Three Months in the Southern States–Lieut. Col. Fremantle, Coldstream Guards

16th April (Thursday).—Now our troubles commenced. Seated in Mexican saddles, and mounted on raw-boned mustangs, whose energy had been a good deal impaired by a month’s steady travelling on bad food, McCarthy and I left the hospitable mess-tent about midnight, and started in search of Mr Sargent and his vehicle. We were under the guidance of two Texan rangers.

About daylight we hove in sight of “Los Animos,” a desolate farmhouse, in the neighbourhood of which Mr Sargent was supposed to be encamped; but nowhere could we find any traces of him.

We had now reached the confines of a dreary region, sixty miles in extent, called “The Sands,” in comparison with which the prairie and chaparal were luxurious.

The sand being deep and the wind high, we could not trace the carriage; but we soon acquired a certainty that our perfidious Jehu had decamped, leaving us behind.

We floundered about in the sand, cursing our bad luck, cursing Mr Sargent, and even the good Magruder, as the indirect cause of our wretchedness. Our situation, indeed, was sufficiently deplorable. We were without food or water in the midst of a desert: so were our horses, which were nearly done up. Our bones ached from the Mexican saddles; and, to complete our misery, the two rangers began to turn restive and talk of returning with the horses. At this, the climax of our misfortunes, I luckily hit upon a Mexican, who gave us intelligence of our carriage; and with renewed spirits, but very groggy horses, we gave chase.

But never did Mr Sargent’s mules walk at such a pace; and it was 9 A.M. before we overtook them. My animal had been twice on his head, and McCarthy was green in the face with fatigue and rage. Mr Sargent received us with the greatest affability; and we were sensible enough not to quarrel with him, although McCarthy had made many allusions as to the advisability of shooting him.

We had been nine and a half hours in the saddle, and were a good deal exhausted. Our sulky Texan guides were appeased with bacon, coffee, and $5 in coin.

We halted till 2 P.M., and then renewed our struggle through the deep sandy wilderness; but though the services of the Judge’s horse were put into requisition, we couldn’t progress faster than two miles an hour.

Mule-driving is an art of itself, and Mr Sargent is justly considered a professor at it.

He is always yelling—generally imprecations of a serio-comic character. He rarely flogs his mules; but when one of them rouses his indignation by extraordinary laziness, he roars out, “Come here, Judge, with a big club, and give him h—11.” Whilst the animal is receiving such discipline as comes up to the judge’s idea of the infernal regions, Mr Sargent generally remarks, “I wish you was Uncle Abe, I’d make you move, you G—d d—n son of a ——.” His idea of perfect happiness seems to be to have Messrs Lincoln and Seward in the shafts. Mules travel much better when other mules are in front of them; and another dodge to which Mr Sargent continually resorts is, to beat the top of the carriage and kick the foot-board, which makes a noise, and gratifies the mules quite as much as licking them. Mr Sargent accounts for his humanity by saying, “It’s the worst plan in the world licking niggers or mules, because the more you licks ’em, the more they wants it.”

We reached or “struck” water at 5.30 P.M.; but, in spite of its good reputation, it was so salt as to be scarcely drinkable. A number of cotton waggons, and three carriages belonging to Mr Ward, were also encamped with us.

We have only made sixteen miles to-day.

15th April (Wednesday).—I slept well last night in spite of the tics and fleas, and we started at 5.30 P.M. After passing a dead rattlesnake eight feet long, we reached water at 7 A.M.

At 9 A.m. we espied the cavalcade of General Magruder passing us by a parallel track about half a mile distant. McCarthy and I jumped out of the carriage, and I ran across the prairie to cut him off, which I just succeeded in doing by borrowing the spare horse of the last man in the train.

I galloped up to the front, and found the General riding with a lady who was introduced to me as Mrs ——, an undeniably pretty woman, wife to an officer on Magruder’s staff, and she is naturally the object of intense attention to all the good-looking officers who accompany the General through this desert.

