what I have done, by tour own folly, and now remember—I will deal as sternly with any man who attempts a mutiny."
They believed me, and acted accordingly. This was the last of a revolt which I have now good reason to believe had waited its opportunity since the day of our leaving Governor's Island; and I have the testimony of many officers high in rank, that the effect of the example which I set was most salutary. Within a week I had turned over my precious crew to their respective commanding officers; and I am at liberty to hope that their punishments were commensurate with their deserts.
"And how did you get out of the scrape?"—that little interrogation point—Minimus, asked.
We were at New Orleans that night On the following day I went up to the headquarters of General Emory, then commanding the defences, to report to his adjutant-general the result of my mission, and the return of the party. Just as I had reached the climax of my narrative, as I have related it to you, the General walked in, and caught my last words.
"How's that?" he interrupted, sharply, bending his shaggy brows, and lifting his leonine front ominously upon me. "What's that, sir? Repeat it."
And I repeated it briefly, giving the exact truth of the affair. He listened attentively, and when I had concluded, looked me very sternly in the eye.
"And so you shot a soldier?"
"Yes, sir."
"Kill him?"
"Yes, sir."
"Deserter, you say?"
"Yes, sir."
"Humph! Deserter to the enemy's lines?'
"Yes, sir."
"Humph, humph! How many more of them did you bring me?"
"Forty-six live ones, sir."
"Well, sir, you have done well—just what you should have done. I believe you've got the stuff in you for a soldier. Why the devil didn't you shoot them all—hey? Colonel Smith! write an order exonerating Colonel Crocker from all blame in this affair. We have no officers to spare for courts of inquiry, and I'll take the responsibility myself. Good morning. Colonel. I hope to meet you often."
The thing seemed to please the old man hugely; and I have pretty good proof that he remembered me. It was ten months afterward, away up the Red River, in the front of that savage battle at Pleasant Hill, that I received the wound that cost me this arm. The General was right on the line when I was struck; and I believe he saw the wound as soon as I felt it, for I heard him sing out:
"Colonel Crocker, you're hit, and hard, too, I'm afraid. Take this orderly's horse and get to the rear—quick, sir! quick! Go to the headquarter ambulance, half a mile back."
I might have stayed long enough to get another bullet, if the old man hadn't ordered me away so peremptorily. So it is just possible that the taking of that miserable life aboard the Matanzas was the saving of my own at Pleasant Hill.
