The U.S.S. Trenton was one of the Mississippi gunboats President Lincoln referred to as having a draught so light that they would float any where the ground was a little bit damp. Frank Nelson paced up and down its foredeck closest to the Vicksburg shore. Three men from one of his gun crews hovered around him in a similar vain attempt to crane their necks sufficiently long or sideways to peer into the city. “Confound it, I can't see a thing!” Seaman Johnson, the shortest man on the deck declared. His fingers were itching towards Frank's pea-jacket as if he would snatch the spy glass away from Frank, even if it meant a courts-martial and docked half his pay.

Being the tallest man in the crew, Acting Ensign Nelson turned about with a sad shake of his head. “It's no use being tall either, Johnson. My neck is about to crack to pieces from so much swiveling from side to side – and I still can't see much.”

At last the gun crews muttered and began drifting away until Frank was left a lone man on the deck. His stomach was churning from the keen desire to see the inside of the rebel stronghold which had so long withstood the advance of the Union fleet!
At last he exhaled sharply and stood leaning against one of the monster guns, which, at his bidding, had spoken so often and so effectively in favor of the Union.

For the next two hours he watched the long lines of war-worn soldiers moving into the breastworks. At length a tremendous cheer arose from the city, and Frank's sharp eye discovered what looked like a party of soldiers on the cupola of the court-house. A few moments later the Stars and Stripes unfurled in the breeze. Then came faintly to his ears the rousing words of a familiar song. The words were caught up by the soldiers in the city, then echoed by those who were still marching in, and "We'll rally round the flag, boys," was being sung by an immense, untutored choir.

The rebels in the streets stopped – as if time had stood still. They gazed wonderingly at the men on the spire, and cocked heads to one side as they listened to the song. History was being written on dead pages that would not stand still even when the triumphant shouts of the conquering army stamped out time to proclaim the beginning of the downfall of the poor Confederacy that the rebel city had almost starved to death for.

But for Acting Ensign Frank Nelson, it was one of the proudest moments of his life —so far, at least – a sight he would not have missed for anything. All the salt-crusted watches he had stood and the searing burns he had endured in muzzle flashes from his guns were forgotten; and when the Old Flag was unfurled in the air which had but a short time before floated the "stars and bars," he pulled off his cap and shouted at the top of his lungs. The gun crews rushed out to join him on the deck where they too cheered long and hard.

“Victory, Victory, Give us this raw and bloody victory; don't let any of the butternut soldiers get away,” one man shouted lustily as if his heart was about to burst.

“Grant won't let them get away!” one of his fellows declared proudly. “We've finally got us a General that knows how to keep a fight moving.”

At last Frank exhaled sharply and stood leaning against one of the monster guns, which, at his bidding, had spoken so often and so effectively in favor of the Union.

For the next two hours he watched the long lines of war-worn soldiers moving into the works. At length a tremendous cheer arose from the city, and Frank discovered what looked like a party of soldiers on the cupola of the court-house, from which, a few moments afterward, floated the Stars and Stripes.

Then came faintly to his ears the words of a familiar song, which were caught up by the soldiers in the city, then by those who were still marching in, and "We'll rally round the flag, boys," was sung by an immense choir. The rebels in the streets gazed wonderingly at the men on the spire, and listened to the song, and the triumphant shouts of the conquering army, which proclaimed the beginning of the downfall of the confederacy they had almost starved to death for.

But for Acting Ensign Frank Nelson, it was one of the proudest moments of his life —so far – a sight he would not have missed for anything. All he had endured was forgotten; and when the Old Flag was unfurled in the air which had but a short time before floated the "stars and bars," he pulled off his cap and shouted at the top of his lungs. The gun crews rushed out to join him on the deck where they too cheered long and hard.

“Victory, Victory, Give us the victory; don't let the other soldiers get away,” one man shouted lustily as if his heart was about to burst.

“Grant won't let them get away!” one of his fellows declared proudly. “We've finally got a General that knows how to fight.”

