CHAPTER VII.
On a Gun-boat.
When the Milwaukee was fairly out of range of the bullets of theguerrillas, Frank put his gun back in the rack, and started in search ofthe doctor's steward. He ran into the cabin without ceremony, and wasabout to enter the steward's room, when he discovered a pair ofpatent-leather boots, which he thought he recognized, sticking out fromunder a mattress which lay on the cabin floor; and, upon examination, hefound that it concealed the steward, who was as pale as a sheet, andshaking as though he had been seized with the ague.
"What do you want here?" he asked, in a trembling voice, as Frank raisedthe mattress.
"Simpson is shot," answered Frank, "and I would like to have you come downand see him."
"Do you suppose I am fool enough to go out on deck, and run the risk ofbeing shot? No, sir; I'll stay here, where I am safe;" and the stewardmade 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 thecaptain can"--
"Oh, don't," entreated the steward; "I haven't been here a minute. Istarted to get a gun, to pay the rebels back in their own coin; but thebullets came through the cabin so thick that I thought it best to retreatto 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 whichshowed 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 thesteward would not have stopped to put the gun back in its place; and, inhis 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 afew moments."
"I shan't wait an instant," said Frank. "Simpson has been neglected toolong already. You can come down and attend to him, or not, just as youplease." 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 thewounded sailor, he would be reported to the captain, who, although akind-hearted man, was a strict disciplinarian, and one who always tookparticular pains to see that his crew was well provided for. He dared nothesitate 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, withhis elbows on his knees, and his head supported by his hands. As Frankcame up, he said, in a weak voice:
"I came very near losing the number of my mess, didn't I? The rascals shotpretty close to me;" and he showed Frank an ugly-looking wound in the backof his head, from which the blood was flowing profusely.
By this time the steward arrived. After examining the wound, he pronouncedit very severe, and one that would require constant attention.
Simpson was speedily conveyed to the sick bay, and every thing possibledone to make him comfortable. Although the Milwaukee was completelyriddled by the bullets of the guerrillas, he was the only one hurt. Frankwas excused from all duty, that he might act as Simpson's nurse; and hescarcely left him for a moment during the two weeks of fever and deliriumthat followed. By the time they reached Cairo, however, he was pronouncedout of danger.
Frank wanted very much to see his cousin; but the Milwaukee was anchoredout in the river, and no one was allowed to go ashore. One afternoon, ashe 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 hisregiment had participated, the orderly entered and informed him that thecaptain wished to see him. He followed the orderly, and, as he entered thecabin, the captain said:
"Please help yourself to a chair, Mr. Nelson; I shall be at liberty in amoment. 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 hadalways been called, by the officers, Nelson, or Frank. What could it mean?The captain had always treated him with the greatest kindness; but, sincethe engagement with the guerrillas, all the officers had shown him moreconsideration 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 hisdesk, saying, as he did so:
"I am greatly pleased, Mr. Nelson, to be able to give you this, for youdeserve it;" and after unfolding the letter, he gave it to Frank, who readas 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 threetimes, to make sure that he was not dreaming, and that he was really anofficer, "what do you think of it?"
"I hardly know what to think, sir," answered Frank. "It is an honor I didnot expect."
"Very likely," said the captain, with a laugh; "but you deserve it. If ithadn't been for you, we should all have been captured. I saw the whole ofthe 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 tothe paymaster," continued the captain, handing Frank an order for thesettlement of his accounts, "and then go immediately and report to theAdmiral."
Frank left the captain, a good deal elated at his success; and when heapproached Simpson, the latter exclaimed:
"What is it, my hearty? Your promotion?"
"Yes," answered Frank; "read that;" and he handed his appointment to hisfriend, who said:
"I knew you would get it. The captain isn't the man to let such a thing asyou did at Cypress Bend pass unnoticed. Give us your flipper, my boy; I'mglad to see you an officer." And the brave fellow actually shed tears, ashe shook Frank's hand. "Now, when you are ordered to your ship," hecontinued, "I wish you would speak a word for me. I am very well contentedhere, but I had much rather sail with you."
Frank promised to do his best, and, after putting on his "shore togs," asSimpson called them, and giving the captain's order to the paymaster, hestarted off to report to the Admiral.
When he arrived on board the flag-ship, he was met by the officer of thedeck, who inquired his business.
"I wish to see the Admiral, sir" answered Frank; "I am ordered to reportto him."
The officer immediately led the way aft, and showed Frank a marinestanding at the door of the cabin, who took his name and disappeared. In amoment he returned, and informed Frank that the Admiral was waiting to seehim.
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 achair, sir."
In a few moments his orders to report, without delay, on board theTiconderoga, 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
todistinguish yourself. I shall expect to hear a good account of you."
"I shall always endeavor to do my duty, sir," answered Frank; and he madehis 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 nearestclothing-store, and when he came out, he was changed into a fine-lookingofficer.
He immediately directed his steps toward the naval wharf-boat, where hefound a lively little fellow, who seemed full of business, superintendingthe loading of a vessel with provisions. It was Archie Winters; but it wasplain that he did not recognize his cousin in his new uniform, for Frankstood close behind him, several moments, and Archie even brushed againsthim, as he passed.
"Can you tell me, sir, where I can find Mr. Winters?" inquired Frank, atlength.
"Yes, sir," answered Archie, promptly, looking his cousin full in theface; "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 thismorning, but you were off somewhere. I heard you had a fight down theriver, with the rebels. But what are you doing? What boat are you orderedto?"
"I am not doing any thing at present," answered Frank; "but I am orderedto report on board the Ticonderoga."
"There she is," said Archie, pointing to a long, low, black vessel thatlay alongside of the wharf boat. "I am just putting provisions on board ofher. 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 ofthe deck, who showed him the way into the cabin. After the captain hadindorsed his orders, he strolled leisurely about the ship, examining intoevery 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 fourtwelve-pounder howitzers. She had a heavy iron ram on her bow, and theturret was protected by three inches of iron, and the deck with twoinches. It did not seem possible that a cannon-ball could make anyimpression on her thick armor.
The officers' quarters were all below decks; and, although it was then themiddle of winter, Frank found it rather uncomfortable in his bunk.
During the two weeks that elapsed before the ship was ready to sail, thetime was employed in getting every thing in order--in drilling at thegreat guns, and with muskets and broad-swords.
Most of the crew were old seamen, who understood their duty; and by thetime their sailing orders came, every thing moved like clock-work.
In the mean time Frank had been assigned his station, which--being theyoungest officer on board the ship--was to command the magazine. Helearned very rapidly, and, as he was always attentive to his duties, hegrew in favor with both officers and men.
At length, one afternoon, the anchor was weighed, and the Ticonderogasteamed down the river. Her orders were to report to the Admiral, who hadsailed 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 astation was assigned to her in the Mississippi River; and the Ticonderogaimmediately set sail, in obedience to orders.
Frank on a Gun-Boat Page 7
