CHAPTER VII.

A TRIP TO TRENTON.

We had but fairly settled down to the old story of drill and parade, our lameness healed, and the excitement of the scenes through which we had so lately passed somewhat allayed, when rumors of another expedition began to float about the camp. These were vague at first, but increased in strength from day to day, until we became convinced of their truth by the announcement at dress-parade of the order to be in readiness on a certain day, with three days' rations ready cooked. Having learned wisdom by experience, we understood better how to prepare for a march. My first care was to procure a body-guard in the shape of a stout contraband youth, to relieve me of my blankets and look after my interests generally; the next was to make some provision for the inner man, additional to that of government, which had failed us before in the hour of need. Thanks to a box from home, a ham, not quite demolished, made an excellent substitute for salt junk, and a package of rice also found its way into our haversack. This possessed the double advantage of furnishing great nourishment and occupying but a small space in the bag.

Several gentlemen from Boston, who had arrived shortly before our departure, had an opportunity of seeing the regiment leave camp on an expedition. Our force consisted of one brigade of infantry,--1st Brigade, 1st Division, 18th Army Corps,--a squadron of cavalry, with a small howitzer, and a section of artillery, all under command of Colonel Amory, our brigade commander. Two or three unsuccessful attempts to start had been made, as a storm prevented, but Saturday, the 17th, dawned, a clear, cold January day, and shortly after breakfast we left camp and were soon fairly on our way. While awaiting the arrival of the detachment of cavalry and artillery which was to accompany us, a very amusing scene occurred, in the shape of an extempore drill by some of the contrabands--our camp followers--under the leadership of a deep-voiced darkey, whose orders were, to say the least, remarkable: such as, "In three ranks count twos, Right smart, Git!" while the execution of these manoeuvres was, if possible, even more ludicrous than the orders themselves.

The first day's march was through an uninteresting section of country, very sparsely settled, and more hilly than any we had passed through before. The march was quite reasonable, bringing us to the village of Pollocksville, distant a little more than twelve miles from Newbern. The town comprised only about half-a-dozen houses, remarkable solely for their homeliness. The place, however, once boasted a private school of some pretensions. The large white building, not far from the town, standing a little distance from the road, immediately attracted our attention, and a halt occurring just then, we made an inspection. Some circulars were found setting forth the merits of the school, and advising parents not to let the distractions of war interfere with the education of their children. But teachers and scholars had alike disappeared long since, and the building alone remained, forlorn and desolate.

As we entered the village, two or three men were seen in the distance, and some of the cavalry immediately dashed off at full run in hot pursuit, but, having gained the woods, they made good their escape. The half-dozen houses were mostly deserted, and extensive levies were made upon them for boards, which, covered with a sufficient number of weeds and stalks, made a bed fit for a king, and almost too luxurious for a soldier. Taking it quite leisurely the next morning, as some trees felled across the road caused delay, we started _en route_ for Trenton, leaving part of our force to guard the baggage-train which remained at Pollocksville.

This day's march was, without exception, the pleasantest in all our experience. We were not hurried, as always before, and had some opportunity to look about and see the country through which we were passing. This section had been very little disturbed by raiding armies; the plantations grew larger the further we advanced, and the houses had a very comfortable, hospitable appearance, but as foraging was strictly forbidden, a close inspection was out of the question. For some distance the road skirted a cypress swamp, a most desolate, gloomy spot, the old trees, hoary with the long gray moss which hung in festoons from every limb, and surrounded with slimy water, suggestive of snakes and horrible reptiles,--secure retreat for the fugitive.

Our command entered Trenton without opposition, a small force of the enemy retreating in hot haste on the approach of our cavalry. After going into camp and disposing of our luggage, we wandered about the town, seeking what we might devour, but finding little to reward us for our pains. The town is prettily situated on the river Trent, but the houses and people were forlorn and dirty enough. The post-office was ransacked, but little besides recruiting bills was to be found. One great object in coming to this place was to destroy the bridge across the Trent, and so prevent any advance on Newbern from this direction. Our arrival was a happy event for the slaves in and about the town, and they spent the night in preparation for their exodus from the land of bondage. The bridge burned, we started on the back road, accompanied by a long train of contrabands. A mill at the entrance of the town was fired to prevent the use of its timbers for the reconstruction of the bridge, and as the groan of the machinery rose above the roar of the flames, we could imagine it some huge creature awaiting in agony a fiery death.

The next night we spent at our old camp at Pollocksville, and very narrowly escaped quite a serious disaster; for the grass in the large field where we encamped, being quite high and dry, took fire, and burned with such violence that it was only by great exertion that we saved our guns and traps from destruction. With replenished haversacks, we made a fresh start the next morning in the direction of Onslow Court House, following in the tracks of the cavalry, who had started the previous afternoon with two pieces of artillery. Early in the afternoon we reached a place called Young's Cross Roads, where the cavalry had captured an army wagon and a few prisoners. Here we bivouacked, and as the sky looked threatening, made preparations for a stormy night, for we were to await the return of the cavalry, or, if needful, go on to their support.

