An officer, who held high position on board the flagship, writes:  “Perkins went into the fight in his shirt-sleeves and a straw hat, and as he passed the Hartford, he was on top of the turret waving his hat and dancing around with delight and excitement.”—­“The ironclads,” said Perkins, “were ordered to follow inside the fleet, between fleet and fort.  I had orders to be reserve force and remain with wooden vessels after passing obstructions.  Our course was between a certain buoy and the shore.  This passage was known to be free from torpedoes, and was left for the blockade runners.  All the vessels had orders to keep between that buoy and the shore, but in other respects the ironclads had separate orders from the wooden vessels.  In the confusion resulting from the destruction of the Tecumseh and the movements of the Brooklyn, the monitors received no orders and followed in the line of the other vessels.”  Be it said in passing, that Perkins had no pilot, and at sight of the Tecumseh’s doom, one of the men in the pilot-house fainted, leaving only Perkins and one man to steer the vessel until the vigorous methods applied brought the man to, and freshened his pluck!  The pilot-house was abaft the forward turret, not on top, as in the case of the Tecumseh class, and was entered through a trap-door which was kept open during the fight, for the vessel being unfinished, there was no way of opening it from inside when closed.

“I pushed forward as rapidly as possible, but my ship anyway was stationed last of the ironclads, as I was youngest in command.  We fired at the fort to keep down its fire till the wooden ships had passed.  When the Tennessee passed, it was on my port side; she then steamed toward Fort Morgan.  Some of our vessels anchored, others kept under weigh, and when the Tennessee approached the fleet again, she was at once attacked by the wooden vessels, but they made no impression upon her.  An order was now brought to the ironclads by Fleet-Surgeon Palmer for them to attack the ram, but as they stood for her, she seemed again to move as if retiring toward the fort, but the Chickasaw overtook her, and after a short engagement, succeeded in forcing her to surrender, having shot away her smoke-stack, destroyed her steering gear, and jammed her afterparts so that her stern guns were rendered useless.  As she could not steer she drifted down the bay, head on, and I followed her close, firing as fast as I could, my guns and turrets, in spite of the strain upon them, continuing in perfect order.  When Johnston came on the roof of the Tennessee and showed the white flag as signal of surrender, no vessel of the fleet was as near as a quarter of a mile, but the Ossipee was approaching, and her captain was much older than myself.  I was wet with perspiration, begrimed with powder, and exhausted by long-continued exertion.  I drew back and allowed Captain Le Roy to receive the surrender, though my first lieutenant, Hamilton, said to me at the time:  ‘Captain, you are making a mistake.’”