Adventures and Letters [94]
can't kill me." The Herald cabled for a story as to how the crew of the New York behaved in action. I think I shall send them that although there are a few things the people had better take for granted-- Of course, we haven't been "in action" yet but the first bombardment made me nervous until it got well started. I think every one was rather nervous and it was chiefly to show them there was nothing to worry about that we fired off the U. S. guns. They talk like veterans now-- It was much less of a strain than I had expected, there was no standing on your toes nor keeping your mouth open or putting wadding in your ears. I took photographs most of the time, and they ought to be excellent--what happened was that you were thrown up off the deck just as you are when an elevator starts with a sharp jerk and there was an awful noise like the worst clap of thunder you ever heard close to your ears, then the smoke covered everything and you could hear the shot going through the air like a giant rocket-- The shots they fired at us did not cut any ice except a shrapnel that broke just over the main mast and which reminded me of Greece-- The other shots fell short-- The best thing was to see the Captains of the Puritan and Cincinnati frantically signalling to be allowed to fire too-- A little fort had opened on us from the left so they plugged at that, it was a wonderful sight, the Monitor was swept with waves and the guns seemed to come out of the water. The Cincinnati did the best of all. Her guns were as fast as the reports of a revolver, a self-cocking revolver, when one holds the trigger for the whole six. We got some copies of The Lucha on the Panama and their accounts of what was going on in Havana were the best reading I ever saw-- They probably reported the Matanzas bombardment as a Spanish victory-- The firing yesterday was very tame. We all sat about on deck and the band played all the time-- We didn't even send the men to quarters-- I do not believe the army intends to move for two weeks yet, so I shall stay here. They seem to want me to do so, and I certainly want to-- But that army is too slow for words, and we love the "Notes from the Front" in The Tribune, telling about the troops at Chickamauga-- I believe what will happen is that a chance shot will kill some of our men, and the Admiral won't do a thing but knock hell out of whatever fort does it and land a party of marines and bluejackets-- Even if they only occupy the place for 24 hours, it will beat that army out and that's what I want. They'll get second money in the Campaign if they get any, unless they brace up and come over-- I have the very luck of the British Army, I walked into an open hatch today and didn't stop until I caught by my arms and the back of my neck. It was very dark and they had opened it while I was in a cabin. The Jackie whose business it was to watch it was worse scared than I was, and I looked up at him while still hanging to the edges with my neck and arms and said "why didn't you tell me?" He shook his head and said, "that's so, Sir, I certainly should have told you, I certainly should"-- They're exactly like children and the reason is, I think, because they are so shut off from the contamination of the world. One of these ships is like living in a monastery, and they are as disciplined and gentle as monks, and as reckless as cowboys. When I go forward and speak to one of them they all gather round and sit on the deck in circles and we talk and they listen and make the most interesting comments-- The middy who fired the first gun at Matanzas is a modest alert boy about 18 years old and crazy about his work-- So, the Captain selected him for the honor and also because there is such jealousy between the bow and stern guns that he decided not to risk feelings being hurt by giving it to either-- So, Boone who was at Annapolis a month ago was told to fire the shot-- We all took his name and he has grown about three inches. We told him all of the United States and England would be ringing with his name-- When I was alone he