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

25th April (Saturday).—San Antonio is prettily situated on both banks of the river of the same name. It should contain about 10,000 inhabitants, and is the largest place in Texas, except Galveston.

The houses are well built of stone, and they are generally only one or two storeys high. All have verandahs in front.

Before the war San Antonio was very prosperous, and rapidly increasing in size; but trade is now almost at a complete stand-still. All the male population under forty are in the military service, and many necessary articles are at famine prices. Coffee costs $7 a lb.

Menger’s hotel is a large and imposing edifice, but its proprietor (a civil German) was on the point of shutting it up for the present.

During the morning I visited Colonel Bankhead, a tall, gentlemanlike Virginian, who was commanding officer of the troops here. He told me a great deal about the Texan history, the Jesuit missions, and the Louisiana purchase, &c.; and he alarmed me by doubting whether I should be able to cross the Mississippi if Banks had taken Alexandria.

I also made the acquaintance of Major Minter, another Virginian, who told me he had served in the 2d cavalry in the old United States army. The following officers in the Confederate army were in the same regiment—viz., General A. S. Johnston (killed at Shiloh), General Lee, General Van Dorn, General Hardee, General Kirby Smith, and General Hood.[1]

By the advice of McCarthy, I sent my portmanteau and some of my heavy things to be sold by auction, as I could not possibly carry them with me.

I took my place by the stage for Alleyton (Houston): it cost $40; in old times it was $13.

I dined with McCarthy and young Duff at 3 P.M. The latter would not hear of my paying my share of the expenses of the journey from Brownsville. Mrs McCarthy was thrown into a great state of agitation and delight by receiving a letter from her mother, who is in Yankeedom. Texas is so cut off that she only hears once in many months.

Colonel and Mrs Bankhead called for me in their ambulance at 5 P.M., and they drove me to see the source of the San Antonio, which is the most beautiful clear spring I ever saw. We also saw the extensive foundations for a tannery now being built by the Confederate Government.

The country is very pretty, and is irrigated in an ingenious manner by ditches cut from the river in all directions. It is thus in a great degree rendered independent of rain.

At San Antonio spring we were entertained by a Major Young, a queer little naval officer,—why a major I couldn’t discover.

Mrs Bankhead is a violent Southerner. She was twice ordered out of Memphis by the Federals on account of her husband’s principles; but she says that she was treated with courtesy and kindness by the Federal General Sherman, who carried out the orders of his Government with regret.

None of the Southern people with whom I have spoken entertain any hopes of a speedy termination of the war. They say it must last all Lincoln’s presidency, and perhaps a good deal longer.

In the neighbourhood of San Antonio, one-third of the population is German, and many of them were at first by no means loyal to the Confederate cause. They objected much to the conscription, and some even resisted by force of arms; but these were soon settled by Duff’s regiment, and it is said they are now reconciled to the new regime.

My portmanteau, with what was in it—for I gave away part of my things—sold for $323. Its value in England couldn’t have been more than £8 or £9. The portmanteau itself, which was an old one, fetched $51; a very old pair of butcher boots, $32; five shirts $42; an old overcoat $25.

[1] Also the Federal Generals Thomas and Stoneman.

24th April (Friday).—We made a start at 4.15 A.M., and with the assistance of McCarthy, we managed to lose our way; but at 6.15 a loud cheer from the box, of “Hoorraw for h—ll! who’s afraid of fire?” proclaimed that Mr Sargent had come in sight of Grey’s ranch.

After buying some eggs and Indian corn there, we crossed the deep bed of the river San Antonio. Its banks are very steep and picturesque.

We halted immediately beyond, to allow the mules to feed for an hour. A woman was murdered at a ranch close by some time ago, and five bad characters were put to death at San Antonio by the vigilance committee on suspicion.

We crossed the Selado river at 11, and nooned it in its neighbourhood.

Mr Sargent and the Judge finished the gin; and the former, being rather drunk, entertained us with a detailed description of his treatment of a refractory negro girl, which, by his own account, must have been very severe. McCarthy was much disgusted at the story.[1]

After bathing in the Selado, Mr Sargent, being determined to beat Ward, pushed on for San Antonio; and we drew up before Menger’s hotel at 3 P.M., our mules dead beat — our driver having fulfilled his promise of “making his long-eared horses howl.”

