sked.

"No, sir," said an officer wearing a gold-laced coat.

"Then why do you display a white flag?"

"It is a mistake, sir. It is a signal-flag. I regret that it has
deceived you."

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, sir."

The tug steams back to the Benton, the white flag is taken down, and the
uproar begins again. Lieutenant Bishop made good use of his eyes. There
were seven thirty-two-pounders and one heavy rifled gun in the upper
battery.

Commodore Foote was not ready to begin the bombardment in earnest till
Monday noon, March 17th.

The Benton, Cincinnati, and St. Louis dropped down stream, side by side,
and came into position about a mile from the upper batteries. Anchors
were dropped from the stern of each gunboat, that they might fight head
on, using their heavy rifled guns. Their position was on the east side
of the river. The Mound City and Carondelet took position near the west
bank, just below the mortars. The boats were thus placed to bring a
cross fire upon the upper Rebel battery.

"Pay no attention to the island, but direct your fire into the upper
battery!" is the order.

A signal is raised upon the flag-ship. We do not understand the
signification of the flag, but while we look at it the ten mortars open
fire, one after another, in rapid succession. The gunboats follow. There
are ten shells, thirteen inches in diameter, rising high in air. There
are handfuls of smoke flecking the sky, and a prolonged, indescribable
crashing, rolling, and rumbling. You have seen battle-pieces by the
great painters; but the highest artistic skill cannot portray the scene.
It is a vernal day, as beautiful as ever dawned. The gunboats are
enveloped in flame and smoke. The unfolding clouds are slowly wafted
away by the gentle breeze. Huge columns rise majestically from the
mortars. A line of white--a thread-like tissue--spans the sky. It is the
momentary and vanishing mark of the shell in the invisible air. There
are little splashes in the stream, where the fragments of iron fall.
There are pillars of water tossed upward in front of the earthwork,
which break into spray, painted with rainbow hues by the bright
sunshine. A round shot skips along the surface and pierces the
embankment. Another just clears the parapet, and cuts down a tree
beyond. The air is filled with sticks, timbers, branches of trees, and
earth, as if a dozen thunderbolts had fallen upon the spot from a
cloudless sky. There are explosion