Tom Strong, Lincoln's Scout Read online

  CHAPTER III

  CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS--MR. STRONG GOES TO RUSSIA--TOM GOES TO LIVE IN THE WHITE HOUSE--BULL RUN--"STONEWALL" JACKSON--GEO. B. MCCLELLAN--TOM STRONG, SECOND LIEUTENANT, U. S. A.--THE BATTLE OF THE "MERRIMAC" AND THE "MONITOR."

  A few days passed before the President had time to see Mr. Strong andTom. When they were finally ushered into his working-room, they foundthere, already interviewing Lincoln, the hawk-nosed and hawk-eyedSecretary of State, William H. Seward of New York, scholar, statesman,and gentleman, and a short, grizzled man, the worthy inheritor of agreat tradition. He was Charles Francis Adams of Boston, son andgrandson of two Presidents of the United States. He had been appointedMinister to England, just then the most important foreign appointmentin the world. What England was to do or not do might spell victory ordefeat for the Union. Mr. Adams had come to receive his finalinstructions for his all-important work. And this is what happened.

  Shabby and uncouth, Lincoln faced his two well-dressed visitors, noddingcasually to the two New Yorkers as they entered at what should have beena great moment.

  "I came to thank you for my appointment," said Adams, "and to askyou----"

  "Oh, that's all right," replied Lincoln, "thank Seward. He's the manthat put you in." He stretched out his legs and arms, and sighed a deepsigh of relief. "By the way, Governor," he added, turning to Seward,"I've this morning decided that Chicago post-office appointment. Well,good-by."

  And that was all the instruction the Minister to Great Britain had fromthe President of the United States. Even in those supreme days, the rushof office-seekers, the struggle for the spoils, the mad looting of thepublic offices for partisan purposes, was monopolizing the time andabsorbing the mind of our greatest President. There is a story that oneman who asked him to appoint him Minister to England, after taking anhour of his time, ended the interview by asking him for a pair of oldboots. Civil Service Reform has since gone far to stop this scandal andsin, but much of it still remains. Today you can fight for the bestinterests of our beloved country by fighting the spoils system in city,state, and nation.

  Adams, amazed, followed Secretary Seward out of the little room. ThenLincoln turned to the father and son.

  Tom had more time to look at him now. He saw a tall man with a thin,muscular, big nose, with heavy eyebrows above deep-set eyes and below asquare, bulging forehead, and with a mass of black hair. The face wasdark and sallow. The firm lips relaxed as he looked down upon the boy. Abeautiful smile overflowed them. A beautiful friendliness shone from thedeep-set eyes.

  "So this is another Tom Strong," he said. "Howdy, Tommy?"

  The boy smiled back, for the welcoming smile was irresistible. He puthis little hand into Lincoln's great paw, hardened and roughened by ayouth of strenuous toil. The President squeezed his hand. Tom was happy.

  "You're to go to Russia, Strong," Mr. Lincoln said to the father."England and France threaten to combine against us. You must get Russiato hold them back. We'll have a regular Minister there, but I'm going todepend upon you. See Governor Seward. He'll tell you all about it. Willyou take Mrs. Strong with you?"

  "Most certainly."

  "Well, I s'posed you would. And how about Tom here?"

  Tom's heart beat quick. What was coming now?

  "Mrs. Strong must decide that. I suppose he had better keep on with hisschool in New York."

  "Why not let him come to school in Washington?" asked Lincoln. "In theschool of the world? You see," he added, while that irresistible smileagain softened the firm outlines of his big man's mouth, "you see I'vetaken a sort of fancy to your boy Tom. S'pose you give him to me whileyou're away. There are things he can do for his country."

  It was perhaps only a whim, but the whims of a President count. A monthlater, Mr. and Mrs. Strong started for St. Petersburg and Tom reportedat the White House. He was welcomed by John Hay, a delightful young manof twenty-three, one of the President's two private secretaries. Thewelcome lacked warmth.

  "You're to sleep in a room in the attic," said Hay, "and I believeyou're to eat with Mr. Nicolay and me. I haven't an idea what you're todo and between you and me and the bedpost I don't believe the Ancienthas an idea either. Perhaps there won't be anything. Wait a while andsee."

