USA > Indiana > The soldier of Indiana in the war for the union, Vol. I > Part 41
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The following day, which was Saturday, the soldiers were transferred to three steamers and two barges, and, with a few tents and two days' rations, they started to Loggerhead Inlet, not quite fifty miles north, where they were to throw up a fort to prevent privateers running up the sound. The day was delightful; the sound was as smooth and bright as a mirror; the fine band of the regiment was in the foremost vessel; jolly old salt tars manned the barges, and land, east and west, soon sank below the horizon. At sunset they cast
487
ON THE SEA-SHORE.
ยท anchor about three miles from shore, and Colonel Brown, with Major Smith and Adjutant Stiles, went in a little boat to reconnoiter the landing. Without much difficulty the explo- rers found the settlement of Chickamacomico, to which geographers give almost as large a place on the map as it occupies on the sand. For the first hour the inhabitants of the place were all women; but at the end of that time indi- viduals of the bolder sex began to show themselves, earnestly and painfully eschewing all knowledge of politics. One old man alone pointed, with a grateful smile, to the "U. S." on the belt of one of the officers, and said: " It makes me feel safe to see those letters again." The arduous labor of land- ing occupied until nearly noon of the next day, when the boats went back to Hatteras Inlet.
In all their marches Indiana soldiers never found themselves in a more strange or solitary spot than the suburbs of Chick- amacomico, the single town on Hatteras Island. That fisher- men, who were cradled on the waves and who were conscious of no tie to country, and citizen-soldiers, who were natives of the Mississippi Valley, and who acknowledged but one stronger tie than the love of country, should here be pent together was not the least singular feature of the position. In front of the encampment, if that could be called an en- campment, in which were but two or three tents, lay the placid sound, and less than a mile in its rear roared the breakers of the Atlantic, making, day and night, that "ancient music, only not so old as He who made creation." A little wind mill, which ground corn for the island, slightly broke the dead level of the landscape. It is impossible to describe the effect of this lonely situation upon the minds of the men. They had scarcely landed when they began to feel cut off from all the world.
Tuesday the steamer Fanny appeared. She was loaded with all the equipments of the regiment, including their knap- sacks, and with provisions, which were already much needed. Twenty-eight of the Twentieth were on board, also ten New York Zouaves. She anchored two miles from shore. A barge was sent to her and was loaded, when three Confed- erate steamers hove in sight, with the evident intention of
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THE SOLDIER OF INDIANA.
fighting. Firing commenced as soon as the boats were- within gun-shot, but there was no chance for the Fanny, except in being pushed ashore, which, as her officers and crew immediately deserted her, was no easy matter. She con- stantly got further off, and when five miles away ran aground. Lieutenant Logan, who was near in a fisherman's skiff, with the hope that he could set fire to the Fanny, offered the boat- men sixty dollars, all the money he had, to put him on board, but they would neither be hired nor persuaded, and he was forced to see the vessel captured. The men on shore,stand- ing in line of battle, helplessly looked on while their clothes, provisions, ammunition and comrades fell into the hands of the enemy. Thursday two gun boats came up, and landed stores and tents, but a Rebel steamer appearing, they gave her chase, and were not seen again.
Friday at dawn, once more, slowly moving specks on the horizon seemed to promise succor and protection. As they grew larger, and assumed shape, they became six gun boats and two batteries, with, seemingly, from three to four thous- and troops; but, to the dismay of the anxious watchers, the traitor flag waved above them. Colonel Brown hastily dis- patched a courier to Colonel Hawkins, at Fort Hatteras, for reinforcements, and marched his men down to the beach to receive the enemy. His number was barely five hundred and fifty, a whole company having been sent the day before to guard a landing five miles below. The camp was shelled, and the little wind mill dashed to pieces at the first fire, which was too far out to be returned, even if the regiment had been supplied with better arms than the old-fashioned smooth-bore muskets with which they had been furnished on their hasty departure from Indianapolis.
