Beauregard and J. E. Johnston were in easy touch with
Richmond. His unlucky brigade had been transferred to Albert Sidney
Johnston's command.
The men had been in the trenches through the long miserable night
expecting an attack at any moment.
Half waking, half dreaming, he lay on the cold ground wondering what
Jennie was doing--and always with the nightmare of that foreign snake
winding his way into her favor. Well, his chance would come in this
battle. He would lead his men in a charge. He was a corporal now. He
would come out of it with straps on his shoulders, he could see Jennie's
eyes flash with tears of pride as she read the story of his heroism and
his promotion.
"I'll show that reptile what a man can do!" he muttered.
The tired body relaxed and his big blond head sank on his arms.
A sudden crash of thunder and he sprang to his feet, his hand tight on
his gun. There they were in the gray light of the chill February
morning--the fleet of Federal gunboats under Foote, their big black
funnels pouring clouds of smoke into the sky, darkening the dull red
glow of the rising sun. He counted six of them--_Carondalet_,
_Pittsburgh_, _Louisville_, _St. Louis_, _Tyler_ and _Conestoga_.
A white breath of smoke flashed from the _Carondalet's_ bow, and Dick
watched the shell rise with a shriek and fall short of the fort.
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