Part 14

Colonel Bailey issued orders to company commanders this morning which are received with greater satisfaction by the _old_ boys than by some of the officers. The “company funds” which have been accumulating during the past two years now amount to a very considerable sum in each company. This money is in the hands of the company commanders, and the good it has done to the men to whom it belongs has been very slight indeed. In fact, some of the captains who have left the regiment have carried off the company funds without making any account of it, and that was the end of it. Well, since these mercenaries came along, with hundred-dollar bills sticking out of every pocket, Captain Gordon has commenced using this fund that had been taken out of the hides of the old men, to buy potatoes, onions and other luxuries, the greater part of which are consumed by our cussed Subs. There is a bit of malice in this, attributable to a feud between Gordon and the bulk of the old men, for there have been several times in the past when this fund could have been used to very good advantage for the men it belonged to. The old boys were indignant, and Bill Ramsdell told Colonel Bailey, and he was mad, and this morning the company commanders were instructed that the company funds were to be used for the benefit of the old men only. By Gordon’s account, the amount due each of the old men is about six dollars, and we are not willing to divide that with the Subs.

———————

_CXXVI_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _January 2, 1864_.

Cannot write a long letter now, but will in a few days. I have been hard at work all day constructing the walls for my new post office tent, and am very tired indeed. It will be on the extreme left of the field and staff line, and I will be a near neighbor to Bailey’s sutler shop.

———————

_CXXVII_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _January 10, 1864_.

We got about two and a half inches of snow a few nights ago, and although we have had pleasant weather since, it has been so cold that much snow still remains. During the past few days the work of demolishing and cleaning out the shantytown where contrabands have quartered has been going on. The ground where the camp stood is a perfect labyrinth of rat holes, and the swarms that are domiciled there are almost inconceivable. Rat hunts are a standard amusement, and bushels of them have been unearthed and killed. In the regimental camps they are thicker than flies in summer time, and an awful pest, running over everything and everybody at night, and stealing everything eatable they can get their teeth onto. But Jess. Dewey has got the deadest open and shut on them. Some of the boys caught a little owl out in the woods and gave him to Jess., and since Mr. Owl assumed charge of affairs in that tent rats and mice have given it a wide berth. He is a cunning little fellow—sits all day long on his box, pulling away at his piece of fresh meat. If you whistle to him, he looks up as grave as a judge, and he is really a great addition to the company.

Our mail is very irregular now. The boat that got in from Washington yesterday was three days late, being delayed by ice in the river. She had to break her way for fifty miles through ice thick enough to bear a man. One wooden boat attempted to force her way up the river, but was so badly cut up by the ice that she had to turn back. But we have a connection for outgoing mail by way of the Fortress Monroe and Baltimore boat, and I now send much mail that way.

The prison camp is soon to be enlarged, and all the rebel officers now at Sandusky, Ohio, are to be brought here. I hear that 200 men from our regiment, with a battery, are going over into Virginia on a scouting expedition.

Two of our tent’s crew will, I expect, move out tomorrow. If they do I shall be in no particular hurry to get into my new quarters, as Dan. and I can be as comfortable as you please right where we are.

———————

_CXXVIII_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _January 16, 1864_.

A mail reached us yesterday—the first we have had since the 9th. Reason, the ice in the river. The boat started from Washington all right, ran down as far as Mount Vernon, about fifteen miles, and anchored for the night. When she started, she _didn’t_ start, for she was frozen in as tight as a drum. And there she lay in the ice, for two days, with our mail aboard. Then another boat came and cut her out. During this lay-up some of our boys on board went ashore on a visit to Washington’s home and tomb.

The monotony of camp life has been broken by a raid across the river into the counties of Northumberland, Lancaster and Richmond. The expedition left here last Tuesday, the 12th, and was made up of 150 cavalry and detachments of 150 men from both the Second and Twelfth. Bill Ramsdell was one of the marauders, and he says it was one of the greatest larks of the war. The men came home loaded with every conceivable kind of plunder, but they were pretty well fagged out. The expedition went up the river about fifteen miles, then up a creek several miles, where they destroyed a sloop and several schooners, then landed and marched inland. They spread out over the country, and picked up quite a number of prisoners—soldiers on furlough, conscript officers, &c. One of these was a captain, who was enjoying a carriage ride with his lady love. He was politely requested to get down, one of the boys politely took his seat in the carriage, politely drove the young lady home, politely helped her out, bade her good bye with exquisite politeness, and drove away with the team as a prize of war.

You ask me about Charlie Farnam. It was not here, but down in South Carolina, I think, that he was drowned. He had been discharged from this regiment and had joined the navy. As we hear it, he was in a boat, which capsized, and he had nearly reached the shore when he sank.

