THROUGH SHOT AND SHELL
A ringing cheer went up from the men and they stepped forward with one
accord.
"I'll go with you, Captain," cried one. "With you and the little girl to
the death."
"Ay! to the death," shouted the others in chorus.
The Captain smiled down into Jeanne's face.
"You see what you have done," he said. "They did not care to follow me,
but will go anywhere with you. I believe that we shall have to turn over
the boat to your charge."
"I think they would have gone," said Jeanne, rather abashed at so much
notice. "Perhaps they were just thinking it over."
"True for you, my beauty," cried the first mate. "That's what we were
doing, Captain. We'd a gone all right."
"Now, men," said the Captain seriously, still retaining Jeanne's hand,
"you fully realize what you are doing, do you? Think well, because there
can be no backing out when we have started. Any one who does not wish
to join us may go forward. We have no means of fighting and must take
whatever the 'rebs' choose to give us. You see that I am not mincing
matters with you, boys. Move forward any of you who do not wish to go."
He paused and waited for a few moments, but not a man stirred from his
place.
"Then listen," he went on briskly. "We'll finish giving the Commodore
his supplies, and then barricade the boat with bales of cotton. Under
the protection of one of Davis's gunboats we will try to run the batteries
under cover of the darkness. Now fall to, my hearties. There is much to
be done."
There was another cheer and the men sprang to their tasks. The Captain
looked down at the girl by his side. Jeanne's eyes were like stars, and
her cheeks were red as roses. The blood of her Revolutionary ancestors was
up and she showed no sign of fear.
"What will your father say if I do not bring you safely through this?"
asked the Captain.
"It is a risk that we must run," said Jeanne. "There is no more danger
for me than for you and the men."
"True, child; yet we are men, and you are only a girl. I don't know just
where you ought to stay through this affair. One part of the boat will
be just as safe as another."
"Don't mind me, Captain. You will have your duties to attend to, and I
will not bother if I am 'only a girl.'"
"Ah! that touched you, did it?" laughed the Captain. "But I do mind you,
child. I don't half like this idea of your going. You are sure that you
won't stay here?"
"Sure, Captain. Indeed, I must get to New Orleans, and there is no other
way, is there?"
"No; to try to make it by land on either side the river would be through
the enemy's country with every chance in favor of capture. This is a
desperate risk but sometimes desperate chances stand the best show of
success. Once past Vicksburg and the rest is easy."
"Then please don't say anything more about my staying," pleaded Jeanne. "I
will try not to be the least bit in the way."
And so it came about that the transport made ready to run the batteries
of Vicksburg with Jeanne on board. The girl watched the men as they
worked, and waited impatiently for the time to come for them to start. At
last night fell. There was no moon, and a little before midnight a gunboat
drifted out of Miliken's Bend where the fleet lay, and, showing no light
from its chimney, moved like some great bird down the noiseless current,
while the transport, hugging the western shore under the cover of the
friendly darkness, followed close in the rear.
No sound could be heard from the heights of Vicksburg, nor could any
lights be seen. The city lay in the brooding darkness as calmly quiet
as though no dread batteries lay at her feet waiting but the word of
command to belch forth their terrible fire. An hour passed, and Jeanne,
sitting in the darkness of the cabin listening with strained ears to
catch the least sound, began to believe that they would get safely past
the city undiscovered.
Suddenly there came a flash followed by a crash that shook the shores.
Lights danced along the heights. Thunder answered thunder and the
roar of batteries from land and water rent the air. Presently a blaze
flickered, flashed and then sprang up in a great sheet of flame upon the
heights throwing the gunboat and the transport into a strong light,
and turning the gloom of the black midnight into the brilliancy of day.
The Confederates had fired a mass of combustibles with which to spy
out the whereabouts of their enemies.
With the first burst of the artillery Jeanne ran up on deck.
"Back to the cabin, girl," shouted the Captain hoarsely. "This is no place
for you."
But as Jeanne turned to obey him a shot tore through the cabin and fell
hissing into the water beyond. The girl paused. Captain Leathers caught
her arm and drew her behind a bale of cotton.
"Stay there!" he panted. "You will be as safe as anywhere."
