THE MARCH TO YORKTOWN—SCARCITY OF SUPPLIES—CAMP COOKERY—DIFFERENT CHARACTERS IN THE ARMY—ARRIVAL OF TRAINS—CHANGE OF CAMP—TRYING TO SHELL US OUT—THE OLD SAW-MILL—A CONSTANT TARGET—ASSAULTS ON OUR OUTPOSTS—A REBEL APPEAL—YORKTOWN AND VICINITY—THE SITUATION—BALLOON RECONNOISSANCES—PROF. LOWE ON HIGH—REBEL VIXENS—A CURIOUS VISIT—A STRANGE HOSTESS—SHE TRIES TO KILL ME—I WOUND HER AND CAPTURE A PRISONER—A CONVERSION—THE SECESH WOMAN BECOMES A FEDERAL NURSE.
THE MARCH TO YORKTOWN—SCARCITY OF SUPPLIES—CAMP COOKERY—DIFFERENT CHARACTERS IN THE ARMY—ARRIVAL OF TRAINS—CHANGE OF CAMP—TRYING TO SHELL US OUT—THE OLD SAW-MILL—A CONSTANT TARGET—ASSAULTS ON OUR OUTPOSTS—A REBEL APPEAL—YORKTOWN AND VICINITY—THE SITUATION—BALLOON RECONNOISSANCES—PROF. LOWE ON HIGH—REBEL VIXENS—A CURIOUS VISIT—A STRANGE HOSTESS—SHE TRIES TO KILL ME—I WOUND HER AND CAPTURE A PRISONER—A CONVERSION—THE SECESH WOMAN BECOMES A FEDERAL NURSE.
On to Richmondonce more resounded through the camp, and the army was again in motion. The Yorktown road is one long to be remembered, especially by those who that day had to toil through its mud and mire, or, by making a mis-step, fall into one of the yawning chasms from which some unfortunate mule had been drawn. The rain had continued almost all the time we were encamped at Hampton, “saturatingthe clayey soil, which soon became a vast bed of mortar under the artillery trains.” The distance from Hampton to Yorktown is about twenty-three miles, and it required all the determination and energy of veterans to march half that distance in a day. With two days’ rations in their haversacks, the men marched until they arrived in front of Yorktown, where they bivouacked on the ground, over which the water was running like a flood. We remained three days in that condition, and it was the first time I ever saw anything like scarcity of food in the army.
It was scarce indeed, for we were only supplied with two days’ rations on starting from Hampton. The fifth day had arrived, but no provisions had yet appeared, and it seemed morally impossible to get a supply train over the road. Mile after mile of corduroy bridge had to be made before a team dare venture to approach. Our horses, too, were as badly off for forage as the men were for provisions. On the fifth day, with several others, I received permission to go out and buy what we could at the houses anywhere within three miles of our encampment.
After procuring a quantity of biscuit, pies, and corn bread, we returned to camp, and were quite surprised to find the boys engaged in cutting up and cooking fresh steak. We thought, of course, our provisions had arrived, but found that it was only a little dash they had just made upon the“chivalry’s” cattle, appropriating them to their own use with a sort of earnestness which seemed to say, I firmly believe in the old proverb,Aide toi, et le ciel t’aidera.
Oh, what a place the army is for the study of human nature! As I looked around upon that mass of busy men, I thought I could discover almost every trait in the human character depicted upon their countenances. There was the selfish man, only intent upon serving himself, and fearing there would not enough come to his share to satisfy his wants; then there was old churlish Nabal away by himself building a fire for his own especial benefit, and which “no man dare approach unto,” no, not within baking, broiling, or roasting distance, not even to get a coal to kindle one for himself. But that class of character, thank heaven, was a very small minority. There, too, was the cheerful, happy man, who had been several hours engaged in cutting up and serving out to others, and had no lot or part in the broiled steaks which were smoking around him; yet he looked as good natured as if he had dined on roast beef and plum pudding. Then there was another phase of character—one who always made it the first duty, under all circumstances, to look after those who were not able to look after themselves.
While the little trials of camp life have a tendency to harden and sour the dispositions of some,they seem to bring to light and develop the cheerful, happy, unselfish spirit of others. One has truthfully said that “there is no other quality so diffusive of joy, both to him who possesses it and to those with whom he has friendly intercourse, as cheerfulness. It is the phase of a soul sitting in its own sunshine. There are luminous planets which are viewed by the aid of their own light, others there are which are seen through borrowed light. So it is with individuals. There seem to be some who have scarcely any light of their own, and who shine by the reflection of the light of others; while others there are who possess an intrinsic and inexhaustible source of sunshine, which renders them not only self-illuminating, but capable of irradiating those around them. Many are cheerful when a sparkling rill of pleasure is gurgling in their hearts, or when prosperity encircles them, or looms up gorgeously in their prospective vision. But few are cheerful when adversity casts its gloomy shadows around them; when sorrow and disappointment dry up their fountains of pleasure and wither their hopes. In such crises cheerfulness is an independent virtue, and in others an accidental mood.”
The despondency of the few was soon removed, and the patience and cheerfulness of the many rewarded by the arrival of the provision and baggage trains. We then exchanged our camp for one in a more pleasant locality, where there wasmore wood and not quite so much water, which added much to the comfort of the troops. The enemy soon found out our position, and did not fail to inform us of the fact by frequently saluting us with an immense shell, or thirty-two pound cannon ball, which would burst over our heads or fall within a few rods—often within a few feet—of our tents. We remained in that camp just one month, and, notwithstanding the enemy shelled us night and day, I never saw a man or beast injured by shot or shell in camp while we remained there.
