April 11th. Everything quiet to-day. During the afternoon, the Albatross (our chicken, as the boys now call her) returned from a reconnoitering expedition up to Fort Adams, for the purpose of ascertaining whether or not the rebels were fortifying that place. I understand she ascertained that they were not, although contrabands coming on board of us from that vicinity, inform us that they were. This is not the first instance that these negroes have told similar lies to us, and made us a good deal of trouble for nothing. Every day we receive reinforcements to the already large number of contrabands we now have to feed, and soon I expect we will be able to form a regiment, composed of these runaways, and send them wherever their services may be required. They are more an encumbrance than an article of use on board a man-of-war, and for my part I wish we were rid of them. In other words, they are a nuisance not to be tolerated (I hope) long in the U. S. Navy. We have some specimens of dark ebony who have been on board the ship a few seconds over a week or ten days, and a white man cannot speak to one of them and receive a civil answer. One cause, and the principal one, of all this is, if my experience teaches me anything, that every officer and man on board any of our vessels, do not all treat them alike. But enough has been said by me about this race of benighted beings. I will leave them here, after remarking that I pity them because they have not good sense, for if they had they would never leave a plantation (a good home during their whole life, and a kind master,) to cast themselves adrift upon strangers and a cold, unfeeling world. I know many will, and I dare say do now, wish themselves back from whence they were foolish enough to run away.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
[Diary] April 11.
Ellen, Nelly, and I alone in the house ignorant of the fate of Charleston. The boat-load of “Secesh” were some “big bugs of Edisto,” Rina says, who were taken on Bailey’s Island by Captain Dutch, on the blockading ship Kingfisher. He is a bold and enterprising man and has thoroughly explored these shores and creeks. He knows every picket and fortified position of the rebels near here. They say he goes in a dugout right under the guns and shoots the pickets of the enemy. He discovered that these young gentlemen— the Seabrooks and others of Edisto — had landed on the island to gather corn. He determined to take them and went with a small force, surprised two of their negroes in a cornfield, and compelled them to lead the party to their masters’ camp; all were surprised and taken. Captain Dutch was sending them down to Hilton Head when Rina saw them. I hope they will not be released at once and sent (spies as they are!) back to their friends.
Determined to see action in the Civil War, John C. West, Confederate States District Attorney, Western District Of Texas, resigned his position for a second time and reenlisted with Company E, Fourth Regiment, in April 1863; he fought at Gettysburg, Chickamauga, and Knoxville before being honorably discharged in February 1864.
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The Diary
Left Waco, Texas, on the morning of April 11, 1863; bid adieu to my dear little Stark and Mary at home; said good bye to my sweet wife at the ferryboat landing (at the foot of Bridge street). Nothing of interest occurred on the way to Springfield, (about forty miles east of Waco); saw two or three prairie chickens and a green sportsman trying to kill one; saw at Springfield, as I had left at Waco, a good many stout, able-bodied patriots, who, somehow, kept out of the service; stopped at McCracken’s, fifteen miles east of Springfield, for the night; found Mr. McCracken a strong Houston man and would vote for him for governor if he “had to be hauled to the polls in a wagon.”
I fear there are too many of this kind and others worse, who will elect Houston if he runs. His election will be an invitation to Yankee invasion. However honest he may be in his devotion to the South, the North would regard his election as an endorsement of his past action.
April 11 — Early this morning we were ordered to prepare for a camp move, and by seven o’clock we were ready for the word forward. We moved up the Page valley and marched hard all day, camping this evening five miles below Luray. This evening after we halted to camp we had to walk two miles after hay, and had to bring it across the Shenandoah in a boat.
11th. Left town soon after breakfast. Two negro slaves were snatched from the horses—oh how shameful! Am glad I did not witness the scene. Afterwards several such incidents transpired. How shocking. Major Burnett delivered up one on the word of two Ky. officers. Met the Third Batt. at Mount Sterling. Very pretty country all the way. Letters from Fannie, Will and Fred. Wrote to F. Chaplain at supper. Drake most sick.
April 11, Saturday. The President returned from Headquarters of the Army and sent for me this A.M. Seward, Chase, Stanton, and Halleck were present, and Fox came in also. He gave particulars so far as he had collected them, not differing essentially from ours.