Having thus given vent to his feelings of exultation, Frank commenced the removal of his battery on board the Trenton in obedience to orders. It was two days' work to accomplish this, but Frank, who was impatient to see the inside of the fortifications worked with a will, and finally the battery was mounted in its old position.

On the following day, the Trenton moved down the river, and came to anchor in front of Vicksburg. Shore liberty was granted, and Frank, in company with several of his brother officers, strolled about the city. Already, some of the rebels were shooting friendly glances at the Union sailors. But most of them were mournful almost to the point of death as they looked around them and tried to ignore the soldiers and sailors that had wreaked so much havoc upon their beloved city.

On every side of them the houses bore the clawed marks of Union shot and shell. The streets were blocked with defensive fortifications, showing that had the city been taken only by crippling siege and relentless storm. It had been the obvious intention of the rebels from the very first to dispute every inch of the ground they had called their own. Every scratch bore evidence to the fact that the fight had been a most desperate one; that the rebels had surrendered only when they found that it was impossible to hold out for even one more day.

In some places the streets ran through deep cuts in the bank, and in these banks were the famous "gopher holes." They were caves dug in the ground, into which people might run for safety if they happened to hear a shell coming.

Outside the city's perimeter, the fortifications were even more extensive; rifle-pits ran in every direction, flanked by strong fort battlements, whose battered walls attested the fury of the iron hail that had been poured down upon them. The stench of death clung to every wall and seeped through every current of air.

Night had completely before Frank was even aware of it, so interested was he in every thing about him, and he returned on board his vessel, weary with his long walk, but amply repaid by seeing the inside of what its rebel occupants had lovingly called "the Gibraltar of America."

During the next two days, several vessels of the squadron began to filter past the city of Vicksburg, on their way to new fields of action -- further down the river. One of these vessels was the U.S.S. Boxer, a tin-clad gun boat mounting eight guns. It carried Frank Nelson on board. He had been detached from service on the Trenton, and ordered to join this vessel, which had been assigned a station a short distance below Grand Gulf.

Frank was just as happy on one vessel as another as long as the prospect of action lay ahead. He had no difficulty in becoming acquainted with his new messmates, and he soon felt perfectly at home among them. He found, as he had done in every other mess of which he had been a member, that there was the usual amount of wrangling and disputing bubbling up in amusing pockets. Frank had to clamp his lips firmly together so that none of his smiles could escape. As the noon meal time approached the mess seemed to be most indignant with the caterer, who did not appear to stand very high in their estimation.

The caterer had just made an "assessment" upon the mess to the amount of ten dollars for each member; and as there was no paymaster on board. This left the officers with very little ready money, and they turned anxious to know just where all the funds paid into the treasury went to.

Frank also noted that the caterer's authority was not as much respected as he had a right to expect. During the very first meal Frank ate in the mess, a dispute arose which threatened for a time to end in the whole matter being carried before the captain.

One of the members of the mess, who was attached only temporarily to the vessel, was a pilot who had been pressed into the service. He was a genuine rebel, and frequently declared that he was called a traitor because he was in favor of allowing the South to "peaceably withdraw from the Union."

The ship's doctor, a little, fat, jolly man -- and a thorough Unionist who believed in handling all rebels without gloves, took up the sword and the debate that followed was long, loud and stormy. The pilot, as it soon became obvious, hardly knew the reasons why the South had attempted to secede, and was constantly clinching his arguments by saying, "Men who know more, and who have done more fighting during this war than you, Doctor Brown, say that they have a right to secede and they shall do so." The debate waxed hotter and hotter, until some of the other members of the mess were swept into the fray. They joined in with the doctor against the pilot, and the caterer, thinking that the noise the disputants made was unbecoming the members of a well-regulated mess, at length shouted above the din:

"Silence! Gentlemen, Silence. Hereafter talking politics in this wardroom is strictly prohibited."

"What's that?" doctor Brown demanded. He was thoroughly aroused. "Do you expect us to sit here and listen to a rebellious conscript run down the Government – a man who never would have entered the service if he had not been compelled to do so? No, sir! I would not hold my tongue still under such circumstances if all the six-foot-four caterers in the squadron should order it so. You are not a little admiral, to come down here and hoist your broad pennant in this mess-room, sir!"