_Sunday, January 17._

I must tell you, before I forget it, all about our crazy man. One of the fellows in my tent, who came out about two months ago, had evidently got tired of the service, and began to play crazy, for a discharge. He began to sleep all day, so as to be in good shape to lie awake all night. For two nights he kept us awake with his “Boots ten feet long,” “Man in the tent,” “Where am I?” “Who am I?” and such nonsense. When awake in the daytime he was continually hunting for horsehairs on his hands, and it was a decidedly interesting case of amateur lunacy. He couldn’t eat anything—so he said—but he managed to pack away a good quantity of grub on the sly. Well, he started in on his third night, and kept his twaddle going until midnight, when something happened. Dan’s Irish got the best of him and he could hold in no longer. He kicked off the blankets that covered us, elevated his heels, and fairly kicked the top bunk into kindling wood. The crazy man landed on the stove, and the wreckage was scattered all over the tent. Then old Dan. opened up with his tongue and gave our amateur lunatic Hail Columbia, Rule Britannia and Erin go Bragh, all rolled into one, and threatening to take him out and pitch him into the river if he didn’t become immediately and permanently sane. Dan’s treatment effected a complete and wonderful cure.

One of the old men of the regiment was married a short time ago to the daughter of an old planter living up country a short distance. The fellow was Pete Gravlin; the girl seventeen and very pretty; the parents rich. The old folks were dead set against any such arrangement, but Pete and the maiden were determined, so down to the Point he brought her and she became Mrs. Gravlin.

A collection has been taken up in this regiment for a fund to build a chapel. The human desire to outstrip our neighbors has made the “collection” a success. The Twelfth built one which cost $300, and now twice that sum has been raised in the Second, and we are congratulating ourselves, not upon the prospect of having a chapel, but upon the fact that it will be bigger than the Twelfth’s.

———————

_CXXIX_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _January 23, 1864_.

I am seated in the sutler’s shop at the prison camp with a whole ream of paper before me, waiting to be written over. The mail got in last night, for a wonder, on time. A warm spell has opened the ice in the river. I got a letter from Frank Morrill, and he writes me, “I want you to assume command of Frances and Nealie when you hear that I am coming home, meet me at the depot and escort me to the house.” [When he came, he came in his coffin, having received mortal wounds the following July.]

We have had a most delightful day, and the boys of Company I have been busy stockading their new Sibley tents. As soon as they move in I will have a post office tent all to myself, and I have got it in my mind now just how it will be rigged up for my business, even to the establishment of an art gallery, the nucleus of which I already have in a highly colored lithograph from a cigar box.

_Sunday, January 24._

I am messing now with Hen. Everett, who is clerk for the Adjutant, and a fellow named Soseman. We do our own cooking, and as a consequence live better—much better-than we should if we depended entirely on the company cooks and rations. We have beefsteak, baked beans, fritters, and the best coffee on the Point, and gathered about our little mess table at the Adjutant’s quarters, envy no man his share of the good things of life.

Last night I saw about fifty rebels take the oath of allegiance. It was an impressive sight when these men raised their right hands and with uncovered heads swore to support the Constitution and the Government of the United States. They have a camp outside the prison camp and are on practically the same footing that we are.

———————

_CXXX_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _January 29, 1864_.

Busy time now, putting up the new tents, and when the work is done the regiment will certainly have good winter quarters. The fine weather continues. It is as warm and pleasant as a New Hampshire May, and the breezes from the south are balmy and exhilarating.

Day before yesterday we witnessed a magnificent _mirage_, which brought the “Eastern Shore,” distant twenty-five or thirty miles across the bay, to within an apparent distance of not more than five miles. The optical illusion continued until afternoon, when it faded gradually. The trees and houses became less and less distinct, and at last the outlines of the shore faded, until nothing met the eye but the sparkling waters of Chesapeake Bay.

The story is going the rounds that we old fellows who have not re-enlisted are to be discharged next month, so that we may be home for the March election. There may be something in this, as nine-tenths of the old men are stanch Republicans, and most of the others are staunch War Democrats, which is just as good, and if the election is to be very close they would be a mighty reliable reinforcement. One of the boys in my company has a letter from one of the Governor’s staff, who writes that we are coming home in February; and Marston’s Assistant-Adjutant-General says we are going home soon.

_Sunday, January 31._

Dan. has moved into one of the new Sibley tents, leaving me all alone, in solitary grandeur, and I declare I am lonesome. Large numbers of the Rebs here have taken the oath and enlisted into our army or navy. Day before yesterday officers of the navy came ashore and had all they could attend to until late in the evening, enlisting these men. A regiment also is to be recruited from them, which will probably be stationed where there is not much danger of their being taken prisoners, as in such an event, if recognized, they would be promptly executed.

