Part 15

During the past week our regiment received an installment of about 175 substitutes. Company I got a dose of twenty. There are a few good men among them, but they are mighty few. Most of them are foreigners, and many of them are just watching for an opportunity to desert. Three or four got away the other night in a boat that came ashore from one of the gunboats. The officer left his boat without a guard, and perhaps there wasn’t any swearing when he came for it and it was gone. It takes the iron hand to keep such a gang in bounds. More than twenty of them have already been tied up to the flagstaff, bucked and gagged, or otherwise disciplined. We have never had a guard around our camp until today, but now it is to be a fixture. So much extra work for the boys, all on account of these human vermin that New Hampshire is filling up her old regiments with. The old men are terribly disgruntled. It makes no difference to me personally, and it does seem good to turn in every night for an unbroken rest. The story is going that we are to be relieved by detachments of the Invalid Corps and sent to the front before long. I have no idea though that we will be sent away until the spring campaign opens. George Colby came down the first of the week and is clerking in Bailey’s sutler shop. [Geo. H., then of Manchester, and later, until his tragic death, in the employ of the railroad at Plymouth, N. H.]

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_CXXII_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _Sunday, December 13, 1863_.

The mail did not go to Washington today. Last night, after I had gone to bed and to sleep, the mail agent came in, woke me up, and told me to have my mail at headquarters before three o’clock. So I turned out of my bunk at half-past two. It was dark as a pocket, raining great guns, and the wind blowing a hurricane. I put on my overcoat and rubber poncho and paddled down to headquarters. But, a few minutes ago, Jess. Dewey stuck his head into the tent and told me the mail agent was still here and the mail had not gone out yet.

It is among the possibilities that the rebels may attempt to rescue the prisoners here, and every precaution is being taken against any such movement. The road up into the country is patrolled at night, and the gunboat squadron has been reinforced until we now have ten vessels here ready for any emergency.

Frank Everett, in the Manchester _Mirror_ office, writes his brother Henry that Farnsworth is back in the _American_ office, having resigned his position in the army.

_Monday, December 14._

There has been a terrible gale today, and it is a wonder to me that my tent has not taken to itself wings and flown away. Efforts are soon to be made to get the old men to re-enlist. They will be given a furlough of thirty days and a big bounty. Captain Gordon is to be the recruiting officer for this regiment, and will commence operations very soon. I shall not re-enlist.

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_CXXIII_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _December 19, 1863_.

Our old regiment got another dose today—350 Subs., off the same piece as our first lot. It is tough on us old New Hampshire boys. Quite a number of our precious Subs got away night before last, and yesterday morning a detachment started out to scour the country for them. Four were picked up and sent in yesterday. The detachment has not yet returned, and are searching every barn and haystack, and we hope they will get some more, living or dead—preferably dead.

_Sunday, December 20._

This is comfort—the wood pile for a seat and my overcoat for a cushion. It is cold and blustering outside, but a good fire in our hide stove makes it warm and comfortable within. By the way, I am going to move before long—am to have a tent all to myself, for a post office.

The old rumor factory is in full operation. The latest story is quite ingenious. According to this story, which has leaked down to some veracious fellow from some headquarters, the old men of the regiment are to be mounted and take the place of the cavalry detachment now here. Bill Ramsdell is to be sergeant-major of the new organization, but our non-commissioned officers are to stay and look after the conscripts.

Mrs. Bailey has gone home—went a few days ago, with Hen. Pillsbury as her attendant. He has a twenty days furlough.

A few days ago the Reb. prisoners, led by their sergeants, made an organized assault on one of their cook houses. I don’t know what their grievance was. One was shot dead by a sentry and several wounded. The next day ten of the sergeants who had been conspicuous in the riot were tied by their hands to the posts of the fence and given several hours in which to meditate on their sins.

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_CXXIV_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _December 25, 1863_.

Xmas Greetings! One of our captains said the other day that the old men would probably be discharged inside of two months, but I take no stock in the story. I was talking with Captain Platt yesterday, and he had lots of nice things to say about my wife. I learned a great deal about you and Arie Platt, and you may be sure I was an attentive listener to all he had to say.

General Ben. Butler was here yesterday, looking things over very closely, and I understand he is arranging an exchange of prisoners.

_Tuesday, December 29._

Since I began this letter no mail has come in until this morning, and none has gone out. The mail boat was sunk by ice, and I have been anxiously watching for the boat that didn’t come. I have got to carry the mail down in half an hour, so must close.