General Magruder, who commands in Texas, is a fine soldier-like man, of about fifty-five, with broad shoulders, a florid complexion, and bright eyes. He wears his whiskers and mustaches in the English fashion, and he was dressed in the Confederate grey uniform. He was kind enough to beg that I would turn back and accompany him in his tour through Texas. He had heard of my arrival, and was fully determined I should do this. He asked after several officers of my regiment whom he had known when he was on the Canadian frontier. He is a Virginian, a great talker, and has always been a great ally of English officers.

He insisted that McCarthy and I should turn and dine with him, promising to provide us with horses to catch up Mr Sargent.

After we had agreed to do this, I had a long and agreeable conversation with the General, who spoke of the Puritans with intense disgust, and of the first importation of them as “that pestiferous crew of the Mayflower;” but he is by no means rancorous against individual Yankees. He spoke very favourably of McClellan, whom he knew to be a gentleman, clever, and personally brave, though he might lack moral courage to face responsibility. Magruder had commanded the Confederate troops at Yorktown which opposed McClellan’s advance. He told me the different dodges he had resorted to, to blind and deceive the latter as to his (Magruder’s) strength; and he spoke of the intense relief and amusement with which he had at length seen McClellan with his magnified army begin to break ground before miserable earthworks, defended only by 8000 men. Hooker was in his regiment, and was “essentially a mean man and a liar.” Of Lee and Longstreet he spoke in terms of the highest admiration.

Magruder was an artilleryman, and has been a good deal in Europe; and having been much stationed on the Canadian frontier, he became acquainted with many British officers, particularly those in the 7th Hussars and Guards.

He had gained much credit from his recent successes at Galveston and Sabine Pass, in which he had the temerity to attack heavily-armed vessels of war with wretched river steamers manned by Texan cavalrymen.

His principal reason for visiting Brownsville was to settle about the cotton trade. He had issued an edict that half the value of cotton exported must be imported in goods for the benefit of the country (government stores). The President had condemned this order as illegal and despotic.

The officers on Magruder’s Staff are a very good-looking, gentlemanlike set of men. Their names are—Major Pendleton, Major Wray, Captain De Ponté, Captain Alston, Captain Turner, Lieutenant-Colonel McNeil, Captain Dwyer, Dr Benien, Lieutenant Stanard, Lieutenant Yancey, and Major Magruder. The latter is nephew to the General, and is a particularly good-looking young fellow. They all live with their chief on an extremely agreeable footing, and form a very pleasant society. At dinner I was put in the post of honour, which is always fought for with much acrimony—viz., the right of Mrs ——. After dinner we had numerous songs. Both the General and his nephew sang; so also did Captain Alston, whose corpulent frame, however, was too much for the feeble camp-stool, which caused his sudden disappearance in the midst of a song with a loud crash. Captain Dwyer played the fiddle very well, and an aged and slightly-elevated militia general brewed the punch and made several “elegant” speeches. The latter was a rough-faced old hero, and gloried in the name of McGuffin. On these festive occasions General Magruder wears a red woollen cap, and fills the president’s chair with great aptitude.

It was 11.30 before I could tear myself away from this agreeable party; but at length I effected my exit amidst a profusion of kind expressions, and laden with heaps of letters of introduction.

14th April (Tuesday).—When we roused up at 4 A.M. we found our clothes saturated with the heavy dew; also that, notwithstanding our exertions, the hogs had devoured the greatest part of our pet kid, our only fresh meat.

After feeding our mules upon the Indian corn we had brought with us, and drinking a little more saltwater coffee, the Judge “hitched in,” and we got under way at 5.30 A.M. The country just the same as yesterday — a dead level of sand, mosquite trees, and prickly pears.

At 7.30 A.M. we reached “Leatham’s ranch,” and watered our mules. As the water was tolerable, we refilled our water-barrels. I also washed my face, during which operation Mr Sargent expressed great astonishment, not unmingled with contempt.

At Leatham’s we met a wealthy Texan speculator and contractor called Major or Judge Hart.

I find that our Judge is also an M.P., and that, in his capacity as a member of the Texan legislature, he is entitled to be styled the Honourable.

At 9 A.M. we halted in the middle of a prairie, on which there was a little grass for the mules, and we prepared to eat. In the midst of our cooking, two deer came up quite close to us, and could easily have been killed with rifles.

