The officers and soldiers, about thirty in number, who came
down the Wachita in my company, determined to proceed to Natchez today, and a
very hard day's work we had of it.
As the Louisianian bank of the Mississippi is completely
overflowed at this time of year, and the river itself is infested with the
enemy's gunboats, which have run past Vicksburg and Port Hudson, the passage
can only be made by a tedious journey in small boats through the swamps and
bayous.
Our party left Trinity at 6 A.M. in one big yawl and three
skiffs. In my skiff were eight persons, besides a negro oarsman named “Tucker.”
We had to take it in turns to row with this worthy, and I soon discovered to my
cost the inconvenience of sitting in close proximity with a perspiring darkie.
This negro was a very powerful man, very vain, and susceptible of flattery. I
won his heart by asking him if he wasn't worth 6000 dollars. We kept him up to
the mark throughout the journey by plying him with compliments upon his
strength and skill. One officer declared to him that he should try to marry his
mistress (a widow) on purpose to own him.
After beating up for about eight miles against one of three
streams which unite at, and give its name to, Trinity, we turned off to the
right, and got into a large dense swamp. The thicket was so tangled and
impenetrable that we experienced the greatest difficulty in forcing our way
through it; we were often obliged to get into the water up to our middles and
shove, whilst most of the party walked along an embankment.
After two hours and a half of this sort of work we had to
carry our boats bodily over the embankment into a bayou called Log Bayou, on
account of the numerous floating logs which had to be encountered . We then
crossed a large and beautiful lake, which led us into another dismal swamp,
quite as tangled as the former one. Here we lost our way, and got aground
several times; but at length, after great exertions, we forced ourselves
through it, and reached Lake Concordia, a fine piece of water, several miles in
extent, and we were landed at dusk on the plantation of a Mr Davis.
These bayous and swamps abound with alligators and snakes of
the most venomous description. I saw many of the latter swimming about exposed
to a heavy fire of six-shooters; but the alligators were frightened away by the
leading boat.
The yawl and one of the skiffs beat us, and their passengers
reached Natchez about 9 P.M., but the other skiff, which could not boast of a
Tucker, was lost in the swamp, and passed the night there in a wretched plight.
The weather was most disagreeable, either a burning sun or a
downpour of rain.
The distance we did in the skiff was about twenty-eight
miles, which took us eleven hours to perform.
On landing we hired at Mr Davis's a small cart for Mr
Douglas (the wounded Missourian) and our baggage, and we had to finish the day
by a trudge of three miles through deep mud, until, at length, we reached a
place called Vidalia, which is on the Louisianian bank of the Mississippi, just
opposite Natchez.
At Vidalia I got the immense luxury of a pretty good bed, all
to myself, which enabled me to take off my clothes and boots for the first
time in ten days.
The landlord told us that three of the enemy's gunboats had
passed during the day; and as he said their crews were often in the habit of
landing at Vidalia, he cautioned the military to be ready to bolt into the
woods at any time during the night.
There were two conscripts on board my skiff to-day, one an
Irishman and the other a Pole. They confessed to me privately their extreme
dislike of the military profession; but at the same time they acknowledged the
enthusiasm of the masses for the war.
SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three
Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 95-7
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