Showing posts with label CSS McCrae. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CSS McCrae. Show all posts

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Diary of Sarah Morgan: August 6, 1862

We six madcaps got in the carriage and buggy, and rode off in search of news. We took a quantity of old linen rags along, and during the whole drive, our fingers were busy making lint. Once we stopped at a neighbor's to gather the news, but that did not interfere with our labors at all. Four miles from here we met a crowd of women flying, and among them recognized Mrs. La Noue and Noemie. A good deal of loud shouting brought them to the carriage in great surprise to see us there. They were running from the plantation where they had taken refuge, as it was not safe from the shells, as the gunboats had proved to them. The reports we had heard in the morning were from shots fired on this side of the river by them, in hopes of hurting a guerrilla or two. Noemie told us that two Western regiments had laid down their arms, and General Williams had been killed by his own men. She looked so delighted, and yet it made me sick to think of his having been butchered so. Phillie leaned out, and asked her, as she asked everybody, if she knew anything about her father. Noemie, in her rapture over that poor man's death, exclaimed, “Don't know a word about him! know Williams was cut to pieces, though!” — and that is all we could learn from her. We went on until we came insight of Baton Rouge. There it stood, looking so beautiful against the black, lowering sky that I could not but regret its fate. We could see the Garrison, State House, Asylum, and all that; but the object of the greatest interest to me was the steeple of the Methodist church, for to the right of it lay home. While looking at it, a negro passed who was riding up and down the coast collecting lint, so I gave him all we had made, and commenced some more. Presently, we met Mr. Phillips, to whom Phillie put the same question. “He is on the Laurel Hill a prisoner — Confound that negro! where did he go?” And so on, each answer as far as concerned her, seeming a labor, but the part relating to the servant very hearty. Poor Phillie complained that everybody was selfish — thought only of their own affairs, and did not sympathize with her. “Yes, my dear,” I silently assented; for it was very true; every one seemed to think of their own interests alone. It was late before we got home, and then we had great fun in watching shells which we could dimly trace against the clouds, falling in what must have been the Garrison. Then came a tremendous fire, above, which may have been a boat — I don't know.

I hear a tremendous firing again, and from the two volumes of smoke, should judge it was the Arkansas and the Essex trying their strength at a distance. We are going down to see what's the fun. It would be absurd to record all the rumors that have reached us, since we can rely on none. They say we fought up to nine last night, and occupied the Garrison for five minutes, when the shells forced us to abandon it. Also that four regiments laid down their arms, that the Federals were pursued by our men to the river, driven to the gunboats, and pushed off to prevent the Western men from coming aboard. An eye-witness, from this side, reports that General Williams, “they say,” was forcibly held before a cannon and blown to pieces. For the sake of humanity, I hope this is false.

Oh, what a sad day this is for our country! Mother disapproved so of our going to the levee to see the fight, that we consented to remain, though Miriam and Ginnie jumped into the buggy and went off alone. Presently came tidings that all the planters near Baton Rouge were removing their families and negroes, and that the Yankees were to shell the whole coast, from there up to here. Then Phillie, Lilly (Nolan), and I jumped in — the carriage that was still waiting, and ran after the others to bring them back before they got in danger; but when we reached the end of the long lane, we saw them standing on the high levee, wringing their hands and crying. We sprang out and joined them, and there, way at the bend, lay the Arkansas on fire! All except myself burst into tears and lamentations, and prayed aloud between their sobs. I had no words or tears; I could only look at our sole hope burning, going, and pray silently. Oh, it was so sad! Think, it was our sole dependence! And we five girls looked at her as the smoke rolled over her, watched the flames burst from her decks, and the shells as they exploded one by one beneath the water, coming up in jets of steam. And we watched until down the road we saw crowds of men toiling along toward us. Then we knew they were those who had escaped, and the girls sent up a shriek of pity.