The caterer was so astounded when he found his authority thus set at defiance that his mouth dropped open and he stepped back through the doorway. Without further parley he retired to his room; and in a few moments returned with the books, the papers, and the small amount of money that still belonged to the mess. Laying everything on the table, he said: "Gentlemen, you will please elect another caterer. I have resigned."

Resigned?

The debate was instantly hushed. Not one member of the mess knew what to think or do besides glancing at each other. It was embarrassingly obvious that not one of them could have been hired to take the responsibility of managing affairs.

When the officers had finished their dinner, in complete silence, they walked carelessly out on deck. They hastened away from the doorway as if the question of where the next meal was to come from did not trouble them personally in the least. Consequently, nothing was done toward an election. No one took charge of the books or picked up the papers. In fact, when the table was cleared away everything was thrown unceremoniously under the water-cooler except for the money. With a soft murmur the money was taken gathered up by the doctor.

Dinner-time came, and when Frank, tired and hungry, was relieved from his duties on the deck, he inquired what there was to be had to eat.

"There's nothing been done about it yet," answered the officer who relieved him. "The steward went to several of the members of the mess, and asked what they wished served up; but they told him that they had nothing to do with the caterer's business, and the consequence is, if you want any thing to eat, you will have to go into the pantry and help yourself."

Still an outsider, Frank was a good deal amused at the obstinacy displayed by the different members of the mess, and wondered how the affair would end. The mess could not long exist without some one to take charge of it; but for himself he was not at all concerned. He had paid no initiation fee, simply because there had not been time for anyone to ask him for it, and he knew that as long as there were provisions in the paymaster's store-rooms, there was no danger but that he would get plenty to eat. He found three or four officers in the pantry making their dinner on hard-tack, pickles, and raw bacon. With faces tilted at the deck they were all grumbling over the hard fare, but not one of them appeared willing to assume the office of caterer.

Things went on in this way for nearly a week, (during which time they had arrived at their next station,) and doctor Brown could stand it no longer as he was too fond of good living. Almost on bended knee he went to the caterer who had resigned, and, after considerable urging, and offering a solemn promise that politics should not again be discussed in the mess, the former caterer was persuaded to resume the management of affairs. Frank secretly chuckled at the thought that if the devout Unionist doctor had been in charge of Vicksburg then the city would have fallen months ago.

The change from hard crackers and sour pickles back to nice, warm meals was a most agreeable one that Frank welcomed. The jolly doctor, according to his promise, was very careful what questions were brought up before the mess for discussion after that.

By this time the Boxer had arrived at her station. For some reason her crew thought they were now about to lead a life of idleness and inactivity, for not a rebel had they seen since leaving Vicksburg. But one morning, while the men were engaged in washing off the forecastle, they were startled by a roar of musketry, and three of the ship's sailors fell dead upon the deck from head wounds.

The fight that followed continued for two hours, the rebels finally retiring, not because they had been worsted, but for the simple reason that they had grown weary of killing men so easily. This was the commencement of a series of attacks which proved to be the source of great annoyance to the crew of the Boxer.

During the week that followed, the Boxer's crew lost ten men. The guerrillas would pop up when least expected, and the levee afforded them a secure hiding-place from which they could not be driven, either with the Boxer's big guns or small arms. One rebel in particular attracted their attention, and his reckless courage excited their admiration, though they moaned with impotence when he appeared.

He rode a heavy white horse, and although he provided a prominent target for the rifles of the sailors, he always escaped unhurt. He would ride boldly right out in full view of the vessel, patiently wait for someone to expose himself. Then the sharp crack of his rifle would be followed by the report made to the captain, "A man shot, sir."

Frank had selected this man as a worthy foe-man; and every time he appeared the young officer was on the watch for him. He was very expert with the rifle, and after a few shots, he succeeded in convincing the rebel that the safest place for him was behind the levee. One morning the foe appeared in stronger force than usual, and conspicuous among them was the white horse and his daring rider. The fight that ensued had continued for perhaps half an hour, when the quartermaster reported the dispatch-boat approaching.

