This Hallowed Ground - Bruce Catton [141]
Admiral Porter, meanwhile, had thought up a similar and equally complicated venture.
Not far above the place where the Yazoo flowed into the Mississippi, a lazy stream known as Steele’s Bayou came wandering out of the delta to join the big stream. A venturesome steamboat man who went up Steele’s Bayou could before long turn to his right on a little ditch called Black Bayou, which in turn would put him into Deer Creek, which was narrow and shallow and generally mean. Upstream a way there was the mouth of Rolling Fork, which — since all rivers in this land of mud and water seemed to interconnect, flowing impartially in both directions as the state of the water directed — led into the Sunflower River, which in its own good time fed into the Yazoo.
Theoretically a flotilla might leave the Mississippi via Steele’s Bayou and, with perseverance and good luck, get into the Yazoo far above Vicksburg. It could then put an army ashore on the high ground back from the Mississippi, this army could take the fortifications on the Chickasaw Bluffs from the rear, its supplies could come to it through this marshy labyrinth — and, in fine, Vicksburg itself could be captured.
Admiral Porter was a man of limitless energy. He sold the idea to Grant — who, all else failing, was about ready to buy anything — and Porter himself would go along to make sure that it worked. Porter got together five of his best gunboats, along with some tugs and a pair of mortar boats, and Grant ordered Sherman to take some troops and accompany the flotilla on land, to clear out any obstructive Rebels who might try to bar the way. In the middle of March — while Commander Smith was still plowing doggedly on toward Fort Pemberton — this odd expedition turned up the narrow bayou and went steaming off through the forest.
It met all of the troubles which Commander Smith’s troop had met, most of them multiplied by five. The waterway was painfully narrow. Felled trees and bridges blocked the way at frequent intervals; Porter used his powerful ironclads as tanks and sent them driving through such obstructions, knocking logs and timbers out of the way with prodigious crashing and banging, clouds of black smoke pouring from funnels, everybody dancing and swearing with excitement. The river was full of sunken logs, and donkey engines came into play as these were hoisted out with block and tackle. At times the stream was so narrow that the leading gunboat would be pinched in between the trees that grew out of the half-submerged banks and brought to a standstill. Then there would be much huffing and puffing, and the vessel would drive its way through by brute force, knocking over the trees as it went.
Things got worse and worse. The waterway wound and twisted incomprehensibly, so that there were times when all five gunboats, each dutifully following the tail of the next ahead, were steering in five different directions. Up in front there were web-footed Confederates who kept felling huge trees to block the channel, and each tree had to be fished out individually. All sorts of wildlife, from squirrels to raccoons, came aboard the boats as the overhanging trees were jarred; at times sailors stood by with brooms to sweep overboard such lesser