April 12th. Lying off mouth of Red River; at ten A. M. inspected ship and crew, and half an hour afterwards, performed Divine service on quarter-deck. Nothing more worthy of note occurred during the remainder of these twenty-four hours, except that at 10 o’clock P. M. a sudden alarm was given, caused by a lookout hearing a bell tolled on shore, and reported it to be that of a steamer coming out of Red River; the rattle was sprung, calling all hands to quarters. The men turned out of their hammocks, got them up on deck and stowed in the hammock nettings, and were at their guns, ready for action, in five minutes after the alarm was given. It proved to be a false alarm, and one watch went below and turned in on the soft side of a plank.
Friday, April 12, 2013
[Diary] April 12.
Lottie to-night brings the report that the expedition against Charleston has returned, having done nothing! Why this disgraceful return? Disheartening!
April 12th.
Left McCracken’s at 3 o’clock in the morning. It is my birthday. I am 29 years old to-day (Sunday), Reached Fairfield (70 miles east of Waco) at breakfast; found it quite a neat little town with a large female seminary, but did not stay long enough to walk about the place. Came on to Parker’s Bluff, twenty-five miles, for dinner, having gassed through a sandy, post-oak country until we reached the Trinity bottom, which is a magnificently fertile spot. The Trinity is a narrow stream with very steep banks, resembling a bayou. Mr. Ward was our host and fed us bountifully on venison and wild turkey. The woods were full of game. We remained at Parker’s Bluff until 2 o’clock p. m. on the 13th. There was a gentle norther on the 12th and pretty hard rain on the 13th.
My traveling companions were Lieutenant Selman, Coella Mullins and Burrell Aycock, all of the Fourth Texas regiment, bound for Richmond, Va.
Sunday, 12th.—Flag of truce sent down river by Federals; don’t know what for. Last night about 11 o’clock gun-boats passed the batteries; very heavy cannonading; a house was set on fire opposite Vicksburg, so that every gunboat could be plainly seen. It was a grand and awful sight to see those great black monsters rushing by, with the constant flashes from the great siege guns, and also from the gunboats. And it seemed as if almost all the demons from the lower world had come up to take part, and yet only one boat was burned and some others damaged. Cannonading all day.
April 12 — Renewed our march early this morning, passing through Luray, and moved toward New Market. We crossed the Massanutten mountain and camped half a mile east of New Market.
Madisonville, Sunday, April 12th, 1863.
We arrived here about five last evening, and, strange to say, the journey, fatiguing as it was, has not altogether disabled me. But I must go back to Clinton to account for this new change. It would never do to take more than a hundred miles at a single jump without speaking of the incidents by the way. Numerous and pleasant as they were, some way they have unaccountably paled; and things that seemed so extremely amusing, and afforded me so much pleasure during these four days, now seem to be absurd trifles half forgotten.
I now remember lying in state on Lilly’s bed Wednesday, talking to Mrs. Badger (who had been several days in town), Anna, Sarah Ripley, and the others, when Frank suddenly bolted in, just from Port Hudson, to say another good-bye, though I told him good-bye at Linwood Sunday. Presently the General entered, just from Linwood, to see us off; then Mr. Marston and his daughter, and Mr. Neafus, all as kind as possible, until a perfect levee was assembled, which I, lying all dressed with a shawl thrown over me, enjoyed all the more as I could take my ease, and have my fun at the same time. Frank, sitting by my pillow, talked dolorously of how much he would miss us, and threatened to be taken prisoner before long in order to see us again.
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When we were finally left alone, I fancy there was very little sleep in the house. As to me, I lay by Lilly wide awake, thinking how lonely she would be without us, and perfectly désolée at the idea of leaving the Confederacy (the dear gray coats included); so when it was almost sunrise there was no necessity of rousing me to dress, as I was only too glad to leave my sleepless bed. Before I got dressed, Anna, her mother, and Sarah Ripley came in again; then Miss Comstock; and just as I had put the last touch to my dress, the gentlemen of the night before entered, and we had almost an hour and a half’s respite before the carriage, less punctual than we, drove to the door.
The General picked me up in his arms and carried me once more to the carriage. Then the servants had to say good-bye; then Lilly, very quiet, very red, and dissolved in tears, clung to me almost without a word, hardly able to speak, whilst I, distressed and grieved as I was, had not a tear in my eyes —nothing but a great lump in my throat that I tried to choke down in order to talk to Frank, who stood at the window by me, after she left. . . . How the distance lengthens between us! I raise up from my pillows and find myself at Camp Moore at four o’clock. Forty miles are passed over; good-bye, Frank!
