In the Trenches.
he day after their arrival at Yazoo River an officer from the flag-ship came on board. After holding a short consultation with the captain, the order was given to get the ship under way, when, as soon as the anchor was weighed, they steamed down the river.
What could be the meaning of this new move? Were their services needed below Vicksburg, and were they about to imitate the Queen of the West, and run by the batteries in broad daylight? That hardly seemed to be the case, for the men were not called to quarters, and the officers were allowed to remain on deck. Every one was excited, and many were the speculations indulged in as to what was to be the next duty the Trenton would be called on to perform. To the impatient men, the seven miles that lay between Yazoo River and Vicksburg seemed lengthened into a hundred; but at length they rounded the point above the mouth of the canal, and saw before them the Sebastopol of the Rebellion. It was the first time Frank had ever seen the city, and it was a sight that he would not have missed for a good deal. On the heights above the city, and even in the streets, the little mounds of earth thrown up showed where rebel cannon were mounted, and now and then a puff of smoke would rise from one of these mounds, and a shell would go shrieking toward the solid lines of the besiegers, which now completely inclosed the rebels, while an occasional roar of heavy guns told them that the iron-clads still kept close watch on the movements of the enemy below.
The right of the army rested on the river, above the city, and here the Trenton landed, just out of range of the batteries. Preparations were at once made to move some of the guns on shore. The ones selected were those belonging to Frank's division, and they were to be mounted in the batteries above the city, and about a quarter of a mile from the river. It was something of a task to move the battery that distance, but Frank and his men worked incessantly, and on the second night the guns were brought to the place where it was proposed to mount them. The sailors, although almost exhausted, at once commenced throwing up a battery; but as soon as the day dawned, a couple of shells, whistling over their heads, admonished them that it was time to cease. After a hearty breakfast on the rations they had brought with them, the men lay down in the trenches, and, wearied with their night's work, slept soundly, in spite of the roar of cannon and the rattling of musketry that had commenced as soon as it became light enough for the combatants to distinguish each other. But life in the trenches was a new thing to Frank, and he walked through the rifle-pits, every-where cordially greeted by the soldiers, who liked the looks of these big guns, with which they knew he had something to do, and who made their boasts that, as soon as the "beauties" were mounted and in position, they would "square accounts" with the rebels. There was one gun in particular that annoyed the soldiers exceedingly, and prevented them from working on the trenches. Every time a shell flew over their heads, they would exclaim, "Shoot away there, for this is your last day;" and Frank was obliged to promise, over and over again, that his first care should be to dismount that gun.
Frank found that, the further he went, the nearer the rifle-pits approached to the city; and finally he came to a group of soldiers who appeared to be conversing with some invisible persons. As he approached, he heard a voice, which seemed to come from the ground, almost at his side, exclaim:
"I say, Yank, throw over your plug of tobacco, won't you?"
"Can't see it, Johnny," replied one of the soldiers. "You wouldn't throw it back again."
"Yes, I will, honor bright," answered the rebel.
"Why," exclaimed Frank, in surprise, "I didn't know that you had pushed your lines so close to the enemy's works!"
"Yes," said a lieutenant, who at this moment came up, "there's a rebel rifle-pit not four feet from you."
"Here," said a soldier, handing Frank his gun, "put your cap on this bayonet and hold it up, and you'll soon see how far off they are."
Frank did as the soldier suggested. The moment he raised his cap above the rifle-pit, a bayonet was suddenly thrust out, and when it was drawn in, his cap went with it.
"Now, look at that!" exclaimed Frank. "It's very provoking!"
"Aha, Yank! you're minus that head-piece," shouted a voice, which was followed by a roar of laughter from the rebels, and from all the soldiers in the rifle-pit who had witnessed the performance.
"I'm sorry, sir," said the soldier. "I did not want you to lose your cap." Then, raising his voice, he shouted—"Johnny, throw that cap back here!"
"O, no," answered the rebel; "but I'll trade with you. A fair exchange is no robbery, you know," and as he spoke a hat came sailing through the air, and fell into the rifle-pit. It was a very dilapidated looking affair, bearing unmistakable proofs of long service and hard usage.
"Say, Yank," continued the rebel, "do you see a hole in the crown of that hat?"
"Do you call this thing a hat?" asked Frank, lifting the article in question on the point of his sword, and holding it up to the view of the soldiers. "It bears about as much resemblance to a hat as it does to a coffee-pot."
"I don't care what you call it," returned the rebel; "I know it has seen two years' hard service. That hole you see in the crown was made by one of your bullets, and my head was in the hat at the time, too."
"Well, throw me my cap," said Frank; "I don't want to trade."
"What will you give?"
"We will return your hat, and give you a big chew of tobacco to boot," said the lieutenant.
"That's a bargain," said the rebel. "Let's have it."