A large body of the enemy landed three miles in the rear of the Twentieth, and another was preparing to land on the left and in front, when Colonel Brown gave orders for a rapid retreat. The men had had no breakfast, they had left their coats in camp, and they had no wagons, but they were cool and merry, shouting to the Confederate artillerymen when shells fell short, " Put in more powder!" "No lives lost yet." Sergeant-Major Cromley and the Chaplain, Mr. Porter, went
489
RETREAT DOWN THE ISLAND.
out to bring in the pickets when the regiment left camp, they were consequently in the rear at the commencement of the retreat. Cromley with one of the pickets was captured, and Mr. Porter saved another only by snatching him in his arms, and carrying him out of the range of the pursuers.
The poor fisher-families had suffered from previous visits of Rebels, and with such things as they could hastily throw into two or three light wagons, they joined in the flight. A woman, carrying her baby, which was but three days old, trudged twelve miles through the sand. The sky was cloud- less, and the white beach intensified the rays of a burning sun. No water could be found, except when a marsh was crossed, or time was taken to scratch a hole in the sand. Shoes became intolerable from the weight of sand which crowded into them, and many, even of the officers, threw them away. Sometimes a man fell from exhaustion, but his good natured comrades picked him up and carried him until he could walk again.
Faint with hunger, tormented with thirst, and always delayed by the yielding ground, the men reached the landing of Kinnykeet, which is about eight miles above the light- house. It was sunset, and they began to feel more hope of escape, when, in a narrow part of the island, they saw the enemy before them, preparing to land. The peril, connected with their exhausted condition, was more imminent than any they had yet undergone. Happily every movement of the force attempting to reach the shore was thrown out with sin- gular and perfect distinctness by the illuminated western sky, while their own motions, and even their figures, were obscured by the blue and now darkening eastern heavens, which formed their back-ground. As they hastened on, closely watching the Confederates in their struggle with a troublesome sea, - they came within hearing distance, but the rush and roar of the waters drowned their voices, and they safely passed the dangerous point. At nine at night they reached the light- house, thirty-three miles from Chickamacomico. Captain Read's company, which formed the rear-guard, picked up during the day a hundred stragglers, kept off the main body of the enemy, and did not lose a man.
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THE SOLDIER OF INDIANA.
At daybreak a few reinforcements and provisions arrived from the forts, and two men-of-war came up and drove off the Confederate fleet. No further attempt was made by the enemy, and on Saturday evening, just a week from the gay excursion up the sound, a haggard, miserable troop, exciting the pity of even the New York Zouaves, straggled into the encampment between the forts. The Zouaves cooked them supper, and gave up to them their sleeping quarters, them- selves contentedly burrowing in the sand for the night.
Several days elapsed before all found their way to the encampment. The last to arrive was a musician, who, from fatigue, hunger and the bewilderment occasioned by solitary wanderings over the trackless sand, was half crazed.
One of the most unfortunate of those who escaped capture was the sutler. He lost his goods, his money, and his partner in business, all being on board the Fanny. When he was within eight miles of the light house he stopped with three men, whose feet were so sore they could seareely hobble, and slept a few hours in the sand. They all started at three in morning, but were not early enough to escape the attention of a squad of the enemy, which immediately began a pursuit, and so rapidly gained on them that it was evident the lame men had no chance of escape. They accordingly surrendered. The sutler tried what virtue there was in his heels, and found them faithful friends in need. He lost his cap in the race, and bullets whizzed past his cheek, but he escaped unharmed.
In the Chickamacomico affair the Twentieth lost forty-six,- twenty-eight captured on the Fanny, seventeen captured on the retreat, and one drowned. Separated from his comrades, the last succeeded in attracting the attention of a man-of- war, which sent a boat to rescue him. He sprang into the surf to meet the boat, but had not sufficient strength to swim.
That the first act of their military career should be a retreat was not a little mortifying to the soldiers. One, Wesley Kemper, writing to his father, says: "It was not our fault. There were six times as many of them, and we were in a tight place. I never was in so tight a place in all my life. But I can tell you one thing, I have the first man to see who
491
EVERYWHERE IN THE FRONT.
is a coward in our regiment. We were ordered to retreat, and we obeyed orders."
Another soldier writes: " What do Indiana people say about the affair? Is the impression out that we acted cowardly?"