From Camp Moore we had to go three miles back, to find Captain Gilman’s house where we were expected. The gentleman is a friend of Gibbes, though I had never seen any of them before. Such a delightful place, with everything looking so new, and cool, and such a hospitable hostess that I thought everything charming in spite of my fatigue. I had hardly a moment to look around; for immediately we were shown to our rooms, and in a very few minutes Miriam had me undressed and in bed, the most delightful spot in the world to me just then. While congratulating myself on having escaped death on the roadside, I opened my eyes to behold a tray brought to my bedside with a variety of refreshments. Coffee! Bread! Loaf-sugar! Preserves! I opened my mouth to make an exclamation at the singular optical illusion, but wisely forbore speaking, and shut it with some of the unheard-of delicacies instead. .. .
Early next morning the same routine was gone through as Thursday morning. Again the carriage drove to the door, and we were whisked off to Camp Moore, where the engine stood snorting with impatience to hurry us off to Ponchatoula. . . . Soon we were steaming down the track, I reclining on my pillows in an interesting state of invalidism, sadly abashed now and then at the courteous, wondering gaze of the soldiers who were aboard. Having very little idea of the geography of that part of the country, and knowing we were to take a carriage from some point this side of Ponchatoula, fancying how surprised Mr. Halsey would be to hear we had passed him on the way, I took a card from my traveling-case, and wrote a few words for “good-bye,” as we could not see him again. I sealed it up, and put it in my pocket to send to the first post-office we passed.
About twelve o’clock we stopped at Hammond, which was our place to disembark. Mother sent out to hire a negro to carry me off the platform; and while waiting in great perplexity, a young officer who had just seated himself before me, got up and asked if he could assist her, seizing an arm full of cloaks as he spoke. I got up and walked to the door to appear independent and make believe I was not the one, when mother begged him not to trouble himself; she wanted a man to assist her daughter who was sick. Calling a friend, the gentleman kindly loaded him with the cloaks, etc., while he hurried out after me. I was looking ruefully at the impracticable step which separated me from the platform. The question of how I was to carry out my independent notions began to perplex me. “Allow me to assist you,” said a voice at my elbow. I turned and beheld the handsome officer. “Thank you; I think I can get down alone.” “Pray allow me to lift you over this place.” “Much obliged, but your arm will suffice.” “Sarah, let the gentleman carry you! You know you cannot walk!” said my very improper mother. I respectfully declined the renewed offer. “Don’t pay any attention to her. Pick her up, just as you would a child,” said my incorrigible mother. The gentleman turned very red, while Miriam asserts I turned extremely white. The next thing I knew, by passing his arm around my waist, or taking me by my arms — I was so frightened that I have but a confused idea of it — I was lifted over the intervening gulf and landed on the platform!
Hammond boasts of four houses. One, a shoe manufactory, stood about twenty or thirty yards off, and there the gentleman proposed to conduct me. Again he insisted on carrying me; and resolutely refusing, I pronounced myself fully equal to the walk, and accepting his proffered arm, walked off with dignity and self-possession. He must have fancied that the injury was in my hand; for holding my arm so that my entire weight must have been thrown on him, not satisfied with that support, with his other hand he held mine so respectfully and so carefully that I could not but smile as it struck me, which, by the way, was not until I reached the house!
Discovering that he belonged to Colonel Simonton’s command, I asked him to take Mr. Halsey the note I had written an hour before. He pronounced himself delighted to be of the slightest service, and seeing that we were strangers, traveling unprotected, asked if we had secured a conveyance to take us beyond. We told him no. He modestly suggested that some gentleman might attend to it for us. He would be happy to do anything in his power. I thought again of Mr. Halsey, and said if he would mention we were in Hammond, he would be kind enough to see to it for us. “May I ask your name?” he asked, evidently surprised to find himself asking a question he was dying to know. I gave him my card, whereupon mother asked his name, which he told us was Howard. We had been talking for some ten minutes, when feeling rather uncomfortable at being obliged to look up at such a tall man from my low seat, to relieve my neck as well as to shade my face from any further scrutiny, I put down my head while I was still speaking. Instantly, so quietly, naturally, and unobtrusively did he stoop down by me, on one knee so that his face was in full view of mine, that the action did not seem to me either singular or impertinent —in fact, I did not think of it until mother spoke of it after he left. After a few moments it must have struck him; for he got up and made his parting bow, departing, as I afterwards heard, to question Tithe as to how I had been hurt, and declaring that it was a dreadful calamity to happen to so “ lovely “ a young lady.
