WE LEAVE VIRGINIA.
NEWBERN. On the 5th of this month the 23d and 25th
Massachusetts embarked on the steamer Winona, from Bermuda Hundred bound for
Newbern. The 9th New Jersey and 27th Massachusetts embarked on another boat at
the same time for the same destination. On the morning of the 6th we ran up to
Portsmouth, taking our camp equipage and knapsacks aboard, and ran back into
Hampton Roads and anchored. There was a heavy storm blowing outside and we lay
at our anchorage all day the 7th. On the 8th we steamed up and anchored off
Fortress Monroe, but soon received orders to put out to sea. The captains of
both boats objected to going, saying it was too rough to venture outside. On
the morning of the 9th we received peremptory orders to pull up our mudhooks
and start. Then ensued a sharp correspondence between our captain and some one
in the fort, said to be Gen. Butler, and it certainly sounded a great deal like
him. The captain objected to taking out his boat on the ground that she was
only a light river boat and entirely unfit for an ocean trip, and besides was
only chartered for the bay and rivers, and he did not feel like taking her out
without first consulting her owners at Baltimore. Word came back that it made
no difference about the owners or for what she was chartered, the boat was
going to Newbern or go to pieces. In this dilemma the captain said that the
boat might go but that he shouldn't take the responsibility of taking her out.
Soon word came back that he would take her out, or go into the
fort, wearing a ball and chain. The captain, finding himself of no more account
than a common soldier, was obliged to accept the situation. Toward night our
consort, which was a sea-going boat, led off, we following after.
I felt a little nervous about going out to sea in so frail a
craft, and thought it rather rough that after having gone through what we had
we should be taken out to sea and drowned. I comforted myself with the thought
that soldiers were not supposed to have any choice in the manner of their
death. We found it rough going round Cape Henry, as there is almost always a
chop sea there even in mild weather. Getting around the cape, we encountered
heavy swells and rollers and every little while a big roller would strike us
under the port guard and make every timber in the old craft snap. I expected
every minute to see the guard, if not the whole deck torn off. I remained awake
the whole night watching our consort, which kept just ahead of us, and reckoned
on my chance for a swim.
We reached Hatteras inlet early on the morning of the 10th,
and landed at Fort Spinola, on the south side of the Trent river at Newbern, in
the afternoon. After landing we marched up into the camp of the 9th Vermont—a
sick, ragged, dirty, lousy crowd. The Vermonters gathered wonderingly around
us, extending us every sympathy and hospitality that lay in their power. The
old regiment was divided off into three or four small companies, one of which
under command of Capt. Emery, was sent out to Price's creek, about a mile from
here, to go into quarters and do some light picket duty. We have once more got
ourselves cleaned up, our hair trimmed and dressed in clean, whole clothing,
and begin to look quite like ourselves again.
We are again on our old stamping ground, but, alas, how
changed! Only a small remnant now remains of that grand old regiment that left
Worcester three years ago. They fill honored graves on half a hundred
battlefields, they are inmates of every hospital from Boston to Newbern, and
are wasting away in rebel prisons; a handful only remaining to tell the sad
tale. In a few days more they will be still further decimated by a hundred or more
whose time will be out and go home. The whole south for the past three years
has been singularly exempt from the scourge of yellow fever, but it has now
broken out in Newbern, and is raging to a great extent, 30 or 40 dying daily.
It has not yet reached the camps outside the city, and hopes are entertained
that it will not.
OFF FOR HOME.
On the 5th of October, two days before the expiration of our
term of service, an order came to Price's creek, ordering all those who were
entitled to muster out to turn over to the proper authorities our arms and equipments
and report at the railroad station near Fort Spinola. This was just after
dinner. Capt. Emery sent to the pickets across the creek for all those who had
not re-enlisted to report at quarters. In a few minutes we were all there; the
captain read the order and the boys cheered. I was all ready to comply with the
order, and bidding faithful Spitfire a long and final farewell, I handed it to
the captain. It was soon found out what was up, and for the next half hour the
enemy was left to take care of themselves, and all hands gathered at quarters
to say their good-byes and see us off. We went aboard the cars at Fort Spinola
and picked up others along the road, arriving at Morehead about dusk. There
about 100 of us went aboard the steamer Dudley Buck, and soon after were
sailing out the harbor of Beaufort, leaving behind us the scenes of our
triumphs and hardships. The next morning we were around Cape Lookout and out to
sea. Pretty soon saw the officers come up out of the cabin, they were talking
among themselves and seemed to wear a troubled look. It was soon discovered
that there was a lot of citizens aboard coming down with yellow fever, and
before noon one was brought up out of the cabin dead and laid in a boat that
hung on the davits.
