Christy had only to
reverse the direction of the carriage, hastily sight the piece, and pull
the lanyard. The missiles with which the thirty-pounder was loaded cut
down the advancing column, rushing to obey their commander's order, and
then carried death and destruction into the crowd of seamen in their
rear.
"Good Heavens, Mr. Passford!" exclaimed the Confederate commander,
rising with difficulty from his seat. "You are badly wounded!"
"Not badly, Captain Rombold," replied the young officer, gathering up
his remaining strength, and resting his right arm upon the planks.
"But my dear fellow, you are bleeding to death, and the blood is running
in a stream from the ends of the fingers on your left hand!" continued
the Confederate commander, apparently as full of sympathy and kindness
as though the sufferer had been one of his own officers. "Gill!" he
called to his steward, who was assisting in the removal of the injured
seamen. "My compliments to Dr. Davidson, and ask him to come on deck
instantly."
Christy had hardly noticed the ball which passed through the fleshy part
of his arm above the elbow at the time it struck him. While he kept the
wounded member raised the blood was absorbed by his clothing. It had
been painful from the first; but the degree of fortitude with which a
wounded person in battle endures suffering amounting to agony is almost
incredible.
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