“Got to be thick enough to be after keeping out the Secesh cannonballs, now,” Hennissey said.

“Oh, yes, suh.” Ben knew he wasn't supposed to call the other sergeant sir, but he did it half the time without even thinking. Calling a white man sir was always safe. The redheaded sergeant certainly didn't seem to mind. “But look here, suh. Suppose them Rebels is comin' at us, an' suppose they gets down in the low ground under the bluff. We can't git the guns down low enough – “

“Depress 'em, you mean.”

“Depress 'em. Thank you kindly.” Robinson was always glad to

pick up a technical term. “We can't depress 'em enough to shoot at the Rebs when they is gettin' close to we. Almost like not havin' no guns at all, you know what I's sayin', suh?”

Hennissey scratched his beard. Once he started scratching, he seemed to have trouble stopping – he wasn't scratching for thought any more, but because he itched. Seeing him scratch made Ben want to scratch, too. He was lousy. Most of the men at the fort were.

“We can't be doin' much about where the guns are at,” the Irishman said at last. “But I wouldn't worry my head about it too much, Ben me boy. For one thing, we can hit the Secesh bastards while they're still a ways away, so they'll have the Devil's own time coming close at all, at all. Am I right or am I wrong?”

“Reckon you's right, suh,” Robinson said.

“Reckon I am, too,” Hennissey said smugly. “And even if them sons of bitches do come close, have we got the New Era down there

on the river, or have we not? Be after tellin' me, if you'd be so kind.”

“The gunboat, she there, suh,” Ben Robinson agreed. Hennissey clapped him on the back. “All right, then. You'll fret yourself no more about it, will you now?”

“Reckon I won't,” Robinson said.

“Good. That's good, then.” Hennissey walked away.

Was it good, then? Still not convinced, Robinson walked over to the edge of the bluff and looked down at the Mississippi. Sure enough, the gunboat floated there. Seen from more than four hundred feet above the river, the New Era seemed as small – and as flimsy – as a toy boat floating in a barrel of water. Could its presence make up for the problems with the field guns? Well, he could hope so, anyhow.