transferred to another vessel; and all were again together.

Early in the previous night, McClellan, who had just been aboard the vessel on which Captain Swift arrived, informed me that the latter proposed to lead the company ashore. Worth's division was to land first, and the engineer company was temporarily assigned to that division. McClellan added: "The Captain is now too feeble to walk across the cabin of his vessel without assistance—the effort to lead the company in this landing will be fatal to him, and I told him I thought he ought not to attempt it. But, he looks upon me as a boy,[1] and I have no influence with him in this matter. You ought to advise him against this thing. If he attempts it, it will certainly kill him."

I fully agreed with McClellan in reference to the physical condition of the Captain; and the probable, if not certain, result of an attempt on his part to lead the company in the landing. But for me to advise him not to go ashore with us, was to request him to give me the command of his company in this important enterprise. I told McClellan that I felt a delicacy about the matter which made me hesitate to advise the Captain to give me the command of the company. He replied: "Yes, but this case is beyond mere delicacy. The act of leading the company ashore will kill him; and I think you can persuade him not to undertake it. You ought to try. I am sure he will not misconstrue your motive."

Urged thus, I pulled over to the Captain's vessel, after dark found him alone in the cabin, and quickly told him why I came. He listened patiently to all I had to say; thanked me cordially for the interest I took in his physical welfare; said he fully appreciated the kindness shown; understood the motive which actuated the advice given; and added: "My mind is made up; I will lead the company in this landing; and would do so even if I knew that the bare attempt would certainly cost me my life."

The next afternoon, the Captain, standing by the gangway, directed the embarkation of about 20 men in the smaller of the two surf boats in which the company was to land. Just as that boat was ready to pull away to make room for the larger boat, I said to him: "I suppose I am to go with this detachment of the Company; and if so I must get aboard now". He replied "No. I wish you to go in the larger boat with me". To which I said: "All right", and added: "McClellan goes with the detachment?" The Captain said, "Yes."

When the larger boat for the rest of the Company came along side I relieved the Captain at the gangway and superintended the embarkation of the men in that boat. The Captain was lowered over the side of the vessel in a chair; and I, when all else was ready to pull off, scrambled down into the closely packed boat, and took my place in the bow.

Each boat was rowed by sailors from the fleet under the direction of a naval officer.

We had reason for anxiety in regard to the resistance we might meet with from Mexican batteries that could easily have been sheltered behind the sand hills immediately overlooking the open beach on which the landing was to be made. A single cannon-shot striking one of the closely packed surf-boats would probably have sent it, and all on board, to the bottom. The anxiety of the soldiers was to get ashore before such a fate should befall them. They cared very little for anything that might happen after they were on land; but wished to escape the danger of having the boats sunk under them by Mexican batteries.

When we were within five or six hundred yards of the beach all were startled by the whistling of shells and cannon balls close about our heads. This fire was soon understood to come from our Naval gunboats, and aimed at small parties of Mexican lookouts on shore. No resistance was made to the landing of Worth's division.

When we were within two or three hundred yards of the beach, I made my way, over the heads of the men to the stern of the boat where the Captain was seated; and said to him I thought the time had come for him to get to the bow, if he still intended to lead the company in going ashore.

For a moment the most painful expression I ever saw depicted on a human countenance marked his face. He rallied, however, almost immediately, and said: "I must, at the last moment, relinquish my command"; and added "I turn the command over to you until the company is formed in line on the beach".

I made my way quickly back to the bow; ordered the right file of the company, two stalwart corporals—thorough soldiers, to go to the stern of the boat, take their places near the Captain, keep their eyes on me after they reached him, spring into the water when they saw me jump from the bow, seize the Captain, place him on their shoulders or heads, and bring him to me in the line on shore without a wet thread on him.

I informed the corporals that I had been placed in full command by Captain Swift; warned them he would probably resist their bringing him ashore; but no matter what he said or did, they must obey my orders. They did it. The corporals were athletes—over six feet in height, young and active. In the Captain's then physical condition he was as helpless as an infant in their hands.

The water where they went overboard was nearly up to their necks; but when they brought the Captain to me he was as dry as whilst sitting in the boat. He had resisted them more violently than I anticipated. In vain they explained to him that they were instructed by me to take him ashore without his touching the water. He ordered them to put him down, used all his force to compel them to do so, repeated his orders in no measured terms, and continued to denounce the corporals after they had placed him on his feet by my side.

He was wild with rage. I at once relinquished to him the command of the company, and said: "Captain, the corporals are not in fault. They simply obeyed my order whilst I was, by your authority, in command of the company. Blame me, if you will, but exonerate them."

He apologised to the corporals for kicking, striking, and otherwise abusing them, and thanked them for the service they had rendered him. The termination of this incident made an indelible impression on the men in favor of their Captain.

That night the company slept among the sand hills a few hundred yards from the shore, undisturbed, except by a flurry of firing which occurred about 10 P. M., between a Mexican detachment and the Light battalion of Worth's division. This firing continued for a few minutes, and then all was quiet for the rest of the night.

About sunrise next morning, the company moved several hundred yards, into its position on the sand hills, on the right of Worth's division in the line of investment, facing Vera Cruz which was about two miles distant.

The Captain showed wonderful increase of vitality after he reached the shore. He conducted the company to its assigned place in the line of investment without much apparent difficulty in walking through the sand.

But three hours exposure to the hot sun was more than he could bear; his strength was gone. He lost consciousness and was, by my order, carried to the beach on an improvised litter. The sergeant of the party was instructed to report to the naval officer in charge of the surf boats, and in my name, request that Captain Swift be taken as soon as practicable, to the steamer which was the headquarters of General Scott. That request was promptly complied with; but the Captain's vitality was exhausted. He was sent to the United States on the first steamer that left Vera Cruz after the landing was effected, and died in New Orleans within twenty-four hours after his arrival at that