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_CXXV_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _December 31, 1863_.

I am in Quint’s sutler shop, writing on the head of a barrel. Quint [Atherton W., of Manchester] is sutler at the prison camp, and I help him a little, just enough to pay for the butter and other sutler’s goods that I want. I have an ocean of waste time, and the arrangement is profitable and highly satisfactory both to Quint and myself.

We had rather a jolly time here Christmas day. First, there was a greased pig, which made no end of merriment. He was one of those gaunt, ugly creatures that run wild in these southern woods. He had just been brought in, and was as wild and savage as a wolf. So when his pursuers closed in, on, over, around and under him, he made a gallant fight for liberty and freely used all the defensive weapons the Lord had provided him with. Then there were wrestling and sparring matches and a footrace.

Seven boatloads of negroes have come in from Virginia today. I was down on the beach when one load landed. There were 32 men, women and children, with all their household truck, packed into one boat. It was a smart likely-looking lot of contrabands, and no doubt some poor misguided rebel is now mourning the loss of several thousand dollars’ worth of live stock. A great many of the negroes that come in are probably from Maryland, but all are received alike, and but very few, if any, of the refugees ever get back into their masters’ hands.

_January 1, 1864._

I wish you a Happy New Year! I sat up pretty late last night playing “muggins” down at the sutler’s shop.

Colonel Bailey issued orders to company commanders this morning which are received with greater satisfaction by the _old_ boys than by some of the officers. The “company funds” which have been accumulating during the past two years now amount to a very considerable sum in each company. This money is in the hands of the company commanders, and the good it has done to the men to whom it belongs has been very slight indeed. In fact, some of the captains who have left the regiment have carried off the company funds without making any account of it, and that was the end of it. Well, since these mercenaries came along, with hundred-dollar bills sticking out of every pocket, Captain Gordon has commenced using this fund that had been taken out of the hides of the old men, to buy potatoes, onions and other luxuries, the greater part of which are consumed by our cussed Subs. There is a bit of malice in this, attributable to a feud between Gordon and the bulk of the old men, for there have been several times in the past when this fund could have been used to very good advantage for the men it belonged to. The old boys were indignant, and Bill Ramsdell told Colonel Bailey, and he was mad, and this morning the company commanders were instructed that the company funds were to be used for the benefit of the old men only. By Gordon’s account, the amount due each of the old men is about six dollars, and we are not willing to divide that with the Subs.

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_CXXVI_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _January 2, 1864_.

Cannot write a long letter now, but will in a few days. I have been hard at work all day constructing the walls for my new post office tent, and am very tired indeed. It will be on the extreme left of the field and staff line, and I will be a near neighbor to Bailey’s sutler shop.

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_CXXVII_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _January 10, 1864_.

We got about two and a half inches of snow a few nights ago, and although we have had pleasant weather since, it has been so cold that much snow still remains. During the past few days the work of demolishing and cleaning out the shantytown where contrabands have quartered has been going on. The ground where the camp stood is a perfect labyrinth of rat holes, and the swarms that are domiciled there are almost inconceivable. Rat hunts are a standard amusement, and bushels of them have been unearthed and killed. In the regimental camps they are thicker than flies in summer time, and an awful pest, running over everything and everybody at night, and stealing everything eatable they can get their teeth onto. But Jess. Dewey has got the deadest open and shut on them. Some of the boys caught a little owl out in the woods and gave him to Jess., and since Mr. Owl assumed charge of affairs in that tent rats and mice have given it a wide berth. He is a cunning little fellow—sits all day long on his box, pulling away at his piece of fresh meat. If you whistle to him, he looks up as grave as a judge, and he is really a great addition to the company.

Our mail is very irregular now. The boat that got in from Washington yesterday was three days late, being delayed by ice in the river. She had to break her way for fifty miles through ice thick enough to bear a man. One wooden boat attempted to force her way up the river, but was so badly cut up by the ice that she had to turn back. But we have a connection for outgoing mail by way of the Fortress Monroe and Baltimore boat, and I now send much mail that way.

The prison camp is soon to be enlarged, and all the rebel officers now at Sandusky, Ohio, are to be brought here. I hear that 200 men from our regiment, with a battery, are going over into Virginia on a scouting expedition.

Two of our tent’s crew will, I expect, move out tomorrow. If they do I shall be in no particular hurry to get into my new quarters, as Dan. and I can be as comfortable as you please right where we are.