On they came, dirty, half-dressed, some with only their guns, others, a few, with bundles and knapsacks on their backs, grimy and tired, but still laughing. We called to the first, and asked if the boat were really afire; they shouted, “Yes,” and went on, talking still. Presently one ran up and told us the story. How yesterday their engine had broken, and how they had labored all day to repair it; how they had succeeded, and had sat by their guns all night; and this morning, as they started to meet the Essex, the other engine had broken; how each officer wrote his opinion that it was impossible to fight her with any hope of success under such circumstances, and advised the Captain to abandon her; how they had resolved to do so, had exchanged shots with the Essex across the point, and the first of the latter (only one, also) had set ours afire, when the men were ordered to take their side arms. They thought it was to board the Essex, assembled together, when the order was given to fire the Arkansas and go ashore, which was done in a few minutes. Several of the crew were around us then, and up and down the road they were scattered still in crowds.

Miriam must have asked the name of some of the officers; for just then she called to me, “He says that is Mr. Read!” I looked at the foot of the levee, and saw two walking together. I hardly recognized the gentleman I was introduced to on the McRae in the one that now stood below me in rough sailor pants, a pair of boots, and a very thin and slazy lisle undershirt. That is all he had on, except an old straw hat, and — yes! he held a primer! I did not think it would be embarrassing to him to meet me under such circumstances; I only thought of Jimmy's friend as escaping from a sad fate; so I rushed down a levee twenty feet high, saying, “O Mr. Read! You won't recognize me, but I am Jimmy's sister” He blushed modestly, shook my hand as though we were old friends, and assured me he remembered me, was glad to meet me, etc. Then Miriam came down and talked to him, and then we went to the top of the levee where the rest were, and watched the poor Arkansas burn.

By that time the crowd that had gone up the road came back, and we found ourselves in the centre of two hundred men, just we five girls, talking with the officers around us as though they were old friends. You could only guess they were officers, for a dirtier, more forlorn set I never saw. Not dirty either; they looked clean, considering the work they had been doing. Nobody introduced anybody else; we all felt like brothers and sisters in our common calamity. There was one handsome Kentuckian, whose name I soon found to be Talbot, who looked charmingly picturesque in his coarse cottonade pants, white shirt, straw hat, black hair, beard, and eyes, with rosy cheeks. He was a graduate of the Naval Academy some years ago. Then another jolly-faced young man from the same Academy, pleased me, too. He, the doctor, and the Captain, were the only ones who possessed a coat in the whole crowd, the few who saved theirs carrying them over their arms. Mr. Read more than once blushingly remarked that they were prepared to fight, and hardly expected to meet us; but we pretended to think there was nothing unusual in his dress. I can understand, though, that he should feel rather awkward; I would not like to meet him, if I was in the same costume.

They all talked over their loss cheerfully, as far as the loss of money, watches, clothes, were concerned; but they were disheartened about their boat. One threw himself down near my feet, saying, Me wild. I have saved my gun, et puis the clothes that I stand in!” and laughed as though it were an excellent joke. One who had been on the Merrimac chiefly regretted the loss of the commission appointing him there, though he had not saved a single article. The one with the jolly face told me Will Pinckney was among those attacking Baton Rouge, and assured him he expected to take supper there last night. He thought it would be with us, I know! I hope he is safe!

After a while the men were ordered to march up the lane, to some resting spot it is best not to mention here, and straggled off; but there were many sick among them, one wounded at Vicksburg, and we instantly voted to walk the mile and three quarters home, and give them the carriage and buggy. But long after they left, we stood with our new friends on the levee watching the last of the Arkansas, and saw the Essex, and two gunboats crowded with men, cautiously turn the point, and watch her burn. What made me furious was the thought of the glowing accounts they would give of their “capture of the Arkansas!!!” Capture, and they fired a shot apiece! — for all the firing we heard was the discharge of her guns by the flames. We saw them go back as cautiously, and I was furious, knowing the accounts they would publish of what we ourselves had destroyed. We had seen many shells explode, and one magazine, and would have waited for the other, if the clouds had not threatened rain speedily. But we had to leave her a mere wreck, still burning, and started off on our long walk.