At this time Indiana soldiers were in the front line of our armies from the Atlantic ocean to the Missouri prairies, and they never yet had been in a defeat. Indeed, for some months to come, their own bravery and skill, combined with favorable circumstances, insured a successful termination to every engagement of which they formed a part. The soldiers of the Twentieth, although conscious that a successful retreat in most adverse circumstances, and where a fight would have been madness, was the next thing to victory, were most anxious to learn if they had injured the good name of their regiment, or the reputation of their State. None but the Rebels, however, could call the affair a defeat. They reported the death of seven or eight of the "Hessians," accounting at the same time for the smallness of the number by the une- qualed fleetness of foot possessed by the "cowardly whelps."
No tree, no shrub, not a blade of grass diversify or give life to the scenery about the forts. Fine, white sand stretches from sea to sea, and is almost as much under the sway of the winds as the never resting waves. The sea is dreary, and the sand is drearier, for the monotony of the former is broken by the flying ships, while the latter is ever the same. But our soldiers had no time for meditation or melancholy. Sleep. ing in shanties, with nothing under or over them, they were roused every morning at four o'clock for drill, and, except when breastworks were to be built, or wood to be chopped, drill was almost uninterrupted through the day. Not only the usual officers participated, even the Chaplain, when not among the sick, to whom his attentions were most kind and considerate, was indefatigably engaged as Captain of the artillery company.
A few days after the retreat, a report reached the camp of the approach of a large body of the enemy, who had landed near the light-house. The men had not yet recovered from their fatiguing race down the island, and at dress parade not many of the companies could count more than thirty, but on
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THE SOLDIER OF INDIANA.
the prospect of a fight the average number was eighty. The alarm proved false, but in consequence a breastwork was built from low water in the Atlantic to low water in the Pamlico, and the camp was well fortified. As there were no stoves on the island, it was necessary to haul and chop great quantities of wood. Building, hauling, ditching and chopping were done almost entirely by the Indiana troops, the Zouaves refusing to work. "Human nature remembers more readily injuries than benefits," says Lord Palmerston, and the Twen- tieth verified the shrewd old man's observation. They forgot the generosity of one nightin the shirking of many days, and the two regiments began to dislike cach other so warmly that they had to be separated. Accordingly the Zouaves were marched two miles north. Colonel Hawkins, who had been commander of the position, fell into disgrace on account of the Chickamacomico affair, and was succeeded by General Wil- liams, who could or would do nothing with the New York Zouaves, consequently, the Indianians, although they obeyed him, evinced as much dislike and disrespect as possible, bawling, screaming and yelling like savages while they worked under his eye. General Williams was not punctilious. He appa- rently thought this behaviour an innocent outbreak of West- ern character. He afterwards declared that the Indianians worked harder and had less respect for their officers than any soldiers in the service.
Upwards of two thousand men constituted the land force at Hatteras Inlet. The forts mounted two hundred large guns. Five ships of war, beside several smaller vessels, were in the harbor. In favorable weather the Spaulding arrived twice a week with letters and papers. Every day ships in the Burnside expedition were seen sailing by towards the South. Atone time three, which had been rolling about five days in a storm, were driven inward, and gave to our exiles a precious cargo of news. The Pacific telegraph was completed; the battle of Leesburg fought and lost; the battle of Wild Cat fought and won.
October days grew cloudy and cold, but no clothing arrived, and the men, with their summer garments fluttering in tatters, and with, in many instances, bare feet and bare heads, grumbled
493
STORM IN THE NIGHT.
as they drew round their smoky fires of green wood in the day, and grumbled as they crowded together for warmth on their bare floors at night. They felt themselves cast-aways on a sandy beach, neglected and forgotten by all the world.
