David L Day–My diary of rambles with the 25th Mass

Feb. 1. A very heavy rain set in last night and continued until 9 o’clock this morning. The old Curlew looks as though she had been down cruising for mermaids and came back disappointed. She is all afloat, fore, aft and amidships; the rain drove in at the ends, the deck leaked and altogether we had a pretty rough night of it. I cannot say how the others slept, but my sleep was anything but balmy. I did not, in fact, dream of dwelling in marble halls.

The New York has crossed the bar and we are again aboard of her; thank our lucky stars. Good-bye, old Curlew! and may you find a sweet and lasting repose at the bottom of the sound before you are many days older. Our bill of fare this week consisted of steamed pork and hardtack of a poor quality, and short supply at that. Since they caught us stealing water, the fluid has been the meanest kind of condensed sea water, the poorest we have yet had.

Jan. 31, This morning a small schooner was seen coming down the sound. A boat went out and met her; she contained seven darkies who said they stole the schooner and left in her from Roanoke island. They were put aboard the steamer S. R. Spaulding, and the little schooner hitched astern. They can probably give some valuable information in regard to affairs on the island. The New York is stuck on the swash, and several boats and tugs are trying to pull her across; she will probably get off tomorrow. They will then all be across, except the Louisiana, which will be here in a day or two. We got a big mail today; any quantity of letters and newspapers, and the boys are cheered up wonderfully to hear from home.

Jan. 30. Our canteens are again filled with the contraband water, so we shall be all right today as far as that is concerned. Some of the boys made a raid last night on the sutler’s stuff and appropriated to themselves pretty much what he had. I cannot approve of that, as the sutler is at a good deal of trouble and expense to get a few notions for us and probably sells them as cheap as he can afford. The boys ought not to steal from him, at this time especially, as there are those who would be glad to buy. A schooner came down today to take a look at us, one of our boats gave chase, but a good breeze blowing, the schooner had the advantage and got away. This afternoon a small boat was seen coming down flying a white flag. The boat contained one darkey who had risked the perils of the sound to escape from the land of Jeff, the house of bondage.

A Discovery.

A great discovery has just been made and isn’t there larks now, though. The skipper is foaming with rage. An account of stock has been taken, and a cask or two of water is missing. On inspection it was found tapped at the wrong end. A very mysterious circumstance, but such things are liable to happen. A strong guard has been placed over the other casks.

The Signal Corps Arrives.

Jan. 29. The long lost signal corps arrived today. We gave them a great ovation; flags and streamers flying, bands playing and cheering from all the boats. They have had a hard time of it, having been fourteen days on the passage from Fortress Monroe. They ran out to sea in the first great storm, and the succession of storms has prevented them from getting in. They were well nigh famished when they arrived.

Good Water.

We are today luxuriating on good water, the first we have had for many days. Some of the boys last night got in the rear of the forbidden water casks, and by a vigorous use of a jackknife, succeeded in tapping a cask. Any quantity of canteens (mine among the rest), were filled with the contraband water, and if the thing is kept still today there will be a big haul tonight. Our fare is pretty short, and of a kind never dreamed of in the cabin of a first-class ocean steamer. Still it answers to keep us breathing, and perhaps that is as much as we can expect while on this excursion. We are thriving on a half ration of steamed pork and hardtack, with condensed sea water. The half ration of pork is a bountiful supply; it is so strong and oily a very little answers the purpose, and hardtack is the chief dependence. But for water, we shall do well enough so long as we can steal it. Coffee is entirely out of the question, for on this craft there is no chance for the cooks to make it in great quantities, although they do manage to make a small amount for the officers. None of us are allowed down in the fireroom, so that shuts us off from making coffee or scouse.

I suggested to a few of the faithful the plan of getting down on the bottom of the boat, under the boilers, and kindling a fire there and making some. They seemed to think that it would be rather a desperate undertaking, besides they would smoke themselves out before they had half accomplished their purpose.

The Curlew.