In our hurry, I had brought neither handkerchief nor gloves, but hardly missed either, I was so excited. Mr. Talbot walked home with me, and each of the others with some one else. He had a small bundle and a sword, and the latter I insisted on carrying. It was something, to shoulder a sword made for use rather than for ornament! So I would carry it. He said “he would remember who had carried it, and the recollection would give it a new value in his eyes, and I might rest assured it should never be disgraced after that, and all that sort of thing, of course, as it is usual to say it on such occasions. But I shouldered the sword bravely, determined to show my appreciation of the sacrifice they had made for us, in coming to our rescue on a boat they had every reason to believe was unsafe. I liked Mr. Talbot! He made himself very agreeable in that long walk. He asked permission to send me a trophy from the first action in which he used “that” sword, and didn't I say yes! He thought Southern men had every encouragement in the world, from the fact that the ladies welcomed them with great kindness in victory or defeat, insinuating he thought they hardly deserved our compassion after their failure on the Arkansas. But I stoutly denied that it was a failure. Had they not done their best? Was it their fault the machinery broke? And in defeat or vic tory, were they not still fighting for us? Were we the less grateful when they met with reverse? Oh, didn't I laud the Southern men with my whole heart!—and I think he felt better for it, too! Yes! I like him!

We all met at the steps, and water was given to our cavaliers, who certainly enjoyed it. We could not ask them in, as Dr. Nolan is on his parole; but Phillie intimated that if they chose to order, they might do as they pleased, as women could not resist armed men! So they took possession of the sugarhouse, and helped themselves to something to eat, and were welcome to do it, since no one could prevent! But they first stood talking on the balcony, gayly, and we parted with many warm wishes on both sides, insisting that, if they assisted at a second attack on Baton Rouge, they must remember our house was at their service, wounded or in health. And they all shook hands with us, and looked pleased, and said “God bless you,” and “Good-bye.”

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 147-55

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Diary of Sarah Morgan: May 10, 1862

Last night about one o'clock I was wakened and told that mother and Miriam had come. Oh, how glad I was! I tumbled out of bed half asleep and hugged Miriam in a dream, but waked up when I got to mother. They came up under a flag of truce, on a boat going up for provisions, which, by the way, was brought to by half a dozen Yankee ships in succession, with a threat to send a broadside into her if she did not stop — the wretches knew it must be under a flag of truce; no boats leave, except by special order to procure provisions.

What tales they had to tell! They were on the wharf, and saw the ships sail up the river, saw the broadside fired into Will Pinckney's regiment, the boats we fired, our gunboats, floating down to meet them all wrapped in flames; twenty thousand bales of cotton blazing in a single pile; molasses and sugar thrown over everything. They stood there opposite to where one of the ships landed, expecting a broadside, and resolute not to be shot in the back. I wish I had been there! And Captain Huger is not dead! They had hopes of his life for the first time day before yesterday. Miriam saw the ball that had just been extracted. He will probably be lame for the rest of his life. It will be a glory to him. For even the Federal officers say that never did they see so gallant a little ship, or one that fought so desperately as the McRae. Men and officers fought like devils. Think of all those great leviathans after the poor little “Widow Mickey”! One came tearing down on her sideways, while the Brooklyn fired on her from the other side, when brave Captain Warley put the nose of the Manassas under the first, and tilted her over so that the whole broadside passed over, instead of through, the McRae, who spit back its poor little fire at both. And after all was lost, she carried the wounded and the prisoners to New Orleans, and was scuttled by her own men in port. Glorious Captain Huger! And think of his sending word to Jimmy, suffering as he was, that “his little brass cannon was game to the last.” Oh! I hope he will recover. Brave, dare-devil Captain Warley is prisoner, and on the way to Fort Warren, that home of all brave, patriotic men. We'll have him out. And my poor little Jimmy! If I have not spoken of him, it is not because I have lost sight of him for a moment. The day the McRae went down, he arose from his bed, ill as he was, and determined to rejoin her, as his own boat, the Mississippi, was not ready. When he reached the St. Charles, he fell so very ill that he had to be carried back to Brother's. Only his desperate illness saved him from being among the killed or wounded on that gallant little ship. A few days after, he learned the fate of the ship, and was told that Captain Huger was dead. No wonder he should cry so bitterly! For Captain Huger was as tender and as kind to him as his own dear father. God bless him for it! The enemy's ships were sailing up; so he threw a few articles in a carpet-bag and started off for Richmond, Corinth, anywhere, to fight. Sick, weak, hardly able to stand, he went off, two weeks ago yesterday. We know not where, and we have never heard from him since. Whether he succumbed to that jaundice and the rest, and lies dead or dying on the road, God only knows. We can only wait and pray God to send dear little Jimmy home in safety.

