Woolsey family letters during the War for the Union

Georgeanna to Mother.

Steamer Knickerbocker.

If my letter smells of “Yellow B.” sugar, it has a right to, as my paper is the cover of the sugar-box. Since I last wrote I have been jumping round from boat to boat, and Saturday came on board the Knickerbocker at Mr. Olmsted’s request, with Mrs. Strong and some others, to put things in order, and, privately, to be on hand to “hold” the boat, which had been made over to the Commission, over the heads of the New Jersey delegation. Dr. Asch was on board, and we had the New Jersey dinner table abolished and 56 Sanitary Commission beds made on the dining-room floor that night. The 200 wounded and sick brought down to Fortress Monroe under our care were transferred to the shore hospital, where we stole some roses for our patients on the Small. Saw regiments embarking for Norfolk, which surrendered the next day. Saw Mr. Lincoln driving past to take possession of Norfolk; and by Tuesday had the boat all in order again, with the single exception of a special-diet cooking-stove. So we went ashore at Gloster Point and ransacked all the abandoned rebel huts to find one, coming down finally upon the sutler of the “Enfants Perdus,” who was cooking something nice for the officers’ mess over a stove with four places for pots. This was too much to stand; so under a written authority given to “Dr. Olmsted” by the quartermaster of this department, we proceeded to rake out the sutler’s fire and lift off his pots, and he offered us his cart and mule to drag the stove to the boat and would take no pay! So through the wretched town filled with the debris of huts and camp furniture, old blankets, dirty cast-off clothing, smashed gun-carriages, exploded guns, vermin and filth everywhere, and along the sandy shore covered with cannon-balls, we followed the mule,—a triumphant procession, waving our broken bits of stovepipe and iron pot-covers. I left a polite message for the Colonel “Perdu,” which had to stand him in place of his lost dinner. I shall never understand what was the matter with that sutler, whose self-sacrifice was to secure some three hundred men their meals promptly.

We set up our stove in the Knickerbocker, unpacked tins and clothing, filled a linen-closet in each ward, made up beds for three hundred, set the kitchen in order, and arranged a black hole with a lock to it, where oranges, brandy and wine are stored box upon box; and got back to Yorktown to find everybody at work fitting up the “Spaulding.” I have a daily struggle with the darkeys in the kitchen, who protest against everything. About twenty men are fed from one pail of soup, and five from a loaf of bread, unless they are almost well, and then no amount of food is enough.

One gets toughened on one’s fourth hospital ship and now I could stop at nothing; but it is amusing to see the different ways taken to discover the same thing. Dr. McC.: “Well-my-dear-fellow-is-anything-the-matter-with-your-bowels-do-your-ears-ring-what-’s-your-name?” Dr. A.: “Turn over my friend, have you got the diaree?” Dr. A. was in a state of indignation with Miss Dix in the shore hospital at Yorktown. She has peculiar views on diet, not approving of meat, and treating all to arrowroot and farina, and by no means allowing crackers with gruel. “Them does not go with this,” as Dr. A. gracefully puts the words into Miss Dix’s mouth.

Abby Howland Woolsey to Georgy and Eliza.

8 Brevoort Place, Saturday.

My Dear Girls: How little we know where you are and what worlds of work you are doing. It is hard to keep still, I know, where so much ought to be done. . . Yesterday Charley and the Webster were to sail and we had a carriage and all went down with the traps—box of brandy, trunk of towels, etc., bundle of air-beds, bundle of fans, and a basket with a few eatables—some fresh eggs which had just arrived from Fishkill, and three or four bottles of ale, which I hope Eliza will drink; she sometimes used to take a glass of it at home. As for Georgy, I do not expect to have her take anything of that sort, after what mother tells me of the fate of the boxes of claret you took to Washington. One box was still unopened, and, so far as she knew, Georgy had never touched a drop. . . . We found Mrs. Trotter on board. The other ladies soon came —Mrs. Griffin, Miss Katharine P. Wormeley, Mrs. Blatchford and Mrs. H. J. Raymond. . . .

