him, he repaired to the Marquesas Islands, and there, in a sequestered bay, repaired his vessels. The natives were at first friendly, but at length the Typees, a warlike tribe, succeeded in arousing the others to hostilities, and a plan was laid to murder all the American crews. Porter saw that he must make them feel his power, and so taking nearly his whole crew with him, he boldly entered the mountains, swarming with thousands of the natives, and marched towards the Typee villages. Compelled at first to retreat, he at length, after incredible hardships, reached the summit of the mountains from which he descended in wrath on the beautiful plain below, and driving the natives into a fortress, set fire to their towns, and returned to the ship. David was now only twelve years old, yet he was eager to join the expedition; but much to his disappointment was left behind with the few that remained to take care of the ships. In the noontide of his fame, his attention being called to this period of his boyhood, he was asked why he did not accompany the captain in his notable campaign against the Typees. He replied, with his usual humor: "I was ruled out—my legs being considered too short to cross the mountains." It may easily be imagined that they were altogether too short for such a rough land-cruise as that of the captain’s against the hostile tribes.

The scene on board the frigate at this time was horrible. The cock-pit was crowded with the wounded; men by the dozen were mowed down at every discharge; fifteen had fallen successively at one gun, and scarcely a quarter-deck officer was left standing. And where was the boy Farragut all this time? A midshipman, it is true, he was, but nevertheless a lad only twelve years of age, too young to be standing in such a human slaughter-house. Only old and war-hardened hearts should beat unmoved amid such a wild scene. Yet there he stood—his delicate form rigid as iron, and his young heart fearless and proud as that of his commander. The deck ran blood beneath his tender feet, the splintered timbers crashed and shivered around him, and the murderous shot lifted the locks from his fair young head as they shrieked past him. The gore and clotted flesh of the brave men falling around him covered his garments, and the blood was trickling from a wound in his own side; yet there he stood manfully to the guns, his childish voice sounding strangely in that wild uproar, and his innocent blue eyes blazing with unnatural light amid that carnival of death as they turned unblenchingly on his beloved commander. Porter’s case was evidently hopeless; but disdaining to yield, he made one more final attempt to bring his vessel around so as to make his broadside bear. He let go his sheet-anchor, and the staggering vessel, swinging slowly around again, presented her guns to the astonished foe. But the hawser parted in the strain, and the vessel lay an unmanageable wreck on the water, while to complete the disaster, the flames burst from the hatchway and rolled away towards the magazine. Porter now saw that his doom was inevitably sealed; and seeing that his boats had all been shot away, he ordered those of his crew who could swim, to jump overboard and attempt to reach the shore, three quarters of a mile distant. He then, with the few who chose to remain on board, among whom was young Farragut, extinguished the flames, and again shotted the few guns that could be brought to bear. It was, however, the last feeble effort of despair, for the water being smooth, and the enemy able to choose his own positions, he soon made a riddle of the American frigate. Her wounded were killed while under the hands of the surgeons, and only one of the carpenter’s crew remained to stop the shot-holes, though the water was now pouring through in torrents. Porter would have gone down with his flag flying, but for the number of wounded that he would be compelled to take to the bottom with him, and so, after this unparalleled struggle of two hours and a half, he gave the melancholy orders to lower his flag.

I have given a lengthy description of this naval combat, because of its important bearing on Farragut’s character. The future Admiral was christened in this awful baptism of fire. It was his first great lesson in naval combat, and it could not have been otherwise than stamped in indelible lines on his young heart. It was a fearful trial for one so youthful; but as he had chosen the navy for his profession, it was important he should see how a ship ought to be fought. To one of his age it would naturally occur that such was the only way a gallant commander would act, and of course he would settle it in his mind at once and forever, that it was the way he must act if ever called to command a vessel. That his future character was fixed in this unparalleled combat, his after-life clearly shows. In his daring passage of the forts below New Orleans, which to common men seemed madness—in his entrance to Mobile harbor, lashed to the maintop to direct the battle, he only acted over again the scenes of his boyhood. As one contemplates him in these daring enterprises, the mind involuntarily goes back to that battle in Valparaiso harbor. They are the lessons of boyhood put into practice in maturer years. We see simply the soul of Porter transferred to the soul of the boy that stood and battled by his side.

That his bearing on this occasion was gallant and heroic beyond his years, is evident from the fact that it attracted the especial attention of Porter. A hero of the grandest mould himself, and surrounded by heroic men—witnessing a devotion and courage seldom seen he yet was struck by the conduct of this boy of twelve, and made special mention of him in his report to the Secretary of the Navy, adding, evidently with regret, that notwithstanding his meritorious conduct, he was "too young for promotion.” Only twelve years old, he yet had behaved with such distinguished gallantry that he deserved a lieutenant’s commission. The history of our navy records no other such instance. That such a boy, if he lived and circumstances permitted it, would be heard from again, was evident. He received his first wound in this engagement; but young as he was, it did not keep him from his post of duty. He was sent home in the Essex Junior, among the paroled officers. Porter’s interest in the boy was enhanced by his heroic conduct in this battle, and he had him put to school at Chester and taught military tactics. Hie however was soon afloat again, being attached to the Mediterranean squadron. In 1816, we find him on board a ship of the line, where he became acquainted with the chaplain, the Rev. Charles Folsom, who took a great interest in him, and to whose instructions Farragut attributes much of his after-success in life. Afterwards, the chaplain was appointed our consul at Tunis, and David was sent with him. From this intimacy of three years’ duration, sprung up a friendship which neither change of circumstances nor years of separation ever weakened. Mr. Folsom, in a letter respecting Farragut’s life during the long peace that followed, says that it differed little from that of other officers. By slow degrees he worked his way up the difficult ladder of promotion, but did not reach the rank of lieutenant till the year 1825. He then married a lady of Norfolk; but it proved a less happy connection than he had anticipated, for she soon became a great sufferer, and continued so till relieved by death. Her trials, however, were relieved as much as they could be by a care and devotion and tenderness, such as a great soul like his alone can exhibit.