And this is War! Heaven save me from like scenes and experiences again. I was wild with excitement last night when Miriam described how the soldiers, marching to the depot, waved their hats to the crowds of women and children, shouting, “God bless you, ladies! We will fight for you!” and they, waving their handkerchiefs, sobbed with one voice, “God bless you, Soldiers! Fight for us!”

We, too, have been having our fun. Early in the evening, four more gunboats sailed up here. We saw them from the corner, three squares off, crowded with men even up in the riggings. The American flag was flying from every peak. It was received in profound silence, by the hundreds gathered on the banks. I could hardly refrain from a groan. Much as I once loved that flag, I hate it now! I came back and made myself a Confederate flag about five inches long, slipped the staff in my belt, pinned the flag to my shoulder, and walked downtown, to the consternation of women and children, who expected something awful to follow. An old negro cried, “My young missus got her flag flyin', anyhow!” Nettie made one and hid it in the folds of her dress. But we were the only two who ventured. We went to the State House terrace, and took a good look at the Brooklyn which was crowded with people who took a good look at us, likewise. The picket stationed at the Garrison took alarm at half a dozen men on horseback and ran, saying that the citizens were attacking. The kind officers aboard the ship sent us word that if they were molested, the town would be shelled. Let them! Butchers! Does it take thirty thousand men and millions of dollars to murder defenseless women and children? O the great nation! Bravo!

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 25-8

Friday, July 3, 2015

Diary of Sarah Morgan: April 26, 1862

There is no word in the English language that can express the state in which we are, and have been, these last three days. Day before yesterday, news came early in the morning of three of the enemy's boats passing the Forts, and then the excitement began. It increased rapidly on hearing of the sinking of eight of our gunboats in the engagement, the capture of the Forts, and last night, of the burning of the wharves and cotton in the city while the Yankees were taking possession. To-day, the excitement has reached the point of delirium. I believe I am one of the most self-possessed in my small circle; and yet I feel such a craving for news of Miriam, and mother, and Jimmy, who are in the city, that I suppose I am as wild as the rest. It is nonsense to tell me I am cool, with all these patriotic and enthusiastic sentiments. Nothing can be positively ascertained, save that our gunboats are sunk, and theirs are coming up to the city. Everything else has been contradicted until we really do not know whether the city has been taken or not. We only know we had best be prepared for anything. So day before yesterday, Lilly and I sewed up our jewelry, which may be of use if we have to fly. I vow I will not move one step, unless carried away. Come what will, here I remain.

