CHAPTERX
OnMiss Barton’s return I found myself very much “de trop,” though she treated me kindly. I saw very little of her work, but her extreme deliberation, when one day I had run to her quite breathless from the operating tent for bandages, etc., for the surgeons who were waiting, was very irritating. She asked about my health, urged me to take a seat, and very slowly rummaged about for the necessary supplies. The only time I saw her actively engaged was on a day when there had been a skirmish at the front, and she started for the field with the ambulance and an orderly, and a small box of bandages, condensed milk, etc.
One bright moonlight night, I was startled by strange sounds of melodious singing in the distance, and, with an orderly, I went to ascertain its meaning. We soon came upon a large fire surrounded by a circle of perhaps forty negroes, men and women, crooning and singing. They were often led by a high falsetto, then sinking to a low monotone, when suddenly another voice would rise changing to a new refrain, while not one lost the time or pitch or made discords. They danced hand in hand in a slow rythmic circle, while one, more excited than the rest, would spring up to a remarkable height shouting, “Glory! bress de Lawd!” “I’s a-comin’ Lawd!” etc. All “eyes in a fine frenzy rolling,” shone like great black beads in the firelight, while their white teeth gleamed brightly. All were in solemn seriousness as they sang simple couplets like the following:
“If I’d a died when I was young,I wouldn’t a had dis risk to run.”“Some folks is bery good on de sing,But dey don’t know nuffin ’bout de hebbenly King.”“Some folks is bery good on de talk,But dey don’t know nuffin ’bout de hebbenly walk.”
“If I’d a died when I was young,I wouldn’t a had dis risk to run.”“Some folks is bery good on de sing,But dey don’t know nuffin ’bout de hebbenly King.”“Some folks is bery good on de talk,But dey don’t know nuffin ’bout de hebbenly walk.”
“If I’d a died when I was young,
I wouldn’t a had dis risk to run.”
“Some folks is bery good on de sing,But dey don’t know nuffin ’bout de hebbenly King.”
“Some folks is bery good on de sing,
But dey don’t know nuffin ’bout de hebbenly King.”
“Some folks is bery good on de talk,But dey don’t know nuffin ’bout de hebbenly walk.”
“Some folks is bery good on de talk,
But dey don’t know nuffin ’bout de hebbenly walk.”
They continued on in childish simplicity till their ecstasy broke into shouts of “Cum down Lawd!”—“I’s a comin’ Lawd! Look out for me!”—“I’s a-waitin’ Lawd!”—while the circle whirled in dizzy speed until they sometimes fell exhausted to the ground. All feared the “Voodou-Cunger” woman, and were anxious to propitiate her with a rabbit’s foot and various incantations.
Eloquence, rhythm, oratory and harmony seem inborn among this strange people, who have given to the whole South the soft voice and accent so many of us like to hear.
Under existing conditions it was a relief when Mrs.E——came from the Masonic Mission in New York and claimed that a mistake had been made in sending me to Point of Rocks, and informed me that I would find work to my liking at City Point.
The following day Mrs.E——,with an ambulance, took me for a day’s rough travel over corduroy roads and ditches and through woods to General Burnside’s 9th Corps headquarters in a clump of trees before Petersburg. The General came out of an inner tent, putting on his coat and apologizing, saying he had been sleeping.
“Why, General, how can you sleep with the shells screaming and exploding so near?”
“Oh,” he replied, laughingly, “this is when I can sleep comfortably. It’s only when I hear musketry that I fear there is mischief brewing.”
A very courteous, handsome, soldierly gentleman was General Burnside.
We then drove a short distance to General O. B. Wilcox’s headquarters, so near Petersburg that, with the General’s glasses, I could distinctly see the people in their houses at their daily work, though the cannons on both sides were replying with a formality as if war was a matter of etiquette. There seemed to be only women in the town, going about their home duties, quite unconscious of shells falling into their doomed city. The General was quite elated at having that day moved his lines forward three-quarters of a mile.
Seeing a number of barrels piled before his tent, I asked why they were there. He smiled and said, “I was sitting here awhile ago when a bullet passed over my shoulder, and the boys were afraid a sharpshooter might pick me off, so they piled these barrels up for protection.”
General Burnside commanded the 9th Army Corps and General Wilcox the second division of that Corps. Both were gentlemen of refinement and great kindness to the men, who were very proud and fond of their commanders. I observed that both Generals treated me with more courtesy than they showed to Mrs.E——,although she was a much older woman.
BurnsideGENERAL BURNSIDE
GENERAL BURNSIDE
The next day on leaving the hospital at Point of Rocks, after thanking Surgeon Porter for his friendliness and attention that had made my stay possible and pleasant, and bidding Miss Barton good-bye, I went with Mrs.E——on board the “Gazelle,” (then well known in New York Bay),—and returned to City Point.
We went directly to the tent of a Miss Nye, on the Agency Row, whom I recognized as having seen in the office of the Masonic Mission in New York City. Miss Nye at once took me aside saying, “You had better take off that badge,”—the badge of the Masonic Mission, which I had worn for protection,—“it is not respected here, and you may stay with me as long as you wish, but that woman cannot stay another night in my tent.”
About midnight a terrific storm arose and threatened to sweep Miss Nye’s tent into the ravine quite nearby. She called for help from the next tent, where slept some Christian Commission agents. While Miss Nye held on to one side of the tent, I threw myself across my cot and, with all my strength, held on to the other side. Mrs.E——in a short gown and petticoat of the olden time, held the tent flaps as the wind rushed through, nearly carrying us all away with the tents. However, the men soon hammered down the tent pins securely, and all was quiet again. Altogether we made a comical picture and would have been a fine group for the present day kodak.
Mrs.E——left City Point the next day, and so passed out of my life.
While I was yet with Miss Nye, another night of alarm ended rather amusingly. We were sleeping soundly on opposite sides of the tent when Miss Nye screamed out that some one had reached under the tent and touched her hand. We got up and, after talking loudly for a while, thought the intruder was scared off. Then we fell asleep. He came back again, however, evidently trying to reach a pocket book under Miss Nye’s pillow. This time, not wishing to disturb the sleepers in the near tents, we concluded to “arm ourselves for the fray.” Miss Nye found a hatchet which she would have used bravely. I could find no defensive weapon but a big long-necked bottle. We knew that the thief could hear our threatening talk as he was hiding in the ravine close by, so we lay down again, Miss Nye clasping the hatchet on her breast, and I embracing in like manner my big bottle. We soon slept soundly again, when suddenly a terrific crash caused us to spring up in alarm. What could it be? Then I realized that I had relaxed my hold on the big bottle, which had rolled across the rough floor and crashed against the tent pole. After indulging in a good laugh over our fright, we slept soundly once more until morning.
Still another incident regarding Miss Nye comes to mind. Years after the war I succeeded in finding her, then a graduate of homœopathy in New York City,—Doctor Frances M. Nye. She had met a Confederate soldier, also a graduate of this school of medicine, and also bearing the name of Francis M. Nye. The identity of names, perhaps, induced a lasting friendship, and when they married Miss Nye changed only one letter in her name. They continued to practise together for many years and seemed very happy.