At last the Spaulding arrived with hundreds of blankets, shirts, pantaloons, drawers, socks, with everything, indeed, that could be desired. Seventy men were detailed to bring the cargo to shore, and by dark all the clothing was on the sand, ready to be distributed. Every man in the regiment seemed to have a letter or paper to read, and certainly every man was full of rejoicing. It was midnight before the noisy joy subsided, and sleep and silence crept over the encampment. The silence did not long continue, for while the soldiers slept the winds awoke, and winds and waves together rose high and higher, until sweeping over the neck of land between the forts, water gurgled through the floors of the little shanties, and roused the camp. "In a few minutes," says Harvey Bassett, "everything was completely submerged, and the tide poured in great waves between the two forts, washing a channel large enough for gunboats of the largest size, and cutting off all communication with Fort Hatteras. Our danger was extreme. It was too dark to see, and the water covered everything three feet deep. Many took refuge on the sandy walls of Fort Clark, but they threatened every moment to fall. The breastworks we had constructed with so much labor were swept off like cobwebs; an immense sea com- menced running, and seemed to cut off all communication with the main body of the island. There we stood, shiver- ing, cold and wet, until daylight."
Dawn showed a gloomy spectacle. The camp was ruined. The heaps of clothing were all gone, but one boat load, which had been hauled up to Fort Clark. Broad rivers raged where the night before lay smooth, dry sand. The sea, roaring with a deep, hollow, awful sound, lashed and foamed and swept inward as if seeking to devour the whole island. On the gale came the distant, woful boom of signal guns from wrecked vessels.
During a lull in the wind, Major Smith, accompanied by Captain Gardner of the Zouaves, set out to carry a message
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THE SOLDIER OF INDIANA.
to Fort Hatteras. Several times their horses lost their foot- ing, and they were submerged, but they reached the fort after repeated efforts, and obtained orders to move three miles up the island.
This second retreat left the Twentieth even more destitute than the first, but with a degree of manly gratitude and joy they had not before experienced for the deliverance from the sudden onset of an unanticipated and most powerful enemy. The men made huts of boughs, talked of Robinson Crusoe, and waited for the next turn of fate. It was a welcome one. November 9th the Spaulding brought orders for a return to Fortress Monroe.
Between life on Hatteras Island and in the region pro- tected by Fortress Monroe, may be inserted the following story of prison life, written by C. W. Demotte, who was cap- tured near Chickamacomico:
"Shortly after we commenced our retreat at Chickama- comico, Colonel Brown saw the Rebels were making such slow progress that he ordered four men back to camp for the canteens and haversacks. I was one of the number. We filled the canteens with water and the haversacks with crackers. While we were going down the beach, the Rebels saw us, and fired several shells at us. They came pretty close, but hit nobody. When we got to the place where we had left the regiment it was gone. The Rebels by this time had landed, and were in hot pursuit. We were over-burdened, and threw away all but one canteen each. We had left our guns with the companies. In half an hour the water was all out of my canteen, for I overtook men who could not keep up with the regiment, and were suffering for water, and divided with them as long as I had any; when it was all gone I threw away the canteen, and tried to take care of myself. I trudged along, my feet sinking about four inches in the sand at every step. The heat of the sun seemed to be almost equal to that of a furnace. Scarcely a breath of air stirred. About twelve o'clock it seemed impossible for me to go further, but I went to the ocean beach and waded in the surf. This cooled my blood, drove away my headache, eased the pain in my feet, which were blistered all over, and even quenched my
495
FROM HATTERAS TO LIBBY.
thirst. I began to feel quite supple, and got along twenty-five miles, within three miles of the light-house, where I knew I would be safe. About sunset I could go no further, and fell asleep on the sand. About nine o'clock I woke up shivering. The wind had risen, and was blowing cold and heavy off the ocean. With great difficulty I dragged myself about a mile to a patch of pine brush; here I lay until daybreak, sleeping but little. I then rose again, went a short distance and fell in with three men, who had slept near me.
"After going about a mile, we came to a house, and, sup- posing we were then safe, we went in to get a 'bite.' But in a few minutes about twenty-five men of the Third Georgia regiment came out of the brush, surrounded us in a twinkling, brought their pieces to a ready, and ordered us to surrender. Taking all things into consideration, we thought it the best thing we could do. The Captain ordered us to give up our arms. We had none. Colonel Wright then came up, and the Captain addressed him thus: "Colonel, we've got four of 'em; what'll we do with 'em?' Colonel Wright answered, 'I don't know; you might as well take 'em out and shoot 'em. We can't be pestered totin' Yankees round with us.'