  The Ancient--this was a nickname his secretaries had given him--had avery distinct idea, which he had not seen fit to tell his zealous youngsecretary. Tom found the waiting not unpleasant. He had a good manyunimportant things to do. "Tad" Lincoln, though younger, was a goodplaymate. The White House staff was kind to him. Even Hay found itdifficult not to like him. Then there was the sensation of being at thecenter of things, big things. He saw men whose names were householdwords. Half a dozen times he lunched with the President's family, aplain meal with plain folks. Even the dinners at the White House, exceptthe state dinners, were frugal and plain. Lincoln drank little or nowine. He never used tobacco. This was something of a miracle in the caseof a man from the West, for in those days, particularly in theunconventional West, practically every man both smoked and chewedtobacco. The filthy spittoon was everywhere conspicuous. We fiercelyresented the tales told our English cousins, first by Mrs. Trollope andthen by Charles Dickens, about our tobacco-chewing, but the resentmentwas so fierce because the tales were so true. Those were dirty days. In1860 there were few bathrooms except in our largest cities. Those thatexisted were mostly new. In 1789, when the present Government of theUnited States came into being, in New York City, there was not onebathroom in the whole town.

  At these family luncheons, Tom was apt to become conscious thatLincoln's eyes were bent beneath their shaggy eyebrows full upon him.There was nothing unkind in the glance, but the boy felt it go straightthrough him. He wondered what it all meant. Why was he not given morework to do? Had he been weighed and found wanting? He waited in suspensea good many months.

  The early months of waiting were not merry months. In July, 1861, thefirst battle of Bull Run had been fought and had been lost. Our troopsran nearly thirty miles. Telegram after telegram brought news ofdisgrace and defeat to the White House. In the afternoon Lincoln wentto see Gen. Winfield S. Scott, then commander-in-chief of our armies.The fat old general was taking his afternoon nap. Awakened withdifficulty, he gurgled that everything would come out well. Then he fellasleep again. Before six o'clock it was known that everything had turnedout most badly. Washington itself was threatened by the Confederatepursuit. Lincoln had no sleep that night. The gray dawn found him at hisdesk, still receiving dispatches, still giving orders. When he left thedesk, Washington was safe.

  It was at the beginning of the battle of Bull Run, when the Confederatescame near running away but did not do so because the Union troops ranfirst, that "Stonewall" Jackson got his famous nickname. The brigade ofanother Southern soldier, Gen. Bernard Bee, was wavering and fallingback. Its commander, trying to hearten his men, called out to them:"Look! there's Jackson standing like a stone wall!" The men looked,rallied, and went on fighting. It may have been that one thing ofJackson's example that turned the tide at Bull Run, gave the battle tothe South, and prolonged the war by at least two years. StonewallJackson's soldiers were called foot-cavalry, because under his inspiringleadership they made marches which would have been a credit to mountedmen. It was his specialty to be where it was impossible for him to be,by all the ordinary rules of war. He was a thunderbolt in attack, astone wall in defense.

  * * * * *

  In November of that sad year of 1861, the President made anothernoteworthy call upon the then commander-in-chief, Gen. George B.McClellan. President and Secretary of State, escorted by young Hay andyounger Tom, called upon the General at the latter's house, in theevening. They were told he was out, but would return soon, so theywaited. McClellan did return and was told of his patient visitors. Hewalked by the open door of the room where they were seated and wentupstairs. Half an hour later Lincoln sent a servant to tell him againthat they were there. Word came back that General McClellan had gone
tobed. John Hay's diary justly speaks of "this unparalleled insolence ofepaulettes." As the three men and the boy walked back to the WhiteHouse, Hay said:

  "It was an insolent rebuff. Something should be done about it."

  Lincoln's almost godlike patience, however, had not been worn out.

  "It is better," the great man answered, "at this time not to be making apoint of etiquette and personal dignity."

  The President, however, stopped calling upon the pompous General. Afterthat experience, he always sent word to McClellan to call upon him.

  * * * * *

  One day, at the close of a family luncheon, the President said to Tom:"Come upstairs with me."

  In the little private office, Lincoln took off his coat and waistcoatwith a sigh of relief and lounged into his chair. He bade Tom take achair nearby. Then he looked at the boy for a moment, while hiswonderful smile overflowed his strong lips.

  "I've been studying you a bit, Tom. I think you'll do. Now I'll tell youwhat I want you to do."

  The smile died quite away.

