Life in the Confederate Army Part 5

We had quite an adventure last Wednesday. Father luckily came over from Summerville to dinner. It was a bitterly cold day. We were just sitting down to the luxury of calf's head soup, for father wished some veal to carry back to camp, when Quash came in with a rattled and rather bothered air, and said there was a Yankee soldier outside who wanted to give himself up. We all were thunderstruck, and followed father, who gave vent to great displeasure.

At the door stood a miserable looking creature, shivering in a tattered blue uniform. He was tall, thin, and white as a ghost, and his feet looked particularly white. I never saw a more abject object. Father tried to be very severe, but you know how kind-hearted he is, and while he was scolding the man I overheard Quash say aside to him, "Nebber min'

what he say, Maussa doan' mean it. He is one ob de kindest mens in de wurl."

It seems that the man was a prisoner who had escaped from the cars on his way to prison some three months ago and was trying to make his way to the coast, hoping to get through our lines. He had been living among the negroes, sleeping in their houses by day and traveling by night; but the wretched existence had worn him out and he came to give himself up.

He was an Englishman who was impressed on his arrival in New York and he begged father to ask the authorities to let him take the oath of allegiance and fight for us; but father said there had been enough of that and such galvanized Yankees had done more harm than good.

This poor wretch is the first enemy we have seen, and we could not help feeling sorry for him, although, as father says, no doubt he has been demoralizing the negroes. He gave him a good dinner and turned him over to Daddy Paul to take care of until the next day, when father took him to Charleston and delivered him to the authorities. Mother found him an old jacket and pair of shoes and socks, which she gave him. Surely she had never expected to give a pair of her socks to one of the enemy.

Maum Martha thinks our kindness misplaced and told us he talked very different to them from the way he talked to us, but she told us this only after he had left, although it would have made no difference. We may have "heaped coals of fire," etc.

OTRANTO, February 15, 1865.

I have not heard from you for some time, but I know in these dark days you think of us. There is no doubt we live in dreadful times. We may soon be in the enemy's country, or rather our troops may have to retire from the coast.

Yesterday Annie and I determined to drive over to Summerville and dine with aunt, as she and Cousin Sue have begged us to do so. Mother did not want us to go. She feels the perilous times and all the sorrows she has had make her very anxious. But at last she consented to our going, much to Aunt May's disappointment, who thinks we should sit down and say, "Good Lord, deliver us," all the time.

We had a pleasant drive over, as you know it is only nine miles. Daddy Moses drove us and mother insisted that Cully should go as an outrider.

He rode Lamb, and went ahead. It showed that mother was nervous, but Annie and I were amused, as we did not know what he was expected to do.

We found aunt and Cousin Sue delighted to see us and we enjoyed our day. We left at 5 o'clock, as we could not get off earlier. Father dined with us and tried to start us earlier. Aunt is delighted to have him in Summerville as she says she "never felt so safe, because she knows he will fight."

Our drive home was gloomy and we did not reach there until 7 o'clock. As we drew near we met several of the negroes on farm horses looking for us, and at the avenue gate our maid f.a.n.n.y peering for us in the dark.

Mother and the aunts were wretched about us, particularly as Uncle Pete had come up from the city full of bad news. Charleston is to be evacuated, as Sherman's movements have made that necessary. He was horrified when he heard that we had taken so long a drive, as he says the woods are full of stragglers and escaped galvanized Yankees. I do not know what is before us, or when you will hear from us again.

OTRANTO, February 20, 1865.

Charleston is being evacuated and our army is pa.s.sing all the time, and we reconcile ourselves to being left in the enemy's lines by the hope that our army, strengthened by the coast troops, may defeat Sherman.

This letter will go by the last of our troops. The army has been pa.s.sing for five days and many of the men come up to the house, where we give them everything we can for them to eat. They are full of courage and their appearance gives us renewed hope. They hate to leave us behind.

Henry spent last night here. He got leave of absence with difficulty, but will rejoin his regiment at Strawberry Ferry. He begged mother to retire into the interior; but we mean to stay. He left us this morning.

The captain in command of the rear-guard at Goose Creek Bridge has just come to bid us good-by, and he took two letters, which he promised to carry into our lines--one to papa and the other to aunt, which we knew would be the last tidings they would get from us.