They did tote us, however, or rather marched us back to camp, over the ground we had just traveled. We got to the boats that evening, Saturday, October 5th, at sunset. Quite a number of troops did not get there until the next evening. "Sunday night we started for Roanoke Island; got there Monday morning, and found our boys who had been captured on the Fanny lying off the island in an old schooner. Monday evening we were transferred to an old barge, and taken in tow by an old transport steamer, run across the mouth of the Albermarle, through Currituck sound, and up the canal through the Dismal Swamp, to Norfolk. We arrived Octo- ber 9th, and were locked up in jail like criminals until the 19th, when we were sent to Richmond. In Norfolk we were fed on bread, beef and soup; in Richmond ditto. Here we were confined in tobacco factories, and guards were stationed around the building to shoot as many as they possibly could, at least such seemed to be their orders, and they carried them out to the letter, shooting quite a number when they were
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THE SOLDIER OF INDIANA.
only passing the windows. Murder in cold blood was no uncommon occurrence. Our rations were one small, sour loaf, about six ounces of meat, poor fresh beef, and one pint of soup thickened with strong corn meal. We staid in the factories until October 30th, when we started for Columbia, South Carolina.
" We arrived November 2d, were marched through the city under guard, with a brass band, consisting of three instru- ments, one bass, one snare drum and a cymbal, all played by negroes. They played Dixie and something else, we sup- posed it was the 'Rogue's March.' The streets were crowded with spectators, principally young ladies and negroes. The exclamations of the former were, 'See the Yanks! Why they look like anybody else!' The commander called a halt in front of the State prison. We were marched in, and the door was locked after us. The debtor cells were about sixteen feet square on the second floor. The criminal cells were about eight by five, and on the third floor. In the debtor cells were put seventeen men, in the criminal five. But two State prisoners were there, one for murder, the other for attempting to blow up a magazine in Charleston when the war first broke out. The murderer was afterwards pardoned and taken into the army; the other, a German, told them that before he would go into the Southern army he would lie in prison until the flesh dropped from his bones.
" The next day after we got there, Sunday, a few ladies and gentlemen came in to see the menagerie of Uncle Sam's live Yankees. They said this was a just and holy war, and on a footing with that of the Revolution; that God was on their side, &c., &c.
" We were kept in close confinement until about the first of January, 1862, when the order came from Richmond for us to be released from close confinement, as the privateers were put on an equal footing with the prisoners of war. We could then have the yard, about a quarter of an acre, during the day. At night we were locked up.
"January 2d, Colonel Corcoran came with his crowd and joined us. The prison would not hold all, so they built a long shed, and divided it into six rooms. The shed was very
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A FRIEND IN SOUTH CAROLINA.
close to the wall, and there was no guard on the outside until nine at night. One night three men raised a board in the floor, dug under the wall, and got out before nine, taking with them a chart they had copied from an atlas which one of the officers had. The partitions in the shanty were broad boards, nailed up and down. Some of the men broke a board at the bottom so they could slip it aside, and when the officers came to count us, which they did every morning, this board was moved before they entered and four men came through from the adjoining room, then when the officers went out they slipped back, and were counted a second time. All right in both rooms. In a few nights six more went. The counting all right still. The next night three more went, and still the right number was counted. But one morning, about four days after the last had left, the officers made a mistake, and came back to count again. The boys thought they were dis- covered, and did not try to conceal it. The officers counted again, and thirteen men were gone. They were mad, fright- ened. They counted again and again. Still thirteen were missing. Then they called the roll. No better. They wanted to know which way the boys had gone. We told them they ought to know.
" When they found that all who were gone were from the shanty, old Captain Shyvers clapped some of us on the shoulder and said he was glad it was none of his old crowd. They were all too good boys to give him so much trouble. But they were always very careful after this to have us locked up inside the iron bars before sunset. Yes, we were very good boys. None of us got away. We chuckled in our sleeves, and made the old Captain believe that if he would turn us out in the street we would make no attempt to get away. Wish he had tried us!
" Opposite 'our house' lived a young lady, who wrote a letter to us one day. She sent it over by a little negro girl, who slipped it through a crack in the fence. The lady said that, although she was born in the South, and owned slaves, she was for the Union, sympathized with us, and wished us all the good luck imaginable. It pleased us to find a friend in South Carolina.
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