The Rebels, at the beginning of the war fortified Columbus, in Kentucky, which is twenty miles below Cairo on the Mississippi River. There the bluffs are very high, and are washed at their base by the mighty stream. Cannon placed on the summit have long range. A great deal of labor was expended to make it an impregnable place. There were batteries close down to the water under the hill, with heavy guns. A gallery was cut along the side of the bluff, a winding, zigzag passage, which, with many crooks and turns, led to the top of the hill. They had numerous guns in position on the top, to send shot and shell down upon Commodore Foote, should he attempt to descend the river. They built a long line of earthworks to protect the rear, intrenchments and stockades,—which are strong posts set in the ground, making a close fence, with holes here and there through which the riflemen and sharpshooters could fire.

They cut down the trees and made abatis. There were several lines of defence. They stretched a great iron chain across the river, supporting it by barges which were anchored in the stream. They gave out word that the river was effectually closed against commerce till the independence of the Confederacy was recognized.

When the war commenced, there was a man named Maury, a lieutenant in the United States service, and who was connected with the National Observatory in Washington. He was thought to be a scientific, practical man. He had been educated by the government, had received great pay, and was in a high position; but he forgot all that, and joined the Rebels. He imitated General Floyd, and stole public property, carrying off from the National Observatory valuable scientific papers which did not belong to him. He was employed by the Rebel government to construct torpedoes and infernal machines for blowing up Commodore Foote’s gunboats. He had several thousand made,—some for the land, which were planted around Columbus in rear of the town, and which were connected with a galvanic battery by a telegraph wire, to be exploded at the right moment, by which he hoped to destroy thousands of the Union troops. He sunk several hundred in the river opposite Columbus. They were oblong cylinders of wrought iron, four or five feet in length; inside were two or three hundred pounds of powder. Two small anchors held the cylinder in its proper place. It was air tight, and therefore floated in the water. At the upper end there was a projecting iron rod, which was connected with a percussion gun-lock. If anything struck the rod with much force, it would trip the lock, and explode the powder. At least, Mr. Maury thought so. The above engraving will show the construction of the torpedoes, and how they were placed in the water. The letter A represents the iron rod reaching up almost to the surface of the water. At B it is connected with the lock, which is inside the cylinder, and not represented. C represents the powder. The arrows show the direction of the current.One day he tried an experiment. He sunk a torpedo, and let loose a flat-boat, which came down with the current and struck the iron rod. The powder exploded and sent the flat high into the air. Thousands of Rebel soldiers stood on the bluffs and saw it. They hurrahed and swung their hats. Mr. Maury was so well pleased that the river was planted with them, above, in front, and below the town. He thought that Commodore Foote and all his gunboats would be blown out of the water if they attempted to descend the stream.

But the workmanship was rude. The parts were not put together with much skill. Mr. Maury showed that his science was not practical. He forgot that the river was constantly rising and falling, that sometimes the water would be so high the gunboats could glide over the iron rods with several feet between, he forgot that the powder would gather moisture and the locks become rusty.

It was discovered, after a while, that the torpedoes leaked, that the powder became damp, and changed to an inky mass, and that the hundreds of thousands of dollars which Mr. Maury had spent was all wasted. Then they who had supposed him to be a scientific man said he was a humbug.

The taking of Fort Donelson compelled the Rebels to evacuate Columbus,—the Gibraltar of the Mississippi, as they called it,—and all the work which had been done was of no benefit. Nashville was evacuated on the 27th of February. On the 4th of March Commodore Foote, having seen signs that the Rebels were leaving Columbus, went down the river, with six gunboats, accompanied by several transports, with troops, under General Sherman, to see about it. The Cincinnati, having been repaired, was the flag-ship. Commodore Foote requested me to accompany him, if I desired to.

“Perhaps we shall have hot work,” he said, as I stepped on board in the evening of the 3d.

“We shall move at four o’clock,” said Captain Stemble, commanding the ship, “and shall be at Columbus at daybreak.”

It was a new and strange experience, that first night on a gunboat, with some probability that at daybreak I might be under a hot fire from a hundred Rebel guns. By the dim light of the lamp I could see the great gun within six feet of me, and shining cutlasses and gleaming muskets. Looking out of the ward-room, I could see the men in their hammocks asleep, like orioles in their hanging nests. The sentinels paced the deck above, and all was silent but the sound of the great wheel of the steamer turning lazily in the stream, and the gurgling of the water around the bow.“We are approaching Columbus,” said an officer. It was still some time to sunrise, but the men were all astir. Their hammocks were packed away. They were clearing the decks for action, running out the guns, bringing up shot and shell, tugging and pulling at the ropes. Going on deck, I could see in the dim light the outline of the bluff at Columbus. Far up stream were dark clouds of smoke from the other steamers.

Commodore Foote was on the upper deck, walking with crutches, still lame from the wound received at Donelson.

“I always feel an exhilaration of spirits before going into a fight. I don’t like to see men killed; but when I have a duty to perform for my country, like this, all of my energies are engaged,” said the Commodore.

Right opposite, on the Missouri shore, was the Belmont battle-ground, where General Grant fought his first battle, and where the gunboats saved the army.

There was a house riddled with cannon-shot; there was a hole in the roof as big as a bushel-basket, where the shell went in, and in the gable an opening large enough for the passage of a cart and oxen, where it came out. It exploded, and tore the end of the building to pieces.

One by one the boats came down. The morning brightened. We could see men on the bluff, and a flag flying. Were the Rebels there? We could not make out the flag. We dropped a little nearer. More men came in sight.

“Four companies of cavalry were sent out from Paducah on a reconnoissance day before yesterday. Perhaps the Rebels have all gone, and they are in possession of the place,” said General Sherman.

“I will make a reconnoissance with a party of soldiers,” he added. He jumped on board his tug, and went off to get his soldiers.

“Captain Phelps, you will please to take my tug and drop down also,” said Commodore Foote. “If you are willing to run the risk, you are at liberty to accompany Captain Phelps,” were his words to me. What is a thing worth that costs nothing?

We drop down the stream slowly and cautiously.

“We are in easy range. If the Rebels are there, they could trouble us,” says Captain Phelps.

We drop nearer. The flag is still waving. The man holding it swings his hat.

They are not Rebels, but Union cavalry! Away we dash. The other tug, with General Sherman, is close behind.

“A little more steam! Lay her in quick!” says Captain Phelps.

He is not to be beaten. We jump ashore, scramble up the bank ahead of all the soldiers, reach the upper works, and fling out the Stars and Stripes to the bright morning sunshine on the abandoned works of the Rebel Gibraltar!

The crews of the boats crowd the upper decks, and send up their joyous shouts. The soldiers farther up stream give their wild hurrahs. Around us are smoking ruins,—burned barracks and storehouses, barrels of flour and bacon simmering in the fire. There are piles of shot and shell. The great chain has broken by its own weight. At the landing are hundreds of Mr. Maury’s torpedoes,—old iron now. We wander over the town, along the fortifications, view the strong defences, and wonder that the Rebels gave it up,—defended as it was by one hundred and twenty guns,—without a struggle, but the fall of Fort Donelson compelled them to evacuate the place. They carried off about half of the guns, and tumbled many of those they left behind down the embankment into the river. The force which had fled numbered about sixteen thousand. Five thousand went down the river on steamboats, and the others were sent to Corinth on the cars.

This abandonment of Columbus freed Kentucky of Rebel troops. It had been invaded about six months, and Jeff Davis hoped to secure it as one of the Confederate States, but he was disappointed in his expectations. The majority of the people in that noble State could not be induced to go out of the Union.