I presume many of my readers will remember seeing or hearing of the old saw-mill which stood near a peach orchard, and which the soldiers persisted in running, to the great annoyance of the rebels. That old saw-mill deserves to be immortalized in song as well as in history; and if it stood in any other than a christian land, it would undoubtedly become an object of idolatry. There it stood, in perfect range of the enemy’s batteries, a target at which they never seemed tired of firing, while our brave soldiers risked their lives in sawing lumber for the purpose of laying board floors in the hospital tents, to secure some degree of comfort, for their poor sick comrades.
Time after time the mill was set on fire by the explosion of shells as they passed through it, but up would go some brave young hero, and stand in the very jaws of death while his companions would hand him bucket after bucket of water to quenchthe flames. As soon as the fire was extinguished the men resumed their labor, and the old mill steamed away with all its might, as if proud of the “stars and stripes” which waved from its summit, and of being permitted to show its patriotism and zeal for the glorious cause of freedom by working for good old “Uncle Sam” and his noble sons. Then it would give vent to its pent up wrath in hisses and shrieks, bidding proud defiance to Jeff. Davis and his minions, who were trying in vain to stop its humane and patriotic efforts. For more than three weeks those brave men kept the steam up in that mill, until their object was accomplished, having to stop almost every half hour to repair the ravages of shot and shell. Notwithstanding the constant fire of the rebel batteries, the dilapidated appearance of the mill from its effects, and the danger of the situation, yet not a man was killed in or about it, and not one wounded, to my knowledge.
I remember one day of passing the mill in a great hurry—and it was well that I was in a hurry, for I had scarcely rode by it when I heard a terrific crash close at hand, which made my horse leap from the ground with terror. Upon turning round I saw that a part of the smoke stack had been carried away, and the mill was on fire. I rode up to the door and inquired if any one was killed or injured; no, not a man was hurt, and the fire was soon subdued by the vigorous efforts ofthose sturdy soldiers, who looked as jolly over the disaster as if it had really been a good joke.
The rebels were beginning to make some desperate assaults upon our outposts; they were driving in the advance pickets on our left wing, and making similar demonstrations along different parts of the line. They were evidently concentrating a large force behind their fortifications, and were determined to make a desperate resistance. Deserters came in bringing Richmond papers crowded with appeals to the Southern “chivalry,” of which the following is a specimen:
“The next few days may decide the fate of Richmond. It is either to remain the Capital of the Confederacy, or to be turned over to the Federal Government as a Yankee conquest. The Capital is either to be secured or lost—it may be feared not temporarily, and with it Virginia. Then, if there is blood to be shed, let it be shed here; no soil of the Confederacy could drink it up more acceptably, and none would hold it more gratefully. Wife, family, and friends are nothing. Leave them all for one glorious hour to be devoted to the Republic. Life, death, and wounds are nothing if we only be saved from the fate of a captured and humiliated Confederacy. Let the Government act; let the people act. There is time yet. If fate comes to its worst, let the ruins of Richmond be its most lasting monument.”
General McClellan’s despatch to the WarDepartment will best describe the state of affairs at this time in Yorktown and vicinity; he says:
“The whole line of the Warwick, which really heads within a mile of Yorktown, is strongly defended by detached redoubts and other fortifications, armed with heavy and light guns. The approaches, except at Yorktown, are covered by the Warwick, over which there is but one, or at most, two passages, both of which are covered by strong batteries. All the prisoners state that General J. E. Johnson arrived at Yorktown yesterday, with strong reinforcements. It seems clear that I shall have the whole force of the enemy on my hands—probably not less than one hundred thousand men, and possibly more.
“Under the circumstances which have been developed since we arrived here, I feel fully impressed with the conviction that here is to be fought the great battle that is to decide the existing contest. I shall of course commence the attack as soon as I can get up my siege train, and shall do all in my power to carry the enemy’s works; but to do this, with a reasonable degree of certainty, requires, in my judgment, that I should, if possible, have at least the whole of the first corps to land upon the Severn river and attack Gloucester in the rear. My present strength will not admit of a detachment sufficient for this purpose without materially impairing the efficiency of this column.”
While these preparations were going forward on both sides, Professor Lowe was making balloon reconnoissances, and transmitting the result of his observations to General McClellan by telegraph from his castle in the air, which seemed suspended from the clouds, reminding one of the fabled gods of old looking down from their ethereal abodes upon the conflicts of the inhabitants of this mundane sphere. One of the officers one day playfully remarked: “Professor, I am always sorry when I see you descend with your balloon.” “Why are you sorry, Colonel? Would you wish to see me suspended between heaven and earth all the time?” “Oh, no, not that; but when I see you coming down I am afraid you will never get so near heaven again.”
I was often sent out to procure supplies for the hospitals, butter, eggs, milk, chickens, etc., and in my rambles I used to meet with many interesting adventures. In some instances I met with narrow escapes with my life, which were not quite so interesting; and the timely appearance of my revolver often rescued me from the hands of the female rebels of the Peninsula. Persons dwelling in regions which slavery has not debased can hardly imagine the malice and ferocity manifested by the rebel vixens of the slave states. Upon this point the testimony from all parts of the South is invariable. The Louisville Journal says: “Thousands have read with astonishment theaccount which historians give of the conduct of women in Paris during the Reign of Terror. The women are said to have been more fierce and bloodthirsty than even the fiercest and most bloodthirsty of the men. Many of our people have supposed that the accounts given of those things must surely be fictions or exaggerations. They have felt themselves unable to conceive that woman’s nature could become a thing so utterly revolting. But if they will look and listen in this region, at the present time, they will find that they have no further reason for incredulity or scepticism. The bitter and ferocious spirit of thousands of rebel women in Kentucky, Tennessee, and other States, is scarcely, if at all, surpassed by the female monsters that shrieked and howled for victims in the French Revolution.”
