The Rock of Chickamauga: A Story of the Western Crisis by Joseph A. Altsheler (best 7 inch ereader txt) 📖

immersed had saved him from cramp or chill. The spirit of recklessness seized him again. He threw himself astride his plank, and called out:

“A detachment of the army of the United States escaped from captivity in Vicksburg, and wishing to rejoin it. It's infantry, not marines, and it needs land.”

“Then advance infantry and give the countersign.”

“Grant and Victory,” replied Dick in a loud, clear voice.

A laugh came from the steamer, and the rough voice said again:

“Let the detachment advance again, and holding up its hands, show itself.”

Dick paddled closer and, steadying himself as well as he could, threw up his hands. The light of a ship's lantern was thrown directly on his face, and the same voice ordered men to take a small boat and get him.

When Dick stepped upon the deck of the steamer, water streaming from his clothes, several men looked at him curiously. One in a dingy blue uniform he believed to be the owner of the rough voice. But his face was not rough.

“Who are you?” asked the man.

“Lieutenant Richard Mason of Colonel Winchester's regiment in the army of General Grant, sent several days ago with a message to the fleet, but driven by Confederate scouts and skirmishers into Vicksburg, where he lay hidden, seeking a chance of escape.”

“And he found it to-night, coming down the river like a big catfish.”

“He did, sir. He could find no other way, and he arrived on the useful board which is now floating away on the current.”

“What proof have you that you are what you say.”

“That I saw you before you saw me and hailed you.”

“It's not enough.”

“Then here is the message that I was to have delivered to the commander of the fleet. It's pretty wet, but I think you can make it out.”

He drew the dispatch from the inside pocket of his waistcoat. It was soaked through, but when they turned the ship's lantern upon it the captain could make out its tenor and the names. Doubt could exist no longer and he clapped his hands heartily upon the lad's shoulder.

“Come into the cabin and have something to eat and dry clothes,” he said. “This is the converted steamer Union, and I'm its commander, Captain William Hays. I judge that you've had an extraordinary time.”

“I have, captain, and the hardest of it all was when I saw our army repulsed to-day.”

“It was bad and the wounded are still lying on the field, but it doesn't mean that Vicksburg will have a single moment of rest. Listen to that, will you, lieutenant?”

The far boom of a cannon came, and Dick knew that its shell would break over the unhappy town. But he had grown so used to the cannonade that it made little impression upon him, and, shrugging his shoulders, he descended the gangway with the captain.

Clothing that would fit him well enough was found, and once more he was dry and warm. Hot coffee and good food were brought him, and while he ate and drank Captain Hays asked him many questions. What was the rebel strength in Vicksburg? Were they exultant over their victory of the day? Did they think they could hold out? What food supply did they have?

Dick answered all the questions openly and frankly as far as he could. He really knew little or nothing about those of importance, and, as for himself, he merely said that he had hid in a cave, many of which had been dug in Vicksburg. He did not mention Colonel Woodville or his daughter.

“Now,” said Captain Hays, when he finished his supper, “you can have a bunk. Yes, lieutenant, you must take it. I could put you ashore to-night, but it's not worth while. Get a good night's sleep, and we'll see to-morrow.”

Dick knew that he was right, and, quelling his impatience, he lay down in one of the bunks and slept until morning.

Then, after a solid breakfast, he went ashore with the good wishes of Captain Hays, and, a few hours later, he was with the Union army and his own regiment. Again he was welcomed as one dead and his own heart was full of rejoicing because all of his friends were alive. Warner alone had been wounded, a bullet cutting into his shoulder, but not hurting him much. He wore a bandage, his face had a becoming pallor, and Pennington charged that he was making the most of it.

“But it was an awful day,” said Warner, “and there's a lot of gloom in the camp. Still, we're not moving away and the reinforcements are coming.”

Dick explained to Colonel Winchester why he had failed in his mission, and the colonel promised to report in turn to the commander that the hand of God had intervened. Dick's conscience was now at rest, and he resumed at once his duties with the regiment.

Many days passed. While Grant did not make any other attack upon Vicksburg his circle of steel grew tighter, and the rain of shells and bombs upon the devoted town never ceased. Reinforcements poured forward. His army rose to nearly eighty thousand men, and Johnston, hovering near, gathering together what men he could, did not dare to strike. Dick was reminded more than once of Caesar's famous siege of Alesia, about which he had read not so long ago in Dr. Russell's academy at Pendleton.

There were long, long days of intrenching, skirmishing and idleness. May turned into June, and still the steel coil enclosed Vicksburg. Here the Union men were hopeful, but the news from the East was bad. Not much filtered through, and none of it struck a happy note. Lee, with his invincible legions, was still sweeping northward. Doubtless the Confederate hosts now trod the soil of a free State, and Dick and his comrades feared in their very souls that Lee was marching to another great victory.

“I wish I could hear from Harry Kenton,” said Dick to Warner. “I'd like to know whether he passed through Chancellorsville safely.”

“Don't you worry about him,” said Warner. “That rebel cousin of yours has luck. He also has skill. Let x equal luck and y skill. Now x plus y equals the combination of luck and skill, which is safety. That proves to me mathematically that he is unharmed and that he is riding northward—to defeat, I hope.”

“We've got to win here,” said Dick. “If we don't, I'm thinking the cause of the Union will be more than doubtful. We don't seem to have the generals in the East that we have in the West. Our leaders hang on here and they don't overestimate the enemy.”

“That's so,” said Pennington. “Now, I wonder what 'Pap' Thomas is doing.”

“He's somewhere in Tennessee, I suppose, watching Bragg,” said Dick. “That's a man I like, and, I think, after this affair here is over, we may go back to his command. If we do succeed in taking Vicksburg, it seems likely to me that the