At this moment a terrible shape loomed out of the darkness making straight
for the gunboat. A shout went up from the crews of the gunboat and the
transport as the rebel ram Arkansas was recognized. Determined to make a
grand effort to escape, Captain Leathers ordered all steam to be crowded
on, thinking to run down the river while the gunboat engaged the ram.
The Gem responded nobly to the appeal and her prow cut the waters until
they rolled from her in one mass of foam. But the Captain's design was
penetrated instantly by the enemy, and shot and shell sizzed through the
air like hail. It seemed miraculous that the transport escaped being
riddled.
Meantime the gunboat saw that the ram designed to run her down, and
swinging round, welcomed the visitor with a full broadside. As the sound
of the guns and their tremendous reverberations ran along the shore, the
answer came in a terrific onslaught from the batteries above. Pandemonium
seemed to have broken loose. Shot and shell whistled and sang through
the air carrying death and desolation in their wake. Shouts and cries
added to the confusion of the moment.
The ram, foiled in her first attempt to run down the Yankee, withdrew a
short distance and turned again upon the boat. This time she got her sharp
bow full in upon the heavy iron sides of the gunboat but her headway was
not sufficient to cause any very serious damage. Before she could get
away the Captain of the Yankee vessel rushed upon the hurricane deck and
seizing a pistol shot the rebel pilot dead. The rebel crew retaliated
by shooting him down. In the meantime the ram prepared for another blow,
withdrawing for a terrific onslaught.
Just at this moment a shell struck the magazine of the plucky gunboat.
There was an instantaneous explosion and the boat was blown to atoms, her
gallant crew perishing with her.
"We are doomed," groaned Captain Leathers. "Nothing can save us now. Are
you ready to die, little girl?"
"Ready, Captain," came from Jeanne's pale lips, and she arose from her
place behind the cotton. "But I want to die standing. I wish we could
shoot, Captain."
"So do I. But we are at their mercy. It would be a relief to do something,
but to die without a chance for a shot. Ah!"
The exclamation was caused by the fact that the light of the bonfires
was dying down, and the transport was nearing the turn of the lower bend.
The shadows grew deeper and longer, and soon only a pale flickering
flame remained of the brilliant light of a short time before. Then the
blackness of night settled once more upon the river and a cheer broke
from the crew as the transport rounded the lower bend of the great loop
upon which Vicksburg stood, and passed out from under the batteries of
the modern Gibraltar.
"Will that terrible vessel come after us?" asked Jeanne hardly realizing
that the danger was over.
"No, child. We are safe. The ram knows that Farragut is somewhere near
here, and she will not venture out to-night. We are safe; thank God!"
"Thank God!" echoed the girl faintly. "Safe! Oh, Captain, Captain!" and
she burst into a passion of weeping.
"Why, my little heroine, what does this mean?" cried Captain Leathers
dismayed. "You were cool enough through that fire of grape and canister.
'Ready to die,' you said; 'just so that you could die standing.' It was
enough to frighten the bravest man, yet you were not afraid. And now you
break down?"
"Leab her ter me, massa," said old Tenny coming up on deck. "Jest you
leab dat chile ter ole Tenny. Ef dis night ain't been enuff ter make an
angel weep den I dunno nuffin. Lawsie, massa! I'se been suah dat I wuz
daid fer de las' hour. Fiah an' brimstone nebber scare me no mo'. De bad
man ain't got no wuss ter gib dan dis has been, an' I knows it. Come,
chile! Come, honey! Ole Tenny'll put yer ter bed now."
"Yes; that is the best place for her," said the Captain as the girl
continued to sob uncontrollably. "I'll carry her down, Tenny, and you
see to her."
He lifted Jeanne up bodily in his arms, and bore her into the cabin
picking his way carefully through the debris scattered about.
"I--I can't help but cry," sobbed Jeanne with an effort at self-control.
"It's all right, my little girl. Cry all you want to. You are nervous
and overwrought. I feel as if I'd like to do the same if I wasn't a man.
Sleep well because you are safe now, and you won't have any more of this
to go through. Good-night."
"Good-night," murmured Jeanne and presently she grew calm under Tenny's
soothing ministrations.