enemy telegraphed a great victory to Richmond. The sun went down on the
night of the 14th of February, 1862, leaving the army confronting Fort
Donelson anything but comforted over the prospects. The weather had
turned intensely cold; the men were without tents and could not keep up
fires where most of them had to stay, and, as previously stated, many
had thrown away their overcoats and blankets. Two of the strongest of
our gunboats had been disabled, presumably beyond the possibility of
rendering any present assistance. I retired this night not knowing but
that I would have to intrench my position, and bring up tents for the
men or build huts under the cover of the hills.

On the morning of the 15th, before it was yet broad day, a messenger
from Flag-officer Foote handed me a note, expressing a desire to see me
on the flag-ship and saying that he had been injured the day before so
much that he could not come himself to me. I at once made my
preparations for starting. I directed my adjutant-general to notify
each of the division commanders of my absence and instruct them to do
nothing to bring on an engagement until they received further orders,
but to hold their positions. From the heavy rains that had fallen for
days and weeks preceding and from the constant use of the roads between
the troops and the landing four to seven miles below, these roads had
become cut up so as to be hardly passable. The intense cold of the
night of the 14th-15th had frozen the ground solid. This made travel on
horseback even slower than through the mud; but I went as fast as the
roads would allow.

When I reached the fleet I found the flag-ship was anchored out in the
stream. A small boat, however, awaited my arrival and I was soon on
board with the flag-officer. He explained to me in short the condition
in which he was left by the engagement of the evening before, and