We went this morning to see the cotton burning — a sight never before witnessed, and probably never again to be seen. Wagons, drays, — everything that can be driven or rolled, — were loaded with the bales and taken a few squares back to burn on the commons. Negroes were running around, cutting them open, piling them up, and setting them afire. All were as busy as though their salvation depended on disappointing the Yankees. Later, Charlie sent for us to come to the river and see him fire a flatboat loaded with the precious material for which the Yankees are risking their bodies and souls. Up and down the levee, as far as we could see, negroes were rolling it down to the brink of the river where they would set them afire and push the bales in to float burning down the tide. Each sent up its wreath of smoke and looked like a tiny steamer puffing away. Only I doubt that from the source to the mouth of the river there are as many boats afloat on the Mississippi. The flatboat was piled with as many bales as it could hold without sinking. Most of them were cut open, while negroes staved in the heads of barrels of alcohol, whiskey, etc., and dashed bucketsful over the cotton. Others built up little chimneys of pine every few feet, lined with pine knots and loose cotton, to burn more quickly. There, piled the length of the whole levee, or burning in the river, lay the work of thousands of negroes for more than a year past. It had come from every side. Men stood by who owned the cotton that was burning or waiting to burn. They either helped, or looked on cheerfully. Charlie owned but sixteen bales — a matter of some fifteen hundred dollars; but he was the head man of the whole affair, and burned his own, as well as the property of others. A single barrel of whiskey that was thrown on the cotton, cost the man who gave it one hundred and twenty-five dollars. (It shows what a nation in earnest is capable of doing.) Only two men got on the flatboat with Charlie when it was ready. It was towed to the middle of the river, set afire in every place, and then they jumped into a little skiff fastened in front, and rowed to land. The cotton floated down the Mississippi one sheet of living flame, even in the sunlight. It would have been grand at night. But then we will have fun watching it this evening anyway; for they cannot get through to-day, though no time is to be lost. Hundreds of bales remained untouched. An incredible amount of property has been destroyed to-day; but no one begrudges it. Every grog-shop has been emptied, and gutters and pavements are floating with liquors of all kinds. So that if the Yankees are fond of strong drink, they will fare ill.

Yesterday, Mr. Hutchinson and a Dr. Moffat called to ask for me, with a message about Jimmy. I was absent, but they saw Lilly. Jimmy, they said, was safe. Though sick in bed, he had sprung up and had rushed to the wharf at the first tap of the alarm bell in New Orleans. But as nothing could be done, he would probably be with us to-day, bringing mother and Miriam. I have neither heard nor seen more. The McRae, they said, went to the bottom with the others. They did not know whether any one aboard had escaped. God be praised that Jimmy was not on her then! The new boat to which he was appointed is not yet finished. So he is saved! I am distressed about Captain Huger, and could not refrain from crying, he was so good to Jimmy. But I remembered Miss Cammack might think it rather tender and obtrusive, so I dried my eyes and began to hope he had escaped. Oh! how glad I should be to know he has suffered no harm. Mr. Hutchinson was on his way above, going to join others where the final battle is to be fought on the Mississippi. He had not even time to sit down; so I was doubly grateful to him for his kindness. I wish I could have thanked him for being so considerate of me in my distress now. In her agitation, Lilly gave him a letter I had been writing to George when I was called away; and begged him to address it and mail it at Vicksburg, or somewhere; for no mail will leave here for Norfolk for a long while to come. The odd part is, that he does not know George. But he said he would gladly take charge of it and remember the address, which Lilly told him was Richmond. Well! if the Yankees get it they will take it for an insane scrawl. I wanted to calm his anxiety about us, though I was so wildly excited that I could only say, “Don't mind us! We are safe. But fight, George! Fight for us!” The repetition was ludicrous. I meant so much, too! I only wanted him to understand he could best defend us there. Ah! Mr. Yankee! if you had but your brothers in this world, and their lives hanging by a thread, you too might write wild letters! And if you want to know what an excited girl can do, just call and let me show you the use of a small seven-shooter and a large carving-knife which vibrate between my belt and my pocket, always ready for emergencies.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 16-20

Friday, June 14, 2013

Southern News

FT. MONROE, April 29.

A flag of truce from Norfolk to-day brought down the wife and family of Parson Brownlow, and also the wife of Congressman Maynard.  The party, consisting of four ladies, two gents and six children, are all from Tennessee.  They bring the report that all the Union families of Tennessee have been ordered by proclamation to leave within 36 hours.  1,800 Union men left for Kentucky a week ago Friday.  Of a party of four hundred attempting to leave, one hundred had been killed.

There can be no doubt of the capture of New Orleans.  The Southern newspapers speak of it in the most dismal strain, and demand that the mystery of the surrender of the city shall be explained.

The Norfolk Day Book, in an editorial, says: “It is by far the most serious reverse of the war.  It suggests future privations to all classes of society; but most to be lamented of all, it threatens our army supplies.”  The raising of meat, and corn and wheat, instead of cotton and tobacco, is earnestly recommended by the disconsolate editor.

