Mike slumped in his chair and stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. He picked up the pencil and wrote:
Dear Beth,
I hope that you don’t mind my writing. I miss you very much, especially considering the bumbling mess I’ve made of everything.
The pencil sagged in his fingers. Getting to his feet, he crumpled the paper and shoved it into the stove. Grabbing another piece of paper, he again began to write:
Dear Sadie and Amos,
I apologize for causing such an unfortunate situation. Someday I’d like to sit down with you and try to explain it all. Suffice it for now to say that I had not been living as close to the Lord as I should have.
I love Beth with all my heart. I also feel that I’m closer to the Lord now than I’ve been for a long time. Perhaps one of these days, if I survive this war, Beth and I will be together again. Please give her my regards and ask if I may write to her.
We’ve had a difficult time lately. Nothing seems to be working out. There have been several attempts to push the Confederates down the Mississippi, but so far we haven’t had much success. You’ve no doubt heard about the foray into Arkansas. We took transports up the White River and then into the Arkansas River. Landed troops, and with little trouble they took the fort.
Since then we’ve had more problems than success—I suppose you also know about Porter trying to take boats into the Yazoo River above Vicksburg.
I expect to be out of here any day now, but don’t know where I will be going. It’s hard to believe this war has been going on for so long.
The door opened and Adams came in. “For January, the activity is getting pretty heavy around here. Sounds like we’ll be moving out tomorrow.”
“What’s going on?”
“We’re to support Grant in his push for Vicksburg. Porter wants to see you as soon as you can get to his office.”
****
Admiral Porter pulled the river charts toward the center of the table. “Clancy, I’m told the boat City of Vicksburg has been brought down to Vicksburg. Also, we understand that supplies are being taken into Vicksburg by transports. This must stop. You get the picture. We have two objectives—disable the transports, and capture City of Vicksburg.
“Colonel Ellet, the son of Charles Ellet, is going in with his ram Queen of the West. She looks a little heavy and awkward to me, so I want to send in a gunboat right on her tail.”
“Awkward?” Mike questioned. “What have they done to her?”
“Ellet changed her steering apparatus, moved it behind the bulwarks of her bows. She’s also carrying three hundred bales of cotton, positioned to protect her machinery.”
“Sounds like Ellet’s expecting trouble.”
“He is, and I’m afraid his ship will provide most of it. But that’s where you come in. I’ve ordered a gunboat and crew for you. It’ll be difficult following Ellet past the batteries just above Vicksburg.” He got to his feet, saying, “Trailing behind, you might need to pick up the pieces.”
“Does she have an iron prow?”
“Yes, she also carries an eighty-pound Parrott Gun on her main deck as well as a twenty-pounder and three twelve-pound howitzers. Between the two of you, I expect the job will be done. He grinned as he returned Mike’s salute. “See you when you get back.”
****
The Mississippi River glistened in the waning light of the moon while the sky to the east hinted at dawn. Mike stood at the wheel of the gunboat, moving restlessly from one foot to another as he continuously checked the rapid current carrying debris and downed trees. In the dark, the trees looked like phantoms with grasping arms. The pilothouse door opened, and Lieutenant Gibbs came in. “What’s the problem with Ellet?”
“I’m guessing,” Mike muttered. “Admiral Porter told me the ram was a little unwieldy since she’s carrying a load of cotton to protect her machinery; they’ve also repositioned the steering apparatus. I’ve an idea that’s the problem. With the debris and the heavy current, she acts like she’s fumbling in the dark.”
“I’m afraid we won’t make it past those batteries before sunup.”
“If we don’t, there could be problems. We may be the ones who are surprised.” Gibbs sat down at the table, and the pilothouse was silent.
****
The sun was above the horizon when Mike muttered, “I’m bringing up the steam; the Vicksburg batteries are dead ahead.”
Gibbs came to stand beside the wheel while he watched the two vessels move full steam toward the batteries. “They see us,” Mike said. “I’m guessing there’s a hundred guns up there. Better get down below.”
