L. P. Brockett, The camp, the battlefield, and the hospital: or, lights and shadows of the great rebellion

A painful expectation weighed on every spirit. The boats must now be near the point opposite the beleaguered city. Will they be discovered at the first approach, or will a kindly fortune give them easy passage by? Suddenly a flame starts up! Another and another leaps into the darkness of the night! The enemy has seen the passing boats, and is sending across the river his death-dealing messengers. Rapid now dart the momentary fires; the iron rain of the remorseless cannon hurtles upon the dim and gliding boats. Dull upon the heavy air, scarce nerved by the night wind, which blows in a direction unfavorable for their hearing, reverberates the heavy thud of the cannon.

As the time passes, the batteries lower and still lower come into action. The gazers can trace the course of the fleet by new flames, that each moment startle the strained sight; and cannon, for miles along the hazy shore, are hurling their destructive missiles. A new accessory now adds its influence to the exciting scene. While the spectators had been engaged in watching the vivid flames leaping from cannon mouths and exploding shells, a gleam of light, first pale and soft, then red and lurid, and at last glaring and refulgent, stole up into the heavens above the opposing city. For the first time, the silence was broken by the gazing crowds upon the steamboats of the fleet. “Vicksburg is on fire!” was uttered in excited tones. But it was not so. Steady and with wonderful brilliancy, upon the hill on which the city stands, the fire assumed a circular outline on the upper edge, much like a third part of the full moon when,