After dark, in the midst of a pelting storm, almost worn out by the heavy burdens of that day, and still suffering from the injuries he had received by the fall of his horse, Grant went to the headquarters of each general of division, assigned to him his position, and gave him particular orders for the resumption of the battle at daylight. At midnight he had completed his rounds, and returned to the Landing, where he lay down upon the soaked ground, with his head on a stump for a pillow, and slept soundly till morning. He was completely drenched with the rain, but he was confident of the victory on the morrow, and no discomfort was too great for him to endure in the holy cause in which he had embarked. While he slept, the two gunboats in the river kept up their fire over his head, throwing shells into the rebel lines. It is a popular idea that these gunboats saved the Union army from total destruction; that without them the heroes of that hard-fought battle would have been obliged to surrender, or be driven into the river. The men saved and protected themselves by their strong right hands, though doubtless the gunboats rendered considerable assistance. Even Pollard, who generally has a proper respect for these terrible engines of war, says their fire was terrific in sound, but did no damage. A mile from the camp the wounded of the army lay in the agony of their suffering. Nothing could be done for them, for they were within the enemy's line. The exhausted troops slept on their arms, pelted by the fierce tempest of the elements at night, as they had been by the bullets of a savage foe through all the long day. They were safe, or they could not have slept. Most of them had performed miracles of valor, in strong contrast with the cowards who had fled. Sherman had been wounded several times, and had three horses shot under him. He had fought his own division and that of an inexperienced general near him. His personal influence, backed up by his personal heroism, had kept the line firm and united under the fierce onslaughts of the enemy. Grant commended him on the battle-field for his noble exertions, and there can be no doubt that, in the morning, Sherman had saved the day. At half past four in the afternoon, after the conflict had been raging almost incessantly for twelve hours, it reached the culminating point of its fierceness. Grant sat on his horse, calm, unmoved, and grand in his thoughtful silence. The cannon roared fearfully on the left, and seemed to be approaching nearer, as though the rebels were successful in their attempt to flank the entire position, so as to cut off the retreat of the nationals. "Doesn't the prospect begin to look gloomy?" said an officer at his side, just as another was killed within a few feet of him.