I will here relate a little incident illustrative of the peculiarity of my adventures while on this catering business: One morning I started, all alone, for a five mile ride to an isolated farm-house about three miles back from the Hampton road, and which report said was well supplied with all the articles of which I was in search. I cantered along briskly until I came to a gate which opened into a lane leading directly to the house. It was a large old fashioned two-story house, with immense chimneys built outside, Virginia style. The farm appeared to be in good condition, fences all up, a rare thing on the Peninsula, and corn-fieldsflourishing as if there were no such thing as war in the land.
I rode up to the house and dismounted, hitched my horse to a post at the door, and proceeded to ring the bell. A tall, stately lady made her appearance, and invited me in with much apparent courtesy. She was dressed in deep mourning, which was very becoming to her pale, sad face. She seemed to be about thirty years of age, very prepossessing in appearance, and evidently belonged to one of the “F. F. V’s.” As soon as I was seated she inquired: “To what fortunate circumstance am I to attribute the pleasure of this unexpected call?” I told her in a few words the nature of my business. The intelligence seemed to cast a deep shadow over her pale features, which all her efforts could not control. She seemed nervous and excited, and something in her appearance aroused my suspicion, notwithstanding her blandness of manner and lady-like deportment.
She invited me into another room, while she prepared the articles which she proposed to let me have, but I declined, giving as an excuse that I preferred to sit where I could see whether my horse remained quiet. I watched all her movements narrowly, not daring to turn my eyes aside for a single moment. She walked round in her stately way for some time, without accomplishing much in the way of facilitating mydeparture, and she was evidently trying to detain me for some purpose or other. Could it be that she was meditating the best mode of attack, or was she expecting some one to come, and trying to detain me until their arrival? Thoughts like these passed through my mind in quick succession.
At last I rose up abruptly, and asked her if the things were ready. She answered me with an assumed smile of surprise, and said: “Oh, I did not know that you were in a hurry: I was waiting for the boys to come and catch some chickens for you.” “And pray, madam, where are the boys?” I asked; “Oh, not far from here,” was her reply. “Well, I have decided not to wait; you will please not detain me longer,” said I, as I moved toward the door. She began to pack some butter and eggs both together in a small basket which I had brought with me, while another stood beside her without anything in it. I looked at her; she was trembling violently, and was as pale as death. In a moment more she handed me the basket, and I held out a greenback for her acceptance; “Oh, it was no consequence about the pay;” she did not wish anything for it. So I thanked her and went out.
In a few moments she came to the door, but did not offer to assist me, or to hold the basket, or anything, but stood looking at me most maliciously, I thought. I placed the basket on the top of the post to which my horse had been hitched, tookmy seat in the saddle, and then rode up and took my basket. Turning to her I bade her good morning, and thanking her again for her kindness, I turned to ride away.
CATERING FOR HOSPITALS.—Page 94.
I had scarcely gone a rod when she discharged a pistol at me; by some intuitive movement I threw myself forward on my horse’s neck and the ball passed over my head. I turned my horse in a twinkling, and grasped my revolver. She was in the act of firing the second time, but was so excited that the bullet went wide of its mark. I held my seven-shooter in my hand, considering where to aim. I did not wish to kill the wretch, but did intend to wound her. When she saw that two could play at this game, she dropped her pistol and threw up her hands imploringly. I took deliberate aim at one of her hands, and sent the ball through the palm of her left hand. She fell to the ground in an instant with a loud shriek. I dismounted, and took the pistol which lay beside her, and placing it in my belt, proceeded to take care of her ladyship after the following manner: I unfastened the end of my halter-strap and tied it painfully tight around her right wrist, and remounting my horse, I started, and brought the lady to consciousness by dragging her by the wrist two or three rods along the ground. I stopped, and she rose to her feet, and with wild entreaties she begged me to release her, but, instead of doing so, I presented a pistol, and toldher that if she uttered another word or scream she was a dead woman. In that way I succeeded in keeping her from alarming any one who might be within calling distance, and so made my way toward McClellan’s headquarters.
After we had gone in that way about a mile and a half, I told her that she might ride if she wished to do so, for I saw she was becoming weak from loss of blood. She was glad to accept the offer, and I bound up her hand with my handkerchief, gave her my scarf to throw over her head, and assisted her to the saddle. I marched along beside her, holding tight to the bridle rein all the while. When we were about a mile from McClellan’s headquarters she fainted, and I caught her as she was falling from the horse. I laid her by the roadside while I went for some water, which I brought in my hat, and after bathing her face for some time she recovered.
For the first time since we started I entered into conversation with her, and found that within the last three weeks she had lost her father, husband, and two brothers in the rebel army. They had all belonged to a company of sharpshooters, and were the first to fall. She had been almost insane since the intelligence reached her. She said I was the first Yankee that she had seen since the death of her relatives, the evil one seemed to urge her on to the step she had taken, and if I would not deliver her up to the military powers,she would go with me and take care of the wounded. She even proposed to take the oath of allegiance, and seemed deeply penitent. “If thy brother (or sister) sin against thee, and repent, forgive him,” are the words of the Saviour. I tried to follow their sacred teachings there and then, and told her that I forgave her fully if she was only truly penitent. Her answer was sobs and tears.
Soon after this conversation we started for camp, she weak and humbled, and I strong and rejoicing. None ever knew from that day to this the secret of that secesh woman becoming a nurse. Instead of being taken to General McClellan’s headquarters, she went direct to the hospital, where Dr. P. dressed her hand, which was causing her extreme pain. The good old surgeon never could solve the mystery connected with her hand, for we both refused to answer any questions relating to the wound, except that she was shot by a “Yankee,” which placed the surgeon under obligations to take care of the patient until she recovered—that is to say as long as it was convenient for him to do so.