As soon as she came within range, the guerrillas directed their fire against her, to which the latter replied briskly from two guns mounted on her forecastle. The leader of the rebels was constantly in view, cheering on his men, and discharging his rifle as fast as he could reload. Frank fired several shots at him, and finding that, as usual, they were without effect, he asked the captain's permission to try a howitzer on him, which was granted. He ran below, trained the gun to his satisfaction, and waited for an opportunity to fire, during which the dispatch-boat came alongside and commenced putting off a supply of stores.

At length the rebel mounted the levee, and reigning in his horse, sat in his saddle gazing at the vessels, as if not at all concerned. He presented a fair mark, and Frank fired, but the shell went wild and burst in the woods, far beyond the rebel, who, however, beat a hasty retreat behind the levee.

"Oh, what a shot!" shouted a voice through the trumpet that led from the pilot-house to the main deck. "What a shot—altogether too much elevation, but close nonetheless."

"Who's that, I wonder?" soliloquized Frank. "It was a poor shot, but I'd like to see whoever he is do any better."

After giving orders to have the gun reloaded and secured, he ran into the wardroom to look after his mail, at the same time inquiring of every one he met, "Who was that making fun of my shooting?" But no one knew, nor cared to trouble himself about the matter, for the real subject of conversation was, "We've got a new paymaster."

Frank was pleased to hear this, but was still determined to find the person who had laughed at his marksmanship, when he saw a pair of feet descending the ladder that led from the cabin to the pilot-house, and a moment afterward, a smart looking young officer, dressed in the uniform of a paymaster, stood in the wardroom, and upon discovering Frank, thrust out his hand and greeted him with—

"What a shot! I'll bet you've been in the service more than two years, and"—

"Why, Archie Winters, is this you?" exclaimed Frank, joyfully.

"Paymaster Winters, if you please" replied Archie, with petulant dignity.

"How came you here? What are you doing? Got any money?" hurriedly inquired Frank.

"Got plenty of funds," replied. "But I say, Frank, how long has this fighting been going on?"

"Every day for the last week."

Archie shrugged his shoulders, and looked blank.

"I guess I had better go back to Cairo," said he; "these rebels, I hear, shoot very carelessly. Just before we came alongside here, I was standing on the deck of the dispatch-boat, and some fellow cracked away at me, sending the bullet altogether too close to my head for comfort."

"Oh, that's nothing, so long as he didn't hit you. You'll get used to that before you have been here a week. But, Archie, have you really been ordered to this vessel?"

Archie at once produced his orders, and, sure enough, he was an acting assistant paymaster, and ordered to "report to the commanding officer of the U. S. S. Boxer for duty on board that vessel."

During the two years that Archie had been in the fleet-paymaster's office he had, by strict attention to his duties, worked his way up from "writer" to corresponding clerk. He had had ample opportunity to learn the duties of paymaster, and one day he suddenly took it into his head to make application for the position. He immediately wrote to his father, informing him of his intention, procured his letters of recommendation, and a month afterward received the certified appointment.

Hearing, through Frank, that the Boxer was without a paymaster, he had then succeeded in getting himself ordered to report to her for further duty, and, as he had not written to of his good fortune, Frank had been taken completely by surprise.

Archie was speedily introduced to their brother officers of the vessel, who were pleased with his off-hand, easy manners, and delighted with the looks of a small safe which he had brought with him, for they knew, by the very particular orders he gave concerning it, that there was a sum of money in it.

At the end of an hour the rebels seemed to grow weary of the fight, for they drew off their forces; then, as soon as it was safe on deck, the cousins seated themselves on the guard, to "talk over old times." Frank gave descriptions of the fights in which he had engaged since they last met, and also related stories of mess-room life, with which Archie was entirely unacquainted; and to show him how things were conducted, told him of the jokes the officers frequently played upon each other.