Jan. 27. Preparations are going on this morning to get the New York across the bar. We were transferred to the steam ferry-boat Curlew, and are now anchored in the sound. The New York is to be lightened of everything on board, and it is thought, with a full sea and some help, she may be able to cross. We are in the most disagreeable and uncomfortable quarters we have yet been in. Every change seems to bring some new hardship, and with a few more changes for the worse we shall be able to learn how great are our powers of endurance. We are packed in here as thick as bees with scarcely standing room, and the old craft is open at both ends admitting the cold winds and rains, besides being as wet and dirty as a stable. If it should rain hard enough to drive us in from the ends of the boat and from off the deck, a part of us would have to lie down in our bunks to give standing room for the rest. I should think the water casks were a cemetery for dead rats by the way the water tastes; condensed sea water is a luxury to it, and byway of encouragement we are told that we are to have some tomorrow. There are, however, a few casks of good water aboard, but we are not allowed any of it. I reckon the boys will manage to get some of it. If they don’t, it will be an exception to their general smartness. The officers and crew of the old hulk are cross and crabbed, and unless they alter their tactics, I fear they will get enough of us before we have been here many days.

Jan. 26. Quite a number of boats have been hauled off, and are now lying in the sound. They are still at work on the Eastern Queen, which seems to be as firmly imbedded in the sand as were her timbers in the soil in which they grew. The steamer Louisiana, with the 6th New Hampshire aboard, lies high and dry on the shoal, and it will be a job to get her off, but I reckon she will have to come, or come to pieces. When half a dozen big steamers get hold they make a pretty strong team, and something has got to come or break. I learn she is hogged, whatever that is. I shouldn’t be surprised if she was, if she has been well supplied with this gull bait they call pork.

We had religious services this morning and afternoon, the first we have had since leaving Annapolis. We had excellent singing, and the chaplain’s remarks were well timed and to the point. He recounted the dangers and troubles, which under the blessing of God, we have been brought through, and spoke words of cheer and comfort for the future.

Jan. 25. The storm is at last over, for to-day at least. It has cleared off warm and pleasant, and is the first bright day since we came here. Business is brisk to-day; all is bustle and hurry. There is quite a change of scene, the boats’ decks are covered with soldiers, shouting and cheering each other; the bands are all out playing, and altogether it is quite a contrast to the miserable life we have been living. Our attention is taken up watching the operations going on in the harbor, among the shipping. Steamers are being towed across the swash into the sound, and steamers and tugs are at work straining every nerve to pull off the boats that are ashore. It makes fun for the boys watching them pull. Five or six steamers and tugs are at work trying to pull off the Eastern Queen, on which are the 4th Rhode Island boys, and when they all pull together it seems as though they would pull her in two. Sometimes she seems to start a little, and then stick again; the boats will give a steady pull for an hour before she will start again. Occasionally a big cable will break, and it is fun to watch the agility of the boys, dodging the recoil of the cable ends.

The big steamer Northerner attempted to cross the sound at flood tide this morning, and stuck in the middle. She carries the 21st Massachusetts, and I think they will have to be taken off before she can get across. A number of boats and tugs are at work, trying to pull her across. If the Northerner sticks, going across at high water, how we are to cross is a problem yet to be solved, as the New York draws six inches more water than the Northerner.

Sick Horses.

The horses do not appear to stand hardships and privations as well as the men. On short feed, condensed sea water, with no exercise, they grow sick and debilitated. A schooner is lying but a short distance from us, with a deck-load of horses, belonging to a Rhode Island battery, and they are jumping them overboard, and swimming them ashore. It is curious to observe the horses as they are led up to the gangway; to see them brace themselves back and shudder to take the fearful leap. But a little encouragement from half a dozen men in their rear pushing them, over they go, and as they come up out of the water, they shake their heads and snort, and put for the nearest land, where they are rubbed dry, blanketed and led off up the island.

Across the Swash.

The Northerner has crossed into the sound, and anchored. As she got off and moved into the sound, cheer after cheer went up from all the fleet, the bands playing and all having a big time generally.