An army dispatch received this P.M. from Fortress Monroe says the Flambeau has arrived in Hampton Roads from Charleston; that our vessels experienced a repulse; some of the monitors were injured. The information is as confused and indefinite as the Rebel statements. Telegraphed to Admiral Lee to send the Flambeau to Washington. Let us have the dispatches.
Seward is in great trouble about the mail of the Peterhoff, a captured blockade-runner. Wants the mail given up. Says the instructions which he prepared insured the inviolability and security of the mails. I told him he had no authority to prepare such instructions, that the law was paramount, and that anything which he proposed in opposition to and disregarding the law was not observed.
He called at my house this evening with a letter from Lord Lyons inclosing dispatches from Archibald, English Consul at New York. Wanted me to send, and order the mail to be immediately given up and sent forward. I declined. Told him the mail was properly and legally in the custody of the court and beyond Executive control; assured him there would be no serious damage from delay if the mail was finally surrendered, but I was inclined to believe the sensitiveness of both Lord Lyons and Archibald had its origin in the fact that the mail contained matter which would condemn the vessel. “But,” said Seward, “mails are sacred; they are an institution.” I replied that would do for peace but not for war; that he was clothed with no authority to concede the surrender of the mail; that by both statute and international law they must go to the court; that if his arrangement, of which I knew nothing, meant anything, the most that could be conceded or negotiated would be to mails on regular recognized neutral packets and not to blockade-runners and irregular vessels with contraband like the Peterhoff. He dwelt on an arrangement entered into between himself and the British Legation, and the difficulty which would follow a breach on our part. I inquired if he had any authority to make an arrangement that was in conflict with the express provisions of the statutes, — whether it was a treaty arrangement confirmed by the Senate. Told him the law and the courts must govern in this matter. The Secretary of State and the Executive were powerless. We could not interfere.
Mrs. Lyon’s Diary.
April 11, 1863.—Orders came to have the 13th, five companies of the 83d Illinois, two of the 71st Ohio, and five of the 5th Iowa cavalry, Colonel Lyon commanding, go out twelve miles to the relief of Major Young.
Near Helena, Saturday, April 11. All busy in writing home and to those left behind. Although we may be tanned and roughened by hardships and exposures, the memories of those behind are still uppermost, and although otherwise hardened, that is untarnished. Reloaded all the horses, etc. Rainy.
11th April (Saturday). — Mr ——, the Unionist, came to me this morning, and said, in a contrite manner, “I hope, Kernel, that in the fumes of brandy I didn’t say anything offensive last night.” I assured him that he hadn’t. I have now become comparatively accustomed and reconciled to the necessity of shaking hands and drinking brandy with every one. [1]
The ambulance returned from Bagdad to-day. Captain Hancock had managed to cross the bar in Mr Oetling’s steamer or lighter, but was very nearly capsized.
I went to a grand supper, given by Mr Oetling in honour of Mr Hill’s departure for the city of Mexico. This, it appears, is the custom of the country.
[1] This necessity does not exist except in Texas.
10th April (Friday).—We roused up at daylight, and soon afterwards Colonel Duff paraded some of his best men, to show off the Texan horsemanship, of which they are very proud. I saw them lasso cattle, and catch them by the tail at full gallop, and throw them by slewing them round. This is called tailing. They pick small objects off the ground when at full tilt, and, in their peculiar fashion, are beautiful riders; but they confessed to me they could not ride in an English saddle, and Colonel Duff told me that they could not jump a fence at all. They were all extremely anxious to hear what I thought of the performance, and their thorough good opinion of themselves was most amusing.
At 9 o’clock Colonel Buchel and I rode back to Brownsville; but as we lost our way twice, and were enveloped in clouds of dust, it was not a very satisfactory ride. Poor Captain Hancock must be luxuriating at Bagdad; for with this wind the bar must be impassable to the boldest mariner.
In the evening, a Mr ——, a Texan Unionist, or renegado, gave us his sentiments at the Consulate, and drank a deal of brandy. He finished, however, by the toast, “Them as wants to fight, let ’em fight—I don’t.”
