On a Gun-boat.
When the Milwaukee was fairly out of range of the bullets of the
guerrillas, Frank put his gun back in the rack, and started in search of
the doctor's steward. He ran into the cabin without ceremony, and was
about to enter the steward's room, when he discovered a pair of
patent-leather boots, which he thought he recognized, sticking out from
under a mattress which lay on the cabin floor; and, upon examination, he
found that it concealed the steward, who was as pale as a sheet, and
shaking as though he had been seized with the ague.
"What do you want here?" he asked, in a trembling voice, as Frank raised
the mattress.
"Simpson is shot," answered Frank, "and I would like to have you come down
and see him."
"Do you suppose I am fool enough to go out on deck, and run the risk of
being shot? No, sir; I'll stay here, where I am safe;" and the steward
made an effort to draw his head under the mattress again.
"There's no danger now," said Frank; "the rebels have stopped firing.
Besides, we are out of"--
"Go away, and let me alone," whined the steward.
"I am not going to expose myself."
"You're a coward," exclaimed Frank, now fairly aroused "But I guess the
captain can"--
"Oh, don't," entreated the steward; "I haven't been here a minute. I
started to get a gun, to pay the rebels back in their own coin; but the
bullets came through the cabin so thick that I thought it best to retreat
to a safe place;" and the steward threw off the mattress, and arose,
tremblingly, to his feet.
"You went after a gun, did you?" inquired Frank, in a tone of voice which
showed that he did not believe the steward's story.
"Yes; and I would have given them fits, for I am a dead shot."
"Where did you put your gun when you found that you had to retreat?"
"I put it back in the rack again."
This was a likely story; for a person as badly frightened as was the
steward would not have stopped to put the gun back in its place; and, in
his heart, Frank despised the man who could be guilty of such a falsehood.
As they were about to go out on deck, the steward drew back, exclaiming:
"I don't hardly believe it is safe to go out there just yet. Let us wait a
few moments."
"I shan't wait an instant," said Frank. "Simpson has been neglected too
long already. You can come down and attend to him, or not, just as you
please." So saying, he opened the cabin door, and walking rapidly out,
descended the stairs that led to the main deck.
The steward dreaded to follow; but he knew that, if he did not attend the
wounded sailor, he would be reported to the captain, who, although a
kind-hearted man, was a strict disciplinarian, and one who always took
particular pains to see that his crew was well provided for. He dared not
hesitate long; so, drawing in a long breath, he ran swiftly out on deck,
and disappeared down the stairs like a shot.
Frank found Simpson sitting upon the mattress where he had been lain, with
his elbows on his knees, and his head supported by his hands. As Frank
came up, he said, in a weak voice:
"I came very near losing the number of my mess, didn't I? The rascals shot
pretty close to me;" and he showed Frank an ugly-looking wound in the back
of his head, from which the blood was flowing profusely.
By this time the steward arrived. After examining the wound, he pronounced
it very severe, and one that would require constant attention.
Simpson was speedily conveyed to the sick bay, and every thing possible
done to make him comfortable. Although the Milwaukee was completely
riddled by the bullets of the guerrillas, he was the only one hurt. Frank
was excused from all duty, that he might act as Simpson's nurse; and he
scarcely left him for a moment during the two weeks of fever and delirium
that followed. By the time they reached Cairo, however, he was pronounced
out of danger.
Frank wanted very much to see his cousin; but the Milwaukee was anchored
out in the river, and no one was allowed to go ashore. One afternoon, as
he sat by his friend's hammock, reading aloud a letter from Harry Butler,
in which he gave a vivid description of a late battle in which his
regiment had participated, the orderly entered and informed him that the
captain wished to see him. He followed the orderly, and, as he entered the
cabin, the captain said:
"Please help yourself to a chair, Mr. Nelson; I shall be at liberty in a
moment. I should like to finish this letter before the mail-steamer sails.
You will excuse me, will you not?"
"Certainly, sir," answered Frank; and he seated himself, lost in wonder.
The captain had addressed him as _Mr._ Nelson, while heretofore he had
always been called, by the officers, Nelson, or Frank. What could it mean?
The captain had always treated him with the greatest kindness; but, since
the engagement with the guerrillas, all the officers had shown him more
consideration than ever. He had noticed the change, and wondered at it.
At length the captain, after hastily directing the letter he had written,
and giving it in charge of the orderly, took an official document from his
desk, saying, as he did so:
"I am greatly pleased, Mr. Nelson, to be able to give you this, for you
deserve it;" and after unfolding the letter, he gave it to Frank, who read
as follows:
NAVY DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON, D.C., Dec. 18, 1862.
Sir: For your gallantry in the late action at Cypress Bend, on the
1st inst., you are hereby appointed an Acting Master's Mate in the
Navy of the United States, on temporary service. Report, without
delay, to Acting Rear-Admiral David D. Porter, for such duty as he
may assign you. Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
GIDEON WELLES, _Secretary of the Navy,_
Acting Master's Mate FRANK NELSON,
_S.S. Milwaukee, Mississippi Squadron._
"Well," said the captain, after Frank had read the letter over three
times, to make sure that he was not dreaming, and that he was really an
officer, "what do you think of it?"