The Richmond Dispatch of yesterday, says when the enemy’s fleet arrived opposite the city and demanded its surrender, Gen. Lovell refused, and fell back to Camp Moore, after destroying all the cotton and stores.

The iron-clad vessel Mississippi was burnt to prevent falling into the hands of the enemy.  Nothing is said about the Louisiana, but it is supposed that she was scuttled. – It is rumored that she was sunk at first fire.

Camp Moore is 78 miles for New Orleans, on the Jackson Railroad.

The following are the latest dispatches in to-day’s papers:


MOBILE, April 27.

The Yankee Commodore, Farragut, promised the secretary of the Mayor of New Orleans, who visited the fleet by a flag of truce, to make a renewed demand for the surrender of the city, but he has not done so up to this hour, 5 o’clock.

Our ship, the McRae, came up from the forts under a flag of truce, with forty of our wounded.  She communicated with the Federal flag ship, but the result is unknown.  It is rumored that the Federals refused to let her return.

The rumor that Fort Pike has been evacuated and blown up is unreliable.

In a conference held with one of the Federal officers, after the correspondence between Mayor Monroe and Com. Farragut, the officer left, declaring that he would shoot down the flag on the City Hall if it was not hauled down, and he actually brought his ship within range, but has not fired thus far.

It is reported that French and English men-of-war are below, and will enter their protest against shelling the city; and it is believed the Yankee vessels are short of both provisions and ammunition.

The city is remarkably orderly, but the excitement is intense and the feeling of humiliation deep.


RICHMOND, April 28.

The following dispatch was received to-day by Adj. Gen. Cooper from Gen. Lovell:


CAMP MORE, April 27.

Forts Jackson and St. Phillip are still in good condition and in our hands.  The steamers Louisiana and McRae are safe. – The enemy’s fleet is at the city, but they have not forces enough to occupy it.  The inhabitants are staunchly loyal.


MOBILE, April 28.

The forts on Lake Pontchartrain were all evacuated on the 24th inst.  We have sustained considerable loss in supplies and dismounting, but not in destroying the guns.  At Fort Pike all the buildings were burnt, including the telegraph office.  The operator has gone to the limits of the city to open an office if possible.

All the gunboats on the lake have been burnt by our own people.  The Mobile boats, Whiteman, Brown and several others are running troops, stores and ordnance to Manchock, after which we fear they will be burned.

The Yankee fleet was returning again to Ship Island.

In a local paragraph, the Norfolk Day Book, under the head of markets, mentioned the very small supply of edibles exposed for sale, and says it becomes a question of great moment, as to where and how the people are to be fed.

The Death of Samuel B. Todd, brother of Mrs. Lincoln, is announced.  He died on the battlefield from the effects of the wounds he received at Shiloh, in the action of the 7th.

It is reported by the flag of truce that the Merrimac has steam up.  It was expected in Norfolk last night that she would come out to-day.  She has not made her appearance, however.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Thursday Morning, May 1, 1862, p. 1

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

The Loss Of The Rebels At New Orleans

We are not aware that any authentic report has been published of the number of rebels killed during the siege at Forts Jackson and St. Philip.  The officers of Fort Jackson informed our correspondent that they had fifteen killed and thirty five wounded.  From the officers of Fort St. Philip he learned that only one man was killed and three wounded by our shot.  The loss on the Confederate gunboats is set down as follow[s]: Louisiana, one killed and two wounded, including McIntosh, her commander, severely; Manassas, none; McRae, eight killed and three wounded, including Huger, her commander; Gov. Moore, fifty killed and fourteen wounded.  The Captain of the Resolute, Hooper, was mortally wounded.  The other steamers lost about twenty each.  Making the total in killed and wounded of nearly four hundred, according to the rebel accounts. – {Boston Journal.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, June 7, 1862, p. 1

Saturday, June 19, 2010

News From Dixie Via Fortress Monroe

ARRIVAL OF UNION REFUGEES – CAPTURE OF NEW ORLEANS – DESTRUCTION OF REBEL GUNBOATS AND ARMY STORES – GREAT PANIC IN DIXIE – PICAYUNE BUTLER COME AT LAST!