We saw quantities of rat-ranches, which are big sort of mole-hills, composed of cow-dung, sticks, and earth, built by the rats.

Mr Sargent, our conductor, is a very rough customer—a fat, middle-aged man, who never opens his mouth without an oath, strictly American in its character. He and the judge are always snarling at one another, and both are much addicted to liquor.

We live principally on bacon and coffee, but as the water and the bacon are both very salt, this is very inconvenient. We have, however, got some claret, and plenty of brandy.

During the mid-day halts Mr Sargent is in the habit of cooling himself by removing his trousers (or pants), and, having gorged himself, he lies down and issues his edicts to the judge as to the treatment of the mules.

At 2.30 the M.P. hitched in again, and at 2.45 we reached a salt-water arm of the sea called the “Aroyo del Colorado,” about eighty yards broad, which we crossed in a ferry-boat. Half an hour later we “struck water” again, which, being superior to Leatham’s, we filled up.

We are continually passing cotton trains going to Brownsville, also government waggons with stores for the interior. Near every well is a small farm or ranch, a miserable little wooden edifice surrounded by a little cultivation. The natives all speak Spanish, and wear the Mexican dress.

McCarthy is very proud of his knowledge of the country, in spite of which he is often out in his calculations. The different tracks are so similar to one another, they are easily mistaken.

At 4.45 P.M. we halted at a much better place than yesterday. We are obliged to halt where a little grass can be found for our mules.

Soon after we had unpacked for the night, six Texan Rangers, of “Wood’s ” regiment, rode up to us. They were very picturesque fellows; tall, thin, and ragged, but quite gentlemanlike in their manners.

We are always to sleep in the open until we arrive at San Antonio, and I find my Turkish lantern most useful at night.[1]

[1] A lantern for a candle, made of white linen and wire, which collapses when not in use. They are always used in the streets of Constantinople. The Texans admired it immensely.

13th April (Monday).—I breakfasted with General Bee, and took leave of all my Brownsville friends.

McCarthy is to give me four times the value of my gold in Confederate notes.[1]

We left Brownsville for San Antonio at 11 A.M. Our vehicle was a roomy, but rather over-loaded, four-wheel carriage, with a canvass roof, and four mules. Besides McCarthy, there was a third passenger, in the shape of a young merchant of the Hebrew persuasion. Two horses were to join us, to help us through the deep sand.

The country, on leaving Brownsville, is quite flat, the road, a natural one, sandy and very dusty, and there are many small trees, principally mosquites. After we had proceeded seven miles, we halted to water the mules.

At 2 P.M. a new character appeared upon the scene, in the shape of an elderly, rough-faced, dirty-looking man, who rode up, mounted on a sorry nag. To my surprise he was addressed by McCarthy with the title of “Judge,” and asked what he had done with our other horse. The judge replied that it had already broken down, and had been left behind. McCarthy informs me that this worthy really is a magistrate or sort of judge in his own district; but he now appears in the capacity of assistant mule-driver, and is to make himself generally useful. I could not help feeling immensely amused at this specimen of a Texan judge. We started again about 3 P.m., and soon emerged from the mosquite bushes into an open prairie eight miles long, quite desolate, and producing nothing but a sort of rush; after which we entered a chaparal, or thick covert of mosquite trees and high prickly pears. These border the track, and are covered with bits of cotton torn from the endless trains of cotton waggons. We met several of these waggons. Generally there were ten oxen or six mules to a waggon carrying ten bales, but in deep sand more animals are necessary. They journey very slowly towards Brownsville, from places in the interior of Texas at least five hundred miles distant. Want of water and other causes make the drivers and animals undergo much hardship.

The judge rides on in front of us on his “Rosinante,” to encourage the mules. His back view reminds one in a ludicrous manner of the pictures of Dr Syntax.

Mr Sargent, our portly driver, cheers his animals by the continual repetition of the sentence, “Get up, now, you great long-eared G—d d—d son of a ——

At 5 P.M. we reached a well, with a farm or ranch close to it. Here we halted for the night. A cotton train was encamped close to us, and a lugubrious half-naked teamster informed us that three of his oxen had been stolen last night.