This may, or may not reach you, but it is a comfort to write. The worst has come, or I hope it has. After my last letter we awaited the approach of the enemy with indescribable feelings. We tried not to think, and I must say I was afraid of being frightened out of my wits and was too thankful when the Yankees came. I was too angry to be scared. We tried to keep up each other's spirits and were very busy hiding things. We took only Paul, Jack and Martha into our confidence and they helped us faithfully.

Tuesday pa.s.sed in quiet. Mother, Annie and I took our usual walk in the afternoon and met one of the negroes, who told us that our men had not burned the bridge, and we determined that if this was the fact, we would do it ourselves; but as we approached we were glad to see it blazing in the distance. We felt then that we were really cut off from our own people, but at the same time had satisfaction in knowing that if our army was pursued the enemy would here meet an obstacle.

At 5 o'clock Wednesday afternoon as we were again getting ready for a walk, a man was seen riding rapidly up the avenue. I called out, "The Yankees are here. I know them by their blue legs!" and you may be sure the family a.s.sembled quickly. In the mean while the man dashed past the house and rode quickly around it, evidently expecting some one to run out; finding no one, he returned to the front of the house, where we five ladies stood together on the piazza. By this time we saw many others coming up the avenue.

"Where is the man of the house?" demanded the man in an insolent tone.

Mamma replied, "He is not at home," and Aunt May added, "He is a gray-haired man."

He gave a leer and said, "But not too old to be in the Rebel army." This could not be denied, so we were silent. Then, with an expression of triumph he said, "You have never seen black troops, but you will soon have that pleasure; they are advancing now."

Mamma said, "I suppose they are not different from other negroes; we are accustomed to them and never have feared them."

This calm reply was evidently a disappointment, as he had hoped we would have been overcome with fear.

He turned off and said, "I must get some poultry for the General's supper," and went to the fowl-house, where about a dozen of his men joined him. In a few moments the cart, which just at the moment was coming up with a load of wood, was seized and filled with our fowls, turkeys, geese, etc., and driven off.

I happened to turn my eyes toward the western entrance from the main road and saw the negro soldiers rushing in.

To my latest day I will not forget their brutal appearance. They came up brandishing their guns with an air of wildness hard to describe, and in a short time were scattered over the plantation, committing every conceivable havoc. Their commander, Lieutenant J----, of New York, rode up to the house, accompanied by several white officers, and while we stood still and calmly upon the piazza he called out, "Where is the man of the house?"

Mother replied as before, when he said, "He is a Rebel," and turning to her said, "I am come to liberate your people," to which she quietly replied, "I hope you will be as kind to them as we have been." This visibly angered him and he exclaimed, "That is a strange reply to make to a Northern man, and an officer of a colored regiment." To which she replied, "We will not discuss the question."

He turned and said something to Quash, our waiting-man, and in a short time we heard him and the other officers upstairs in our bed-rooms.

Mamma and Aunt Anna followed quietly and found that he had summoned our two maids, Rachel and f.a.n.n.y, and was exhorting them to disclose where everything of value was concealed, saying, "Don't lie; that woman (meaning mother) is very bad," and a great deal more in the same strain, trying to incite them against us. They spoke to these servants as "Madam," and of mother as "that woman."

The two girls were very frightened, but behaved remarkably well and a.s.sured them that no valuables were hidden, and only the ladies' clothes were in the rooms. However, they ransacked our wardrobes and bureau drawers, throwing our things out all over the floor, and when they came downstairs took all the cold meats out of the larder.

While mother and Aunt Anna were upstairs helplessly following Lieutenant J---- around and witnessing his shameless conduct in our bed-rooms, Aunt May, Annie and I remained downstairs. A quiet-looking officer was standing in the piazza.

Aunt May, who never can control her curiosity, said to him, "We heard some heavy firing in Charleston this morning. Has anything occurred there?" "Good Heavens, Madam," he replied, "have you been so long out of the Union that you have forgotten Washington's birthday?"

At this moment about twenty rough-looking men came charging up to the house, evidently intending to enter. I confess that, for the first time I was alarmed, and calling to the officer said, "For Heaven's sake, protect us; don't let those men enter." He said, "I will do what I can,"

and placed himself in the doorway.