  "Are you sure you can keep still when you ought to keep still? Balaam'sass isn't the only ass that ever talked. Most asses talk--and always atthe wrong time."

  "The last thing Father told me," Tom answered, "was never to sayanything to anybody 'less I was sure you'd want me to say it."

  "Your father is a wise man, my boy. Pray God he does what I hope he willin Russia."

  The serious face grew still more serious. The long figure slouching inthe chair straightened and stiffened. The sloping shoulders seemed tobroaden, as if to bear steadfastly a weight that would have crushedmost men. The dark eyes gleamed with a solemn hope. Tom longed to askwhat his father was to try to do, but he was not silly enough to put histhought into words. Another good-by counsel his father had given him wasnever to ask the President a question, unless he had to do so. There wassilence for a moment. Then Lincoln spoke again:

  "You're to carry dispatches for me, Tom. This may take you into theenemy's country sometimes. If you were captured and were a civilian, itmight go hard with you. So I've had you commissioned as a secondlieutenant. If you should slip into a fight occasionally I wouldn'tblame you much. Mr. Stanton, the Secretary of War, kicked about it. Hesaid he didn't believe in giving commissions to babies. I told him youcould almost speak plain and could go 'round without a nurse. Finally hegave in. I haven't much influence with this Administration"--here Tomlooked puzzled until the President smiled over his own jest--"but I didget you the commission. Here it is."

  He laid the precious parchment on the desk, put on his spectacles, tookup his quill pen, and wrote at the foot of it

  Autograph, A. Lincoln]

  The boy's heart thrilled and throbbed. He had never dreamed of such anopportunity and such an honor. He was an officer of the Union. He was tocarry dispatches for the President of the United States. His hand shooka little as he took the commission, reverently.

  "You've been detailed for special service, Tom. Stanton wanted to knowwhether your special service was to be to play with my boy, Tad. Stantonwas pretty mad; that's a fact. Well, well, you must do your work so wellthat he'll get over the blow. You would have thought I was asking himfor a brigadier's commission for a girl. Well, well. Being a warmessenger is only one of your duties, son. You're to be my scout. Keepyour ears and eyes both open, Tom, and your mouth shut. Ever hear thestory of what Jonah said to the whale when he got out of him? The whalesaid to Jonah: 'You've given me a terrible stomach-ache.' And Jonahsaid: 'That's what you got because you didn't have sense enough to keepyour mouth shut.' But remember, Tom, to go scouting in the right way.What I want is the truth. It's a hard thing for a President to get. Idon't want tittle-tattle, evil gossip, idle talk. When I was inCongress, there was a fine old fellow in the House from Florida. Iremember he said once that the Florida wolf was 'a mean critter that'dgo snoopin' 'round twenty miles a night ruther than not do a mischief.'Don't be a wolf, Tom,--but don't be a lamb either, with the wool pulledover your eyes and ears. Here's your first job. This envelope"--Lincolntook from the desk a sealed envelope, not addressed, and handed it tothe boy--"this envelope is for the commander of the 'Cumberland,' inHampton Roads. This War Department pass will carry you anywhere. WhenStanton signed it, he asked me whether he was to spend a whole daysigning things for you to play with. Mrs. Lincoln has had a uniform madefor you, on the sly. I rather think you'll find it in your room, Tom.You'd better start tomorrow."

  "Mayn't I start this afternoon, Mr. President?"

  "Good for you. Of course you may. I'll say good-by to the folks for you.God bless you, son."

  Lincoln waved a kindly farewell as Tom, with drumbeats in his youngheart, gave a fair imitation of an officer's salute--and strode out ofthe room with what he meant to be a manly step. Once outside, the stepchanged to a run. He flew along the halls and up the stairs to theattic. He burst into his room. On his narrow bed lay his new uniform.Mrs. Lincoln, kindly housewife that she was, had done her part in thelittle conspiracy for the benefit of the boy who was Tad Lincoln'sbeloved playmate. She had herself smuggled an old suit of Tom's to atailor, who had made from its measure the resplendent new blue uniformthat now greeted Tom's enraptured eyes.