While hard at work, making as good shelter as possible with boards and rubber blankets, round came the orderly with the detail for picket duty, our name among the rest; so, dropping rails and boards, and once more donning our harness, we reported with our squad to the officer of the guard. The road we were detached to guard led to some mills,--Packard's, by name,--and every little while three or four men were dropped off under charge of a corporal, until the lieutenant announced that the next station would be the reserve, with a guard of twenty. Such of our company as were detailed on guard, were among this lucky number, and we quickly set to work to prepare our camp.

Fortunately the spot selected was opposite to a clearing where there were several large piles of rails, ready for use. These were immediately appropriated and rigged up for a roof and floor. Meanwhile, some of the party, sent on a foraging expedition, returned with a supply of sweet potatoes and their tin cups filled with delicious honey. As we were at work, an old darkey came along in an ox-team with meal from the mill, and the poor fellow was unlucky enough to have on a rebel overcoat, the buttons of which quickly disappeared under the knives of trophy seekers. On coming to the main camp the meal was confiscated, so the old man decided that he would rather go with us to Newbern than face his master's wrath.

As night came on, the sky grew blacker and blacker, and at length the storm burst upon us in all its fury. For a time our arrangements worked nicely, and our rubber blankets formed a good protection overhead, but after a while the rain discovered the weak spots, and little streams of water began to trickle into our faces and run down our backs. Sleep was out of the question, so we all got up and huddled about the embers of the smouldering fire, but to little purpose. The heavens seemed literally to have opened their flood-gates, and the floods descended. If we stepped off the rails we immediately sank knee-deep in mud, and our beds would have delighted the soul of the most fastidious porker; drenched from head to foot, with no prospect of even a wink of sleep, we waited as patiently as might be for the coming day.

Towards morning the storm abated in violence; so we built up a roaring fire, and made ourselves comparatively comfortable, our spirits returning with the light, and by ration time we were as bright as if we had passed a most delightful night. Having dried our clothes and blankets as well as the circumstances permitted, about nine o'clock we rejoined the regiment, most of whom had been drowned out in the night, and suffered an experience similar to our own. The cavalry had returned in the night, after riding about thirty miles, their progress having been stopped by the burning of a bridge near Onslow Court House. They were followed back by a long procession of contrabands, with faces turned eastward.

About half-past nine that same morning, we started on our return march. The rain had subsided into a fine drizzle, and the roads were somewhat inclined to be muddy. The head of the column pushed along as though hotly pursued by the enemy, stopping for about twenty minutes at the end of the first five miles. We hurried on through Pollocksville without halting, taking a breathing spell and dinner just beyond the village, and then the fun commenced. Mud was king that day. Not like our New England mud, barely deep enough to soil your boots, but real old Southern mud, fathomless, immeasurable. Every little while we were greeted with solemn farewells by unfortunate ones disappearing rapidly from view, bound on a terrestrial voyage to China by the air, or rather earth, line. One poor wretch, stepping into a deceitful puddle, descended to his waist; then, unable to proceed either up or down, concluded to remain where he was, for want of a better place, until, having furnished much sport to the crowd, two of his comrades, taking pity on his helpless condition, seized him by the shoulders, and landed him once more on _terra firma_.

Every mile or two, streams, intended for peaceful, babbling brooks, but which, swollen by the rains, had became raging torrents and angry rivers on a small scale, crossed the road. Some we forded, others we waded for lack of better means of transit. Occasionally rail bridges spanned the stream at the side of the road, tempting the unwary one, and some unlucky one would now and then disappear from them into the roaring flood, and emerge looking quite moist and crestfallen, with his gun in excellent order for use. Little streaks of clay cropped up here and there along the road, holding the feet as in a vice, and he was lucky who retained his shoes in the struggle. Still, on rushed the van, as if life itself was at stake, if camp were not reached at an early hour; so, resigning ourselves to our fate, we tumbled along with the rest. The column must have resembled in appearance the army in the stampede of Bull Run. Every man running a race with his neighbor, all discipline thrown to the winds, and the one who reached camp first, the best fellow.

Although, without exception, the hardest day in all our campaign, we never had a merrier one. There were more jokes in that afternoon than in an ordinary month; and it may be set down as an axiom, that, in the army, the harder the work, and the more dismal the circumstances, the better humor the men will be in. But all misery has an end, and so did ours; for, about five o'clock that Saturday afternoon, we found ourselves safe and sound in the old barracks, without having fired a gun or lost a man. So ended our second expedition, we having on this last day marched, in a little more than seven hours, including all halts, twenty-one miles, on the muddiest road it has ever been our lot to see, or hope to see, disfigure the face of the earth.

In addition to the letters from home, pleasing rumors greeted us on our return, to the effect, that, for a time at least, we were to know no more expeditions, but were soon to take up our quarters in Newbern as provost guard. After time to rest and discuss this good news in its every possible feature, we were rewarded for past labors by the reading of the order for the 45th Mass., Colonel Codman commanding, to relieve the 17th Mass., at Newbern, on the 25th instant. The intervening time was spent in preparations for departure, collecting our numerous movables, taking down shelves, hiring donkey-carts, etc., and on the 24th we retired to our bunks in old Camp Amory for the last time, the anticipation of the morrow engrossing every thought, and rendering sleep of little moment.