The first blast assaulted Mike’s ears, rattling the pilothouse. Then the guns fired one after the other. Mike tightened his grip on the wheel and tried to keep behind Queen of the West. He saw her shudder, veer to port, and then straighten her course. She put on steam, and Mike reached for the bell rope. He sighed with relief as they rounded the bend and Queen of the West turned for action.
“There’s City of Vicksburg, and our Queen is headed for her.” As he spoke, the ram slammed into the Confederate ship. “Well, we got one, but I don’t think it’s a direct hit.” The ram was caught in the force of the current and Mike watched her swing broadside into the City of Vicksburg.
Lieutenant Gibbs ran into the pilothouse. “She didn’t get her. Those iron guards are too large. I don’t think the ram did more than graze her.”
Mike saw the flash and gasped, “Ellet’s firing! Are those incendiary shells?”
“Yes! Look at that!” Gibbs shouted. “The shells have set fire to Ellet’s cotton bales!” They saw the bales being frantically pitched overboard. With a burst of steam, the vessel straightened her course, and Mike sighed with relief. Gibbs laughed. “She sure threw on the steam! That Colonel Ellet is some tough guy!”
****
Two weeks later as Mike came into the bunkhouse, he was hailed by Adams. “Did you hear about your new love, Queen of the West? Ellet took her down river again. They captured the Era, No. 5. It was quite a haul; got fourteen Texan soldiers, twenty-eight thousand dollars in Confederate money, and a load of corn headed for Little Rock.
“On the way back, the Queen of the West ran aground right under the guns of Fort Taylor. Her gunboat was about a mile below, but before she could get there Queen of the West was riddled. Lost quite a few Negro deck hands. They drowned—seems they panicked and jumped overboard. Ellet was rescued. When the gunboat caught up with her, the crew couldn’t handle the fire from Fort Taylor. Had to sink her and run for their lives.”
“Aw, what a shame!” Mike exclaimed, shaking his head. “She was a great ram.” He reached for his bag and began loading it.
“Heading out again?”
“Yeah, Porter’s going down the Mississippi. Since I was with him once, he’s decided I’m better than a green pilot,” Mike said with a crooked grin as he shouldered his bag.
****
The Mississippi was serene that balmy February morning. With his hands relaxed on the wheel and his cap shoved back, Mike let his eyes roam back and forth, reading the river and checking her banks.
The door opened and Admiral Porter rushed in. Going to the window, he raised his binoculars. “I can’t believe my eyes,” he muttered. “That’s the ram Queen of the West docking at Warrenton’s wharf! I’d no idea they’d raised her and got her moving so soon.”
He lifted the binoculars again and said, “She’s afloat, looks pretty good—at least serviceable and ready to go.” With a worried frown he paced the cabin, glanced at Mike, and growled, “It’s the Indianola I’m worried about. She’s downstream a ways and I heard fighting down there.”
“Do you think they’ve used the Queen against the Indianola?” Mike asked.
Porter lowered his glasses, looked at Mike, and then lifted them to watch the boats. “I can’t say for sure, but we can’t spare a boat to send down river to get her back if she has been taken.”
Porter turned to Mike and said slowly, “I’ve got an idea.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Did you notice the battery of guns up there on the hill? The way they were firing, I have a hunch they don’t know that she is Confederate. They about finished themselves off when that boat went past.” He began to chuckle. “Looks to me like they’ve over-fired and burst at least five guns in their attempt to get her. It occurs to me that if I had something to draw their fire, I might help them finish off the others. That’d help Grant.” He was still chuckling and shaking his head as he left the pilothouse.
Vicksburg was far behind them when Porter returned to the pilothouse. “Mike, see that old barge grounded over there in the bushes? Let’s go tie on to it.”
Mike gave him a quick glance. Porter’s eyes were dancing with glee as he turned and headed for the stairs. Mike shrugged and pulled the bell rope while he spun the wheel.
After they had tied onto the barge, Porter ordered Mike to go upstream to the first sheltered inlet. “Get back in the bushes and tie on.”