In order to make a fire, we were forced to enter the chaparal for wood, and in doing so we ran many prickles into our legs, which caused us great annoyance afterwards, as they fester, if not immediately pulled out.

The water at this well was very salt, and made very indifferent coffee. McCarthy called it the “meanest halting-place we shall have.”

At 8 P.M. McCarthy spread a bullock-rug on the sand near the carriage, on which we should have slept very comfortably, had it not been for the prickles, the activity of many fleas, and the incursions of wild hogs. Mr Sargent and the Judge, with much presence of mind, had encamped seventy yards off, and left to us the duty of driving away these hogs. I was twice awoke by one of these unclean animals breathing in my face.

We did about twenty-one miles to-day.

[1] The value of Confederate paper has since decreased. At Charleston I was offered six to one for my gold, and at Richmond eight to one.

12th April (Sunday).—I took an affectionate leave of Don Pablo, Behnsen, Oetling, & Co., all of whom were in rather weak health on account of last night’s supper.

The excellent Maloney insisted on providing me with preserved meats and brandy for my arduous journey through Texas. I feel extremely grateful for the kindness of all these gentlemen, who rendered my stay in Matamoros very agreeable. The hotel would have been intolerable.

I crossed to Brownsville at 3 P.m., where I was hospitably received by my friend Ituria, who confesses to having made a deal of money lately by cotton speculations. I attended evening parade, and saw General Bee, Colonels Luckett, Buchel, Duff, and ——. The latter (who hanged Mongomery) improves on acquaintance. General Bee took me for a drive in his ambulance, and introduced me to Major Leon Smith, who captured the Harriet Lane. The latter pressed me most vehemently to wait until General Magruder’s arrival, and he promised, if I did so, that I should be sent to San Antonio in a first-rate ambulance. Major Leon Smith is a seafaring man by profession, and was put by General Magruder in command of one of the small steamers which captured the Harriet Lane at Galveston, the crews of the steamers being composed of Texan cavalry soldiers. He told me that the resistance offered after boarding was feeble; and he declared that, had not the remainder of the Yankee vessels escaped unfairly under flag of truce, they would likewise have been taken.

After the Harriet Lane had been captured, she was fired into by the other ships; and Major Smith told me that, his blood being up, he sent the ex-master of the Harriet Lane to Commodore Renshaw, with a message that, unless the firing was stopped, he would massaCREE the captured crew. After hearing this, Commodore Renshaw blew up his ship, with himself in her, after having given an order to the remainder, sauve qui peut.

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.”

9th April (Thursday).—Captain Hancock and Mr Anderson left for Bagdad in Mr Behnsen’s carriage at noon.

I crossed over to Brownsville at 11.30, and dined with Colonels Luckett, Buchel, and Duff, at about one o’clock. As we were all colonels, and as every one called the other colonel tout court, it was difficult to make out which was meant. They were obliged to confess that Brownsville was about the rowdiest town of Texas, which was the most lawless state in the Confederacy; but they declared they had never seen an inoffensive man subjected to insult or annoyance, although the shooting-down and stringing-up systems are much in vogue, being almost a necessity in a thinly-populated state, much frequented by desperadoes driven away from more civilised countries.

Colonel Luckett gave me a letter to General Van Dorn, whom they consider the beau ideal of a cavalry soldier. They said from time immemorial the Yankees had been despised by the Southerners, as a race inferior to themselves in courage and in honourable sentiments.

At 3 P.M. Colonel Buchel and I rode to Colonel Duffs camp, distant about thirteen miles. I was given a Mexican saddle, in which one is forced to sit almost in a standing position. The stirrups are very long, and right underneath you, which throws back the feet.

Duff’s regiment is called the Partisan Eangers. Although a fine lot of men, they don’t look well at a foot parade, on account of the small amount of drill they have undergone, and the extreme disorder of their clothing. They are armed with carbines and six-shooters.

