The Battle of New Orleans

George Hamilton Perkins was appointed to the U.S. Naval Academy and became an acting midshipman in 1851. He rose through the ranks and became captain in 1882, in good part because of his military record during the Civil War. He was executive officer of the Cayuga at the passage of Forts Jackson and St. Philip and was involved in the capture of New Orleans (1862) He commanded the Chicksaw in the battle of Mobile Bay (March 1865), and was instrumental in the disabling of the Confederate ship Tennessee.

Commodore George Hamilton Perkins

U.S.S. Cayuga
Storming the Forts up the Mississippi River
April 20, 1862 

The bombardment of the forts commenced three days ago, and the first day we were in close action; but we all came out safe. The enemy’s cannonballs drop about us constantly. Several of the vessels in the fleet have been struck and a few men killed and wounded. Today or tomorrow we start up the river. The chain across it was cut last night, and I have no doubt but that the forts will be ours before tomorrow evening. 

I have but a moment to write. The rebels are continually sending down fire rafts and the bombardment from the mortars goes on night and day, so that we have hardly any sleep. I will write as soon as we reach New Orleans, and I hope you are not worrying, for by the time you get this everything will be over. 

Unless we meet some unforeseen obstacle, New Orleans must fall, though perhaps it will take a week’s hard fighting. We have just heard that Captain Bailey has taken the Cayuga for his flagship, so we shall lead the gunboats. 

New Orleans, April 27, 1862 

We arrived here two days ago, and after what was the ‘most desperate fight and greatest naval achievement on record’, so everyone says. Wednesday night, April 23, we were ordered to lead the way, and be ready to run by the forts at two o’clock in the morning; and at two o’clock precisely the signal was made from the Hartford to get under way. 

Captain Harrison paid me the compliment of letting me pilot the vessel, and though it was a starlight night we were not discovered until we were well under the forts; then they opened a tremendous fire on us. I was very anxious, for the steering of the vessel being under my charge gave me really the whole management of her. The Cayuga received the first fire, and the air was filled with shells and explosions which almost blinded me as I stood on the forecastle trying to see my way, for I had never been up river before. I sonn saw that the guns of the forts were all aimed for the mid-stream, so I steered close under the walls of Fort St. Phillip, and although our masts and rigging got badly shot through, our hull was but little damaged.  

USS Cayuga (center) in action below New Orleans

After passing the last battery and thinking we were clear, I looked back for some of our vessels, and my heart jumped in my mouth when I found I could not see a single one. I thought they all must have been sunk by the forts. Then looking ahead I saw eleven of the enemy’s gunboats coming down upon us, and it seemed as if we were gone sure. Three of these made a dash to board us, but a heavy charge from our eleven inch gun sttled the Gov. Moore, which was one of them. A ram, Manassas, in attempting to butt us, just missed our stern, and we soon settled the third fellow’s hash. Just then some of our gunboats, which had passed the forts, came up, and then all sorts of things happened. There was the wildest excitement all around. The Varuna fired a broadside into us, instead of the enemy. Another of the gunboats attacked one of Cayuga’s prizes. I shouted out “Don’t fire into that ship, she has surrendered!” Three of the enemy’s ships had surrendered to us before any of our vessels appeared, but when they did come up we all pitched in, and settled eleven rebel vessels in about twenty minutes. Our short fight with the Gov. Moore – it used to be the Morgan – was very exciting. We were alongside of each other, and had both fired our guns, and it all depended on which should get reloaded first. The large forward gun on the Gov. Moore was a ten inch shell, ours and eleven inch, and we were so near they were almost muzzle to muzzle.  

Ours was fired first, and Beverly Kennon, the captain of the Gov. Moore; is now a prisoner aboard the Cayuga. He tells me our shot was the one that ruined him, disabled his vessel, capsized his gun, and killed thirteen of the gun’s crew. Beverly Kennon used to be an officer in our navy. 