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_CXXVIII_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _January 16, 1864_.

A mail reached us yesterday—the first we have had since the 9th. Reason, the ice in the river. The boat started from Washington all right, ran down as far as Mount Vernon, about fifteen miles, and anchored for the night. When she started, she _didn’t_ start, for she was frozen in as tight as a drum. And there she lay in the ice, for two days, with our mail aboard. Then another boat came and cut her out. During this lay-up some of our boys on board went ashore on a visit to Washington’s home and tomb.

The monotony of camp life has been broken by a raid across the river into the counties of Northumberland, Lancaster and Richmond. The expedition left here last Tuesday, the 12th, and was made up of 150 cavalry and detachments of 150 men from both the Second and Twelfth. Bill Ramsdell was one of the marauders, and he says it was one of the greatest larks of the war. The men came home loaded with every conceivable kind of plunder, but they were pretty well fagged out. The expedition went up the river about fifteen miles, then up a creek several miles, where they destroyed a sloop and several schooners, then landed and marched inland. They spread out over the country, and picked up quite a number of prisoners—soldiers on furlough, conscript officers, &c. One of these was a captain, who was enjoying a carriage ride with his lady love. He was politely requested to get down, one of the boys politely took his seat in the carriage, politely drove the young lady home, politely helped her out, bade her good bye with exquisite politeness, and drove away with the team as a prize of war.

You ask me about Charlie Farnam. It was not here, but down in South Carolina, I think, that he was drowned. He had been discharged from this regiment and had joined the navy. As we hear it, he was in a boat, which capsized, and he had nearly reached the shore when he sank.

_Sunday, January 17._

I must tell you, before I forget it, all about our crazy man. One of the fellows in my tent, who came out about two months ago, had evidently got tired of the service, and began to play crazy, for a discharge. He began to sleep all day, so as to be in good shape to lie awake all night. For two nights he kept us awake with his “Boots ten feet long,” “Man in the tent,” “Where am I?” “Who am I?” and such nonsense. When awake in the daytime he was continually hunting for horsehairs on his hands, and it was a decidedly interesting case of amateur lunacy. He couldn’t eat anything—so he said—but he managed to pack away a good quantity of grub on the sly. Well, he started in on his third night, and kept his twaddle going until midnight, when something happened. Dan’s Irish got the best of him and he could hold in no longer. He kicked off the blankets that covered us, elevated his heels, and fairly kicked the top bunk into kindling wood. The crazy man landed on the stove, and the wreckage was scattered all over the tent. Then old Dan. opened up with his tongue and gave our amateur lunatic Hail Columbia, Rule Britannia and Erin go Bragh, all rolled into one, and threatening to take him out and pitch him into the river if he didn’t become immediately and permanently sane. Dan’s treatment effected a complete and wonderful cure.

One of the old men of the regiment was married a short time ago to the daughter of an old planter living up country a short distance. The fellow was Pete Gravlin; the girl seventeen and very pretty; the parents rich. The old folks were dead set against any such arrangement, but Pete and the maiden were determined, so down to the Point he brought her and she became Mrs. Gravlin.

A collection has been taken up in this regiment for a fund to build a chapel. The human desire to outstrip our neighbors has made the “collection” a success. The Twelfth built one which cost $300, and now twice that sum has been raised in the Second, and we are congratulating ourselves, not upon the prospect of having a chapel, but upon the fact that it will be bigger than the Twelfth’s.

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_CXXIX_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _January 23, 1864_.

I am seated in the sutler’s shop at the prison camp with a whole ream of paper before me, waiting to be written over. The mail got in last night, for a wonder, on time. A warm spell has opened the ice in the river. I got a letter from Frank Morrill, and he writes me, “I want you to assume command of Frances and Nealie when you hear that I am coming home, meet me at the depot and escort me to the house.” [When he came, he came in his coffin, having received mortal wounds the following July.]

We have had a most delightful day, and the boys of Company I have been busy stockading their new Sibley tents. As soon as they move in I will have a post office tent all to myself, and I have got it in my mind now just how it will be rigged up for my business, even to the establishment of an art gallery, the nucleus of which I already have in a highly colored lithograph from a cigar box.