The vessel is a fifth-rate bed-buggy concern, I should say, and the hold where the men were put seemed miserable in spite of your pains, but for which it would have been very forlorn. Charley was so busy running hither and thither that we hadn’t much chance at him. I was sorry we had not packed a great hamper of cooked food for him and Mrs. Trotter. Another time we will do better. They expect to be back by Wednesday with as many sick as they can carry, and judging from the number they brought packed on the Ocean Queen, they will stow them with deadly closeness. We saw Dr. Grymes and liked his looks and manner. He startled us by telling us that the Ocean Queen was coming up the bay with over a thousand sick, four hundred typhoid cases. Couldn’t do without you, he said; “only ladies down there to come —of course they are on board.” Mrs. Griffin, too, was convinced of it and sent back by us a big bundle of tins she had bought for Georgy. We left the Webster at four, when they were to sail at any moment, and drove down to the pier where they said the Ocean Queen was to lie. She was not due till six, so we came home. What with the news from West Point, Va., without details, and with the idea that you were the only women on the Ocean Queen to see after the nurses and the sick, and Charley’s departure, we were sufficiently sobered and excited, a compound of both. This morning Uncle Edward reports us the Herald’s news from West Point, that it was only a skirmish and that the loss of the 16th was two killed, beside wounded. . . . At ten o’clock Dr. Buck landed on the Ocean Queen, came up to his house and sent us word that you were not on board. This morning he has been in for a moment, and says you were indefatigable and indispensable at the front; far more useful in staying than in coming up, that he didn’t know where you went when you left the Ocean Queen, but that you were “all right” with Mr. Olmsted somewhere, and taken care of. . . . Eleven hundred, Dr. Buck said, came on the Ocean Queen. So many of them are virulent fever cases, men who must die, that there is great perplexity what to do with them. The City Hospital, North building, is fast filling up, and the air is so infectious that Mrs. Buck thinks it unsafe to enter it. The Commissioners propose that these new cases should go to Ward’s Island. The government barracks on Bedloe’s and Riker’s Islands won’t be ready for some days, and I dread having the Daniel Webster or some other transport bring a thousand more before these have been decently housed. . . . Mother has driven out to Astoria with Uncle E. Carry has gone to Park Barracks with flowers and cologne sent from Astoria, and Jane is at the City Hospital with oranges for fever men. She goes into the fever ward, considering it duty, and undertakes too much for her nerves, but you needn’t tell her so. Carry and I are going this afternoon to see a “Mr. Woolsey,” who was sent to St. Luke’s, sick of fever.

Georgy to Mother.

“Ocean Queen.”

It seems a strange thing that the sight of such misery should be accepted by us all so quietly as it was. We were simply eyes and hands for those three days. Strong men were dying about us; in nearly every ward some one was going. Yesterday one of the students called me to go with him and say whether I had taken the name of a dead man in the forward cabin the day he came in. He was a strong, handsome fellow, raving mad when brought in, and lying now, the day after, with pink cheeks and peaceful look. I had tried to get his name, and once he seemed to understand and screeched out at the top of his voice, John H. Miller, but whether it was his own name or that of some friend he wanted, I don’t know. All the record I had of him was from my diet-list, “Miller, forward cabin, port side, No. 119, beef tea and punch.”

Last night Dr. Ware came to me to know how much floor-room we had. The immense saloon of the after-cabin was filled with mattresses so thickly placed that there was hardly stepping room between them, and as I swung my lantern along the row of pale faces, it showed me another strong man dead. E. had been working hard over him, but it was useless. He opened his eyes when she called “Henry” clearly in his ear, and gave her a chance to pour brandy down his throat, but he died quietly while she was helping some one else. We are changed by all this contact with terror, else how could I deliberately turn my lantern on his face and say to the Doctor behind me, “Is that man dead?” and stand coolly, while he listened and examined and pronounced him dead. I could not have quietly said, a year ago, “That will make one more bed, Doctor.” Sick men were waiting on deck in the cold though, and every few feet of cabin floor were precious; so they took the dead man out and put him to sleep in his coffin on deck. We had to climb over another soldier lying up there, quiet as he, to get at the blankets to keep the living warm.

Georgeanna’s journal.

Lenox Hodge happened to have come over from his hospital station on shore to call on us, just as the first patients arrived for the Ocean Queen, and, being the only doctor on hand at the time, was pressed into the service. He superintended the lowering into the forward cabin of all the very sick. He told us to have wine and water ready for the weakest, and I in the front cabin, and E. in the back, went round with brandy and water and gave it to every man who looked faint. By the time this was done, the gruel was ready, and it was good to see how refreshed the poor fellows were. E. and I were almost alone at the time these first men came. Messrs. Olmsted and Knapp were away on business, and the two young doctors had gone ashore; we should have been completely at a loss without Len. Tug after tug followed, and 800 men were put on board in the next three days.

Eliza Woolsey Howland to Joe Howland.

May 7th, ‘62.

My dear Joe: Down in the depths of the Ocean Queen, with a pail of freshly-made milk punch alongside of me, a jug of brandy at my feet, beef tea on the right flank, and untold stores of other things scattered about, I write a hurried note on my lap, just to tell you that we keep well, but have been so busy the past 48 hours that I have lost all track of time. You had scarcely left us the other day when our first installment of sick came aboard—150 men—before anything whatever was ready for them. We had only just taken possession of the ship, as you saw, and not an article had been unpacked or a bed made. With two spoons, and ten pounds of Indian meal (the only food on board) made into gruel, G. and I managed, however, to feed them all and got them to bed. They have come in the same way ever since, crowded upon us unprepared, and with so few to do for them; and we have now nearly 600, and more coming to-night. . . . Until to-day we have had only our small force who were detached from the Webster, and I may say without vanity that G. and I, and the two young doctors, Wheelock and Haight, have done everything. We women have attended to the feeding of the 400 or 500, and those two young fellows have had the responsibility of their medical care! Last night, however, a large party of surgeons, dressers and nurses arrived from New York, and though to-day things have been frightfully chaotic, they will settle down soon and each one will have his own work to do. . . . G. and I look after the special diet and the ordering of all the food. Beef tea is made by the ten gallons and punch by the pail. I was so busy yesterday morning that I didn’t know when you left, and only saw the last of the fleet far up York river.

