Look at those gunboats,
will you? Aren't they the sauciest little things you ever saw?"
Once more the navy was showing, as it has always shown throughout its
career, its daring and brilliant qualities. Foote, the commodore,
although he had had no time to repair his four small fighting boats
after the encounter with Fort Henry, steamed straight up the river
and engaged the concentric fire from the great guns of the Southern
batteries, which opened upon him with a tremendous crash. The boys
watched the duel with amazement. They did not believe that small
vessels could live under such fire, but live they did. Great columns
of smoke floated over them and hid them at times from the watchers, but
when the smoke lifted a little or was split apart by the shattering fire
of the guns the black hulls of the gunboats always reappeared, and now
they were not more than three or four hundred yards from Donelson.
"I take it that this is a coverin' fire," said Sergeant Whitley, who
stood by. "Four little vessels could not expect to reduce such a
powerful fortress as Donelson. It's not Fort Henry that they're
fightin' now."
"The chances are at least ninety-five per cent in favor of your
supposition," said Warner.
The sergeant's theory, in fact, was absolutely correct. Further down
the river the transports were unloading regiment after regiment of fresh
troops, and vast supplies of ammunition and provisions. Soon five
thousand men were formed in line and marched to Grant's relief, while
long lines of wagons brought up the stores so badly needed.
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