A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

Army Life in a Black Regiment

T >> Thomas Wentworth Higginson >> Army Life in a Black Regiment




Suddenly a light gleamed for an instant before me, as if from a house in
a grove of great trees upon a bank; and I knew that it came from the
window of a ruined plantation-building, where our most advanced outposts
had their headquarters. The flash revealed to me every point of the
situation. I saw at once where I was, and how I got there: that the tide
had turned while I was swimming, and with a much briefer interval of
slack-water than I had been led to suppose,--that I had been swept a
good way down stream, and was far beyond all possibility of regaining
the point I had left.

Could I, however, retain my strength to swim one or two hundred yards
farther, of which I had no doubt,--and if the water did not ebb too
rapidly, of which I had more fear,--then I was quite safe. Every stroke
took me more and more out of the power of the current, and there might
even be an eddy to aid me. I could not afford to be carried down much
farther, for there the channel made a sweep toward the wrong side of the
river; but there was now no reason why I should not reach land. I could
dismiss all fear, indeed, except that of being fired upon by our own
sentinels, many of whom were then new recruits, and with the usual
disposition to shoot first and investigate afterwards.

I found myself swimming in shallow and shallower water, and the flats
seemed almost bare when I neared the shore, where the great gnarled
branches of the liveoaks hung far over the muddy bank. Floating on my
back for noiselessness, I paddled rapidly in with my hands, expecting
momentarily to hear the challenge of the picket, and the ominous click
so likely to follow. I knew that some one should be pacing to and fro,
along that beat, but could not tell at what point he might be at that
precise moment. Besides, there was a faint possibility that some chatty
corporal might have carried the news of my bath thus far along the line,
and they might be partially prepared for this unexpected visitor.
Suddenly, like another flash, came the quick, quaint challenge,--

"Halt! Who's go dar?"

"F-f-friend with the c-c-countersign," retorted I, with chilly, but
conciliatory energy, rising at full length out of the shallow water, to
show myself a man and a brother.

"Ac-vance, friend, and give de countersign," responded the literal
soldier, who at such a tune would have accosted : a spirit of light or
goblin damned with no other formula.

I advanced and gave it, he recognized my voice at once. | And then and
there, as I stood, a dripping ghost, beneath the f trees before him, the
unconscionable fellow, wishing to exhaust upon me the utmost
resources of military hospitality, deliberately presented arms!

Now a soldier on picket, or at night, usually presents arms to nobody;
but a sentinel on camp-guard by day is expected to perform that
ceremony to anything in human shape that has two rows of buttons. Here
was a human shape, but so utterly buttonless that it exhibited not
even a rag to which a button could by any earthly possibility be
appended, button-less even potentially; and my blameless Ethiopian
presented arms to even this. Where, then, are the theories of Carlyle,
the axioms of "Sartor Resartus," the inability of humanity to conceive
"a naked Duke of Windlestraw addressing a naked House of Lords"?
Cautioning my adherent, however, as to the proprieties suitable for
such occasions thenceforward, I left him watching the river with
renewed vigilance, and awaiting the next merman who should report
himself.

Finding my way to the building, I hunted up a sergeant and a blanket,
got a fire kindled in the dismantled chimney, and sat before it in my
single garment, like a moist but undismayed Choctaw, until horse and
clothing could be brought round from the causeway. It seemed strange
that the morning had not yet dawned, after the uncounted periods that
must have elapsed; but when the wardrobe arrived I looked at my watch
and found that my night in the water had lasted precisely one hour.

Galloping home, I turned in with alacrity, and without a drop of
whiskey, and waked a few hours after in excellent condition. The rapid
changes of which that Department has seen so many--and, perhaps, to so
little purpose--soon transferred us to a different scene. I have been on
other scouts since then, and by various processes, but never with a zest
so novel as was afforded by that night's experience. The thing soon got
wind in the regiment, and led to only one ill consequence, so far as I
know. It rather suppressed a way I had of lecturing the officers on the
importance of reducing their personal baggage to a minimum. They got a
trick of congratulating me, very respectfully, on the thoroughness with
which I had once conformed my practice to my precepts.