The Cayuga still lead the way up the river, and at daylight we discovered a regiment of infantry encamped on shore. As we were very close in, I shouted to them to come on board and deliver up their arms, or we would blow them all to pieces. It seemed rather odd for a regiment on shore to be surrendering to a ship! They hauled down their colors and the colonel and command came on board and gave themselves up as prisoners of war. The regiment was called the Chalmette regiment, and has been quite a famous one. The officers we released on parole and allowed them to retain their sidearms, all except one captain, who I discovered was from New Hampshire. His name is Hickery, and he came from Portsmouth. I took his sword away from him and have kept it. 

The next thing that happened was the sinking of the Varuna, which had been disabled by one of the enemy’s vessels running into her. Soon after this the Commodore came up in the Hartford and ordered us all to anchor and take a little rest before attacking New Orleans, which was now within twenty miles. 

By this time our ship had received forty-two shots in masts and hull, and six of our men had been wounded; one of the boys had to have his legs cut off. All this time, night and day, fire rafts and ships loaded with burning cotton had been coming down the river and surrounding us everywhere. Besides these, the bombardment was continuous and perfectly awful. I do not believe there ever was anything like it before, and I never expect to see such a sight again. The river and shore were one blaze, and the sounds and explosions were terrific. Nothing I could say would give you any idea of these last twenty-four hours! 

The next morning, April 25, we all got under way again, the Cayuga still leading, and at about nine o’clock New Orleans hove in sight. We called all hands and gave three cheers and a tiger! 

There were two more fortifications still between us and New Orleans, called the Chalmette batteries, but Captain Bailey thought they could not be of much account, and that we had best push on. When we arrived in sight of these batteries, no flag floated over them, and there was not a man to be seen – nothing but the guns, which seemed abandoned. In fact though, there were a lot of treacherous rascals concealed in these batteries, and when we had come close enough to make them feel sure they could sink us, they opened a heavy fire. We gave them back as well as we could, but they were too much for one gunboat; so after getting hit fourteen times, and the shot and shell striking all about us, we decided not to advance any further until some of our ships came up. Soon we had the Hartford on one side and the Pensacola on the other, and then the rebel battery was silenced very quick.  

After this there were no further obstacles between us and the city, and the fleet were soon anchored before it. The Commodore ordered Captain Bailey to go on shore, and demand its surrender, and he asked me to go with him. We took just a boat and a boat’s crew, with a flag of truce, and started off. When we reached the wharf there were no officials to be seen; no one received us, although the whole city was watching our movements, and the levee was crowded in spite of a heavy rainstorm. Among the crowd were many women and children, and the women were shaking rebel flags and being rude and noisy. 

They were all shouting and hooting as we stepped on shore, but at last a man, who I think was a German, offered to show us the way to the council room, where we should find the mayor of the city. As we advanced the mob followed us in a very excited state. They gave three cheers for Jeff Davis and Beauregard, and three groans for Lincoln. Then they began to throw things at us and shout “Hang them! Hang them!” We both thought we were in a bad fix, but there was nothing for us to do but just go on. 

We reached the City Hall though in safety, and there we found the mayor and the council. They seemed in a very solemn state of mind, though I must say, from what they said, they did not impress me as having much mind about anything, and certainly not much sense. The mayor said he had nothing to do with the city, as it was under martial law and we were obliged to wait until Gen. Lovell could arrive.

In about half an hour this gentleman appeared. He was very pompous in his manner and silly and airy in his remarks. He had about fifteen thousand troops under his command, and he said he would “never surrender”, but would withdraw his troops from the city as soon as possible, when the city would fall into the hands of the mayor and he could do as he pleased with it.  

The mob had by this time become perfectly infuriated. They kicked at the doors and swore they would have us out and hang us! Of course Capt. Bailey and I felt perfectly at our ease all this while! Indeed, every person about us who had any sense of responsibility was frightened for our safety. As soon as the mob found out that Gen. Lovell was not going to surrender, they swore they would have us out anyway; but Pierre Soule and some others went out and made speeches to them, and kept them on one side of the building while we went out the other, and were driven to the wharf in a closed carriage. Finally we got on board ship all right; but of all the blackguarding I ever heard in my life that mob gave us the worst.

Capt. Theodorus Bailey and Lt. George H. Perkins on their way to demand the surrender of New Orleans