AN INDIGNATION MEETING.
The boys held an indignation meeting, declaring it was wrong
and cruel on the part of the government or other authorities to allow these men
to come aboard, and it seemed to be the evident intent of the government or
some one else to murder us. They had just tried to drown us and failing in that
had now, after having gone through one of the most unheard of campaigns, and as
though were too obstinate to die, would give us one more chance, and smuggle
aboard a lot of yellow fever stricken devils to go home with us. The captain
disclaimed all knowledge of how they came aboard, but it was evident they were
here and couldn't have got here without the knowledge and consent of somebody.
They still further declared that those citizens were of no earthly use nor
hadn't been of any, they were simply buzzards who had run away from the draft
in New York, and were now running away from the yellow fever, and as a measure
of safety and self-protection it was voted to throw them all overboard. The
captain thought that would be most too summary a way of disposing of them,
besides we would be liable to a charge of mutiny and murder at sea. It
certainly was no lack of will, but only our better judgment that prevented
their being thrown overboard. We reached Fortress Monroe on the forenoon of the
7th and were detained several hours by some quarantine regulations, but were
finally permitted to resume our journey.
IN QUARANTINE.
On the morning of the 9th we sighted Sandy Hook, and on
getting nearer we could see quite a fleet of vessels lying there. This was the
lower quarantine. We ran through this, arriving at the upper quarantine at
Staten Island about 10 a. m.
We were now in sight of New York, and were buoyant in hope
that we should soon be there. As we neared a big steamer lying in the middle of
the channel we were hailed with “Steamer ahoy!” We slowed down and ran
alongside. Some kind of an official came to the middle gangway and said:
“Where are you from?"
“Beaufort, North Carolina."
“Any sick aboard???
“Yes, sir.”
"Any deaths?"
“Yes, sir.”
“How many days out?”
“Four.”
“How many deaths?”
“Four."
“Four deaths in four days. About ship and go back to the Hook.”
Our hearts that a few moments before were buoyant with hope
now sank within us. The Hook was a cold, dreary place, and there was no knowing
how long we should have to stay, but it was easy enough to know that some of us
wouldn't story there very long. We ran back to the Hook, and dropped anchor,
not far from the large hospital ship.
After a little while we saw a gig lowered from the hospital
ship; a man stepped in and was pulled alongside our boat; he climbed aboard and
proved to be some kind of health officer. He looked us all over and then looked
over the boat. He signaled a tug to run alongside, he hustled out those
citizens, and put them aboard of it. He also took Samuel Champney of company D,
whom he found lying down, and took them all over to the hospital ship. We bade
Sam good-bye as he went over the side of the boat. We never saw him afterwards,
and I have since learned that he died there. The next morning, when the gig was
seen coming over, the call went over the boat: “All hands on deck; don't be caught
lying down; all out on deck!” When he came aboard he found us all fooling and
knocking off caps. He looked us over and remarked that we didn't seem to be
ailing very much. He then looked the boat over and not finding any down took
his leave, but if he could have looked through the side of the boat he would
have seen half of us down by the time he was in his gig.
Capt. Denny of company K, who is in command of this
detachment, and who is a genial, big-hearted man, said he would see what he
could do for us. He went over to the hospital ship and a little while after we
saw him on a tug going towards New York. I knew if there was any help for us,
Capt. Denny was the man to do it. He is a good talker and great in diplomacy,
and when he sets about a thing he is pretty sure to accomplish something.
Tuesday night came but no Denny, and the question, “Where is Denny?" was
oft repeated without an answer. I could but feel that the captain was working
for us and no news was perhaps good news. Wednesday morning, the 12th, was a
cold, bleak, cheerless morning, and we were growing weaker every hour, but all
hands rallied on deck when that hospital fiend was seen coming. Noon came but
no Denny. Where is Denny? What has happened to him? Can it be possible that he
has deserted us? were questions that went unanswered. I said it was possible
something may have happened to him, but I cannot believe he
has deserted us. He is not that kind of a man, besides he would not miss taking
us into Worcester for half the wealth of the city, but if he don't come
tonight, we will send Captains Parkhurst and Emery to see what has become of
him.
About 3 p. m. we sighted a large tug coming through the
narrows, and soon after it headed towards our boat. Long before it got within
hail we saw a man in the bow, waving his cap. It Was Capt. Denny. Deliverance
had come, and I reckon when that hospital doctor heard our cheers, he must have
thought we were not very badly affected with yellow fever. I had known
Capt. Demy for sereral years before the war, but cannot remember a
time when I was so glad to see him as I was on that afternoon. The tug
came alongside and we were not very long transferring ourselves aboard of it
and it was again heading for the city, We ran along the starboard side of the
Norwich steamer, and boarded her at the forward gangway, and were hustled among
the cotton bales and freight like so many lepers. We were not allowed abaft the
forward gangway, and were not troubled with visitor's as no one cared to see
the brave defenders. But we cared nothing about that so long as we were going
towards home, and the accommodations were as good as we had been accustomed to
having.
We reached Norwich about 2 a. m. on the 13th, and went
aboard the cars, arriving at Worcester at 4 o'clock. At this hour Worcester
people were still wrapt in the arms of Morpheus and of course we didn't meet
with a very enthusiastic reception. Our little party formed on Foster street
and noiselessly wended our way to the City Hall. A few stragglers who were
around the depot reported our arrival and an hour after we received an
invitation to go back to the depot refreshment room for lunch. This invitation
was readily accepted and a famine was created in that refreshment room Soon
after our entrance. We had a good breakfast of hot coffee, cold meats, bread,
pies, cakes, etc.
After breakfast we returned to the hall to receive visitors,
among the first of whom was Col. Pickett, who warmly welcomed us, shaking hands
with all. We were right glad to see our colonel, and learn that he was getting
the better of his wounds received at Cold Harbor.
By 8 o'clock the hall was filled, and welcoming speeches
were made by his honor Mayor Lincoln and others. After which it was proposed we
make a parade and show ourselves over the city. This was objected to, not
because we didn't wish to please our Worcester friends, but because we were
sick and tired, and had had enough of parades and marches; our thoughts were of
home and we were in a hurry to get there. Free tickets were furnished us on all
the railroads, and we were dismissed for a week or until our muster out. I
arrived home at noon, agreeably surprising my family, who were not expecting me
for a week to come.
On the 20th of October we again met in Worcester for muster
out and discharge papers. I was once more a free man, having been under the
care and keeping of others a little more than thirty-seven months.
CLOSING SCENES.
Two months later we again met in Worcester to be paid off.
This was to be our last meeting, henceforth we should travel in different paths
and our meetings would be only by chance if ever. Shaking hands and wishing
each other all manner of good fortune, we said our good-byes and parted. I have
been through it and have had a great experience. I shall have no regrets that I
did not go and have brought back no sorrowing memories. I have done what I
could to preserve the union of the states.
I have met the enemies of the country face to face, and done
what I could to roll back the tide of rebellion, and if I have been of any
little service to the country, I am glad of it. With all the officers of the
regiment my relations have always been on the most amicable footing, and I am
vain enough to believe that they will all bear me witness that I have always
cheerfully obeyed all their commands and done all the duty required of me; that
I have always treated them politely and shown them all the respect due their
rank. In my little sports and jokes I have shown no partiality, and I trust
there is no one who bears any malice towards me on that account. I have brought
from the field no resentments or animosities towards any, but shall always hold
in pleasing remembrance all, both living and dead, with whom I have been
associated.
Let him not boast who puts his armor on
Like him who lays it off, his battle done.
THE END.
SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass.
Volunteer Infantry, p. 148-53