The next day she returned to her house in an ambulance, accompanied by a hospital steward, and brought away everything which could be made use of in the hospitals, and so took up her abode with us. Her name was Alice M., but we called her Nellie J. She soon proved the genuinenessof her conversion to the Federal faith by her zeal for the cause which she had so recently espoused. As soon as she was well enough to act in the capacity of nurse she commenced in good earnest, and became one of the most faithful and efficient nurses in the army of the Potomac. But that was the first and the only instance of a female rebel changing her sentiments, or abating one iota in her cruelty or hatred toward the “Yankees;” and also the only real lady in personal appearance, education and refinement, that I ever met among the females of the Peninsula.
A LOST FRIEND—DEATH OF LIEUTENANT JAMES V.—HIS BURIAL—THE GRAVE BY NIGHT—MY VOW—A SOLDIER-CHAPLAIN—RECOGNITIONS IN HEAVEN—DOUBTS AND DISSATISFACTION—CAPTURE OF A SPY—MY EXAMINATIONS AT HEADQUARTERS—MY DISGUISE AS A SPY—I AM METAMORPHOSED INTO A CONTRABAND—HIRED AS A COOK—BISCUIT MAKING—THE DOCTOR’S TEA.
A LOST FRIEND—DEATH OF LIEUTENANT JAMES V.—HIS BURIAL—THE GRAVE BY NIGHT—MY VOW—A SOLDIER-CHAPLAIN—RECOGNITIONS IN HEAVEN—DOUBTS AND DISSATISFACTION—CAPTURE OF A SPY—MY EXAMINATIONS AT HEADQUARTERS—MY DISGUISE AS A SPY—I AM METAMORPHOSED INTO A CONTRABAND—HIRED AS A COOK—BISCUIT MAKING—THE DOCTOR’S TEA.
Notlong after these events, returning one day from an excursion, I found the camp almost deserted, and an unusual silence pervading all around. Upon looking to the right and left to discover the cause of so much quietness, I saw a procession of soldiers slowly winding their way from a peach orchard, where they had just depositedthe remains of a comrade. Who could it have been? I did not dare to go and meet them to inquire, but I waited in painful suspense until the procession came up, with arms reversed. With sad faces and slow and measured tread they returned in order as they had gone. I stepped forward and inquired whom they had buried. Lieutenant James V. was the reply.
My friend! They had buried him, and I had not seen him! I went to my tent without uttering a word. I felt as if it could not be possible that what I heard was true. It must be some one else. I did not inquire how, when or where he had been killed, but there I sat with tearless eyes. Mr. and Mrs. B. came in, she sobbing aloud, he calm and dignified, but with tears slowly rolling down his face. Lieutenant V. was thirty-two years of age; he was tall, had black wavy hair, and large black eyes. He was a sincere christian, active in all the duties devolving upon a christian soldier, and was greatly beloved both by officers and men. His loss was deeply felt. His heart, though brave, was tender as a woman’s. He was noble and generous, and had the highest regard for truth and law. Although gentle and kind to all, yet he had an indomitable spirit and a peculiar courage and daring, which almost amounted to recklessness in time of danger. He was not an American, but was born of English parents, and was a native of St. John, New Brunswick. I had known himalmost from childhood, and found him always a faithful friend.
When we met in the army we met as strangers. The changes which five years had wrought, and the costume which I wore, together with change of name, rendered it impossible for him to recognize me. I was glad that he did not, and took peculiar pleasure in remaining unrecognized. We became acquainted again, and a new friendship sprang up, on his part, for mine was not new, which was very pleasant, at least to me. At times my position became very embarrassing, for I was obliged to listen to a recapitulation of my own former conversations and correspondence with him, which made me feel very much like an eavesdropper. He had neither wife, mother nor sister, and, like myself, was a wanderer from his native land. There was a strong bond of sympathy existing between us, for we both believed that duty called us there, and were willing to lay down even life itself, if need be, in this glorious cause. Now he was gone, and I was left alone with a deeper sorrow in my heart than I had ever known before.
Chaplain B. broke the painful silence by informing me how he had met his fate. He was acting in the capacity of aide-de-camp on General C.’s staff. He was sent to carry an order from headquarters to the officer in command of the outer picket line, and while riding along the line he was struck by a Minnie ball, which passed through thetemple, killing him instantly. His remains were brought to camp and prepared for their last resting place. Without shroud or coffin, wrapped in his blanket, his body was committed to the cold ground. They made his grave under a beautiful pear tree, in full bloom, where he sleeps peacefully, notwithstanding the roar of cannon and the din of battle which peal forth their funeral notes over his dreamless bed.
One more buriedBeneath the sod,One more standingBefore his God.We should not weepThat he has gone;With us ’tis night,With him ’tis morn.
Night came at last with its friendly mantle, and our camp was again hushed in comparative repose. Twelve o’clock came, but I could not sleep. Visions of a pale face and a mass of black wavy hair, matted with gore which oozed from a dark purple spot on the temple, haunted me. I rose up quietly and passed out into the open air. The cool night breeze felt grateful to my burning brow, which glowed with feverish excitement. With a hasty word of explanation I passed the camp guard, and was soon beside the grave of Lieutenant V. The solemn grandeur of the heavens, the silent stars looking lovingly down upon that little heaped up mound of earth, the death-like stillnessof the hour, only broken by the occasional booming of the enemy’s cannon, all combined to make the scene awfully impressive. I felt that I was not alone. I was in the presence of that God who had summoned my friend to the eternal world, and the spirit of the departed one was hovering near, although my dim eyes could not penetrate the mysterious veil which hid him from my view. It was there, in that midnight hour, kneeling beside the grave of him who was very dear to me, that I vowed to avenge the death of that christian hero. I could now better understand the feelings of poor Nellie when she fired the pistol at me, because I was “one of the hated Yankees who was in sympathy with the murderers of her husband, father and brothers.”
