The plot thickens, the air is red hot with rumors; the
mystery is to find out where these utterly groundless tales originate. In spite
of all, Tom Huger came for us and we went on the Planter to take a look at
Morris Island and its present inhabitants — Mrs. Wigfall and the Cheves girls,
Maxcy Gregg and Colonel Whiting, also John Rutledge, of the Navy, Dan Hamilton,
and William Haskell. John Rutledge was a figurehead to be proud of. He did not
speak to us. But he stood with a Scotch shawl draped about him, as handsome and
stately a creature as ever Queen Elizabeth loved to look upon.
There came up such a wind we could not land. I was not too
sorry, though it blew so hard (I am never seasick). Colonel Whiting explained
everything about the forts, what they lacked, etc., in the most interesting
way, and Maxcy Gregg supplemented his report by stating all the deficiencies
and shortcomings by land.
Beauregard is a demigod here to most of the natives, but
there are always seers who see and say. They give you to understand that
Whiting has all the brains now in use for our defense. He does the work and
Beauregard reaps the glory. Things seem to draw near a crisis. And one must
think. Colonel Whiting is clever enough for anything, so we made up our minds
to-day, Maxcy Gregg and I, as judges. Mr. Gregg told me that my husband was in
a minority in the Convention; so much for cool sense when the atmosphere is
phosphorescent. Mrs. Wigfall says we are mismatched. She should pair with my
cool, quiet, self-poised Colonel. And her stormy petrel is but a male
reflection of me.
SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin
and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 31
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