"Why, my boy," he said, "I counted on such, long ago--and worse;
besides, you know that I believe everything will come right."
"What is to prevent the _Merrimac_ from destroying our whole fleet and
then destroying our coast?"
"God!" said Dr. Khayme.
Lydia, kissed him and burst into weeping.
* * * * *
So far as I can remember, I have passed no more anxious night in my life
than the night of the 8th of March, 1862. My health did not permit me to
go out of the tent; but from the gloomy rumours of the camps I knew that
my anxiety was shared by all. Strange, I thought, that my experience in
war should be so peculiarly disastrous. Bull Run had been but the first
horror; here was another and possibly a worse one. The East seemed
propitious to the rebels; Grant alone, of our side, could gain
victories.
The burning ship cast a lurid glare over land and sea; dense smoke crept
along the coast; shouts came to my ears--great effort, I knew, was being
made to get the _Minnesota_ off; nobody could have slept that night.
The Doctor made short absences from his camp. At ten o'clock he came in
finally; a smile was on his face. Lydia had heard him, and now came
in also.
"Jones," said he, "what will you give me for good news?"
"Oh, Doctor," said I, "don't tantalize me."
Lydia was watching the Doctor's face.
"Well," said he, "I must make a bargain. If I tell you something to
relieve your fears, will you promise me to go to sleep?"
"Yes; I shall be glad to go to sleep; the quicker the better."
"Well, then, the _Merrimac_ will meet her match if she comes out
to-morrow."
"What do you mean, Doctor?"
"I mean that a United States war-vessel, fully equal to the _Merrimac,_
has arrived."
Lydia left the tent.
I almost shouted. I could no more go to sleep than I could fly. I
started to get out of bed. The Doctor put his hand on my head, and
gently pressed me back to my pillow.