had
turned her turret from the enemy and loaded again with steel shot and
the heaviest charge[30] of powder. Intent only upon the Tennessee, she
steamed quietly on, regardless of the fort, a little ahead of the
Brooklyn, the other monitors following her closely. As they drew near
the buoy, Craven from the pilot-house of his ship saw it so nearly in
line with the beach that he turned to his pilot and said, "It is
impossible that the admiral means us to go inside that buoy; I cannot
turn my ship." At the same moment the Tennessee, which till that time
had lain to the eastward of the buoy, went ahead to the westward of
it, and Craven, either fearing she would got away from him or moved by
the seeming narrowness of the open way, gave the order "Starboard" and
pushed the Tecumseh straight at the enemy. She had gone but a few
yards and the lockstring was already taut in the hands of an officer
of the enemy's ship, Lieutenant Wharton, waiting to fire as they
touched, when one or more torpedoes exploded under her. She lurched
from side to side, careened violently over, and went down head
foremost, her screw plainly visible in the air for a moment to the
enemy, that waited for her, not two hundred yards off, on the other
side of the fatal line. It was then that Craven did one of those deeds
that should be always linked with the doer's name, as Sidney's is with
the cup of cold water. The pilot and he instinctively made for the
narrow opening leading to the turret below. Craven drew back: "After
you, pilot," he said. There was no afterward for him; the pilot was
saved, but he went down with his ship.

When the Tecumseh sank, the Brooklyn was about three hundred yards
astern of her and a little outside; the Hartford between one and two
hundred yards from the Brooklyn, on her port quarter; the Richmond
about the same distance from the Hartford and in the Brooklyn's wake.
The Winnebago, the second astern of the Tecumseh, was five hundred
yards from her, and the Manhattan in her station, two hundred yards
ahead of the Winnebago; both, however, skirting the beach and steering
to pass inside of the buoy, as they had been ordered. The sunken
vessel was therefore well on their port bow. Unmoved by the fate of
their leader, the three remaining ironclads steamed on in line ahead,
steadily but very slowly, being specially directed to occupy the
attention of the guns ashore, that were raking the approaching ships.
As they passed, the admira