I saw some men come in from a scouting expedition against the Indians, 300 miles off. They told me they were usually in the habit of scalping an Indian when they caught him, and that they never spared one, as they were such an untamable and ferocious race. Another habit which they have learned from the Indians is, to squat on their heels in a most peculiar manner. It has an absurd and extraordinary effect to see a quantity of them so squatting in a row or in a circle.

The regiment had been employed in quelling a counter revolution of Unionists in Texas. Nothing could exceed the rancour with which they spoke of these renegadoes, as they called them, who were principally Germans.

When I suggested to some of the Texans that they might as well bury the body of Mongomery a little better, they did not at all agree with me, but said it ought not to have been buried at all, but left hanging as a warning to other evil-doers.

With regard to the contentment of their slaves, Colonel Duff pointed out a good number they had with them, who had only to cross the river for freedom if they wished it.

Colonel Buchel and I slept in Colonel Duffs tent, and at night we were serenaded. The officers and men really sang uncommonly well, and they finished with “God save the Queen!”

Colonel Duff comes from Perth. He was one of the leading characters in the secession of Texas; and he said his brother was a banker in Dunkeld.

8th April (Wednesday).— Poor Don Pablo was “taken ill” at breakfast, and was obliged to go to bed. We were all much distressed at his illness, which was brought on by over-anxiety connected with his official duties; and the way he is bothered by English and “Blue-nose”[1] skippers is enough to try any one.

Mr Behnsen and Mr Colville returned from Bagdad this afternoon, much disgusted with the attractions of that city.

General Bee’s orderly was assaulted in Matamoros yesterday by a renegado with a six-shooter. This circumstance prevented the General from coming to Matamoros as he had intended.

At 5 P.M. Captain Hancock and I crossed over to Brownsville, and were conducted in a very smart ambulance to General Bee’s quarters, and afterwards to see a dress parade of the 3d Texas infantry.

Lieutenant-Colonel Buchel is the working man of the corps, as he is a professional soldier. The men were well clothed, though great variety existed in their uniforms. Some companies wore blue, some grey, some had French kepis, others wideawakes and Mexican hats. They were a fine body of men, and really drilled uncommonly well. They went through a sort of guard-mounting parade in a most creditable manner. About a hundred out of a thousand were conscripts.[2]

After the parade, we adjourned to Colonel Luckett’s to drink prosperity to the 3d Regiment.

We afterwards had a very agreeable dinner with General Bee; Colonels Luckett and Buchel dined also. The latter is a regular soldier of fortune. He served in the French and Turkish armies, as also in the Carlist and the Mexican wars, and I was told he had been a principal in many affairs of honour; but he is a quiet and unassuming little man, and although a sincere Southerner, is not nearly so violent against the Yankees as Luckett.

At 10 P.M. Captain Hancock and myself went to a ball given by the authorities of the “Heroica y invicta ciudad de Matamoros” (as they choose to call it), in honour of the French defeat. General Bee and Colonel Luckett also went to this fete, the invitation being the first civility they had received since the violation of the Mexican soil in the Davis-Mongomery affair. They were dressed in plain clothes, and carried pistols concealed in case of accidents.

We all drove together from Brownsville to the Consulate, and entered the ball-room en masse.

The outside of the municipal hall was lit up with some splendour, and it was graced by a big placard, on which was written the amiable sentiment, “Muera Napoleon—viva Mejico!” Semi-successful squibs and crackers were let off at intervals. In the square also was a triumphal arch, with an inscription to the effect that “the effete nations of Europe might tremble.” I made great friends with the gobernador and administrador, who endeavoured to entice me into dancing, but I excused myself by saying that Europeans were unable to dance in the graceful Mexican fashion. Captain Hancock was much horrified when this greasyfaced gobernador (who keeps a small shop) stated his intention of visiting the Immortalité with six of his friends, and sleeping on board for a night or two.

The dances were a sort of slow valse, and between the dances the girls were planted up against the wall, and not allowed to be spoken to by any one. They were mostly a plain-headed, badly-painted lot, and ridiculously dressed.

[1] Nova-Scotian.

[2] During all my travels in the South 1 never saw a regiment so well clothed or so well drilled as this one, which has never been in action, or been exposed to much hardship.