Part 39 (1/2)

Our wheels seemed to turn very slowly. No one can express in words the anxiety with which we listened, after each shot, for the puffing of the engines. So long as the machinery was uninjured, there was no danger of our falling into Rebel hands. But with our engines disabled, our chances for capture would be very good.

As the last shot fell astern of the boat and sent up a column of spray, we looked about the cabin and saw that no one had been injured.

A moment later came the announcement from the pilot-house:

”Captain Gorman is killed!”

I ascended to the hurricane deck, and thence to the pilot-house. The pilot, with his hat thrown aside and his hair streaming in the wind, stood at his post, carefully guiding the boat on her course. The body of the captain was lying at his feet. Another man lay dying, close by the opening in which the wheel revolved. The floor was covered with blood, splinters, gla.s.s, and the fragments of a shattered stove.

One side of the little room was broken in, and the other side was perforated where the projectiles made their exit.

The first gun from the Rebels threw a sh.e.l.l which entered the side of the pilot-house, and struck the captain, who was sitting just behind the pilot. Death must have been instantaneous. A moment later, a ”spherical-case shot” followed the sh.e.l.l. It exploded as it struck the wood-work, and a portion of the contents entered the side of the bar-keeper of the boat. In falling to the floor he fell against the wheel. The pilot, steering the boat with one hand, pulled the dying man from the wheel with the other, and placed him by the side of the dead captain.

Though, apparently, the pilot was as cool and undisturbed as ever, his face was whiter than usual. He said the most trying moment of all was soon after the first shots were fired. Wis.h.i.+ng to ”round the bend” as speedily as possible, he rang the bell as a signal to the engineer to check the speed of one of the wheels. The signal was not obeyed, the engineers having fled to places of safety. He rang the bell once more.

He shouted down the speaking-tube, to enforce compliance with his order.

There was no answer. The engines were caring for themselves. The boat must be controlled by the rudder alone. With a dead man and a dying man at his feet, with the Rebel shot and sh.e.l.l every moment perforating the boat or falling near it, and with no help from those who should control the machinery, he felt that his position was a painful one.

We were out of danger. An hour later we found the gun-boat _Neosho_, at anchor, eight miles further up the stream. Thinking we might again be attacked, the commander of the _Neosho_ offered to convoy us to Red River. We accepted his offer. As soon as the _Neosho_ raised sufficient steam to enable her to move, we proceeded on our course.

Order was restored on the _Von Phul_. Most of the pa.s.sengers gathered in little groups, and talked about the recent occurrence. I returned to my writing, and Colburn gave his attention to a book. With the gun-boat at our side, no one supposed there was danger of another attack.

A half-hour after starting under convoy of the gun-boat, the Rebels once more opened fire. They paid no attention to the _Neosho_, but threw all their projectiles at the _Von Phul_. The first sh.e.l.l pa.s.sed through the cabin, wounding a person near me, and grazing a post against which Colburn and myself were resting our chairs. This sh.e.l.l was followed by others in quick succession, most of them pa.s.sing through the cabin. One exploded under the portion of the cabin directly beneath my position. The explosion uplifted the boards with such force as to overturn my table and disturb the steadiness of my chair.

I dreaded splinters far more than I feared the pitiless iron. I left the cabin, through which the sh.e.l.ls were pouring, and descended to the lower deck. It was no better there than above. We were increasing the distance between ourselves and the Rebels, and the shot began to strike lower down. Nearly every shot raked the lower deck.

A loose plank on which I stood was split for more than half its length, by a shot which struck my foot when its force was nearly spent. Though the skin was not abraded, and no bones were broken, I felt the effect of the blow for several weeks.

I lay down upon the deck. A moment after I had taken my horizontal position, two men who lay against me were mortally wounded by a sh.e.l.l.

The right leg of one was completely severed below the knee. This sh.e.l.l was the last projectile that struck the forward portion of the boat.

With a handkerchief loosely tied and twisted with a stick, I endeavored to stop the flow of blood from the leg of the wounded man.

I was partially successful, but the stoppage of blood could not save the man's life. He died within the hour.

Forty-two shot and sh.e.l.l struck the boat. The escape-pipe was severed where it pa.s.sed between two state-rooms, and filled the cabin with steam. The safe in the captain's office was perforated as if it had been made of wood. A trunk was broken by a sh.e.l.l, and its contents were scattered upon the floor. Splinters had fallen in the cabin, and were spread thickly upon the carpet. Every person who escaped uninjured had his own list of incidents to narrate.

Out of about fifty persons on board the _Von Phul_ at the time of this occurrence, twelve were killed or wounded. One of the last projectiles that struck the boat, injured a boiler sufficiently to allow the escape of steam. In ten minutes our engines moved very feebly. We were forced to ”tie up” to the eastern bank of the river. We were by this time out of range of the Rebel battery. The _Neosho_ had opened fire, and by the time we made fast to the bank, the Rebels were in retreat.

The _Neosho_ ceased firing and moved to our relief. Before she reached us, the steamer _Atlantic_ came in sight, descending the river.

We hailed her, and she came alongside. Immediately on learning our condition, her captain offered to tow the _Von Phul_ to Red River, twenty miles distant. There we could lie, under protection of the gun-boats, and repair the damages to our machinery. We accepted his offer at once.

I can hardly imagine a situation of greater helplessness, than a place on board a Western pa.s.senger-steamer under the guns of a hostile battery. A battle-field is no comparison. On solid earth the princ.i.p.al danger is from projectiles. You can fight, or, under some circ.u.mstances, can run away. On a Mississippi transport, you are equally in danger of being shot. Added to this, you may be struck by splinters, scalded by steam, burned by fire, or drowned in the water.

You cannot fight, you cannot run away, and you cannot find shelter.

With no power for resistance or escape, the sense of danger and helplessness cannot be set aside.

A few weeks after the occurrence just narrated, the steamer _Brazil_, on her way from Vicksburg to Natchez, was fired upon by a Rebel battery near Rodney, Mississippi. The boat was struck a half-dozen times by shot and sh.e.l.l. More than a hundred rifle-bullets were thrown on board. Three persons were killed and as many wounded.

Among those killed on the _Brazil_, was a young woman who had engaged to take charge of a school for negro children at Natchez. The Rebel sympathizers at Natchez displayed much gratification at her death. On several occasions I heard some of the more pious among them declare that the hand of G.o.d directed the fatal missile. They prophesied violent or sudden deaths to all who came to the South on a similar mission.