al boat which had received its sad freight the day
before, and was to leave at once for St. Louis, and it would be
impossible to describe the scene which presented itself to me as I stood
in the door of the cabin. Lying on the floor, with nothing under them
but a tarpaulin and their blankets, were crowded fifty men, many of them
with death written on their faces; and looking through the half-open
doors of the state-rooms, we saw that they contained as many more.
Young, boyish faces, old and thin from suffering, great restless eyes
that were fixed on nothing, incoherent ravings of those who were wild
with fever, and hollow coughs on every side--this, and much more that I
do not want to recall, was our welcome to our new work; but, as we
passed between the two long rows, back to our own cabin, pleasant smiles
came to the lips of some, others looked after us wonderingly, and one
poor boy whispered, 'Oh, but it is good to see the ladies come in!' I
took one long look into Mrs. C's eyes to see how much strength and
courage was hidden in them. We asked each other, not in words, but in
those fine electric thrills by which one soul questions another, 'Can we
bring strength, and hope, and comfort to these poor suffering men?' and
the answer was, 'Yes, by God's help we will!' The first thing was to
give them something like a comfortable bed, and, Sunday though it was,
we went to work to run up our sheets into bed-sacks. Every man that had
strength enough to stagger was pressed into the service, and by night
most of them had something softer than a tarpaulin to sleep on. 'Oh, I
am so comfortable now!' some of them said; 'I think I can sleep
to-night,' exclaimed one little fellow, half-laughing with pleasure. The
next thing was to provide something that sick people could eat, for
coffee and bread was poor food for most of them. We had two little
stoves, one in the cabin and one in the chambermaid's room, and here,
the whole time we were on board, we had to do the cooking for a hundred
men. Twenty times that day I fully made up my mind to cry with vexation,
and twenty times that day I laughed instead; and surely, a kettle of tea
was never made under so many difficulties as the one I made that
morning. The kettle lid was not to be found, the water simmered and sang
at its leisure, and when I asked for the poker I could get nothing but
an old bayonet, and, all the time, through the half-open door behind me,
I heard the poor hungry fello