"I hardly know what to think, sir," answered Frank. "It is an honor I did
not expect."
"Very likely," said the captain, with a laugh; "but you deserve it. If it
hadn't been for you, we should all have been captured. I saw the whole of
the transaction from the pilot-house."
"It was my duty to do it, sir."
"It was a brave act, call it what else you will. Now go and give this to
the paymaster," continued the captain, handing Frank an order for the
settlement of his accounts, "and then go immediately and report to the
Admiral."
Frank left the captain, a good deal elated at his success; and when he
approached Simpson, the latter exclaimed:
"What is it, my hearty? Your promotion?"
"Yes," answered Frank; "read that;" and he handed his appointment to his
friend, who said:
"I knew you would get it. The captain isn't the man to let such a thing as
you did at Cypress Bend pass unnoticed. Give us your flipper, my boy; I'm
glad to see you an officer." And the brave fellow actually shed tears, as
he shook Frank's hand. "Now, when you are ordered to your ship," he
continued, "I wish you would speak a word for me. I am very well contented
here, but I had much rather sail with you."
Frank promised to do his best, and, after putting on his "shore togs," as
Simpson called them, and giving the captain's order to the paymaster, he
started off to report to the Admiral.
When he arrived on board the flag-ship, he was met by the officer of the
deck, who inquired his business.
"I wish to see the Admiral, sir" answered Frank; "I am ordered to report
to him."
The officer immediately led the way aft, and showed Frank a marine
standing at the door of the cabin, who took his name and disappeared. In a
moment he returned, and informed Frank that the Admiral was waiting to see
him.
He entered the cabin, and handed his appointment to the Admiral, who,
after reading it, said:
"So, you are the young man that saved the Milwaukee, are you? Take a
chair, sir."
In a few moments his orders to report, without delay, on board the
Ticonderoga, were ready; and as the Admiral handed them to him, he said:
"Now, young man, you will be on a ship where you will have a chance to
distinguish yourself. I shall expect to hear a good account of you."
"I shall always endeavor to do my duty, sir," answered Frank; and he made
his best bow and retired.
When he returned to the Milwaukee, his accounts had all been made out.
After the paymaster paid him up in full, Frank started for the nearest
clothing-store, and when he came out, he was changed into a fine-looking
officer.
He immediately directed his steps toward the naval wharf-boat, where he
found a lively little fellow, who seemed full of business, superintending
the loading of a vessel with provisions. It was Archie Winters; but it was
plain that he did not recognize his cousin in his new uniform, for Frank
stood close behind him, several moments, and Archie even brushed against
him, as he passed.
"Can you tell me, sir, where I can find Mr. Winters?" inquired Frank, at
length.
"Yes, sir," answered Archie, promptly, looking his cousin full in the
face; "I'm the--why, Frank, how are you?" and he seized his cousin's hand,
and shook it heartily. "I've been on board the Milwaukee twice this
morning, but you were off somewhere. I heard you had a fight down the
river, with the rebels. But what are you doing? What boat are you ordered
to?"
"I am not doing any thing at present," answered Frank; "but I am ordered
to report on board the Ticonderoga."
"There she is," said Archie, pointing to a long, low, black vessel that
lay alongside of the wharf boat. "I am just putting provisions on board of
her. I'll come and see you as soon as I get my work done."
Frank went on board his vessel, where he was received by the officer of
the deck, who showed him the way into the cabin. After the captain had
indorsed his orders, he strolled leisurely about the ship, examining into
every thing, for as yet he knew nothing of gun-boat life.
The Ticonderoga was a queer-looking craft. She was not exactly a Monitor;
but she had a turret forward, and mounted two eleven-inch guns and four
twelve-pounder howitzers. She had a heavy iron ram on her bow, and the
turret was protected by three inches of iron, and the deck with two
inches. It did not seem possible that a cannon-ball could make any
impression on her thick armor.
The officers' quarters were all below decks; and, although it was then the
middle of winter, Frank found it rather uncomfortable in his bunk.
During the two weeks that elapsed before the ship was ready to sail, the
time was employed in getting every thing in order--in drilling at the
great guns, and with muskets and broad-swords.
Most of the crew were old seamen, who understood their duty; and by the
time their sailing orders came, every thing moved like clock-work.
In the mean time Frank had been assigned his station, which--being the
youngest officer on board the ship--was to command the magazine. He
learned very rapidly, and, as he was always attentive to his duties, he
grew in favor with both officers and men.
At length, one afternoon, the anchor was weighed, and the Ticonderoga
steamed down the river. Her orders were to report to the Admiral, who had
sailed from Cairo about a week previous. They found him at Arkansas Post,
where they arrived too late to take part in the fight. In a few days a
station was assigned to her in the Mississippi River; and the Ticonderoga
immediately set sail, in obedience to orders.