Later in the day I walked through the streets with McCarthy to his store, which is a very large building, but now desolate, everything having been sold off. He was of course greeted by his numerous friends, and amongst others I saw a negro come up to him, shake hands, and welcome him back.

I was introduced to Colonel Duffs brother, who is also a very good-looking man; but he has not thrown off his British nationality and become a “citizen.”

The distance from Brownsville to San Antonio is 330 miles, and we have been 11 days and 4 hours en route.

[1] However happy and well off the slaves may be as a general rule, yet there must be many instances (like that of Mr Sargent) of ill treatment and cruelty. Mr Sargent is a Northerner by birth, and is without any of the kind feeling which is nearly always felt by Southerners for negroes.—July 1863.

23d April (Thursday).—The wily Mr Sargent drove the animals down to the mud-hole in the middle of last night, and so stole a march upon Ward.

Our goat’s flesh having spoiled, had to be thrown away this morning. We started at 5.30 A.M., and reached “Rocky” at 7.30.; but before this two of Ward’s horses had “caved in,” which completely restored our driver’s good-humour.

Rocky consists of two huts in the midst of a stony country; and about a mile beyond it we reached a pond, watered our mules, and filled our barrels. The water was very muddy to look at, but not bad to drink.

The mules were lazy to-day; and Mr Sargent was forced to fill his bucket with stones, and pelt the leaders occasionally.

At 8 A.M. we reached an open, undulating prairie, and halted at 10.30. Mr Sargent and I killed and cooked the two chickens.

He has done me the honour to call me a “right good companion for the road.” He also told me that at one time he kept a hotel at El Paso — a sort of half-way house on the overland route to California— and was rapidly making his fortune when the war totally ruined him. This accounts for his animosity to “Uncle Abe.” [1]

We hitched in again at 3 P.m., and after pushing through some deepish sand, we halted for the night only twenty-four miles from San Antonio. No corn or water, but plenty of grass; our food, also, was now entirely expended. Mr Ward struggled up at 8.15, making a desperate effort to keep up with us, and this rivalry between Sargent and him was of great service.

This was our last night of camping out, and I felt almost sorry for it, for I have enjoyed the journey in spite of the hardships. The country through which I have passed would be most fertile and productive (at least the last 150 miles), were it not for the great irregularity of the seasons. Sometimes there is hardly any rain for two and three years together.

[1]General Longstreet remembered both Sargent and the Judge perfectly, and he was much amused by my experiences with these worthies. General Longstreet had been quartered on the Texan frontiers a long time when he was in the old army.—August 1863

22d April (Wednesday).—We got under weigh at 5 A.M., the mules looking rather mean for want of grass.

At 8 Am. we reached the Nueces river, the banks of which are very steep, and are bordered with a beautiful belt of live oak-trees, covered with mustang grapes.

On the other side of the Nueces is “Oakville,” a miserable settlement, consisting of about twenty wooden huts. We bought some butter there, and caught up Ward’s waggons. The women at Oakville were most anxious to buy snuff. It appears that the Texan females are in the habit of dipping snuff—which means, putting it into their mouths instead of their noses. They rub it against their teeth with a blunted stick.

We reached grass about 10 A.M., and “nooned it,” the weather being very trying—very sultry, without sun or wind.

We hitched in at 1.15 — Ward’s waggons in our front, and a Frenchman’s four-horse team in our rear. At 4 P.M. we reached the “Weedy,” a creek which, to our sorrow, was perfectly dry. We drove on till 7 P.M., and halted at some good grass. There being a report of water in the neighbourhood, Mr Sargent, the Judge, Ward, and the Frenchman, started to explore; and when, at length, they did discover a wretched little mud-hole, it appears that a desperate conflict for the water ensued, for the Judge returned to us a mass of mud, and presenting a very crestfallen appearance. Shortly after, Mr Sargent appeared, in such a bad humour that he declined to cook, to eat, to drink, or do anything but swear vehemently.

Deprived by this contretemps of our goat’s flesh we had recourse to an old ham and very stale bread.

We met many cotton trains and government waggons to-day, and I think we have progressed about thirty-four miles.

21st April (Tuesday).—We started at 5 A.M., and reached a hamlet called “Casa Blanca” at 6. We procured a kid, some Indian corn, and two fowls in this neighbourhood.

We had now quitted the flat country, and entered an undulating or “rolling” country, full of live oaks of very respectable size, and we had also got out of the mud.

Mr Sargent and the Judge got drunk again about 8 A.M., which, however, had a beneficial effect upon the speed. We descended the hills at a terrific pace—or, as Mr Sargent expressed it, “Going like h—ll a-beating tan bark.”

We “nooned it” at a small creek; and after unhitching, Mr Sargent and the Judge had a row with one another, after which Mr Sargent killed and cooked the goat, using my knife for these operations. With all his faults he certainly is a capital butcher, cook, and mule-driver. He takes great care of his animals, and is careful to inform us that the increased pace we have been going at is not attributable to gin.

He was very complimentary to me, because I acted as assistant cook and butcher.

Mr Ward’s party passed us about 1 P.M. The front wheels of his buggy having now smashed, it is hitched in rear of one of the waggons.

We made a pretty good afternoon’s drive through a wood of post oaks, where we saw another rattlesnake, which we tried to shoot.

We halted at Spring creek at 6.30 P.m.; water rather brackish, and no grass for the mules.

The Judge gave us some of his experiences as a filibuster. He declares that a well-cooked polecat is as good to eat as a pig, and that stewed rattlesnake is not so bad as might be supposed. The Texans call the Mexicans “greasers,” the latter retort by the name “gringo.”

We are now living luxuriously upon eggs and goat’s flesh; and I think we have made about thirty-two miles to-day.

20th April (Monday). — I slept well last night in spite of the numerous prairie-wolves which surrounded us, making a most dismal noise.

The Jew was ill again, but both Mr Sargent and the Judge were very kind to him; so also was McCarthy, who declared that a person incapable of protecting himself, and sickly, such as this little Jew, is always sure of kind treatment and compassion, even from the wildest Texans.

We started at 5 A.M., and had to get through some dreadful mud—Mr Sargent in an awful bad humour, and using terrific language.

We were much delayed by this unfortunate rain, which had converted a good road into a quagmire. We detected a rattlesnake crawling along this morning, but there are not nearly so many of them in this country as there used to be.

We halted at 9 A.M., and, to make a fire for cooking, we set a rat-ranch alight, which answered very well; but one big rat, annoyed by our proceedings, emerged hastily from his den, and very nearly jumped into the frying-pan.

Two Texan rangers, belonging to Taylor’s regiment, rode up to us whilst we were at breakfast. These rangers all wear the most enormous spurs I ever saw.

We resumed our journey at 12.30, and reached a creek[1] called “Agua Dulce” at 2 P.M. McCarthy and I got out before crossing to forage at some huts close by. We got two dozen eggs and some lard; but, on returning to the road, we found that Mr Sargent had pursued his usual plan of leaving us in the lurch.

I luckily was able to get hold of a Mexican boy, and rode across the creek en croupe. McCarthy dismounted a negro, and so got over.

We halted at 5 P.M.

After dark McCarthy crossed the prairie to visit some friends who were encamped half a mile distant. He lost his way in returning, and wandered about for several hours. The Judge, with great presence of mind, kept the fire up, and he found us at last.

The heat from nine to two is pretty severe; but in Texas there is generally a cool sea-breeze, which makes it bearable.

[1] All streams or rivers are called creeks, and pronounced “criks.”

19th April (Sunday).—At 1 A.M. this morning, our slumbers on the bullock-rug were disturbed by a sudden and most violent thunder-storm. McCarthy and I had only just time to rush into the carriage, and hustle our traps underneath it, when the rain began to descend in torrents.

We got inside with the little Jew (who was much alarmed by the thunder); whilst Mr Sargent and the Judge crept underneath.

The rain lasted two hours; and at daylight we were able to refresh ourselves by drinking the water from the puddles, and effect a start.

But fate seemed adverse to our progress. No sooner had we escaped from the sand than we fell into the mud, which was still worse.

We toiled on till 11.30 A.m., at which hour we reached “King’s Ranch,” which for several days I had heard spoken of as a sort of Elysium, marking as it does the termination of the sands, and the commencement of comparative civilisation.

We halted in front of the house, and after cooking and eating, I walked up to the “ranch,” which is a comfortable, well-furnished wooden building.

Mr and Mrs King had gone to Brownsville; but we were received by Mrs Bee, the wife of the Brownsville general, who had heard I was on the road.