FORTRESS MONROE, April 29. – A flag of truce from Norfolk to-day brought down the wife and family of Parson Brownlow, and also the wife of Congressman Maynard. The party consisting of four ladies, two men and six children, are all from Tennessee. They bring the report that all Union families of Tennessee have been ordered by proclamation to leave within thirty-six hours. 1500 Union men left for Kentucky a week ago Friday. Out of a party of 400 attempting to leave, 100 had been killed.

There can be no doubt of the capture of New Orleans. The Southern newspapers speak of it in the most dismal strains, and demand that the mystery of the surrender of the city shall be explained.

The Norfolk Day Book, in an editorial, says it is by far the most serious reverse of the war. – It suggests future privations to all classes of society. but most to be lamented of all, it threatens our army supplies. The raising of meat and corn and wheat, instead of cotton and tobacco, is earnestly recommended by the discreet editor.

The Richmond Dispatch of yesterday says that when the enemy’s fleet arrived opposite the city and demanded its surrender, Gen. Lovell refused and fell back to Camp Moore, after destroying all the cotton and stores. The iron-clad vessel Mississippi was burnt to prevent her from falling into the hands of the enemy.

Nothing is said about the Louisiana, but it is supposed that she was scuttled. It is rumored that she was sunk at the first fire.

Camp Moore is 78 miles from New Orleans, on the Jackson Railroad.

The following are the latest despatches in today’s papers.

MOBILE, April 27. – The Yankee Commodore, Farrugat [sic], promised the Secretary of the Mayor of New Orleans, who visited the fleet, by a flag of truce, to make a second demand for the surrender of the city, but he had not done so up to this hour, five o’clock.

Our ship, the McRea, came up from the Forts under a flag of truce, with forty of our wounded. She communicated with the Federal Flag ship, but the result is unknown. It is rumored that the Federals refused to let her return.

The rumor that Fort Pike has been evacuated and blown up, is unreliable.

In a conference held with one of the Federal officers, after the correspondence between Mayor and Com. Farrugat, the officer left declaring that he would shoot down the flag on the City Hall, if it was not hauled down, and he actually bro’t his ship within range, but has not fired thus far.

It is reported that the French and English men of war, which are below, will enter their protest against shelling the city.

It is believed the Yankee vessels are short, both of provisions and ammunition.

The excitement in the city is intense, and the feeling of humiliation deep.

RICHMOND, April 28. – The following dispatch was received to-day, by Adj.-Gen. Cooper, from Gen. Lovell:

Camp Moore, April 27.

Forts Jackson and St. Phillip, are still in good condition and in our hands. The steamers Louisiana and McRae are safe. The enemy’s fleet is at the city, but they have not forces enough to occupy it. The in habitants are staunchly loyal.

MOBILE, April 28. – The Forts on Lake Ponchartrain [sic] were all evacuated on the 25th inst. – we have sustained considerable loss in supplies and dismounting, but not in destroying. The guns at Fort Pike and all the building[s] were burnt, including the telegraph office. The operator has gone to the limits of the city to open an office if possible. All the gunboats on the Lake have been burnt by our own people. The mobile boats Whitman, Brown and several others are moving troops, stores and ordnance to Manchock, after which we fear they will be burned.

The Yankee fleet was returning again to Ship Island.

In a local paragraph the Norfolk Day Book under the head of markets, named the ferry small supply of edibles exposed for sale and says it becomes a question of grave moment as to where and how the people are to be fed.

The death of Samuel B. Todd, brother of Mrs. Lincoln, is announced. He died on the battlefield, and from the effects of the wounds he received at Shiloh, in the action of the 7th.

It is reported by the flag of truce that the Merrimac had steamed up, and it was expected in Norfolk last night that she would come out to-day. She has not made her appearance, however.

