November 19, 1864
The rain continued,
being cold, by way of variety, and from the northeast; whereby it happened that
we got no mail. Be-cause what? as small Co says. Well, because the
captain of that gallant ship went and ran her aground somewhere on a shoal
which they told me the name of — whereat I was no wiser. The result to us was
disastrous; when I say to us, I mean our mess; for the chef, Mercier,
(no relation of French minister) was on board with many good eatables for us,
but in the confusion, the knavish soldiery, who were on board as passengers,
did break the boxes and did eat much and destroy and waste more. “Aussi,” said
little Mercier, “they broke many bottles; but,” he continued, with the air of a
good man, whom a higher power had protected, “that made no difference, for they
belonged to other people!” In the night we were favored with quite a
disturbance. The officer of the guard, who had possibly been storing his mind
from some mediaeval book on the ordering of warders in a walled town, suddenly
conceived an idea that it was proper for the sentries to call the hours. So we
were waked from the prima quies by loud nasal and otherwise discordant
cries of: “Post number eight! Half-past twelve! All's well!" etc., etc.
The factionaries evidently considered it a good joke, and, as they had to keep
awake, determined no one else should sleep; and so roared often and loud. Some
of the officers, hastily roused, fancied the camp was on fire; others conceived
the sentinels were inebriated; others that Mosby was in the camp; and others
again, like myself, didn't think anything about it, but growled and dropped off
again to sleep. “What was that howling?”said the testy General, at breakfast. “Yes,
what did the confounded fools mean?” added the pacific Humphreys. But the most
indignant personage was Rosencrantz. “I do svear!” he exclaimed, “this whole
night have I not a single vink slept. It is not enough that those sentry
fellows should tell us vat time it is, but they must also be screaming to me a
long speech besides! Vat do I care vat time it is; and if all is vell,
vy can they not keep it to themselves, and not be howling it in my ears and
vaking me up? This is the most fool tings I have seen!” You may be sure that
was the first and last of the warders.
SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s
Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness
to Appomattox, p. 276-7
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