Here we go, sure enough. At precisely eleven o'clock, while
we were enjoying our first dreams, we were startled by the long roll which was
beat half a square below us. At first I only repeated “The roll of the drum,”
without an idea connected with it; but hearing the soldiers running, in another
instant I was up, and was putting on my stockings when Miriam ran in, in her
nightgown. The children were roused and dressed quickly, and it did not take us
many instants to prepare, — the report of two shots, and the tramp of soldiers,
cries of “Double-quick,” and sound as of cannon moving, rather hastening our
movements. Armoirs, bureaus, and everything else were thrown open, and Miriam
and I hastily packed our sacks with any articles that came to hand, having
previously taken the precaution to put on everything fresh from the armoir. We
have saved what we can; but I find myself obliged to leave one of my new
muslins I had just finished, as it occupied more room than I can afford, the
body of my lovely lilac, and my beauteous white mull. But then, I have saved
eight half-made linen chemises! that will be better than the outward show.
Here comes an alarm of fire — at least a dreadful odor of
burning cotton which has set everybody wild with fear that conflagration is to
be added to these horrors. The cavalry swept past on their way to the river ten
minutes ago, and here comes the news that the gunboats are drawing up their
anchors and making ready. Well! here an hour has passed; suppose they do not
come after all? I have been watching two sentinels at the corner, who are
singing and dancing in the gayest way. One reminds me of Gibbes; I have seen
him dance that way often. I was glad to see a good-humored man again. I wish I
was in bed. I am only sitting up to satisfy my conscience, for I have long
since ceased to expect a real bombardment. If it must come, let it be
now; I am tired of waiting. A crowd of women have sought the protection of the
gunboats. I am distressed about the Brunots; suppose they did not hear the
noise? O girls! if I was a man, I wonder what would induce me to leave you four
lone, unprotected women sleeping in that house, unconscious of all this? Is
manhood a dream that is past? Is humanity an idle name? Fatherless, brotherless
girls, if I was honored with the title of Man, I do believe I would be fool
enough to run around and wake you, at least! Not another word, though. I shall
go mad with rage and disgust. I am going to bed. This must be a humbug. Morgan
came running in, once more in his nightgear, begging Lilly to hear his prayers.
In answer to her “Why? You have said them to-night!” he says, “Yes! but I've
been getting up so often!” Poor child! no wonder he is perplexed!
One hour and a half of this nonsense, and no result known.
We are told the firing commenced, and the pickets were driven in, twenty
minutes before the long roll beat.
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 121-3
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