Jess. Dewey has got a pleasant job as forage master up at Leonardstown, a few miles above here on the river. I am told that the paymaster came down on the boat last night and has gone up to Leonardstown today to pay off the cavalry and other troops up there. The men who have re-enlisted will go home on furlough as soon as they are paid.

The laugh is most decidedly on one of our fellows who, tiring of army fare, went out into the country to get a good square home meal. He found a place where they expressed their ability and willingness to give him just what he was looking for. He, of course, expected a rare feast, and what do you suppose he got? Bacon and hoecake, coffee without milk, no butter, nor any of the little trimmings that round out a Yankee “home meal.” He came back to camp thoroughly disgusted with the Maryland farmer’s bill of fare, and filled the aching void with a good square army ration.

The joke on another fellow came through a massive gold pen, which was given to him on condition that he send and have it repointed. In a few days the pen came back with this indorsement: “Your pen is _brass_, and I return pen and money.”

One of the Fifth’s substitutes was found drowned in the creek the other day. He probably tried to desert by swimming the creek, but could not make a go of it.

———————

_CXXXI_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _February 7, 1864_.

I have moved into my new tent at last, and have a mighty homelike little domicile, all to myself. It has a good floor and a nice roomy bunk. At the head of the bunk a little table equipped with writing materials. On one side of the door is my drop letter box, and in the opposite corner one of those cute little sheet-iron stoves. And other furnishings will come as they may be required. I already have my boxes arranged for distributing the mail—ten cigar boxes, one for each company, nailed to the wall. By the time I am discharged I will have an office that will rival Boston and New York.

I got a letter last night from an old schoolmate of mine—Lucius Chilson. He was my especial chum in the old South Grammar School on Park street. His home was then in Bridgeport, Conn., but his father sent him to Manchester especially to get him under Webster’s iron discipline. He writes me that he has been in the Second Massachusetts regiment, that he was wounded in the wrist at Gettysburg, losing the use of his right hand, and is now in the Invalid Corps, at Cincinnati, Ohio. He has learned to write with his left hand, and is a first-class back-hand writer.

Rumors of our going home are flying as thick as ever. The latest is that all who desired would be granted a furlough of fifteen days to go home and vote. Mrs. Bailey, Mrs. Platt, Mrs. Wasley and other officers’ wives are coming down within two or three weeks, and quarters are being fitted up in anticipation.

A little mail robbery came to light in a queer manner today. A fellow who used to have the run of my tent down in the company gave away a cheap little brass breastpin. The recipient recognized it at sight as the identical pin he had, some time before, sealed in an envelope for one of the men, and addressed and mailed to that man’s little girl. The thief purloined it from the box, and was caught in a trap which nobody set for nobody.

The old boys of Company I are to present Colonel Bailey with a costly sword. The little remnant still left of the old “Abbott Guard”—the boys of 1861—have chipped in $150, and Jess. Dewey and Steve Smiley have gone to Baltimore to buy the sword. The breach between Captain Gordon and the old men is now very wide and the feeling very bitter, and this sword business is in some degree an outcome of the feud. In this way the old men can show, in a way not open to criticism, how much more they think of their first captain than of their last. In addition to this, somebody has put the subs up to get a sword for our second-lieutenant, Dave Perkins. They have more money than they know how to spend, and you can work a collection on them for almost anything. With a sword presentation on each side of him, I don’t see how a more adroit snub could have been arranged. I see Bill Ramsdell’s fine Italian hand in the whole thing.

[This sword presentation record would not be complete without the story of the exploit of one of the subs who sailed under the name of Cady. He made himself conspicuous in denouncing the old men for slighting their captain. He solicited contributions from his fellow subs for a sword for Gordon, which, you may be sure, Gordon was fully advised of. Then he asked Gordon for a furlough of five days to attend to “a little private matter at Baltimore.” He got his furlough, and that was the last ever seen of him in that regiment.]

But Gordon holds one trump card, and he is playing it for all it is worth. He has been making corporals of some of the last batch of bounty jumpers—actually putting these men in authority and position over the old fellows who have given nearly three years of faithful service to their country. I, on my special detail, am out from under it. If not, I think I should find some honorable way out—perhaps through a commission in a negro regiment.

On the night of the first day of this month, one of Gordon’s new corporals was in charge of a squad of four men at the wharf. There were several boats there in their charge, and the corporal and his entire squad, with others to whom the word evidently been passed, made off with one of the boats during the night. Two days after, another squad of three deserters was brought in, having been picked up by one of the guard boats, many miles down the bay. It was a very cold, rough night, and one of the bounty jumpers had done a really good service to the country by freezing to death, while his two companions were, unfortunately, still alive.

———————

_CXXXII_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _February 10, 1864_.