"We are not doing a credit business on this side of the house," answered Frank. "You throw over my cap first."
"You're sure you don't intend to swindle a fellow? Upon your honor, now."
"Try me and see," replied Frank, with a laugh.
"Here you are, then;" and the missing cap was thrown into the rifle-pit, and a soldier restored it to its owner. It was rather the worse for its short sojourn in the rebel hands, for there was a bayonet hole clear through it.
"Say, you rebel," exclaimed Frank, "why didn't you tell me that you had stuck a bayonet into my cap?"
"Couldn't help it, Yank," was the answer. "Come now, I've filled my part of the contract, so live up to your promise. Remember, you said honor bright."
"Well here's your hat," replied Frank; and he threw the article in question over to its rebel owner.
"And here's your tobacco, Johnny," chimed in a soldier, who cut off a huge piece of the weed, and threw it after the hat.
"Yank, you're a gentleman," said the rebel, speaking in a thick tone, which showed that the much coveted article had already found its way into his mouth. "If I've got any thing you want, just say so, and you can have it; any thing except my weapons."
Frank, who was so much amused at what had just taken place that he laughed until his jaws ached, returned his mutilated cap to his head, and, in company with the lieutenant, continued his ramble among the rifle-pits, the latter explaining the operations of the siege, and the various incidents that had transpired since it commenced. The rifle-pits, the entire length of General Sherman's command, were close upon those of the rebels, and the soldiers of both sides were compelled to suspend operations almost entirely. If a man raised his head to select a mark for his rifle, he would find a rebel, almost within reach, on the watch for him. The soldiers were very communicative, and all along the line Frank saw groups of men holding conversation with their invisible enemies.
After viewing the works to his satisfaction, Frank accompanied the lieutenant to his quarters—a rude hut, which had been hastily built of logs and branches, situated in a deep hollow, out of reach of the enemy's shells. Here he ate an excellent dinner, and then retraced his steps, through the rifle-pits, back to the place where his battery was to be mounted. Throwing himself upon a blanket, he slept soundly until night.
As soon as it became dark, the work of mounting the guns commenced, and was completed in time to allow the weary men two hours' rest before daylight. Frank had charge of one of the guns, and an ensign attached to one of the iron-clads commanded the other. The whole was under the command of the captain of the Trenton. As soon as the enemy's lines could be discerned, Frank, in accordance with the promises made the day before, prepared to commence the work of dismounting the battery which had given the soldiers so much trouble. He pointed his gun himself, and gave the order to fire. With the exception of now and then a musket-shot, or the occasional shriek of a shell as it went whistling into the rebel lines, the night had been remarkably quiet, and the roar that followed Frank's order awoke the echoes far and near, causing many a soldier to start from his blanket in alarm. A shell from the other gun quickly followed, and the soldiers, as soon as they learned that the "gun-boat battery" had opened upon the rebel works, broke out into deafening cheers. They had great confidence in the "beauties," as they called the monster guns, for they had often witnessed the effect of their shells, and knew that those who worked them well understood their business. Frank had opened the ball, and in less than half an hour the firing became general all along the line. The gun against which their fire was directed replied briskly; but after a few rounds the battery got its exact range—an eight-inch shell struck it, and it disappeared from sight. Cheers, or, rather, regular "soldier-yells"—a noise that is different from every other sound, and which can not be uttered except by those who have "served their time" in the army—arose the whole length of the line, as the soldiers witnessed the effect of the shot, and knew that their old enemy would trouble them no more.
In obedience to the captain's order, the fire of the battery was then directed toward different parts of the rebel works. The "beauties" performed all that the soldiers had expected of them, for they were well handled, and the huge shells always went straight to the mark. At dark the firing ceased, and Frank, tired with his day's work, ate a hearty supper, and threw himself upon his blanket to obtain a few moments' rest.
The soldiers from all parts of the line at length began to crowd into the battery, examining every part of the guns, and listening to the explanations given by the old quarter-gunner, who, although almost tired out, was busy cleaning the guns, and could not think of rest until the battery had been put in readiness for use on the morrow. At length a man approached the spot where Frank was reposing, and, seating himself at his side, commenced an interesting conversation. Frank soon learned that his visitor was one of the most noted scouts in the Union army. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, straight as an arrow, and evidently possessed a great deal of muscular power. Though ragged and dirty, like his companions, there was something about him that at once attracted Frank. His actions were easy and graceful, and he had an air of refinement, which was observed by every one with whom he came in contact. He was serving as a private in his regiment, and, although frequently urged to accept a command, always declined, for he despised the inactivity of camp life, and delighted in any thing in which there was danger and excitement. It was hinted that he had seen some hard times during his career as a scout. At length, when the conversation began to flag, one of the soldiers asked for a story, and the scout, after lighting his pipe, settled back on his elbow, and began as follows: