Brigadier-General Isaac I. Stevens to Brigadier-General Thomas W. Sherman, December 10, 1861

HEADQUARTERS DISTRICT OF PORT ROYAL,

Beaufort, S. C. December 10, 1861.

Brigadier-General SHERMAN,

Commanding Expeditionary Corps:

GENERAL: Lieutenant Ransom and the section of Hamilton's battery under his command moved at 3 o'clock this morning, and I followed with two members of my staff, Acting Aides-de-Camp Lusk and Taylor, of, respectively, the Highlanders and Fiftieth Pennsylvania, a half hour afterwards. We reached the ferry at daylight. I found, however, on careful examination that the Confederates had not commenced the erection of any works since our occupation of the island. After an examination of the country adjoining the ferry, especially of the old ferry at Seabrook, a mile and a half to the westward of the present ferry, I determined to take positive possession of both sides of the existing ferry, especially as an effort had been made during my absence at Seabrook to fire the ferry building on the island side. Lieutenant Ransom, bringing, under my direction, his battery into position at Stuart's place, fired four shots and dispersed the enemy's pickets, and Lieutenant-Colonel Brenholts, commanding the detachment at the ferry, advanced immediately a picket of 12 men to the ferry, and took possession of both banks, with some four boats. These have since been secured. A small block-house commanding the ferry on the main was destroyed. I left the battery at the ferry, with instructions to return to-morrow, unless, after conference with Lieutenant-Colonel Brenholts, Lieutenant Ransom should be satisfied from the unexpected developments of circumstances he ought to remain at the ferry. In this event he was promptly to advise me by messenger.

I have had the points carefully examined where it was alleged stockades were being built to close the channel. East of the ferry the attempt was actually made, but nothing was accomplished. I have, with the assistance of my aides and scouting parties, examined nearly all portions of the island to-day. The conduct of the troops is exemplary, and there will be considerable additions made to our stock of quartermaster's stores.

I am, sir, very respectfully, yours, most obediently,

 ISAAC I. STEVENS,

 Brigadier-General Commanding.

SOURCES: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 6 (Serial No. 6), p. 199-200; William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 108-9

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, December 10, 1861

Headquarters 2d Brigade,

Port Royal District, Dec. 10th, 1861.

My dear Mother:

I am still much busied — still find it difficult to cull even a few moments from multifarious duties, even to write my dear mother. I would like much to have a chance to write you a good long letter, yet must wait until more leisure shall fall to my share. We have the last few days been more than ever busy, owing to our formal occupation of Beaufort, where we are now pleasantly living. All sorts of comforts are at our disposal. The house occupied by the General is one belonging to Rev. (I think) Mr. Smith, an extremely elegant one. The portrait of Bishop Eliot looks down benignantly from over the mantel while I write.

I wish the owners were back in their old homes, notwithstanding they have relinquished all their old home luxuries to us. I do not, I think, possess quite enough of the Vandal spirit, for anything like predative warfare. I have spoken of the extreme pressure of duties, and this you will understand when I tell you I often ride thirty miles, visiting posts, arranging pickets, and in the examination of doubtful points, during the day, besides performing many other duties, such as may fall to my share. I must say night generally finds me weary and after evening work is done, disinclined even to write you.

All things seem to thrive with us so far. What we still need is a sufficiently efficient organization to enable us to strike with rapidity. Here we are, nearly five weeks in possession of this point, and as yet we have hardly been able to get the stores ashore, which we originally brought with us. And all this time too we read in the newspapers of the great zeal and activity displayed by Captain who has charge of these things. By this time we ought, considering the great fear that filled the inhabitants on our first landing, to have been able to follow up our first successes by a series of determined blows, placing the entire State at our disposal. Still we are young at war, and cannot hope to learn all these things at once. We have however done something. Immense quantities of cattle, corn, and provisions have been gathered into the commissary stores, Hilton Head has been securely fortified, and some cotton saved, though much of the latter has been burned by the South Carolinians to prevent its falling into our hands. I think Cousin Louisa's favorite, Sam Lord, is in the Army awaiting us on the mainland. At least I heard such to be the case from a negro driver on one of the plantations, who seemed to know him. The Pringles lived somewhere in this neighborhood too, so I am brought almost face to face with old friends.

Believe me,

Very Affec'y.,

W. T. Lusk.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 106-7

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, November 13, 1861

Headquarters Second Brigade,

Hilton Head, S. C.

November 13th, 1861.

My dear Mother:

I am delighted, after several busy days, once more to have an opportunity to quiet the uneasiness of your anxious heart, and assure you of my continued welfare. We are now fairly ensconced on South Carolina soil. Our headquarters are at an old wooden building innocent of paint, but rendered interesting by a large hole in the side, caused by the passage of one of our shot. These were pleasant places that the planters have abandoned us, and though conscious that our victory has been glorious, and that a heavy blow has been struck, would to God that this war had never visited us, and that the planters were once more peacefully cultivating their pleasant homes. The country for many miles around has fallen into the hands of our armies, and, unhappily, victors are apt to be ruthless in destroying the property of conquered enemies.

However, the season of pillage is almost over. Our camps are being well guarded, and the opportunities for the escape of straggling parties of marauders have ceased. Every effort has been made to check wanton excesses, and it has been made for a few days past almost the sole duty of the Aides to scour the country for the purpose of intercepting parties wandering about without proper authority. In this manner I have come to see something of neighboring plantations, which are among the wealthiest in South Carolina.

I wrote you before that here lived the Pinckneys, the Popes, a gentleman named Jenkins-Stoney, and others whose names may, or may not be familiar to you. Their houses are in the old fashioned Southern mansion style, and show evidences of luxury and comfort.

By-the-way, I saw a letter from a Secession soldier named Lusk the other day, which dilated much on the justice of the Southern cause, and the certainty that God would give the South the victory. I hear there is, or was previous to our arrival, a large family of Lusks at Beaufort, a few miles distant. I regret to say that the letter I have mentioned, did not show the writer to have displayed any great diligence in studying his spelling-book in the days of early youth. The weather here is warm as summer. Oranges hang still in ripe profusion on the trees, the cotton remains unpicked, and the corn remains for us to gather. Negroes crowd in swarms to our lines, happy in the thought of freedom, dancing, singing, void of care, and vainly dreaming that all toil is in future to be spared, and that henceforth they are to lead that life of lazy idleness which forms the Nigger's Paradise. I fear that before long they have passed only from the hands of one taskmaster into the hands of another.

All this long time I get no news from home, and am eagerly, impatiently, awaiting the advent of the mail which is to recompense for the long weeks of waiting. I may write very irregularly, as my time was never so little my own as now. I think, when the “Vanderbilt” returns, you will see my old school friend Sandford, who will bear you news of me. Sandford is a young fellow, of the family of the name, so extensively engaged in shipping interests. I mention this as possibly Uncle Phelps may know of them. Have Lilly and Tom any intention of soon being married? I send by Sandford, a hundred dollars of my pay home to be delivered to Uncle Phelps, and would like $25.00 of it to be expended in buying Lilly, when the wedding day comes, some remembrance from brother Will. I enclose in this letter a $5.00 bill to be especially employed in the purchase of toys for the children. I would like much to see little Willie and Turlie once more. If I possibly can, I shall try and get a leave of absence about Christmas time, though I hardly expect to be successful. Walter, I suppose, is fairly home by this time. I would have written before, congratulating him upon the arrival of his little boy, but have been waiting to get hold of the letter which announces it. Beyond the fact that he is a father I know nothing.

Give love to all my friends, and all who feel an interest in me. I would like to see you soon again, which, in fact, is the burthen of all the Southern letters we have intercepted. There is one thing very conspicuous in all letters from Southern soldiers. I refer to the deep religious vein pervading them. Their religious impressions seem to be warmer than those of our troops. One poor fellow fears their cause is doomed because of the fearful immorality in their ranks. “Why,” he writes, “I even hear that officers have been known to curse the men under their command.”

Good-bye,

Very Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 99-102

Diary of William Howard Russell: April 28, 1861

The church is a long way off, only available by a boat and then a drive in a carriage. In the morning a child brings in my water and boots — an intelligent, curly-headed creature, dressed in a sort of sack, without any particular waist, barefooted. I imagined it was a boy till it told me it was a girl. I asked if she was going to church, which seemed to puzzle her exceedingly; but she told me finally she would hear prayers from “uncle” in one of the cottages. This use of the words “uncle” and “aunt” for old people is very general. Is it because they have no fathers and mothers? In the course of the day, the child, who was fourteen or fifteen years of age, asked me “whether I would not buy her. She could wash and sew very well, and she thought missus wouldn't want much for her.” The object she had in view leaked out at last. It was a desire to see the glories of Beaufort, of which she had heard from the fishermen; and she seemed quite wonderstruck when she was informed I did not live there, and had never seen it. She had never been outside the plantation in her life.

After breakfast we loitered about the grounds, strolling through the cotton-fields, which had as yet put forth no bloom or flower, and coming down others to the thick fringes of wood and sedge bordering the marshy banks of the island. The silence was profound, broken only by the husky mid-day crowing of the cocks in the negro quarters.

In the afternoon I took a short drive “to see a tree,” which was not very remarkable, and looked in at the negro quarters and the cotton-mill. The old negroes were mostly indoors, and came shambling out to the doors of their wooden cottages, making clumsy bows at our approach, but not expressing any interest or pleasure at the sight of their master and the strangers. They were shabbily clad; in tattered clothes, bad straw hats and felt bonnets, and broken shoes. The latter are expensive articles, and negroes cannot dig without them. Trescot sighed as he spoke of the increase of price since the troubles broke out.

The huts stand in a row, like a street, each detached, with a poultry-house of rude planks behind it. The mutilations which the poultry undergo for the sake of distinction are striking. Some are deprived of a claw, others have the wattles cut, and tails and wings suffer in all ways. No attempt at any drainage or any convenience existed near them, and the same remark applies to very good houses of white people in the south. Heaps of oyster shells, broken crockery, old shoes, rags, and feathers were found near each hut. The huts were all alike windowless, and the apertures, intended to be glazed some fine day, were generally filled up with a deal board. The roofs were shingle, and the whitewash which had once given the settlement an air of cleanliness, was now only to be traced by patches which had escaped the action of the rain. I observed that many of the doors were fastened by a padlock and chain outside. “Why is that?” “The owners have gone out, and honesty is not a virtue they have towards each other. They would find their things stolen if they did not lock their doors.” Mrs. Trescot, however, insisted on it that nothing could exceed the probity of the slaves in the house, except in regard to sweet things, sugar, and the like; but money and jewels were quite safe. It is obvious that some reason must exist for this regard to the distinctions twixt meum and tuum in the case of masters and mistresses, when it does not guide their conduct towards each other, and I think it might easily be found in the fact that the negroes could scarcely take money without detection. Jewels and jewelry would be of little value to them; they could not wear them, could not part with them. The system has made the white population a police against the black race, and the punishment is not only sure but grievous. Such things as they can steal from each other are not to be so readily traced.

One particularly dirty looking little hut was described to me as “the church.” It was about fifteen feet square, begrimed with dirt and smoke, and windowless. A few benches were placed across it, and “the preacher,” a slave from another plantation, was expected next week. These preachings are not encouraged in many plantations. They “do the niggers no good” — “they talk about things that are going on elsewhere, and get their minds unsettled,” and so on.

On our return to the house, I found that Mr. Edmund Rhett, one of the active and influential political family of that name, had called — a very intelligent and agreeable gentleman, but one of the most ultra and violent speakers against the Yankees I have yet heard. He declared there were few persons in South Carolina who would not sooner ask Great Britain to take back the State than submit to the triumph of the Yankees. “We are an agricultural people, pursuing our own system, and working out our own destiny, breeding up women and men with some other purpose than to make them vulgar, fanatical, cheating Yankees — hypocritical, if as women they pretend to real virtue; and lying, if as men they pretend to be honest. We have gentlemen and gentlewomen in your sense of it. We have a system which enables us to reap the fruits of the earth by a race which we save from barbarism in restoring them to their real place in the world as laborers, whilst we are enabled to cultivate the arts, the graces, and accomplishments of life, to develop science, to apply ourselves to the duties of government, and to understand the affairs of the country.”

This is a very common line of remark here. The Southerners also take pride to themselves, and not unjustly, for their wisdom in keeping in Congress those men who have proved themselves useful and capable. “We do not,” they say, “cast able men aside at the caprices of a mob, or in obedience to some low party intrigue, and hence we are sure of the best men, and are served by gentlemen conversant with public affairs, far superior in every way to the ignorant clowns who are sent to Congress by the North. Look at the fellows who are sent out by Lincoln to insult foreign courts by their presence.” I said that I understood Mr. Adams and Mr. Dayton were very respectable gentlemen, but I did not receive any sympathy; in fact, a neutral who attempts to moderate the violence of either side, is very like an ice between two hot plates. Mr. Rhett is also persuaded that the Lord Chancellor sits on a cotton bale. “You must recognize us, sir, before the end of October.” In the evening a distant thunder-storm attracted me to the garden, and I remained out watching the broad flashes and sheets of fire worthy of the tropics till it was bedtime.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 146-8

Diary of William Howard Russell: April 26, 1861

Bade good-by to Charleston at 9:45 A. M., this day, and proceeded by railway, in company with Mr. Ward, to visit Mr. Trescot's Sea Island Plantation. Crossed the river to the terminus in a ferry steamer. No blockading vessels in sight yet. The water alive with small silvery fish, like mullet, which sprang up and leaped along the surface incessantly. An old gentleman, who was fishing on the pier, combined the pursuit of sport with instruction very ingeniously by means of a fork of bamboo in his rod, just above the reel, into which he stuck his inevitable newspaper, and read gravely in his cane-bottomed chair till he had a bite, when the fork was unhitched and the fish was landed. The negroes are very much addicted to the contemplative man's recreation, and they were fishing in all directions.

On the move again. Took our places in the Charleston and Savannah Railway for Pocotaligo, which is the station for Barnwell Island. Our fellow-passengers were all full of politics — the pretty women being the fiercest of all — no! the least good-looking were the most bitterly patriotic, as if they hoped to talk themselves into husbands by the most unfeminine expressions towards the Yankees.

The country is a dead flat, perforated by rivers and watercourses, over which the rail is carried on long and lofty trestle-work. But for the fine trees, the magnolias and live-oak, the landscape would be unbearably hideous, for there are none of the quaint, cleanly, delightful villages of Holland to relieve the monotonous level of rice swamps and wastes of land and water and mud. At the humble little stations there were invariably groups of horsemen waiting under the trees, and ladies with their black nurses and servants who had driven over in the odd-looking old-fashioned vehicles, which were drawn up in the shade. Those who were going on a long journey, aware of the utter barrenness of the land, took with them a viaticum and bottles of milk. The nurses and slaves squatted down by their side in the train, on perfectly well-understood terms. No one objected to their presence — on the contrary, the passengers treated them with a certain sort of special consideration, and they were on the happiest terms with their charges, some of which were in the absorbent condition of life, and dived their little white faces against the tawny bosom of their nurses with anything but reluctance.

The train stopped, at 12:20, at Pocotaligo; and there we found Mr. Trescot and a couple of neighboring planters, famous as fishers for “drum,” of which more by and by. I had met old Mr. Elliot in Charleston, and his account of this sport, and of the pursuit of an enormous sea monster called the devil-fish, which he was one of the first to kill in these waters, excited my curiosity very much. Mr. Elliot has written a most agreeable account of the sports of South Carolina, and I had hoped he would have been well enough to have been my guide, philosopher, and friend in drum-fishing in Port Royal; but he sent over his son to, say that he was too unwell to come, and had therefore despatched most excellent representatives in two members of his family. It was arranged that they should row down from their place and meet us to-morrow morning at Trescot's Island, which lies above Beaufort, in Port Royal Sound and River.

Got into Trescot's gig, and plunged into a shady lane with wood on each side, through which we drove for some distance. The country, on each side and beyond, perfectly flat — all rice lands — few houses visible — scarcely a human being on the road — drove six or seven miles without meeting a soul. After a couple of hours or so, I should think, the gig turned up by an open gateway on a path or road made through a waste of rich black mud, “glorious for rice,” and landed us at the door of a planter, Mr. Heyward, who came out and gave us a most hearty welcome, in the true Southern style. His house is charming, surrounded with trees, and covered with roses and creepers, through which birds and butterflies are flying. Mr. Heyward took it as a matter of course that we stopped to dinner, which we were by no means disinclined to do, as the day was hot, the road was dusty, and his reception frank and kindly. A fine specimen of the planter man; and, minus his broad-brimmed straw hat and loose clothing, not a bad representative of an English squire at home.

Whilst we were sitting in the porch, a strange sort of booming noise attracted my attention in one of the trees. “It is a rain-crow,” said Mr. Heyward; “a bird which we believe to foretell rain. I'll shoot it for you.” And, going into the hall, he took down a double-barrelled fowling-piece, walked out, and fired into the tree; whence the rain-crow, poor creature, fell fluttering to the ground and died. It seemed to me a kind of cuckoo — the same size, but of darker plumage. I could gather no facts to account for the impression that its call is a token of rain.

My attention was also called to a curious kind of snake-killing hawk, or falcon, which makes an extraordinary noise by putting its wings point upwards, close together, above its back, so as to offer no resistance to the air, and then, beginning to descend from a great height, with fast-increasing rapidity, makes, by its rushing through the air, a strange loud hum, till it is near the ground, when the bird stops its downward swoop and flies in a curve over the meadow. This I saw two of these birds doing repeatedly to-night.

After dinner, at which Mr. Heyward expressed some alarm lest Secession would deprive the Southern States of “ice,” we continued our journey towards the river. There is still a remarkable absence of population or life along the road, and even the houses are either hidden or lie too far off to be seen. The trees are much admired by the people, though they would not be thought much of in England.

At length, towards sundown, having taken to a track by a forest, part of which was burning, we came to a broad muddy river, with steep clay banks. A canoe was lying in a little harbor formed by a slope in the bank, and four stout negroes, who were seated round a burning log, engaged in smoking and eating oysters, rose as we approached, and helped the party into the “dug-out,” or canoe, a narrow, long, and heavy boat, with wall sides and a flat floor. A row of one hour, the latter part of it in darkness, took us to the verge of Mr. Trescot's estate, Barnwell Island; and the oarsmen, as they bent to their task, beguiled the way by singing in unison a real negro melody, which was as unlike the works of the Ethiopian Serenaders as anything in song could be unlike another. It was a barbaric sort of madrigal, in which one singer beginning was followed by the others in unison, repeating the refrain in chorus, and full of quaint expression and melancholy:—

“Oh, your soul! oh, my soul! I'm going to the churchyard to lay this body down;

Oh, my soul! oh, your soul! we're going to the churchyard to lay this nigger down.”

And then some appeal to the difficulty of passing “the Jawdam,” constituted the whole of the song, which continued with unabated energy through the whole of the little voyage. To me it was a strange scene. The stream, dark as Lethe, flowing between the silent, houseless, rugged banks, lighted up near the landing by the fire in the woods, which reddened the sky — the wild strain, and the unearthly adjurations to the singers' souls, as though they were palpable, put me in mind of the fancied voyage across the Styx.

“Here we are at last.” All I could see was a dark shadow of trees and the tops of rushes by the river side. “Mind where you step, and follow me close.” And so, groping along through a thick shrubbery for a short space, I came out on a garden and enclosure, in the midst of which the white outlines of a house were visible. Lights in the drawing-room — a lady to receive and welcome us — a snug library — tea, and to bed: but not without more talk about the Southern Confederacy, in which Mrs. Trescot explained how easily she could feed an army, from her experience in feeding her negroes.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 137-40

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Tuesday, January 31, 1865

We remained in bivouac all day and have heard no news. We drew some clothing today. Our camp is located about thirty miles northwest of Beaufort. The country is very level and heavily timbered, chiefly with pine. It is thinly settled and the farms are small with nothing of consequence raised on them. The people are poor, the women and children being left destitute, as the men have all gone off to the war.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 249

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Friday, January 27, 1865

We are still on duty at the old fort, and everything is going well. The trains have now quit going to Beaufort and we expect to receive orders to leave soon.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 248

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Sunday, January 22, 1865

A detail from our regiment was sent out along the road today to help the loaded wagons across the deep mudholes, as they come through from Beaufort. It is reported that the Fourteenth and Twentieth Corps have crossed into South Carolina and are floundering in the mud bottoms of the Savannah river.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 248

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Thursday, January 19, 1865

There is nothing new. We are still on picket on the main road to Beaufort.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 247

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Wednesday, January 18, 1865

The weather is very pleasant. We are still on duty guarding the main road to Beaufort. The trains have all gone in for supplies. All is quiet in front. This low-country, before the war, was planted to cotton, the planters living in town while their plantations were managed by overseers and worked by slaves brought down from the border states. We can see rows of the vacant negro huts on these large plantations, set upon blocks so as to keep the floors dry. The negroes are all gone, being employed in the armies of both sections.¹

_______________

¹ When I think of the vacant plantations I saw all through the South, when I recall the hardships of the negroes, and the different modes of punishment Inflicted upon the slaves, all with the consent of the Southern people, then I can understand how they could be so cruel in their treatment of the Union prisoners of war. They put them in awful prison pens and starved them to death without a successful protest from the better class of the people of the South. The guards of these prisons had lived all their lives witnessing the cruel tortures of slaves; they had become hardened and thus had no mercy on an enemy when in their power. Many an Andersonvllle prisoner was shot down Just for getting too close to an imaginary dead-line when suffering from thirst and trying to get a drink of water.

Not all Southerners were so cruel, for I lived in the same house with an ex-Confederate soldier from Georgia, when in southern Florida during the winter of 1911 and know that he had some feeling. He had been guard at Andersonville for a short time, and told me that he would have taken water to them by the bucketful, for he could not bear to hear the poor fellows calling for water; but that he did not dare to do it. This man's name was McCain, and at the time I met him his home was at College Park, Atlanta, Ga. — A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 247

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Monday, January 16, 1865

All is quiet in front. Company E moved back four or five miles to a large rebel fort on the main road to Beaufort, and on an inlet of the ocean. We are to remain here on picket duty until further orders. The main part of the regiment has fortified. Our company put up the "ranches" on a causeway.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 247

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Sunday, January 15, 1865

The rebels fell back last night and our men pushed forward this morning. We moved six miles and again went into camp. One regiment and the Thirteenth Iowa was left at Pocotaligo for picket duty and to act as train guard for the trains passing to and fro from Beaufort, hauling provisions out to the front for the army.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 246-7

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Wednesday, January 11, 1865

It is clear and quite cool. We learn that a part of the Fifteenth Army Corps landed at Beaufort today and will come out this way and go into camp. We expect to be joined by the other two corps from Savannah as soon as they succeed in crossing the river, when we shall all move forward at the same time. We had company inspection today.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 246

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Sunday, January 8, 1865

It is quite cool. We lay in camp all day. We are once more drawing full rations, and it is well that we are, for there is absolutely nothing to forage here, not even rice in the hull. We have also received some of the Sanitary goods sent here for distribution. All is quiet at present and there is no news of any importance. Beaufort is a nice place, situated on an island, and has good shipping facilities. Goods of all kinds are sold here at reasonable prices, business being carried on much as in a Northern town. The Union army has been in possession of the place for some time. The entire Seventeenth Army Corps is here, but will move forward in a few days.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 245

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Friday, January 6, 1865

We left our camp this morning at 8 o'clock and marched down to the coast about four miles below Savannah. At 2 o'clock we embarked on the transports for Beaufort, South Carolina. Our regiment is on board a ship built in England as a blockade-runner for the Southern Confederacy, but which was finally captured by our navy at Savannah. It rained all forenoon, but by noon it had cleared off with a high wind blowing in from the ocean. Our ship, not having enough ballast, rocked frightfully in the gale, upsetting tables in the dining room and frightening many of the boys lest we should be turned over. The sailors only smiled at our discomfiture. The rough sea made a great many of the boys sick, but our company being on the hurricane deck, did not become so sick. We reached Beaufort at 11 p. m., but cannot land, and so have to remain on the boats all night.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 244-5

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Tuesday, January 3, 1865

The First Division of the Seventeenth Army Corps embarked this afternoon on an unknown expedition.¹ They had to march down to the coast below the city in order to take ship. It is reported in camp that the rest of the corps, together with the Fifteenth Corps, is to follow in a few days, while the Fourteenth and Twentieth Corps, with Kilpatrick's cavalry, are to cross the Savannah river above the city and start on a grand raid through South Carolina. They are to move through North Carolina and Virginia, and finally land at Richmond.

_______________

¹ We learned later that the expedition sailed for Beaufort, South Carolina.—A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 244

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, November 9, 1861

Headquarters 2nd Brigade,

Hilton Head, Nov. 9TH, 1861.

My dear Mother:

It is a long, long time since I have heard from home — nearly three weeks I think since we have been blessed with news by mail, and all this time I am wondering how you are all faring in New-York. Well, when a mail bag does come, may it be crowded with all sorts of good news. Now we have good news to report, for we are now enjoying ourselves in the pleasant climate of South Carolina.

We have been many days on shipboard, 1700 of us all together, on board the good ship “Vanderbilt” which bravely rode the storm, while other good ships foundered in the sea. But the storm abated, and the winds went down, and we were lying off the coast of South Carolina. Then we thought that a death struggle was about to commence, for were we not to lock arms, and wrestle, with traitors at the very headquarters of rebellion? We lay off Beaufort Harbor some sixty hours in idleness, waiting for the ball to open. That navy though is a slow affair, and we abused it mightily, being impatient to decide the fate of the expedition. Our naval commanders — Commodore Dupont and Secretary of Navy Welles — received most unflattering notices. Why would they not begin? Finally the old concern got a working — the “Wabash” led off, and was followed by a whole fleet of minor vessels. They sailed into line, and soon were sharply engaged with the forts protecting the entrance to the Harbor. For four hours shot were poured thickly into the defenses of the besieged, and nearly as long a time the besiegers sent destruction among our ships. But the terrible explosions of our shell, the steady broadsides poured from the Frigate “Wabash,” and the sure-aimed missiles sent from the little gunboats that would run up close to the shore, ensuring thus accuracy of aim — all these things were terrible in their effect upon the foe. At last a white flag floated from the parapet of their fortification, and quickly a white flag was despatched from the “Wabash” to the shore. Hip, Hip, Hurrah! We see — ay —  we rub our eyes — is it really true? We see the American banner once more floating on the soil of South Carolina. All this time we were looking on, silent spectators of the scene. But now the harbor rings with the shouts of applause, with which we greeted the great naval victory. We forgot for a moment how slow Secretary Welles is, and how dreadfully slow are all the operations of the Navy. And now we vile Yankee hordes are overrunning the pleasant islands about Beaufort, rioting upon sweet potatoes and Southern sunshine. Hilton Head is a sandy island but beautiful with palmetto leaves, cotton fields, magnolia and orange groves, and plantations of sugar cane. Here lived the Pinckneys, the Draytons, and other high-blooded Hidalgos, whose effervescing exuberance of gentlemanly spirit have done so much to cause our present troubles. Alas! Yankee hordes, ruthless invaders — the vile Hessians — infest their splendid plantations. One poor fellow was taken prisoner; afterward we learned there was in our hospital a brother of his, dying from disease, a young man who was too ill to retreat when his comrades fled precipitately. The brother first mentioned ventured to request that they two might remain together. To his surprise the request was willingly granted, and they seemed to feel that we had shown them a great kindness. The effects left by the South Carolinians in their flight show that there were many young men of wealth among them, who, feeling obliged probably, to do their duty as soldiers, selected the neighborhood of Beaufort, which is a kind of Southern Saratoga. But if the flower of South Carolina youth, it is to be regretted that the flower never paid more attention to the spelling-book. A letter written them from a friend exhorts them to remember that they are “of gentilmanly blud.” As a sort of memento I send you enclosed a “poem,” the brilliancy of which will make it pay for the perusal. I saw William Ely yesterday. It is long since I've seen him before, and he has changed so that I did not recognize him until he gave me his name. If I had time I would write pages more, but I am full of business now. Oh a thousand times love and oceans of kisses for sisters and little ones, with less demonstrative but very warm regards for all friends.

I remain Affec'y.,

Will.

Can't stop to correct what I've written so excuse mistakes.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 95-8

Diary of Laura M. Towne: April 17, 1862

Beaufort, S.C., April 17, 1862.

At Mrs. John Forbes',¹ formerly Mr. Tripp's house,— a modern built new building with expensive sea wall and other improvements. The wind blows freshly nearly all day and the tide rises over sandy, grassy flats on three sides of the house. These sands are full of fiddler-crab holes, and are at low tide the resort of negro children with tubs on their heads, crabbing. Soldiers, fishermen, and stragglers also come there, and we see not a little life. Boats frequently pass by, the negro rowers singing their refrains. One very pretty one this morning Moses told me was: —

“De bells done rang

An' we goin' home —

The bells in heaven are ringing.”

Every now and then they shout and change the monotony by several very quick notes, or three or four long-drawn-out ones. One man sings a few words and the chorus breaks in, sometimes with a shout or interjecttional notes. Another song was, “We're bound to go” — to heaven, I suppose. Another had a chorus of “Oh yes, ma'am,” at every five or six bars.

Yesterday Caroline² took us to her mother's house. They were expecting us and were neatly dressed, and elegantly furnished indeed was their room. It had straw matting and a mahogany bureau, besides other things that said plainly “massa's” house had contributed to the splendor, probably after the hasty retreat of “massa's” family. The two women there were both of the colored aristocracy, had lived in the best families, never did any work to speak of, longed for the young ladies and young “mas'rs” back again, because April was the month they used to come to Beaufort and have such gay times. But if their masters were to come back they wanted to go North with us. They begged us to stay, for “seemed like they couldn't be happy widout white ladies ‘roun’.” They hoped it would be healthy so that we could stay, but they thought it would not be so, because the city is not cleaned as it used to be. They would have gone with their masters, both of them, but they had relations whom they did not want to be parted from, “except by death,” who were not going. One of them had gone at first, but ran away and found her way back here, “by de direction of de Lord.” They were both nice women. In the quarters we afterward went to, we saw a dirty family and two horribly ugly old women. They had got a lesson from some one and said, “We got to keep clean or we'll all be sick.” They were not putting their lesson to use.

The little cook-house belonging to this fine mansion is dark and dirty, but nearly empty. Cut-glass tumbler and flower glass on the mantelpiece spoke of the spoliation. Caroline, who escorted us, walked a little distance behind, without bonnet or any outdoor garment. She, however, wore a silver thimble very ostentatiously and carried a little bit of embroidered curtain for a pocket handkerchief, holding it at the middle with her hand put daintily at her waist. We passed a soldier — they are at every corner — and he said something rather jeering. Caroline stepped up, grinning with delight, and told us he said, “There goes the Southern aristocracy with their nigger behind them.” She seemed to be prouder than ever after this. She is rather pretty, very intelligent and respectful, but not very industrious, I fancy.

The walk through the town was so painful, not only from the desertion and desolation, but more than that from the crowd of soldiery lounging, idling, growing desperate for amusement and occupation, till they resort to brutality for excitement. I saw a soldier beating a horse so that I think it possible he killed him. Others galloped past us in a most reckless, unconscionable manner; others stared and looked unfriendly; others gave us a civil military salute and a look as if they saw something from home gladly. There are two Pennsylvania regiments here now, I think. The artillery is encamped near here.

Besides soldiers the streets are full of the oddest negro children — dirty and ragged, but about the same as so many Irish in intelligence, I think, though their mode of speaking is not very intelligible.

The streets are lovely in all that nature does for them. The shade trees are fine, the wild flowers luxuriant, and the mocking-birds perfectly enchanting. They are so numerous and noisy that it is almost like being in a canary bird fancier's.

This morning we went — Mrs. Forbes, Mr. Philbrick,³ and I — to two of the schools. There are not many pupils now, as the General is sending all the negro women and children to the plantations to keep them away from the soldiers. They say that at Hilton Head the negroes are getting unmanageable from mixing with the soldiers, and this is to be prevented here. Women and children, some with babies, some with little toddling things hanging about them, were seated and busily at work. We saw in the school Mrs. Nicholson, Miss White, and Mr. Nichols, who was teaching the little darkies gymnastics and what various things were for, eyes, etc. He asked what ears were made for, and when they said, “To yer with,” he could not understand them at all. The women were given the clothes they make up for their children. I saw some very low-looking women who answered very intelligently, contrary to my expectations, and who were doing pretty good sewing.

There are several very light children at these schools, two with red hair, and one boy who has straight black hair and a head like Andrew Jackson, tall and not wide, but with the front remarkably developed so as to give it an overhanging look. Some, indeed most of them, were the real bullet-headed negroes.

In Miss White's school all of them knew their letters, and she was hearing a class spell words of one syllable.

I have seen little, but have had two talks with both Mr. Pierce⁴ and Mr. French,⁵ and have heard from Mrs. Forbes much of what has been going on as she sees it. Mr. Hooper⁶ also enlightens me a little, and Mr. Philbrick. They all say that the cotton agents have been a great trouble and promise still to be, but Mr. French says we have gained the victory there. There seems to me to be a great want of system, and most incongruous elements here. Some of the women are uneducated and coarse in their looks, but I should think some of them at least are earnest and hard workers. Perhaps they are better fitted for this work than people with more refinement, for it certainly takes great nerve to walk here among the soldiers and negroes and not be disgusted or shocked or pained so much as to give it all up.

The Boston and Washington ladies have all gone to the plantations on the islands near here, where I am also going, and that leaves Mr. French and the New York party for the mainland, or I mean for Beaufort and this island. . . .

I have felt all along that nothing could excuse me for leaving home, and work undone there, but doing more and better work here. Nothing can make amends to my friends for all the anxiety I shall cause them, for the publicity of a not pleasant kind I shall bring upon them, but really doing here what no one else could do as well. So I have set myself a hard task. I shall want Ellen's⁷ help. We shall be strong together — I shall be weak apart.

I think a rather too cautious spirit prevails — antislavery is to be kept in the background for fear of exciting the animosity of the army, and we are only here by military sufferance. But we have the odium of out-and-out abolitionists, why not take the credit? Why not be so confident and freely daring as to secure respect! It will never be done by an apologetic, insinuating way of going to work.

I wish they would all say out loud quietly, respectfully, firmly, “We have come to do anti-slavery work, and we think it noble work and we mean to do it earnestly.”

Instead of this, they do not even tell the slaves that they are free, and they lead them to suppose that if they do not do so and so, they may be returned to their masters. They keep in the background with the army the benevolence of their plans or the justice of them, and merely insist upon the immediate expediency, which I must say is not very apparent. If they do not take the  higher ground, their cause and reputation are lost. But the work will go on. May I help it!

_______________

¹ Mrs. John M. Forbes. Mr. Forbes had rented a house in Beaufort for a short time.

² A negro servant.

³ Edward S. Philbrick, of Brookline, Massachusetts, who had volunteered for service in the Sea Islands, and been given charge of three plantations.

⁴ Edward L. Pierce, the government agent.

⁵ Rev. Mansfield French.

⁶ Edward W. Hooper, later Treasurer of Harvard College.

⁷ Miss Ellen Murray.

Rupert Sargent Holland, Editor, Letters and Diary of Laura M. Towne: Written from the Sea Islands of South Carolina 1862-1864, p. 3-9

XXXVIIth Congress -- First Session

WASHINGTON, May 7.

SENATE. – Mr. McDougal from the naval committee, reported a bill for the relief of Capt. D. G. Farragut.  The bill authorizes the payment of advances made by him while in California.  It passed.

A committee from the House appeared and impeached Judge Humphreys of Tenn.

The president said the Senate would take proper order in the premises.

HOUSE. –Mr. Elliott from the committee on commerce, reported a bill establishing a port of entry and delivery in the collection district of Beaufort S. C., at or near Hilton Head, to be called the Port of Port Royal, providing for the appointment of a collector at a salary of $1,500 per annum, and for weighers, guagers; &c.

Mr. Elliott remarked that a letter from the Secretary had been sent to the committee, stating the importance of this measure.  The bill was passed.

Mr. Crisfield caused to be read the resolution of the Maryland Legislature, appropriating $10,000 for the relief of the families of those Massachusetts 6th, who suffered by the 19th of April riot in Baltimore, and the response of the Massachusetts Legislature in acknowledgment of the generous sympathies and kind fraternal feelings they exhibited, which should always prevail among the States of the Union.

Mr. Crisfield said these proceedings afforded some sign of a restoration of peaceful relations, while we were receiving accounts of the glorious success of our arms.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Thursday Morning, May 8, 1862, p. 1