She is a nice lively little woman, a red-hot Southerner, glorying in the facts that she has no Northern relations or friends, and that she is a member of the Church of England.

Mr King first came to Texas as a steamboat captain, but now owns an immense tract of country, with 16,000 head of cattle, situated, however, in a wild and almost uninhabited district. King’s Ranch is distant from Brownsville only 125 miles, and we have been six days in reaching it.

After drying our clothes and our food after the rain of last night, we started again at 2.30 P.M.

We now entered a boundless and most fertile prairie, upon which, as far as the eye could reach, cattle were feeding.

Bulls and cows, horses and mares, came to stare at us as we passed. They all seemed sleek and in good condition, yet they get nothing but what they can pick up on the prairie.

I saw a man on horseback kill a rabbit with his revolver. I also saw a scorpion for the first time.

We halted at 5.30 P.M., and had to make our fire principally of cow-dung, as wood is very scarce on this prairie.

We gave up the Judge’s horse at King’s Ranch. The lawgiver now rides on the box with Mr Sargent.

18th April (Saturday).—At daylight we discovered, to our horror, that three of our mules were absent; but after an hour’s search they were brought back in triumph by the Judge.

This delayed our start till 6.30.A.M.

I walked ahead again with the Judge, who explained to me that he was a “senator,” or member of the Upper House of Texas — “just like your House of Lords;” he said. He gets $5 a-day whilst sitting, and is elected for four years.[1]

We struck water at 8.30 A.M., and bought a lamb for a dollar. We also bought some beef, which in this country is dried in strips by the sun, after being cut off the bullock, and it keeps good for any length of time. To cook it, the strips are thrown for a few minutes on hot embers.

One of our mules was kicked last night. Mr Sargent rubbed the wound with brandy, which did it much good.

Soon after leaving this well, Mr Sargent discovered that, by following the track of Mr Ward’s waggons, he had lost the way. He swore dreadfully, and solaced himself with so much gin, that when we arrived at Sulphur Creek at 12.30, both he and the Judge were, by their own confession, quite tight.

We halted, ate some salt meat, and bathed in this creek, which is about forty yards broad and three feet deep.

Mr Sargent’s extreme “tightness” caused him to fall asleep on the box when we started again, but the more seasoned Judge drove the mules.

The signs of getting out of the sands now began to be apparent; and at 5 P.m. we were able to halt at a very decent place with grass, but no water. We suffered here for want of water, our stock being very nearly expended.

Mr Sargent, who was now comparatively sober, killed the sheep most scientifically at 5.30 P.M.; and at 6.30 we were actually devouring it, and found it very good. Mr Sargent cooked it by the simple process of stewing junks of it in a frying-pan, but we had only just enough water to do this.

[1] I was afterwards told that the Judge’s term of service had expired. El Paso was his district.

17th April (Friday).—Having spent last night in a Mexican saddle, our bullock-rug in the sand appeared to me a most luxurious bed.

We hitched in at 5 A.M., and struck water at 9 A.M., which, though muddy in appearance, was not so bad to drink.

I walked ahead with the Judge, who, when sober, is a well-informed and sensible man. Mr Sargent and I are great friends, and, rough as he is, we get on capitally together.

A Mr Ward, with three vehicles—a rival of Mr Sargent’s—is travelling in our company. He drove his buggy against a tree and knocked its top off, to the intense delight of the latter.

We breakfasted under difficulties. The wind being high, it drove up the sand in clouds and spoiled our food. Our travelling companion, Mr ——, is a poor little weakly Israelite, but very inoffensive, although he speaks with a horrible Yankee twang, which Mr Sargent and the Judge are singularly free from.

We went on again at 2 P.M. I had a long talk with a big mulatto slave woman, who was driving one of Ward’s waggons. She told me she had been raised in Tennessee, and that three years ago she had been taken from her mistress for a bad debt, to their mutual sorrow. “Both,” she said, “cried bitterly at parting.” She doesn’t like San Antonio at all, “too much hanging and murdering for me,” she said. She had seen a man hanged in the middle of the day, just in front of her door.

Mr Sargent bought two chickens and some eggs at a ranch, but one of the chickens got up a tree, and was caught and eaten by the Ward faction. Our camp tonight looks very pretty by the light of the fires.