Chapter 7
Up the Edisto


In reading military history, one finds the main interest to lie,
undoubtedly, in the great campaigns, where a man, a regiment, a brigade,
is but a pawn in the game. But there is a charm also in the more free
and adventurous life of partisan warfare, where, if the total sphere be
humbler, yet the individual has more relative importance, and the sense
of action is more personal and keen. This is the reason given by the
eccentric Revolutionary biographer, Weems, for writing the Life of
Washington first, and then that of Marion. And there were, certainly, hi
the early adventures of the colored troops in the Department of the
South, some of the same elements of picturesqueness that belonged to
Marion's band, on the same soil, with the added feature that the blacks
were fighting for then- personal liberties, of which Marion had helped
to deprive them.

It is stated by Major-General Gillmore, in his "Siege of Charleston,"
as one of the three points in his preliminary strategy, that an
expedition was sent up the Edisto River to destroy a bridge on the
Charleston and Savannah Railway. As one of the early raids of the
colored troops, this expedition may deserve narration, though it was,
in a strategic point of view, a disappointment. It has already been
told, briefly and on the whole with truth, by Greeley and others, but
I will venture on a more complete account.

The project dated back earlier than General Gillmore's siege, and had
originally no connection with that movement. It had been formed by
Captain Trowbridge and myself in camp, and was based on facts learned
from the men. General Saxton and Colonel W. W. H. Davis, the successive
post-commanders, had both favored it. It had been also approved by
General Hunter, before his sudden removal, though he regarded the bridge
as a secondary affair, because there was another railway communication
between the two cities. But as my main object was to obtain permission
to go, I tried to make the most of all results which might follow, while
it was very clear that the raid would harass and confuse the enemy,
and be the means of bringing away many of the slaves. General Hunter
had, therefore, accepted the project mainly as a stroke for freedom and
black recruits; and General Gillmore, because anything that looked
toward action found favor in his eyes, and because it would be
convenient to him at that time to effect a diversion, if nothing more.

It must be remembered that, after the first capture of Port Royal, the
outlying plantations along the whole Southern coast were abandoned, and
the slaves withdrawn into the interior. It was necessary to ascend some
river for thirty miles in order to reach the black population at all.
This ascent could only be made by night, as it was a slow process, and
the smoke of a steamboat could be seen for a great distance. The streams
were usually shallow, winding, and muddy, and the difficulties of
navigation were such as to require a full moon and a flood tide. It was
really no easy matter to bring everything to bear, especially as every
projected raid must be kept a secret so far as possible. However, we
were now somewhat familiar with such undertakings, half military, half
naval, and the thing to be done on the Edisto was precisely what we had
proved to be practicable on the St. Mary's and the St. John's,--to drop
anchor before the enemy's door some morning at daybreak, without his
having dreamed of our approach.

Since a raid made by Colonel Montgomery up the Combahee, two months
before, the vigilance of the Rebels had increased. But we had
information that upon the South Edisto, or Pon-Pon River, the rice
plantations were still being actively worked by a large number of
negroes, in reliance on obstructions placed at the mouth of that
narrow stream, where it joins the main river, some twenty miles from
the coast. This point was known to be further protected by a battery
of unknown strength, at Wiltown Bluff, a commanding and defensible
situation. The obstructions consisted of a row of strong wooden piles
across the river; but we convinced ourselves that these must now be
much decayed, and that Captain Trowbridge, an excellent engineer
officer, could remove them by the proper apparatus. Our proposition
was to man the John Adams, an armed ferry-boat, which had before done
us much service,--and which has now reverted to the pursuits of peace,
it is said, on the East Boston line,--to ascend in this to Wiltown
Bluff, silence the battery, and clear a passage through the
obstructions. Leaving the John Adams to protect this point, we could
then ascend the smaller stream with two light-draft boats, and perhaps
burn the bridge, which was ten miles higher, before the enemy could
bring sufficient force to make our position at Wiltown Bluff
untenable.

The expedition was organized essentially upon this plan. The smaller
boats were the Enoch Dean,--a river steamboat, which carried a ten-pound
Parrott gun, and a small howitzer,--and a little mosquito of a tug, the
Governor Milton, upon which, with the greatest difficulty, we found room
for two twelve-pound Armstrong guns, with their gunners, forming a
section of the First Connecticut Battery, under Lieutenant Clinton,
aided by a squad from my own regiment, under Captain James. The John
Adams carried, I if I remember rightly, two Parrott guns (of twenty and
ten | pounds calibre) and a howitzer or two. The whole force of men did
not exceed two hundred and fifty.