But I could not forgive his murderers as she had done. I did not enjoy taking care of the sick and wounded as I once did, but I longed to go forth and do, as a noble chaplain did at the battle of Pittsburg Landing. He picked up the musket and cartridge-box of a wounded soldier, stepped into the front rank, and took deliberate aim at one rebel after another until he had fired sixty rounds of cartridge; and as he sent a messenger of death to each heart he also sent up the following brief prayer: “May God have mercy upon your miserable soul.”
From this time forward I became strangely interested in the fifteenth chapter of first Corinthians—thedoctrine of the resurrection, and the hope of “recognition of friends in heaven” became very precious to me. For I believe with regard to our departed loved ones, that
When safely landed on that heavenly shoreWhere sighings cease and sorrows come no more—With hearts no more by cruel anguish riven,As we have loved on earth we’ll love in heaven.
And infinitely more than we are capable of loving here. “Few things connected with the great hereafter so deeply concern the heart as the question of personal recognition in heaven. Dear ones of earth, linked to our hearts by the most tender ties, have departed and gone away into the unknown realm. We have carefully and tearfully laid their bodies in the grave to slumber till the great awakening morning. If there is no personal recognition in heaven, if we shall neither see nor know our friends there, so far as we are concerned they are annihilated, and heaven has no genuine antidote for the soul’s agony in the hour of bereavement. All the precious memories of toil and trial, of conflict and victory, of gracious manifestations and of holy joy, shared with them in the time of our pilgrimage, will have perished forever. The anxiety of the soul with regard to the recognition of our friends in the future state is natural. It springs from the holiest sympathies of the human heart, and any inquiry that may solve ourdoubts or relieve our anxiety is equally rational and commendable.
“Tell me, ye who have seen the open tomb receive into its bosom the sacred trust committed to its keeping, in hope of the first resurrection—ye who have heard the sullen rumbling of the clods as they dropped upon the coffin lid, and told you that earth had gone back to earth; when the separation from the object of your love was realized in all the desolation of bereavement, next to the thought that you should ere long see Christ as he is and be like him, was not that consolation the strongest which assured you that the departed one, whom God has put from you into darkness, will run to meet you when you cross the threshold of immortality, and, with the holy rapture to which the redeemed alone can give utterance, lead you to the exalted Saviour, and with you bow at his feet and cast the conqueror’s crown before him? And is this hope vain? Shall we not even know those dear ones in the spirit world? Was this light of hope that gilded so beautifully the sad, dark hour of human woe, only a mockingignis fatuus, so soon to go out in everlasting darkness? Is this affection, so deep, so holy, yearning over its object with undying love, to be nipped in the very bud of its being? Nay, it cannot be. There must have been some higher purpose; God could not delight in the bestowal of affections that were to be blighted in their very beginning, and ofhopes that were to end only in the mockery of eternal disappointment.”
If fate unite the faithful but to part,Why is their memory sacred to the heart?
Oh, thank God forFAITH! for a faith that takes hold of that which is within the veil. There we behold our loved ones basking in the sunshine of the Redeemer’s love—there they see Him face to face, and know as they are known. And they speak to us from the bright eternal world, and bid us
Weep not at nature’s transient pain;Congenial spirits part to meet again.
Just at this crisis I received a letter from a friend of mine at the North, disapproving in strong terms of my remaining any longer in the army, requesting me to give up my situation immediately, and to meet him in Washington two weeks from date. I regarded that friend’s opinions very much, especially when they coincided with my own; but upon this point no two opinions could differ more widely than did ours.
It is true I was becoming dissatisfied with my situation as nurse, and was determined to leave the hospital; but before doing so I thought it best to call a council of three, Mr. and Mrs. B. and I, to decide what was the best course to pursue. After an hour’s conference together the matter was decided in my mind. Chaplain B. told methat he knew of a situation he could get for me if I had sufficient moral courage to undertake its duties; and, said he, “it is a situation of great danger and of vast responsibility.”
That morning a detachment of the Thirty-seventh New York had been sent out as scouts, and had returned bringing in several prisoners, who stated that one of the Federal spies had been captured at Richmond and was to be executed. This information proved to be correct, and we lost a valuable soldier from the secret service of the United States. Now it was necessary for that vacancy to be supplied, and, as the Chaplain had said with reference to it, it was a situation of great danger and vast responsibility, and this was the one which Mr. B. could procure for me. But was I capable of filling it with honor to myself and advantage to the Federal Government? This was an important question for me to consider ere I proceeded further. I did consider it thoroughly, and made up my mind to accept it with all its fearful responsibilities. The subject of life and death was not weighed in the balance; I left that in the hands of my Creator, feeling assured that I was just as safe in passing the picket lines of the enemy, if it was God’s will that I should go there, as I would be in the Federal camp. And if not, then His will be done:
Then welcome death, the end of fears.
My name was sent in to headquarters, and I wassoon summoned to appear there myself. Mr. and Mrs. B. accompanied me. We were ushered into the presence of Generals Mc., M. and H., where I was questioned and cross-questioned with regard to my views of the rebellion and my motive in wishing to engage in so perilous an undertaking. My views were freely given, my object briefly stated, and I had passed trial number one.
Next I was examined with regard to my knowledge of the use of firearms, and in that department I sustained my character in a manner worthy of a veteran. Then I was again cross-questioned, but this time by a new committee of military stars. Next came a phrenological examination, and finding that my organs of secretiveness, combativeness, etc., were largely developed, the oath of allegiance was administered, and I was dismissed with a few complimentary remarks which made the good Mr. B. feel quite proud of hisprotege. This was the third time that I had taken the oath of allegiance to the United States, and I began to think, as many of our soldiers do, that profanity had become a military necessity.
I had three days in which to prepare for my debut into rebeldom, and I commenced at once to remodel, transform and metamorphose for the occasion. Early next morning I started for Fortress Monroe, where I procured a number of articles indispensably necessary to a complete disguise. In the first place I purchased a suit of contrabandclothing, real plantation style, and then I went to a barber and had my hair sheared close to my head.
