By-and-by the boat would become firmly set between two huge stones-- "Whoop la! whoop! whoop!" Another pull, and another, straining every nerve--in vain.
"She will not budge!" "Men, overboard!" and instantly every rower is over the side and into the water.
By pulling, pushing, and tugging, the boat is at length released from her position, and the men walk along beside her, helping and guiding her, until they reach a space of comparatively smooth water, when they again take their seats and their oars.
It will be readily imagined that there were few songs this day, but very frequent _pipes_, to refresh the poor fellows after such an arduous service.
It was altogether a new spectacle to me.

In fact, I had hardly ever before been called upon to witness severe bodily exertion, and my sympathies and sensibilities were, for this reason, the more enlisted on the occasion.

It seemed a sufficient hardship to have to labor in this violent manner; but to walk in cold water up to their waists, and then to sit down in their soaking garments without going near a fire! Poor men! this was too much to be borne! What, then, was my consternation to see my husband, who, shortly after our noon-tide meal, had surprised me by making his appearance in a pair of duck trowsers and light jacket, at the first cry of "Fast, again!" spring over into the water with the men, and "bear a hand" throughout the remainder of the long stretch! When he returned on board, it was to take the oar of a poor, delicate-looking boy, one of the company of soldiers, who from the first had suffered with bleeding at the nose on every unusual exertion.

I was not surprised, on inquiring, to find that this lad was a recruit just entered the service.

He passed by the name of Gridley, but that was undoubtedly an assumed name.