We left Beaufort, S. C., on the afternoon of July 9th, 1863. In former
narrations I have sufficiently described the charm of a moonlight
ascent into a hostile country, upon an unknown stream, the dark and
silent banks, the rippling water, the wail of the reed-birds, the
anxious watch, the breathless listening, the veiled lights, the
whispered orders. To this was now to be added the vexation of an
insufficient pilotage, for our negro guide knew only the upper river,
and, as it finally proved, not even that, while, to take us over the
bar which obstructed the main stream, we must borrow a pilot from
Captain Dutch, whose gunboat blockaded that point. This active naval
officer, however, whose boat expeditions had penetrated all the lower
branches of those rivers, could supply our want, and we borrowed from
him not only a pilot, but a surgeon, to replace our own, who had been
prevented by an accident from coming with us. Thus accompanied, we
steamed over the bar in safety, had a peaceful ascent, passed the
island of Jehossee,--the fine estate of Governor Aiken, then left
undisturbed by both sides,--and fired our first shell into the camp at
Wiltown Bluff at four o'clock in the morning.

The battery--whether fixed or movable we knew not--met us with a
promptness that proved very shortlived. After three shots it was
silent, but we could not tell why. The bluff was wooded, and we could
see but little. The only course was to land, under cover of the guns.
As the firing ceased and the smoke cleared away, I looked across the
rice-fields which lay beneath the bluff. The first sunbeams glowed
upon their emerald levels, and on the blossoming hedges along the
rectangular dikes. What were those black dots which everywhere
appeared? Those moist meadows had become alive with human heads, and
along each narrow path came a straggling file of men and women, all on
a run for the river-side. I went ashore with a boat-load of troops at
once. The landing was difficult and marshy. The astonished negroes
tugged us up the bank, and gazed on us as if we had been Cortez and
Columbus. They kept arriving by land much faster than we could come by
water; every moment increased the crowd, the jostling, the mutual
clinging, on that miry foothold. What a scene it was! With the wild
faces, eager figures, strange garments, it seemed, as one of the poor
things reverently suggested, "like notin' but de judgment day."
Presently they began to come from the houses also, with their little
bundles on their heads; then with larger bundles. Old women, trotting
on the narrow paths, would kneel to pray a little prayer, still
balancing the bundle; and then would suddenly spring up, urged by the
accumulating procession behind, and would move on till irresistibly
compelled by thankfulness to dip down for another invocation.

Reaching us, every human being must grasp our hands, amid exclamations
of "Bress you, mas'r," and "Bress de Lord," at the rate of four of the
latter ascriptions to one of the former.

Women brought children on their shoulders; small black boys learned on
their back little brothers equally inky, and, gravely depositing them,
shook hands. Never had I seen human beings so clad, or rather so
unclad, in such amazing squalid-ness and destitution of garments. I
recall one small urchin without a rag of clothing save the basque
waist of a lady's dress, bristling with whalebones, and worn wrong
side before, beneath which his smooth ebony legs emerged like those of
an ostrich from its plumage. How weak is imagination, how cold is
memory, that I ever cease, for a day of my life, to see before me the
picture of that astounding scene!

Yet at the time we were perforce a little impatient of all this piety,
protestation, and hand-pressing; for the vital thing was to ascertain
what force had been stationed at the bluff, and whether it was yet
withdrawn. The slaves, on the other hand, were too much absorbed in
their prospective freedom to aid us in taking any further steps to
secure it. Captain Trowbridge, who had by this time landed at a
different point, got quite into despair over the seeming deafness of the
people to all questions. "How many soldiers are there on the bluff?" he
asked of the first-comer.

"Mas'r," said the man, stuttering terribly, "I c-c-c--"

"Tell me how many soldiers there are!" roared Trowbridge, in his mighty
voice, and all but shaking the poor old thing, in his thirst for
information.

"O mas'r," recommenced in terror the incapacitated wit-ness, "I
c-c-carpenter!" holding up eagerly a little stump of a hatchet, his
sole treasure, as if his profession ought to excuse from all military
opinions.

I wish that it were possible to present all this scene from the point
of view of the slaves themselves. It can be most nearly done, perhaps,
by quoting the description given of a similar scene on the Combahee
River, by a very aged man, who had been brought down on the previous
raid, already mentioned. I wrote it down in tent, long after, while
the old man recited the tale, with much gesticulation, at the door;
and it is by far the best glimpse I have ever had, through a negro's
eyes, at these wonderful birthdays of freedom.