_Sunday, January 24._

I am messing now with Hen. Everett, who is clerk for the Adjutant, and a fellow named Soseman. We do our own cooking, and as a consequence live better—much better-than we should if we depended entirely on the company cooks and rations. We have beefsteak, baked beans, fritters, and the best coffee on the Point, and gathered about our little mess table at the Adjutant’s quarters, envy no man his share of the good things of life.

Last night I saw about fifty rebels take the oath of allegiance. It was an impressive sight when these men raised their right hands and with uncovered heads swore to support the Constitution and the Government of the United States. They have a camp outside the prison camp and are on practically the same footing that we are.

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_CXXX_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _January 29, 1864_.

Busy time now, putting up the new tents, and when the work is done the regiment will certainly have good winter quarters. The fine weather continues. It is as warm and pleasant as a New Hampshire May, and the breezes from the south are balmy and exhilarating.

Day before yesterday we witnessed a magnificent _mirage_, which brought the “Eastern Shore,” distant twenty-five or thirty miles across the bay, to within an apparent distance of not more than five miles. The optical illusion continued until afternoon, when it faded gradually. The trees and houses became less and less distinct, and at last the outlines of the shore faded, until nothing met the eye but the sparkling waters of Chesapeake Bay.

The story is going the rounds that we old fellows who have not re-enlisted are to be discharged next month, so that we may be home for the March election. There may be something in this, as nine-tenths of the old men are stanch Republicans, and most of the others are staunch War Democrats, which is just as good, and if the election is to be very close they would be a mighty reliable reinforcement. One of the boys in my company has a letter from one of the Governor’s staff, who writes that we are coming home in February; and Marston’s Assistant-Adjutant-General says we are going home soon.

_Sunday, January 31._

Dan. has moved into one of the new Sibley tents, leaving me all alone, in solitary grandeur, and I declare I am lonesome. Large numbers of the Rebs here have taken the oath and enlisted into our army or navy. Day before yesterday officers of the navy came ashore and had all they could attend to until late in the evening, enlisting these men. A regiment also is to be recruited from them, which will probably be stationed where there is not much danger of their being taken prisoners, as in such an event, if recognized, they would be promptly executed.

Jess. Dewey has got a pleasant job as forage master up at Leonardstown, a few miles above here on the river. I am told that the paymaster came down on the boat last night and has gone up to Leonardstown today to pay off the cavalry and other troops up there. The men who have re-enlisted will go home on furlough as soon as they are paid.

The laugh is most decidedly on one of our fellows who, tiring of army fare, went out into the country to get a good square home meal. He found a place where they expressed their ability and willingness to give him just what he was looking for. He, of course, expected a rare feast, and what do you suppose he got? Bacon and hoecake, coffee without milk, no butter, nor any of the little trimmings that round out a Yankee “home meal.” He came back to camp thoroughly disgusted with the Maryland farmer’s bill of fare, and filled the aching void with a good square army ration.

The joke on another fellow came through a massive gold pen, which was given to him on condition that he send and have it repointed. In a few days the pen came back with this indorsement: “Your pen is _brass_, and I return pen and money.”

One of the Fifth’s substitutes was found drowned in the creek the other day. He probably tried to desert by swimming the creek, but could not make a go of it.

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_CXXXI_

POINT LOOKOUT, MD., _February 7, 1864_.

I have moved into my new tent at last, and have a mighty homelike little domicile, all to myself. It has a good floor and a nice roomy bunk. At the head of the bunk a little table equipped with writing materials. On one side of the door is my drop letter box, and in the opposite corner one of those cute little sheet-iron stoves. And other furnishings will come as they may be required. I already have my boxes arranged for distributing the mail—ten cigar boxes, one for each company, nailed to the wall. By the time I am discharged I will have an office that will rival Boston and New York.

I got a letter last night from an old schoolmate of mine—Lucius Chilson. He was my especial chum in the old South Grammar School on Park street. His home was then in Bridgeport, Conn., but his father sent him to Manchester especially to get him under Webster’s iron discipline. He writes me that he has been in the Second Massachusetts regiment, that he was wounded in the wrist at Gettysburg, losing the use of his right hand, and is now in the Invalid Corps, at Cincinnati, Ohio. He has learned to write with his left hand, and is a first-class back-hand writer.

Rumors of our going home are flying as thick as ever. The latest is that all who desired would be granted a furlough of fifteen days to go home and vote. Mrs. Bailey, Mrs. Platt, Mrs. Wasley and other officers’ wives are coming down within two or three weeks, and quarters are being fitted up in anticipation.