  That afternoon, Lieutenant Tom Strong left the White House for HamptonRoads. A swift dispatch boat carried him there. He reached the flagshipon a lovely, peaceful, spring day, and delivered his dispatches. Theboat that had taken him there was to take him back the next morning. Hewas glad to have a night on a warship. It was a new experience. And hisfather had told him that experience was the best teacher in the world.The beautiful lines of the frigate were a joy to see. Her spick and spancleanliness, the trim and trig sailors and marines, the rows of polishedcannon that thrust their grim mouths out of the portholes, these thingsdelighted him. He was standing on the quarter-deck with LieutenantMorris, almost wishing he could exchange his brand-new lieutenancy inthe army for one in the navy, when from the Norfolk navy yard a rocketflared up into the air.

  "What is that, sir?" asked Tom. "Is it a signal to you?"

  "I fancy it is," Morris answered, "but it isn't meant to be. That's arebel rocket. You know we lost the navy-yard early in the war and wehaven't got it back--yet. That rocket went up from there. The Secesh areup to some deviltry. They've been signaling a good bit of late. I wishthey'd come out and give us a chance at them. Hampton Roads is dull asditchwater, with not a thing happening."

  The gallant lieutenant yawned prodigiously. He little knew what terriblethings were to happen on the morrow. That rocket meant that the rebelram, the "Merrimac," the first iron-clad vessel that ever went intoaction, was to sail down Hampton Roads, where nothing ever happened, thenext morning and was to make many things happen. The Confederates hadconverted the old Union frigate, the "Merrimac," into a new, strange,and monstrous thing. They had placed a battery of cannon of a size neverbefore mounted on shipboard upon her deck, close to the water-line;they had built over the battery a framework of stout timbers, coveredwith armor rolled from rails, and they had put a cast-iron bow upon thismarine marvel. A wooden ship was a mere toy to her.

  The next morning came--it was March 8, 1862--and the "Merrimac" came. Asshe emerged from distance and mist, our scout-boats came racing to the"Cumberland" with news of the danger that was fast nearing her. The newswas a tonic to officers and to men. Here at last was something to fight.Here at last was something to do. They were all weary of having theflagship lie, week after week,

  "As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean."

  The men sprang to quarters with a joyful cheer. The officers were attheir posts. The gun-crews waited impatiently for the order to fire. AndTom, again upon the quarter-deck, thrilled with the thrill of all abouthim, was glad to know that the dispatch boat would not sail until thatafternoon and that he could see the fight. Everyone around him was sureof victory. The foe was soon to be sunk. The Stars-and-Bars, now flyingso impudently at her stern, was to be hung up a
s a trophy in theward-room of the "Cumberland." It never was.

  The ram steered straight for the flagship. She did not fire a shot,though the flagship's cannon roared. A tongue of fire blazed from everyporthole of the starboard side, towards which she came, silently andswiftly. Behind every tongue of fire there rushed a cannon-ball. Many aball hit the "Merrimac." A wooden ship would have been blown to bits bythe concentrated fury of the cannonade. Alas! the cannon-balls glancedfrom her armored sides "like peas from a pop-gun." They rattled likehail upon her and did her no more hurt than hail-stones would have done.She came on like an irresistible Fate. There had been shouts of savagejoy below decks when the first order to fire had echoed through them. Aburst of wild cheering from the gun-crews had almost drowned the firstthunder of the guns. There were no shouts or cheers now. Sharp orderspierced the clangor of artillery.

  "Stand by to board!"

  The marines formed quickly at the starboard bow of the "Cumberland."Then at last the guns of the "Merrimac" spoke. She was close upon herprey now. The sound of her first volley was the voice of doom. Her greatcannon sent masses of iron through and through the pitiful wooden wallsthat had dared to stand up against walls of iron. The shrieks of woundedmen, of men screaming their mangled lives away, rolled up to thequarter-deck. A messenger dashed up there.

  "Half the gun-crew officers are dead. Send us others!"

  "Go below," said Lieutenant Morris, turning to two young midshipmen whostood near Tom, "keep the guns manned."