Next came the coloring process—head, face, neck, hands and arms were colored black as any African, and then, to complete my contraband costume, I required a wig of real negro wool. But how or where was it to be found? There was no such thing at the Fortress, and none short of Washington. Happily I found the mail-boat was about to start, and hastened on board, and finding a Postmaster with whom I was acquainted, I stepped forward to speak to him, forgetting my contraband appearance, and was saluted with—“Well, Massa Cuff—what will you have?” Said I: “Massa send me to you wid dis yere money for you to fotch him a darkie wig from Washington.” “What the —— does he want of a darkie wig?” asked the Postmaster. “No matter, dat’s my orders; guess it’s for some ’noiterin’ business.” “Oh, for reconnoitering you mean; all right old fellow, I will bring it, tell him.” I remained at Fortress Monroe until the Postmaster returned with the article which was to complete my disguise, and then returned to camp near Yorktown.
On my return, I found myself without friends—a striking illustration of the frailty of human friendship—I had been forgotten in those three short days. I went to Mrs. B.’s tent and inquired if she wanted to hire a boy to take care of her horse.She was very civil to me, asked if I came from Fortress Monroe, and whether I could cook. She did not want to hire me, but she thought she could find some one who did require a boy. Off she went to Dr. E. and told him that there was a smart little contraband there who was in search of work. Dr. E. came along, looking as important as two year old doctors generally do. “Well, my boy, how much work can you do in a day?” “Oh, I reckon I kin work right smart; kin do heaps o’ work. Will you hire me, Massa?” “Don’t know but I may; can you cook?” “Yes, Massa, kin cook anything I ebber seen.” “How much do you think you can earn a month?” “Guess I kin earn ten dollars easy nuff.” Turning to Mrs. B. he said in an undertone: “That darkie understands his business.” “Yes indeed, I would hire him by all means, Doctor,” said Mrs. B. “Well, if you wish, you can stay with me a month, and by that time I will be a better judge how much you can earn.”
So saying Dr. E. proceeded to give a synopsis of a contraband’s duty toward a master of whom he expected ten dollars per month, especially emphasising the last clause. Then I was introduced to the culinary department, which comprised flour, pork, beans, a small portable stove, a spider, and a medicine chest. It was now supper time, and I was supposed to understand my business sufficiently to prepare supper without asking any questionswhatever, and also to display some of my boasted talents by making warm biscuit for supper. But how was I to make biscuit with my colored hands? and how dare I wash them for fear the color would wash off? All this trouble was soon put to an end, however, by Jack’s making his appearance while I was stirring up the biscuit with a stick, and in his bustling, officious, negro style, he said: “See here nig—you don’t know nuffin bout makin bisket. Jis let me show you once, and dat ar will save you heaps o’ trouble wid Massa doct’r for time to come.” I very willingly accepted of this proffered assistance, for I had all the necessary ingredients in the dish, with pork fat for shortening, and soda and cream-tartar, which I found in the medicine chest, ready for kneading and rolling out. After washing his hands and rolling up his sleeves, Jack went to work with a flourish and a grin of satisfaction at being “boss” over the new cook. Tea made, biscuit baked, and the medicine chest set off with tin cups, plates, etc., supper was announced. Dr. E. was much pleased with the general appearance of things, and was evidently beginning to think that he had found rather an intelligent contraband for a cook.
MY FIRST SECRET EXPEDITION—MY WORK AMONG CONTRABANDS—PICKAXE, SHOVEL AND WHEELBARROW—COUNTING THE GUNS IN A REBEL FORTIFICATION—A CHANGE OF WORK—CARRYING WATER TO THE REBEL SOLDIERS—GENERALS LEE AND JOHNSON—THE REBEL FORCE AT YORKTOWN—A COUNCIL OF WAR—TURNING WHITE AGAIN—A REBEL SPY—LIEUTENANT V.’S MURDERER—ON PICKET DUTY—MY RETURN TO OUR LINES—I PUT ON UNIFORM AND MAKE MY REPORT.
MY FIRST SECRET EXPEDITION—MY WORK AMONG CONTRABANDS—PICKAXE, SHOVEL AND WHEELBARROW—COUNTING THE GUNS IN A REBEL FORTIFICATION—A CHANGE OF WORK—CARRYING WATER TO THE REBEL SOLDIERS—GENERALS LEE AND JOHNSON—THE REBEL FORCE AT YORKTOWN—A COUNCIL OF WAR—TURNING WHITE AGAIN—A REBEL SPY—LIEUTENANT V.’S MURDERER—ON PICKET DUTY—MY RETURN TO OUR LINES—I PUT ON UNIFORM AND MAKE MY REPORT.
Aftersupper I was left to my own reflections, which were anything but pleasant at that time; for in the short space of three hours I must take up my line of march toward the camp of the enemy. As I sat there considering whether it was best for me to make myself known to Mrs. B. before I started, Dr. E. put his head in at the tent door and said in a hurried manner: “Ned, I want you to black my boots to-night; I shall require them early in the morning.” “All right, Massa Doct’r,” said I; “I allers blacks de boots over night.” After washing up the few articles which had taken the place of dishes, and blacking the Doctor’s boots, I went to seek an interview with Mrs. B. I found her alone and told her who I was, but was obliged to give her satisfactory proofs of my identity before she was convincedthat I was the identical nurse with whom she had parted three days previously.
My arrangements were soon made, and I was ready to start on my first secret expedition toward the Confederate capital. Mrs. B. was pledged to secrecy with regard to her knowledge of “Ned” and his mysterious disappearance. She was not permitted even to tell Mr. B. or Dr. E., and I believe she kept her pledge faithfully. With a few hard crackers in my pocket, and my revolver loaded and capped, I started on foot, without even a blanket or anything which might create suspicion. At half-past nine o’clock I passed through the outer picket line of the Union army, at twelve o’clock I was within the rebel lines, and had not so much as been halted once by a sentinel. I had passed within less than ten rods of a rebel picket, and he had not seen me. I took this as a favorable omen, and thanked heaven for it.