"De people was all a hoein', mas'r," said the old man. "Dey was a hoein'
in the rice-field, when de gunboats come. Den ebry man drap dem hoe, and
leff de rice. De mas'r he stand and call, 'Run to de wood for hide!
Yankee come, sell you to Cuba! run for hide!' Ebry man he run, and, my
God! run all toder way!

"Mas'r stand in de wood, peep, peep, faid for truss [afraid to trust].
He say, 'Run to de wood!' and ebry man run by him, straight to de boat.

"De brack sojer so presumptious, dey come right ashore, hold up dere
head. Fus' ting I know, dere was a barn, ten tousand bushel rough rice,
all in a blaze, den mas'r's great house, all cracklin' up de roof.
Didn't I keer for see 'em blaze? Lor, mas'r, didn't care notin' at all,
_was gwine to de boat_."

Dore's Don Quixote could not surpass the sublime absorption in which the
gaunt old man, with arm uplifted, described this stage of affairs, till
he ended in a shrewd chuckle, worthy of Sancho Panza. Then he resumed.

"De brack sojers so presumptious!" This he repeated three times, slowly
shaking his head in an ectasy of admiration. It flashed upon me that the
apparition of a black soldier must amaze those still in bondage, much as
a butterfly just from the chrysalis might astound his fellow-grubs. I
inwardly vowed that my soldiers, at least, should be as "presumptious"
as I could make them. Then he went on.

"Ole woman and I go down to de boat; den dey say behind us, 'Rebels
comin'l Rebels comin'!' Ole woman say, 'Come ahead, come plenty
ahead!' I hab notin' on but my shirt and pantaloon; ole woman one
single frock he hab on, and one handkerchief on he head; I leff
all-two my blanket and run for de Rebel come, and den dey didn't come,
didn't truss for come.

"Ise eighty-eight year old, mas'r. My ole Mas'r Lowndes keep all de ages
in a big book, and when we come to age ob sense we mark em down ebry
year, so I know. Too ole for come? Mas'r joking. Neber too ole for leave
de land o' bondage. I old, but great good for chil'en, gib tousand tank
ebry day. Young people can go through, _force_ [forcibly], mas'r, but de
ole folk mus' go slow."

Such emotions as these, no doubt, were inspired by our arrival, but we
could only hear their hasty utterance in passing; our duty being, with
the small force already landed, to take possession of the bluff.
Ascending, with proper precautions, the wooded hill, we soon found
ourselves in the deserted camp of a light battery, amid scattered
equipments and suggestions of a very unattractive breakfast. As soon as
possible, skirmishers were thrown out through the woods to the farther
edge of the bluff, while a party searched the houses, finding the usual
large supply of furniture and pictures,--brought up for safety from
below,--but no soldiers. Captain Trowbridge then got the John Adams
beside the row of piles, and went to work for their removal.

Again I had the exciting sensation of being within the hostile
lines,--the eager explorations, the doubts, the watchfulness, the
listening for every sound of coming hoofs. Presently a horse's tread
was heard in earnest, but it was a squad of our own men bringing in
two captured cavalry soldiers. One of these, a sturdy fellow,
submitted quietly to his lot, only begging that, whenever we should
evacuate the bluff, a note should be left behind stating that he was a
prisoner. The other, a very young man, and a member of the "Rebel
Troop," a sort of Cadet corps among the Charleston youths, came to me
in great wrath, complaining that the corporal of our squad had kicked
him after he had surrendered. His air of offended pride was very
rueful, and it did indeed seem a pathetic reversal of fortunes for the
two races. To be sure, the youth was a scion of one of the foremost
families of South Carolina, and when I considered the wrongs which the
black race had encountered from those of his blood, first and last, it
seemed as if the most scrupulous Recording Angel might tolerate one
final kick to square the account. But I reproved the corporal, who
respectfully disclaimed the charge, and said the kick was an incident
of the scuffle. It certainly was not their habit to show such poor
malice; they thought too well of themselves.

His demeanor seemed less lofty, but rather piteous, when he implored me
not to put him on board any vessel which was to ascend the upper stream,
and hinted, by awful implications, the danger of such ascent. This meant
torpedoes, a peril which we treated, in those days, with rather mistaken
contempt. But we found none on the Edisto, and it may be that it was
only a foolish attempt to alarm us.