  The two middies bounded below and Tom bounded down with them. There wasno hope of victory now, but the fight must be fought to a finish. Ifthe cannon could still be served, a lucky shot might strike the foe in avital part, might disable her engines, might carry away hersteering-gear, might--there was a long chapter of possible accidents tothe "Merrimac" that might still save the "Cumberland" from what seemedto be her sure destruction. As the three boys raced down to thegun-deck, they saw a fearful scene. Dead and wounded men lay everywhere.The sawdust that in those days used to be strewn about, before enteringaction, in order to soak up the blood of the men who fell and keep thedecks from growing slippery with it, had soaked up all it could, butthere were thin red trickles flowing along the deck. Two or three of thecannon had been dismounted. Crushed masses that had been human flesh laybeneath them. A dying officer half raised himself to give one lastcommand and fell back dead before he could speak. The men were standingto their task as American sailors are wont to do, but like all men theyneeded leaders. Three leaders came. The two middies and Tom tookcommand of these officerless cannon. The other two boys knew their workand did it. Tom knew that it was his business to keep his cannon at workand he did it. He repeated, mechanically:

  "Load! Fire! Load! Fire!"

  His men responded to the command. The cannon roared once, twice. Thenthere came a sickening shock. The rebel ram drove its iron prow homethrough the side of the "Cumberland." The good ship reeled far overunder the deadly blow, righted herself, but began to sink. Her race wasrun. The black bulk of the "Merrimac" was just opposite the porthole ofthe gun Tom was handling. There was a last order. With the lips of theirmuzzles wet with the engulfing sea, the cannon of the "Cumberland"roared their last defiance of death. Down went the ship. The sea abouther was black with wreckage and with struggling men. Boats from otherships and from the shore darted among them, picking them up. Thedispatch boat that had brought Tom down was busy with that good work.The "Merrimac" could have sunk her without effort, but of course theConfederates never dreamed of making the effort. Americans do not fireat drowning men. When Tom jumped into the water, as the ship sankbeneath him, he swam to a shattered spar and clutched it. But other menwho could not swim clutched at it too. It threatened to sink with theiradded weight and carry them down with it. So the boy, thoroughly at homein the water, let go, turned upon his back, floated with his nose justabove the surface, and waited for the help that was at hand. A boat-hookcaught his trousers at the waist-band. He was pulled up to the deck ofthe dispatch boat. It was not quite the way in which he had expected toboard her. From her bridge, with the deck below him crowded with therescued sailors of the "Cumberland," he saw the second sad act of thatday's tragedy.

  The "Merrimac" had backed away, after that terrible thrust of her ironram, until she was free from the ship she had destroyed. Then she laidher course for the "Congress," invincible yesterday, today helplesslyweak in the face of this new terror of the seas. The "Congress" foughtto the last gasp, but that last gasp came all too soon. Raked fore andaft by her adversary's guns, unable to fire a single effective shot inreply, she ran upon a shoal while trying to escape from being rammed andlay there, no longer a fighting machine, but a mere target for her foe.Her captain could not hope to save his ship. The only thing he could dowas to save the lives of such of his crew as were still alive. And therewas but one way to do that. The "Congress" surrendered. TheStars-and-Stripes fluttered down from her masthead. In place of the flagof the free, the Stars-and-Bars, symbol of slavery, flew above thesurrendered ship. The "Cumberland," going down with her flag, had hadthe better fate of the two.

  The "Merrimac," justly satisfied with her day's work and with the tollshe had taken of the Union squadron, steamed proudly back to Norfolk, torepair the slight damages she had suffered and to make ready tocomplete her conquest on the morrow. Three Union ships still lay inHampton Roads, great frigates, the finest of their kind then afloat,perfectly appointed, fully manned,--and as useless as though they hadbeen the toy-boats of a child. The "Minnesota," now the flagship,signaled Captain Lawrence's stirring slogan: "Don't give up the ship!"It might have been called a bit of useless bravery, but no bravery isuseless. At least the officers and men of the three doomed ships wouldfight for the flag until they died. It was just possible that one of thethree might so maneuver that she would strike the foe amidships and sinkwith her to a glorious death.

  That night the wild anxiety at Hampton Roads was more than echoed at NewYork and Washington. The wires had told the terrible tale of the"Merrimac." It was thought she could go straight to New York, sink allthe shipping there, command the city and levy tribute upon it. Lincoln'sSecretary of the Navy, Gideon Welles of Connecticut, wrote in his diarythat night: "The most frightened man on that gloomy day was theSecretary of War. He was at times almost frantic.... He ran from room toroom, sat down and jumped up after writing a few words, swung his arms,and scolded and raved." Hay records that "Stanton was fearfullystampeded. He said they would capture our fleet, take Fort Monroe, be inWashington before night."

