s of women!
And all the juvenile rag-tag.
The lower steamboat landing, well covered with sugar, rice, and molasses, was being rifled.
The men smashed; the women scooped up the smashings.
The river was overflowing the top of the levee.
A rain-storm began to threaten.
Are the Yankee ships in sight?
I asked of an idler.
He pointed out the tops of their naked masts as they showed up across the huge bend of the river.
They were engaging the batteries at Camp Chalmette — the old field of Jackson's renown.
Presently that was over.
I see them now as they come slowly round Slaughterhouse Point into full view, silent, grim, and terrible; black with men, heavy with deadly portent; the long-banished Stars and Stripes flying against the frowning sky. Oh, for the Mississippi! the Mississippi! Just then she came down upon them.
Drifting helplessly, a mass of flames.
The crowds on the levee howled and screamed with rage.
The swarming decks answered never a word; but