The Charleston Mercury says that 9 schooners left that city on the previous Saturday to run the blockade. The Guild, Wave and two others were taken. The crew of the Guild was landed on Gibbs’ Island on Wednesday. On Friday they were seen by our pickets and fired upon under the supposition that they were Yankees. David Kauffer, of Augusta, was killed.

The other three vessels were sent to Fort Royal.

The gunboat Mt. Vernon arrived from the blockade of Wilmington on Sunday night. She left there the Jamestown and Victoria.

The Cambridge sailed hence for Wilmington on Sunday.

The Mt. Vernon’s boilers are defective, but she will return to her station in a few days.

There is but little news.

Fort Caswell is being strengthened by the rebels in expectation of an attack.

The schooner Kate from Nassau, was captured by the Mt. Vernon about two weeks ago while attempting the run the blockade.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, May 3, 1862, p. 3

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

From Fort Pillow

Special to the Chicago Tribune.

OFF FORT PILLOW,
CAIRO, April 19, 1862.

The Enemy’s gunboats have laid behind Criaghead Point for two or three nights past, fearing an attempt on our part to run the blockade.

The firing upon both sides on Thursday, was very heavy. The mortars opens at noon, four being in operation. The enemy replied immediately and briskly from the land batteries, throwing shell clear over us, and nearly across the river to the Tennessee shore.

Their firing was very accurate and from very heavy guns.

The St. Louis, Carondelet and Cairo, stationed as picket stops near the extremity of the point, where obliged to move up the river several times to get out of range.

A skiff attached to a mortar raft was hit by a shell and dashed to pieces. The shells flew thick and all about our gunboats, but none were hit.

On Thursday night the mortars commenced firing at 8 o’clock, the enemy replying immediately, and the fire was kept up until midnight.

A rebel shell exploded directly above the stern awnings of the St. Louis, slightly injuring one man in the wrist, another shell struck the broadside casemate of the Cairo, but did no damage. The firing ceased at midnight.

Yesterday but little was done except a few shots fired by the mortars. In the morning the mortars were shifted form the Arkansas to the Tennessee shore for the greater protection. In their past locality they have been in great danger from bands of rebel scouts prowling through the woods. These scouts have already cut the levee in two or three places, to embarrass the operations of the mortars.

Deserters are being rapidly taken both from the rebel gunboats and from their batteries. They say that nearly all of the crews of the gunboats have been impressed, and so great is the fear of the officers lest they desert that they frequently muster them every hour in the day.

The batteries now mount about forty very heavy guns. They have sixty more guns which they are rapidly putting in position. Within the past few days Bragg has arrived and succeeds Gen. Villipage, hitherto in command. There are about 6,000 troops there. Both troops and guns are from Pensacola.

There are but four gunboats in the river – the Mariposa [sic], Macray [sic], Ponchartrain and Livingston, mounting a total of twenty-four guns. The Ivy has gone to New Orleans with Hollins on board. The Gen. Polk is at Memphis repairing. Capt. Engee is acting Commodore in Hollin’s absence.

An independent company at Memphis has five boats below Fort Pillow, intended to grapple on our fleet and take it down to Dixie.

There are four rams at New Orleans, among them the Manassas. Active preparations are not expected at present.

Commodore Foot suffers severely from his wound received at Donelson.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Tuesday Morning, April 22, 1862, p. 1

Sunday, December 13, 2009

From Fort Pillow

FORT PILLOW, April 22. – The Rain has ceased and the sun shines for the first time in a week.

For three days not a gun has been heard in this vicinity, both commandants being to save their powder until something can be accomplished by its destination. This lull may presage a storm to come, though at present that storm seems far distant.

The enemy are reported to have 14 gunboats off the Fort, together with the Manassas Ram – the latter and seven of the former having arrived on Sunday.

Hollins [sic] has returned from New Orleans with the McCrea.

The Decota to-day takes one hundred bales of cotton to Cairo, the first shipment up the Mississippi river since the breaking out of hostilities:. There is reported to be much more in this vicinity

– Published in The Burlington Weekly-Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, April 26, 1862, p. 3