The men seeing him come forward as our protector, stopped in the piazza.

By this time Lieutenant J---- and his party had returned from searching our bed-rooms, and calling to his men said, "Boys, take what you want."

These acted like long-pent-up animals suddenly let loose. All our stock, horses and mules were driven off, our cattle, sheep and hogs were killed; the barns and smoke-house were broken open, and all their contents scattered, and all our vehicles of every kind, tools and implements were broken in pieces and thrown into the creek or burned.

It was awful to hear the screams of the cattle and hogs as they were chased and bayoneted, and the scatter and terror of the sheep was terrible to see. Even my pet calf, which you know papa gave me, and I took so much pleasure in raising by hand, was killed; and dear old Aaron, our house cat, was cruelly run through with a bayonet, right before my eyes, as he tried to escape under the house. Such brutal scenes I never had supposed I would ever have to witness.

While all this was going on mother said to Lieutenant J----, "If you take from us all means of subsistence we will starve." He turned, and with much satisfaction said, "You are being punished for what you have done;" and going out, mounted his horse and rode off among the negroes, proclaiming to them their freedom and incessantly asking for "the man of the house." They could only say that he was absent, when he said, "He may not be here, but he has left a----rebel of a woman, who is as bad as a man, and the house ought to be burnt." The negroes were very much alarmed, and entreated us not to talk to the soldiers as they hated us so and said such awful things.

It was now quite dark and the excitement and confusion were truly awful.

We all withdrew to the parlor, and closing the door sat in the dark, not knowing what the next moment might bring forth; but the faithful Quash brought in a candle and placed it on the table with his accustomed air.

He had scarcely brought it in when the front door was opened and in walked General Potter, followed by his aids. Not one of them had the decency to make the least salutation, or take any notice of the five ladies seated in the room. But the General immediately seated himself, while Lieutenant J----seized our candle, and opening mother's bed-room door called out, "General, this will be a comfortable room for you," to which remark the General a.s.sented. Lieutenant J----, then looking around said, "I take possession of this room for General Potter." After this the General made repeated attempts at conversation with us, but as we had that afternoon seen such wanton destruction of our property, and were constrained to see our enemies occupying the rooms in which it had been so often our pleasure to entertain our friends, you may imagine we were in no mood for conversation.

We all soon went upstairs, where Quash brought us some tea. As it was then near midnight we decided to go to bed, and mother said she would go down in the morning and request that a written protection be furnished us, as this had been suggested by the quiet-looking officer, our protector of the afternoon before. Therefore, as early as possible she did so, but General Potter received her very shortly, and only replied, "Your husband is in the Rebel army." She replied, "It was our desire that he should leave us, and I am glad he is not here, for if he had been I suppose he would have been shot."

He replied, "You talk like a fool when you say that," and turned off; when mother said, "If that is your opinion, I have the more need of protection."

As the General was about to go out to mount his horse at the door, Lieutenant B---- came to the rescue, saying, "General, with your permission, I can write a paper addressed to the officers and men of the United States army, saying that it is your desire that this house and its lady occupants be unmolested."

The General only answered, "You may if you wish," when a paper to that effect was written, and its influence was certainly beneficial. We felt that we owed our safety largely to Lieutenant B----, who conducted himself in every way as a gentleman, and on leaving thanked mother courteously for his night's accommodation and politely bowed to all of us.

It was near midday before all of the officers had left the house, and we, much jaded, were able to have breakfast. The house was now kept strictly shut up, as the lawn was still studded with the tent flies of the regiment encamped there. If a door was opened for a moment, a soldier would walk in, and it was as much as mother could do to get him out again.

We kept almost entirely upstairs, taking all of our meals there, and in constant dread of making any noise. One man said to mother, "The General thinks that your husband is hidden; he does not believe that he is not here."

In this extremity a kind-looking Irish soldier came to our aid and promised that we should be protected if it "cost him his life," and that he would bring a friend with him, who would spend the night in the shed room, "to be handy, if needed." This kind friend, McMa.n.u.s, proved his Irish blood by bringing the most villainous specimen of a man we had yet seen, and whispering to mother that "sure he had no confidence in him at all."