Bill Ramsdell has just gone out of the tent. He is to make the presentation speech when we give Bailey the sword. He has been rehearsing what he is going to say, and it is tip-top—quite ornate and complimentary.

_Friday, February 12._

The steamer “Whildin” is lying out in the river, a little ways from shore, it being so rough she can not get in to the wharf. Col. Bailey’s wife and mother and several officers’ wives are on board, and doubtless very anxious to get ashore. The going-home fever is on the increase, and the betting population are putting up their money freely that we will be home at the March election. I hear a bet of $50 was made this morning, but whether wind or money I don’t know.

_Saturday, February 13._

I received several letters yesterday and today, including a note from mother sent by the hands of Mrs. Captain Platt, who was one of the arrivals yesterday. Col. Bailey’s sword was presented yesterday, and everything passed off slick as a pin. Three more of our subs attempted to desert, the other night. They set out in a dugout canoe, the handling of which they were not equal to, and pretty soon, over she went. Two, unfortunately, managed to reach the shore. The other was drowned. Our deserting subs are really having hard luck. Three are known to have been drowned, and it is hoped the same fate has overtaken the gang Gordon’s new corporal took off with him, as their boat was picked up, far out in the bay and bottom side up.

Uncle Luther’s folks [Luther Trussell, of New London, N. H.] write me that Hamilton Messer, one of my boyhood cronies, who went out in the Eleventh, is dead. It is one of the pleasantest days imaginable, and I am sitting with the door of my tent wide open, looking out upon the camp, where all is bustle and activity—some wheeling sand to grade the company streets, some building houses for the officers, and little groups here and there, chatting, gossiping and arguing. Captain and Mrs. Platt just rode by on horseback.

———————

_CXXXIII_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _February 20, 1864_.

Zero weather is pretty strenuous for this latitude, but that is what we have been getting. The frigid wave has struck us good and hard, and the river is again frozen up so that we have had no mail from Washington for five days. Last Wednesday the thermometer stood at _seventeen degrees below zero_, which would do credit even to New England. It was so cold Wednesday night that about midnight I had to turn out and build a fire. I filled my little stove with fine wood and soon had a roaring fire going, over which I sat and dozed until nearly morning.

There certainly is a prospect that a portion of the old men who have not re-enlisted will be given a chance to go home to vote at the coming election. Day before yesterday a list was made of the Republican members of the regiment, and it was my understanding that they were to be furloughed and sent home at the same time as the re-enlisted men. A boat came in yesterday morning to take the re-enlisted men, but went away without them, and it is not improbable that when she comes again it will be found she is to take away a hundred or two staunch Republicans, among whom I will be glad to be numbered.

Again there are apprehensions of a rebel attempt on this post. A picket boat brought information that there is quite a force of rebels at a point on the other side, with many small boats. Our little fleet is all ready for anything they may try on. An armed schooner lies right off our camp, with boarding nets up. A detachment of men from the Second has been sent on board to serve as marines, and if Johnny Reb strikes that boat he will have all the fun he wants.

_Sunday, February 21._

Hen. Everett has a letter from his brother Willie, and they are expecting him home before election. They have what they consider absolutely reliable information that the Republican members of the regiment, if not others, are coming home. They will be disappointed, however. He cannot get away, as there is no one in the regiment who understands his duties well enough to undertake them.

———————

_CXXXIV_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _February 29, 1864—Evening_.

Just received a letter from you, and answer it at once with the announcement that within one week I will be with you. Furloughs are being made out with all haste, and we will probably be off before tomorrow night—possibly tonight. We are going all the way to Boston by boat, so this letter will reach you before we get to Boston. We will go first to Concord, and will be furloughed for some stated time from there. I shall, of course, make no delay in getting down to Manchester. I am writing identical letters both to Manchester and New London, so as to be sure of reaching you wherever you may be. Good bye, for a week.

———————

_NOTE_

_On February 24th 450 men from the three regiments started for New Hampshire on the steamer “Admiral Dupont,” on furloughs of 20 days. Returning, they left Boston on March 18th, as narrated in the following letter._

———————

_CXXXV_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _March 10, 1864_.

Got back to Point Lookout last night at about one o’clock, safe and sound. The first thing, of course, I struck for my tent, with keen anticipation of the comfort ahead. As it came into view it struck me that Pendleton, who had been left in charge as acting postmaster, kept rather open house. The door was wide open, and when I got inside and felt around, I found nothing but an empty shell. Not a solitary piece of furniture met my inquiring touch. The stove was gone, the desk, distributing boxes—in fact, the entire outfit. The establishment was entirely dismantled. For the first time in my whole army experience I was homesick.

_I felt like one who treads alone Some banquet hall deserted, Whose guests were fled, its garlands dead, And all but me departed._