that they actually tumbled on board the boats and pushed off from
the shore without waiting for their commander. By this time the
Confederates were rapidly approaching with the intention of sweeping
the decks of the crowded steamboats before they could get out of
range, and Grant was apparently cut off from all chance of escape.
Directly in front of him lay the precipitous river bank, while below
only one transport was within hail and that had already started
from its moorings. Its captain, however, caught sight of him as
he came galloping through a corn field and instantly pushed his
vessel as close to the shore as he dared, at the same time throwing
out a single plank about fifteen feet in length to serve as an
emergency gangway. To force a horse down the cliff-like bank of the
river and up the narrow plank to the steamer's deck, was a daring
feat, but the officer who was riding for his life had not forgotten
the skill which had marked him at West Point and, compelling his
mount to slide on its haunches down the slippery mud precipice, he
trotted coolly up the dangerous incline to safety.

The battle of Belmont (November 7, 1861), as this baptism of fire
was called, is said to have caused more mourning than almost any
other engagement of the war, for up to that time there had been but
little loss of life and its list of killed and wounded, mounting into
the hundreds, made a painfully deep impression. In this respect,
it was decidedly ominous of Grant's future record, but it accomplished
his purpose in detaining the Confederates and he was soon to prove
his willingness to accept defeats as necessary incidents to any
successful campaign and to fight on undismayed.