As soon as I had gone a safe distance from the picket lines I lay down and rested until morning. The night was chilly and the ground cold and damp, and I passed the weary hours in fear and trembling. The first object which met my view in the morning was a party of negroes carrying out hot coffee and provisions to the rebel pickets. This was another fortunate circumstance, for I immediately made their acquaintance, and was rewarded for my promptness by receiving a cup of coffee and a piece of corn bread, which helpedvery much to chase away the lingering chills of the preceding night. I remained there until the darkies returned, and then marched into Yorktown with them without eliciting the least suspicion.
The negroes went to work immediately on the fortifications after reporting to their overseers, and I was left standing alone, not having quite made up my mind what part to act next. I was saved all further trouble in that direction, for my idleness had attracted the notice of an officer, who stepped forward and began to interrogate me after the following manner: “Who do you belong to, and why are you not at work?” I answered in my best negro dialect: “I dusn’t belong to nobody, Massa, I’se free and allers was; I’se gwyne to Richmond to work.” But that availed me nothing, for turning to a man who was dressed in citizen’s clothes and who seemed to be in charge of the colored department, he said: “Take that black rascal and set him to work, and if he don’t work well tie him up and give him twenty lashes, just to impress upon his mind that there’s no free niggers here while there’s a d—d Yankee left in Virginia.”
So saying he rode away, and I was conducted to a breast-work which was in course of erection, where about a hundred negroes were at work. I was soon furnished with a pickaxe, shovel, and a monstrous wheelbarrow, and I commenced forthwithto imitate my companions in bondage. That portion of the parapet upon which I was sent to work was about eight feet high. The gravel was wheeled up in wheelbarrows on single planks, one end of which rested on the brow of the breast-work and the other on the ground. I need not say that this work was exceedingly hard for the strongest man; but few were able to take up their wheelbarrows alone, and I was often helped by some good natured darkie when I was just on the verge of tumbling off the plank. All day long I worked in this manner, until my hands were blistered from my wrists to the finger ends.
DISGUISED AS A CONTRABAND.—Page 113.
The colored men’s rations were different from those of the soldiers. They had neither meat nor coffee, while the white men had both. Whiskey was freely distributed to both black and white, but not in sufficient quantity to unfit them for duty. The soldiers seemed to be as much in earnest as the officers, and could curse the Yankees with quite as much vehemence. Notwithstanding the hardships of the day I had had my eyes and ears open, and had gained more than would counterbalance the day’s work.
Night came, and I was released from toil. I was free to go where I pleased within the fortifications, and I made good use of my liberty. I made out a brief report of the mounted guns which I saw that night in my ramble round the fort, viz.: fifteen three-inch rifled cannon, eighteenfour and a half-inch rifled cannon, twenty-nine thirty-two pounders, twenty-one forty-two pounders, twenty-three eight-inch Columbiads, eleven nine-inch Dahlgrens, thirteen ten-inch Columbiads, fourteen ten-inch mortars, and seven eight-inch siege howitzers. This, together with a rough sketch of the outer works, I put under the inner sole of my contraband shoe and returned to the negro quarters.
Finding my hands would not be in a condition to shovel much earth on the morrow, I began to look round among the negroes to find some one who would exchange places with me whose duty was of a less arduous character. I succeeded in finding a lad of about my own size who was engaged in carrying water to the troops. He said he would take my place the next day, and he thought he could find a friend to do the same the day following, for which brotherly kindness I gave him five dollars in greenbacks; but he declared he could not take so much money—“he neber had so much money in all his life before.” So by that operation I escaped the scrutiny of the overseer, which would probably have resulted in the detection of my assumed African complexion.
The second day in the Confederate service was much pleasanter than the first. I had only to supply one brigade with water, which did not require much exertion, for the day was cool and the well was not far distant; consequently I had anopportunity of lounging a little among the soldiers, and of hearing important subjects discussed. In that way I learned the number of reinforcements which had arrived from different places, and also had the pleasure of seeing General Lee, who arrived while I was there. It was whispered among the men that he had been telegraphed to for the purpose of inspecting the Yankee fortifications, as he was the best engineer in the Confederacy, and that he had pronounced it impossible to hold Yorktown after McClellan opened his siege guns upon it. Then, too, General J. E. Johnson was hourly expected with a portion of his command. Including all, the rebels estimated their force at one hundred and fifty thousand at Yorktown and in that vicinity.
When Johnson arrived there was a council of war held, and things began to look gloomy. Then the report began to circulate that the town was to be evacuated. One thing I noticed in the rebel army, that they do not keep their soldiers in the dark as our officers do with regard to the movements and destination of the troops. When an order comes to the Federal army requiring them to make some important movement, no person knows whether they are advancing or retreating until they get to Washington, or in sight of the enemy’s guns, excepting two or three of the leading generals.
Having a little spare time I visited my sablefriends and carried some water for them. After taking a draught of the cool beverage, one young darkie looked up at me in a puzzled sort of manner, and turning round to one of his companions, said: “Jim, I’ll be darned if that feller aint turnin’ white; if he aint then I’m no nigger.” I felt greatly alarmed at the remark, but said, very carelessly, “Well, gem’in I’se allers ’spected to come white some time; my mudder’s a white woman.” This had the desired effect, for they all laughed at my simplicity, and made no further remarks upon the subject. As soon as I could conveniently get out of sight I took a look at my complexion by means of a small pocket looking-glass which I carried for that very purpose—and sure enough, as the negro had said, I was really turning white. I was only a dark mulatto color now, whereas two days previous I was as black as Cloe. However, I had a small vial of nitrate of silver in weak solution, which I applied to prevent the remaining color from coming off.