In 1841 he was made commander, and in 1851 captain. Promotion comes so slow in "piping times of peace" that it took him forty-one years to reach the rank of captain. He by turns sailed in almost every sea visited by our fleets, and by his studies and intercourse with other nations became proficient in several modern languages. At one time he was stationed at the Norfolk navy-yard, and afterwards was placed in command of the navy-yard at San Francisco. He also held the post of assistant inspector of ordnance for three years. In the mean time he married again, and this time also took his wife from Norfolk, Miss Virginia Loyall, daughter of a prominent citizen of the place. By her he had one son, now a cadet at West Point —-choosing the military rather than the naval service.

He thus passed through his youth and manhood, and bade fair to pass through life without exhibiting any of those extraordinary qualities for which his boyhood was a distinguished. He was nearly threescore years old when the rebellion broke out, having seen forty-eight years of service.

At this time he was living at Norfolk, and being a Southerner by birth and connected with the South by marriage, it was supposed by his Southern friends that he would cast in his lot with them. The tide seemed a11 to set that way. Officers went over by the dozen, whole messes resigned; and it was held dishonorable not "to go with their States," as it was termed. Very few Southern officers were proof against this feeling, especially as it was fully believed by them that the North and South would hereafter be separate nations. Even Lee said that if he thought the Union would ever be restored, he would go with the North, but as the two portions must inevitably constitute separate nationalities, he felt it his duty to cast his future in with the South. A few, however, remained true; and among these was Farragut. He had grown up from childhood with the old flag waving morning and night over his head; and from the time when, a mere boy, he had watched its bright folds gleaming amid the storm of battle in Valparaiso harbor-ant with a great sorrow, such as his young heart never felt before, had seen it lowered to the foe—his love for it had grown with his growth and strengthened with his strength; and now he could not desert it. It was dearer to him than kindred, and he would stand by it to the last, and if fall he must in the deadly strife, it should be beneath it waving in all its pristine glory. He made no concealment of his views, and his Southern friends were at first astonished at what they considered his treason to the South; and then became indignant, and plainly hinted to him that it might be unsafe to remain longer in the South. "Very well," said he, "I will then go where I can live with such sentiments." At length Fort Sumter fell, and then came the conspiracy to seize the Norfolk navy-yard. Farragut now saw that if he expected to render his country any service in the awful struggle on which she was being so wildly launched, he must leave Norfolk; and so, on the night of the 18th of April, 1861, he bade adieu to his home, and turned his face northward. The very next day the navy-yard was set on fire. The Government was thunderstruck at the abyss opening beneath it, and knew not whom to trust amid the general defection. It had but few ships; and Farragut’s services being uncalled for, he took up his abode on the Hudson River, just below Tarrytown, and watched with gloomy forebodings the increasing storm. Being a stranger in the vicinity, his solitary walks in the fields were watched with suspicion, and it was whispered about that he was one of a band of conspirators to cut the Croton Aqueduct.

The Administration seemed asleep or stupefied; but after the battle of Bull Run, the following summer, it aroused from its lethargy, and began to act as though the country was really in the midst of civil war. In the autumn it resolved to make a bold push for the capture of New Orleans. The West Gulf Blockading Squadron, with twenty bomb-schooners, was to constitute the naval force, with which a land force of eighteen hundred men under Maj. Gen. Butler was to cooperate. Preparations were set on foot before the naval commander was determined on—an unwise step to start with; but the blunder was more than compensated by the fortunate selection of Farragut. The country knew but little about him, and when his name was published as the head of the expedition, vastly more was expected from Porter, who commanded the bomb vessels, than from him.

He received his orders on the 20th of January, 1862, and on the 3d of next month sailed from Hampton Roads in the flagship Hartford—a vessel destined to assume a place in our naval history second only to that of the Old Constitution. The place of rendezvous was Ship Island, at which he arrived in seventeen days, and immediately began to make the arrangements necessary for the Herculean task before him. He would have entered into a combat on the deep without any hesitation; but the work to which he was assigned-to beat down or run the batteries lining both sides of a river-was an entirely different undertaking. It was a new, untried experiment, and presented difficulties that to some seemed impossible to surmount; but indomitable energy, he well knew, could overcome the greatest obstacles, and the fleet set sail and arrived safely at the entrance of the Mississippi. It was desirable to get the powerful steam frigate Colorado, Captain Bailey commanding, over the bars at the mouth of the river; but as she drew, with her armament aboard, twenty-two feet of water, and the deepest soundings gave only fifteen, this was found to be impossible. The Mississippi and Pensacola were got over only by great labor; and at length the fleet was safely anchored at the head of the Pass a’ l’Outre and the Southwest Pass. Those who saw with what care, Farragut attended to the minutest details—the thorough preparation which he made for every contingency-felt that his bravery was equalled by his prudence and forethought.