April 12.—My arm is fast getting better; I have put nothing on it but cold water, I believe that is a cure for almost every thing.
Mrs. W. is very busy, and goes about all the time in the wards.
Dr. Hunter has left for his home, in Mississippi, to bring his wife here. Dr. Patterson of Tennessee is now in charge. He is a perfect gentleman, and we are all much pleased with him.
I have been looking at some men working. I do not think that any of our negroes ever worked as hard. Our firewood is brought in in large logs. We have no saws, so the men have to cut it. There is one man now chopping away, who I am told is worth his thousands. He is dressed in grey homespun, and seems as much at home as if he had always been accustomed to that life. War is a great leveler, and makes philosophers of us, when nothing else will. It astonishes me to see how the men adapt themselves to circumstances. The men in the kitchen act as if that was their place, and always had been. I saw one of them receive a letter, this morning, from his wife, and as he read about her and his little ones the tears trickled down his cheeks. They were manly ones, and will never disgrace the bravest and best.
12th. After breakfast, Col. (Abbey) and I got a team and rode horseback to town for rations—got 3 days’ rations. These troops from the Potomac never received any company savings. Marched at noon after giving rations. Ordered to Stanford, 50 miles south of Lexington. Reached Winchester about dark. Got some eggs and biscuit. A darkey came in and had a good visit. Intelligent though uneducated.
April 12, Sunday. An intense and anxious feeling on all hands respecting Charleston. Went early to the Department. About 11 A.M. a dispatch from the Navy Yard that the Flambeau had not arrived. The President and Stanton came in a little after noon and waited half an hour, but it was then reported the Flambeau was not yet in sight. I came home much dejected. Between 2 and 3 P.M. Commander Rhind of the Keokuk, Upshur, and Lieutenant Forrest called at my house with dispatches from Du Pont. They were not very full or satisfactory, — contained no details. He has no idea of taking Charleston by the Navy. In this I am not disappointed. He has been coming to that conclusion for months, though he has not said so. The result of this demonstration, though not a success, is not conclusive. The monitor vessels have proved their resisting power, and, but for the submarine obstructions, would have passed the forts and gone to the wharves of Charleston. This in itself is a great achievement.
Went to the Executive Mansion. Read the dispatches to and had full conversation with the President. Sumner came in and participated.
Rhind, an impulsive but brave and rash man, has lost all confidence in armored vessels. When he took command of the Keokuk his confidence was unbounded. His repulse and the loss of his vessel have entirely changed his views. It was, I apprehend, because of this change and his new appointment to armored vessels that he was sent forward with dispatches. He has, I see, been tutored. Thinks wooden vessels with great speed would do as well as iron-clads. I agreed that speed was valuable, but the monitors were formidable. In this great fight the accounts speak of but a single man killed and some ten or twelve wounded. What wooden or unarmored vessels could have come out of such a fight with so few disasters. No serious injury happened to the flagship, the Ironsides, which, from some accident, did not get into the fight. We had expected Du Pont and the ironclads would pass Sumter and the forts and receive their fire, but not stop to encounter them.
Du Pont has been allowed to decide for himself in regard to proceedings, has selected, and had, the best officers and vessels in the service, and his force is in every respect picked and chosen. Perhaps I have erred in not giving him orders. Possibly the fact that he was assured all was confided to him depressed and oppressed him with the responsibility, and has prevented him from telling me freely and without reserve his doubts, apprehensions. I have for some time felt that he wanted the confidence that is essential to success. His constant call for more ironclads — for aid —has been a trial. He has been long, very long, getting ready, and finally seems to have come to a standstill, so far as I can learn from Rhind, who is, if not stampeded, disgusted, demoralized, and wholly upset. It is not fear, for he has courage, — to daring, to rashness, — and his zeal, temperament, and ardor are by nature enthusiastic. But these qualities are gone. Why DuPont should have sent him home to howl, or with a howl, I do not exactly understand. If it was to strengthen faith in himself and impair faith in the monitors the selection was well made. Rhind had too much confidence in his vessel before entering the harbor, and has too little in any vessel now.
Mrs. Lyon’s Diary.
April 12, 1863.—The gunboats destroyed Palmyra on the 9th. Regiment returned all safe, did not see the enemy.