Abby Howland Woolsey to Georgy and Eliza.

New York, May 7th, 1862.

My dear Girls: I hadn’t time to write a long letter, but must send off a note to say that the Daniel Webster came to the dock at dusk yesterday. Charley went down at once, thinking there was a possible chance of your being on board, or at all events, some of the 16th sick. Mrs. Griffin, who came up to care for the men, had gone, and several of the officers had landed, but the men were to remain till morning. . . . I am thankful you were not on board, for your own sakes. Five men died and more are dying today, and will die in the act of being landed. . . . McClellan’s despatches to-day are not very hopeful. “He will do the best he can—“the “rebels out-number him greatly,” “are fighting fiercely; will contest every inch of the way; strongly intrenched,” etc., etc. Yesterday he called it a “ brilliant success.” . . . Your letter, Georgy, to Charley, of Saturday and Sunday, is received this morning. It furnishes us the missing links in the story, and will instruct Charley whom to apply to about his duties and his passage, etc. We felt that your telegram, with merely your signature, did not authorize him to go aboard and assume duty. . . . Mrs. Griffin sent us your penciled note as soon as she landed, with one from herself, saying she had left you well—“lovely and active,” I think were her expressions. She asked if I knew anything about Mrs. Trotter’s decision as to going to the front. The latter was here yesterday. She said she should love dearly to go, but she believed she couldn’t, her mother couldn’t spare her just now.

Later. . . . Charley went down yesterday and saw Mr. Strong, and was inducted as Purser of the ship Daniel Webster. Mr. Strong gave him a sum of money, and he has been on board to-day paying the medical cadets and the contrabands. Came home just now for a lunch and has gone down again to finish. He thinks he may have to sleep on board. The vessel is not cleaned up or ready yet. . . . They may get off to-morrow afternoon. Mrs. Trotter is to send up to-night to see what we have heard. She is going to join the Daniel Webster on its return trip.

Georgeanna’s Journal.

Wilson Small.

The Merrimac is out; and the Monitor and Naugatuck are fighting her. The Galena has run up the James towards Richmond. We are lying along the dock at Yorktown quietly, where four days ago the rebels were ducking themselves in the water.

Franklin’s division has moved up to West Point with large reinforcements, and has been fighting at the point of the bayonet. Captain Hopkins steamed alongside this morning and called out the news, just down from West Point, on business, in the Mystic, Two of the 16th are killed, and Captain Curtis wounded in the chest. . . . We took on board the Small 20 to 30 from this fight. Had beds made on the cabin floor, and each man carefully put into a clean one as his stretcher came aboard, Captain Curtis among them. Several were amputations, and two died on the boat. Everything was done for them; beef tea and brandy given, and a capital surgical nurse was in charge. It was pleasant to see Mr. Olmsted come quietly into the cabin now and then. I would look round and he would be there sitting on the floor by a dying German, with his arm round his pillow—as nearly round his neck as possible—talking tenderly to him, and slipping away again quietly. He only came when the ward was quiet, and no one round to look at him.

Eliza’s Journal.

On the York River, May 5.

Before we were up this morning, though that was very early, the army fleet (including Joe’s transport) was off up York river to cut off the retreat of the rebels. Our last load of sick came on board the Webster this morning early, and by nine o’clock she was ready to sail for the North, so G. and I, with Messrs. Knapp and Olmsted, and our two doctors, Wheelock and Haight, were transferred by the Wilson Small to the great “Ocean Queen,” lying in the bay. We sailed up to Yorktown, standing on deck in the rain to enjoy the approach to the famous entrenchments. Gloucester Point alone, with its beautiful little sodded fort, looked very formidable, and the works about Yorktown are said to be almost impregnable. The rebels left fifty heavy guns behind them and much baggage, camp equipage, etc.

Georgeanna to Mother.

Off Ship Point.

It was the Wilson Small (a little steamboat chartered by the Commission to run up the creeks and bring down sick and wounded), that came alongside with our first patients, thirty-five in number, typhoid cases, from Ship Point, who were slung through the hatches on their stretchers. . . . We women arranged our days into three watches, and then a promiscuous one for any of us, as the night work might demand.

After breakfast, Sunday, on the Webster, we all assembled in the forward ward, and Dr. Grymes read the simple prayers for those at sea and the sick. Our poor fellows lay all about us in their beds and listened quietly. As the prayer for the dying was finished, a soldier close by the doctor had ended his strife.

We crawled up into our bunks that night amid a tremendous firing of big guns, and woke up in the morning to the announcement that Yorktown was evacuated! Franklin was in McClellan’s tent when the news came, and he says McClellan did not know what to make of it.

A little tug has just passed, calling out to each transport to be ready to move in ten minutes if the order is given; probably to go round to Yorktown, and be ready to push up the river in case our men advance. A tug from Baltimore came alongside just now with contrabands and workmen for the “Ocean Queen,” which the Commission has secured, and E. and I will probably go over to her this evening.