Meanwhile, Trowbridge was toiling away at the row of piles, which proved
easier to draw out than to saw asunder, either work being hard enough.
It took far longer than we had hoped, and we saw noon approach and the
tide rapidly fall, taking with it, inch by inch, our hopes of effecting
a surprise at the bridge. During this time, and indeed all day, the
detachments on shore, under Captains Whitney and Sampson, were having
occasional skirmishes with the enemy, while the colored people were
swarming to the shore, or running to and fro like ants, with the poor
treasures of their houses. Our busy Quartermaster, Mr. Bingham--who died
afterwards from the overwork of that sultry day--was transporting the
refugees on board the steamer, or hunting up bales of cotton, or
directing the burning of rice-houses, in accordance with our orders. No
dwelling-houses were destroyed or plundered by our men,--Sherman's
"bummers" not having yet arrived,--though I asked no questions as to what
the plantation negroes might bring in their great bundles. One piece of
property, I must admit, seemed a lawful capture,--a United States
dress-sword, of the old pattern, which had belonged to the Rebel general
who afterwards gave the order to bury Colonel Shaw "with his niggers."
That I have retained, not without some satisfaction, to this day.

A passage having been cleared at last, and the tide having turned by
noon, we lost no time in attempting the ascent, leaving the bluff to
be held by the John Adams, and by the small force on shore. We were
scarcely above the obstructions, however, when the little tug went
aground, and the Enoch Dean, ascending a mile farther, had an
encounter with a battery on the right,--perhaps our old enemy,--and
drove it back. Soon after, she also ran aground, a misfortune of which
our opponent strangely took no advantage; and, on getting off, I
thought it best to drop down to the bluff again, as the tide was still
hoplessly low. None can tell, save those who have tried them, the
vexations of those muddy Southern streams, navigable only during a few
hours of flood-tide.

After waiting an hour, the two small vessels again tried the ascent. The
enemy on the right had disappeared; but we could now see, far off on our
left, another light battery moving parallel with the river, apparently
to meet us at some upper bend. But for the present we were safe, with
the low rice-fields on each side of us; and the scene was so peaceful,
it seemed as if all danger were done. For the first time, we saw in
South Carolina blossoming river-banks and low emerald meadows, that
seemed like New England. Everywhere there were the same rectangular
fields, smooth canals, and bushy dikes. A few negroes stole out to us in
dugouts, and breathlessly told us how others had been hurried away by
the overseers. We glided safely on, mile after mile. The day was
unutterably hot, but all else seemed propitious. The men had their
combustibles all ready to fire the bridge, and our hopes were unbounded.

But by degrees the channel grew more tortuous and difficult, and while
the little Milton glided smoothly over everything, the Enoch Dean, my
own boat, repeatedly grounded. On every occasion of especial need,
too, something went wrong in her machinery,--her engine being
constructed on some wholly new patent, of which, I should hope, this
trial would prove entirely sufficient. The black pilot, who was not a
soldier, grew more and more bewildered, and declared that it was the
channel, not his brain, which had gone wrong; the captain, a little
elderly man, sat wringing his hands in the pilot-box; and the engineer
appeared to be mingling his groans with those of the diseased engine.
Meanwhile I, in equal ignorance of machinery and channel, had to give
orders only justified by minute acquaintance with both. So I navigated
on general principles, until they grounded us on a mud-bank, just
below a wooded point, and some two miles from the bridge of our
destination. It was with a pang that I waved to Major Strong, who was
on the other side of the channel in a tug, not to risk approaching us,
but to steam on and finish the work, if he could.

Short was his triumph. Gliding round the point, he found himself
instantly engaged with a light battery of four or six guns, doubtless
the same we had seen in the distance. The Milton was within two hundred
and fifty yards. The Connecticut men fought then: guns well, aided by
the blacks, and it was exasperating for us to hear the shots, while we
could see nothing and do nothing. The scanty ammunition of our bow gun
was exhausted, and the gun in the stern was useless, from the position
in which we lay. In vain we moved the men from side to side, rocking the
vessel, to dislodge it. The heat was terrific that August afternoon; I
remember I found myself constantly changing places, on the scorched
deck, to keep my feet from being blistered. At last the officer in
charge of the gun, a hardy lumberman from Maine, got the stern of the
vessel so far round that he obtained the range of the battery through
the cabin windows, "but it would be necessary," he cooly added, on
reporting to me this fact, "to shoot away the corner of the cabin." I
knew that this apartment was newly painted and gilded, and the idol of
the poor captain's heart; but it was plain that even the thought of his
own upholstery could not make the poor soul more wretched than he was.
So I bade Captain Dolly blaze away, and thus we took our hand in the
little game, though at a sacrifice.

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