Porter had the crew busy by daybreak. For the first few hours of the day, Mike watched from the deck as Porter’s crew began their task. Just before noon, Porter appeared with grimy hands and his sleeves rolled high. “You might as well get into this. We’re going to make a boat; think I’ll christen her Decoy. We can use more hands in the mud. I want to get this show moving as soon as it’s dark.”
With a sigh, Mike followed Admiral Porter to shore. “Bring more mud,” Porter said. “There’s two buckets. I’ll show you how to shape the furnace.”
A roustabout appeared at Porter’s elbow, grinning with delight. “Suh, I found two old canoes over in the bushes. Nearly fallin’ apart, but I think they’ll work for quarter-boats. ’Spect we’ll be finished before nightfall?”
“Get the canoes, Bud. I’m aiming for dark.” He turned. “Mike, I need some oil for the furnace. Dirty oil, if you have it.”
After supper, Porter put the finishing touches on the barge and the first mate came with a flag. “Looks more like someone’s underwear,” Porter commented.
He turned to Mike. “What do you think? Wanna pilot this downriver?”
Mike shook his head and chuckled. “Pork barrels stacked for chimneys, and that old man’s woodpile nailed up to resemble a cabin. Good thing you filled the chimneys with mud. When you going to fire the furnace on this scourge of the Mississippi?”
“We’ll break out of here before dawn, haul it down river. We’ll light the furnace just before we let her go. Come on, fellows, let’s get some sleep.”
Long before dawn, towing the old barge with her new contours, Mike took his gunboat down river. Just as dawn began to lighten the sky, Mike could see the Vicksburg batteries like a dark blight against the hills. Down below, Porter signaled Mike as he leaned over to cut the rope holding the ghost ironclad.
Mike turned to the seaman beside him. “Hold her steady; I want to take a look.” He ran to join Porter at the railing of the gunboat, and they watched the current take the barge. Porter muttered, “With currents running like they do, our boat ought to keep midstream and chug right along.”
“It’s moving at about five knots. Kind of an eerie feeling,” Mike admitted. “Not a sound, but that smoke will get plenty of attention.”
Porter chuckled. “Let’s drop anchor in the bushes. We can cut across this spit of land and get close enough to watch it all. Grant’s men are close to here. Might be we can haul them out of bed.”
Mike took the boat into shore and the crew sprinted across the spit of land.
They reached the point just below the Vicksburg batteries and found Grant’s men at breakfast. “Come see a naval battle,” Porter called.
They headed for the bluff over the river and pointed. “There, keep your eyes on her.”
“What is that thing?” the commanding officer whispered. Just at that moment the Confederate batteries opened fire. Shell after shell was lobbed toward the dark silent boat. The bluff under their feet vibrated from the explosions; the cannon balls whizzed and the silent boat moved serenely on.
“What in tarnation is that?” muttered the commander. “It’s creepy; doesn’t even flinch when those balls hit.”
Porter leaned close. “That’s because the bullets go right through the rotten wood!”
The men looked at Porter, stared at the boat, and began to laugh. The first morning light touched the dark hull. They watched her slow, determined course. The guns fired with increasing intensity. A shell hit the furnace, and a chunk of mud fell away. Steadily the boat moved on. The soldiers slapped their knees, laughed, and shouted, “Hurrah, hurrah! The Union stands.”
Mike spotted the boat first. “Admiral Porter?” He pointed. “Isn’t that the Queen of the West?”
Porter sobered. “Mike, you’re right. She’s left Warrenton and is headed for Vicksburg.”
“So’s the ghost monitor,” Mike muttered, lifting the field glasses. “And sir, the ghost monitor is moving down on Queen of the West. Look!” Mike’s voice was full of awe as he whispered, “Can you believe that? The Queen of the West is turning tail and running! She’s headed downriver as fast as she can go.”
The commander choked. “And that fool ghost boat is right on her heels at five knots an hour!” The men were still laughing when they heard the explosion.
Out of the stunned silence, Porter spoke. “That came from the harbor at Vicksburg. Men, I think we’d better get out of here. If my hunch is correct, the Confederates have blown the Indianola up. Soon they’ll get a good look at our newest gunboat. We’re not prepared to stand off the Confederates. So long, General, hope you enjoyed the show.”