Upon returning to my post with a fresh supply of water, I saw a group of soldiers gathered around some individual who was haranguing them in real Southern style. I went up quietly, put down my cans of water, and of course had to fill the men’s canteens, which required considerable time, especially as I was not in any particular hurry just then. I thought the voice sounded familiar, and upon taking a sly look at the speaker I recognizedhim at once as a peddler who used to come to the Federal camp regularly once every week with newspapers and stationery, and especially at headquarters. He would hang round there, under some pretext or other, for half a day at a time.
There he was, giving the rebels a full description of our camp and forces, and also brought out a map of the entire works of McClellan’s position. He wound up his discourse by saying: “They lost a splendid officer through my means since I have been gone this time. It was a pity though to kill such a man if he was a d—d Yankee.” Then he went on to tell how he had been at headquarters, and heard “Lieutenant V.” say that he was going to visit the picket line at such a time, and he had hastened away and informed the rebel sharpshooters that one of the headquarter officers would be there at a certain time, and if they would charge on that portion of the line they might capture him and obtain some valuable information. Instead of this, however, they watched for his approach, and shot him as soon as he made his appearance.
I thanked God for that information. I would willingly have wrought with those negroes on that parapet for two months, and have worn the skin off my hands half a dozen times, to have gained that single item. He was a fated man from that moment; his life was not worth three cents in Confederate scrip. But fortunately he did not know the feelings that agitated the heart ofthat little black urchin who sat there so quietly filling those canteens, and it was well that he did not.
On the evening of the third day from the time I entered the camp of the enemy I was sent, in company with the colored men, to carry supper to the outer picket posts on the right wing. This was just what I wished for, and had been making preparations during the day, in view of the possibility of such an event, providing, among other things, a canteen full of whiskey. Some of the men on picket duty were black and some were white. I had a great partiality for those of my own color, so calling out several darkies I spread before them some corn cake, and gave them a little whiskey for dessert. While we were thus engaged the Yankee Minnie balls were whistling round our heads, for the picket lines of the contending parties were not half a mile distant from each other. The rebel pickets do not remain together in groups of three or four as our men do, but are strung along, one in each place, from three to four rods apart. I proposed to remain a while with the pickets, and the darkies returned to camp without me.
Not long after night an officer came riding along the lines, and seeing me he inquired what I was doing there. One of the darkies replied that I had helped to carry out their supper, and was waiting until the Yankees stopped firing before Istarted to go back. Turning to me he said, “You come along with me.” I did as I was ordered, and he turned and went back the same way he came until we had gone about fifty rods, then halting in front of a petty officer he said, “Put this fellow on the post where that man was shot until I return.” I was conducted a few rods farther, and then a rifle was put into my hands, which I was told to use freely in case I should see anything or anybody approaching from the enemy. Then followed the flattering remark, after taking me by the coat-collar and giving me a pretty hard shake, “Now, you black rascal, if you sleep on your post I’ll shoot you like a dog.” “Oh no, Massa, I’se too feerd to sleep,” was my only reply.
The night was very dark, and it was beginning to rain. I was all alone now, but how long before the officer might return with some one to fill my place I did not know, and I thought the best thing I could do was to make good use of the present moment. After ascertaining as well as possible the position of the picket on each side of me, each of whom I found to be enjoying the shelter of the nearest tree, I deliberately and noiselessly stepped into the darkness, and was soon gliding swiftly through the forest toward the “land of the free,” with my splendid rifle grasped tightly lest I should lose the prize. I did not dare to approach very near the Federal lines, for I was in more danger of being shot by them than by the enemy; so Ispent the remainder of the night within hailing distance of our lines, and with the first dawn of morning I hoisted the well known signal and was welcomed once more to a sight of the dear old stars and stripes.
I went immediately to my tent. Mrs. B. was delighted at my return; she was the only person in camp who knew me. Jack was sent to the quartermaster’s with an order for a new suit of soldier’s clothes. When he saw they were for me, on his return, he said: “Hi! dat darkie tinks he’s some. Guess he don’t cook no more for Massa Doct’r.” After removing as much of the color as it was possible for soap and water to do, my complexion was a nice maroon color, which my new costume showed off to good advantage. Had my own mother seen me then, it would have been difficult to convince her of our relationship. I made out my report immediately and carried it to General McClellan’s headquarters, together with my trophy from the land of traitors. I saw General G. B., but he did not recognize me, and ordered me to go and tell A. to appear before him in an hour from that time. I returned again to my tent, chalked my face, and dressed in the same style as on examination day, went at the hour appointed, and received the hearty congratulations of the General. The rifle was sent to Washington, and is now in the capitol as a memento of the war.
Do my friends wish to know how I felt in sucha position and in such a costume? I will tell them. I felt just as happy and as comfortable as it was possible for any one to be under similar circumstances. I am naturally fond of adventure, a little ambitious and a good deal romantic, and this together with my devotion to the Federal cause and determination to assist to the utmost of my ability in crushing the rebellion, made me forget the unpleasant items, and not only endure, but really enjoy, the privations connected with my perilous positions. Perhaps a spirit of adventure was important—butpatriotismwas the grand secret of my success.
Being fatigued, and the palms of both my hands in raw flesh, I thought it best to wait a few days before setting out upon another adventure.
While I was thus situated I made a point of becoming acquainted with Nellie, my rebel captive. She was trying to make herself useful in the hospital, notwithstanding her hand was very painful—often waiting upon those who were suffering less than she was herself. Her pale, pensive face and widow’s weeds seemed to possess peculiar attractions for Doctor E., and her hand was a bond of mutual sympathy between them, and afforded many pretexts for a half hour’s conversation.