  Without consulting the Secretary of the Navy, Stanton had some fiftycanal-boats loaded with stone and sent them to be sunk on Kettle BottomShoals, in the Potomac, to keep the "Merrimac" from reaching Washington.The canal-boats reached the Shoals, but the order to sink them wascountermanded by cooler heads. They were left in a long row, tied up tothe river bank.

  * * * * *

  The three doomed ships at Hampton Roads soon knew that at nine o'clockof that fateful night there had steamed in from the ocean a Unioniron-clad. Her coming, however, brought scant comfort.

  "What is she like?" asked the first captain to hear the news.

  "Like? She's like a cheese-box on a raft."

  THE BATTLE OF THE "MONITOR" AND THE "MERRIMAC"]

  It was not a bad description. She was the "Monitor," an unknown boat ofan unknown type that day, and on the morrow the most famous fightingcraft that ever sailed the seas. She was born of the brain of aSwedish-American, Capt. John Ericsson, whose statue stands in BatteryPark, the southern tip of the metropolis, looking down to the ocean hesaved for freedom's cause.

  Lieut. A. L. Worden, commanding the "Monitor," was soon in consultationwith the other commanders. They scarcely tried to disguise their beliefthat he had merely brought another predestined victim. His ship wastiny, compared with the "Merrimac." She was not built to ram, as was herterrible antagonist. Her guns were of a greater caliber, to be sure,than any wooden ship mounted,
but there were but two of them and theycould be brought to bear only by revolving the "Monitor's" turret,--anewfangled device in everyday use now, but then unknown and consequentlydespised. Men either fear or despise the unknown. They are usually wrongin doing either. The council of captains agreed upon a plan for the nextday's fight. The plan was based upon the theory that the "Monitor" wouldbe speedily sunk. Nevertheless, she was to face the foe first of all.

  Again the next morning came and again there came the rebel ram. Deckedout in flags as if for a festival, proudly certain of victory, the"Merrimac" steamed down Hampton Roads. The cheese-box on a raft steamedout to meet her. It was David confronting Goliath. Goliath had fourteenguns and David had two. The iron-clads came nearer and the most famoussea-duel ever fought began. Tom saw it all from the bridge of the"Minnesota." Both vessels fired and fired again, without result. Theirarmor defied even the big guns they carried. Then the "Merrimac" triedto bring her deadly ram into play. The "Monitor" dodged into shoalwater, hoping her foe would follow her and run aground. The "Merrimac"did not fall into the trap. On the contrary, she left her adversary andmade a headlong course for the helpless "Minnesota." On board thelatter, drums beat to quarters, shrill whistles gave orders, and thegreat ship moved forward to what seemed certain destruction. But the"Monitor" slipped away from the shoals and made after the "Merrimac,"firing her guns as rapidly as her creaking turret could turn. The"Merrimac" faced about, bound this time to make short work of thiswretched little gnat that was seeking to sting her. This time the twocame to close grips. Each tried to ram the other down. Each struck theother, but struck a glancing blow. They lay almost alongside and poundedeach other with their giant guns. A missile from the "Monitor" camethrough a porthole of the "Merrimac," breaking a cannon and dealingdeath and destruction within her iron sides. She turned and ran forsafety to the shelter of the Confederate batteries at Norfolk. The"Monitor" lay almost unharmed upon the gentle waves of Hampton Roads,the ungainly master of the seas. The "Merrimac" never dared again to tryconclusions with her stout little rival. She stayed at her mooringsuntil she was blown up there just before the Union forces capturedNorfolk. The Union blockade was never broken. The "Monitor" survived thefight only to founder later in "the graveyard of ships," off CapeHatteras.

  The wires had told the story of the famous fight before Tom reachedWashington, but he was the first eye-witness of it to reach there and hehad to tell the tale many and many a time. His first auditors wereLincoln and Secretary Welles. The dispatch boat that carried him backput him on board the President's boat, south of Kettle Bottom Shoals, onthe Potomac, in obedience to orders signaled to it. When he had finishedhis story, there was silence for a moment. The boy saw Lincoln's lipsmove, perhaps in prayer, perhaps in thanksgiving. Then the grave facerelaxed and the pathetic eyes twinkled with humor. The President laidhis hand upon the Secretary's arm and pointed to a long line ofstone-laden canal-boats that bordered the bank.

  "There's Stanton's navy," said Lincoln.