The soldiers tramped forward and aft, danced on her
decks, shot overboard a heavy baggage-truck. We saw them start the truck
for the stern with a cheer. It crashed down. One end stuck in the mud.
The other fell back and rested on the boat. They went at it with axes,
and presently it was clear.
As the tide rose, we gave our grounded friends a lift with a hawser. No
go! The Boston tugged in vain. We got near enough to see the whites of
the Massachusetts eyes, and their unlucky faces and uniforms all grimy
with their lodgings in the coal-dust. They could not have been blacker,
if they had been breathing battle-smoke and dust all day. That
experience was clear gain to them.
By-and-by, greatly to the delight of the impatient Seventh, the Boston
was headed for shore. Never speak ill of the beast you bestraddle!
Therefore _requiescat_ Boston! may her ribs lie light on soft sand when
she goes to pieces! may her engines be cut up into bracelets for the
arms of the patriotic fair! good-bye to her, dear old, close, dirty,
slow coach! She served her country well in a moment of trial.
Pages:
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361