It was with a
bounding heart, brimful of gratitude to God, that I stepped on board the Dakota
and bade farewell to Haines Bluff on the second day of August. We have three
hundred sick and wounded on this boat and are short of help. Quite a number who
started as nurses are sick. Four men died the first night. We ran the boat
ashore, dug a grave large enough for all, and laid them in it, side by side.
Our Chaplain read the burial service, and we hastened on board to repeat the
ceremony, the next morning, for some one else. It seems hard—even cruel—but it
is the most solemn burial service I ever witnessed. Nine have died since we
started, and one threw himself overboard in the frenzy of delirium and was
drowned. We kill a beef every evening. Two nights in succession the best part
of a hindquarter has been stolen. The boat hands were questioned, and a huge
Irishman acknowledged the theft. He was court martialed and sentenced to be
"banked." The boat was stopped opposite a wilderness. No human
habitation was in sight. He was forced to pack his bundle, take to the woods
and run his chance with hunger and the Rebels.
As we were running
leisurely along, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon of yesterday, my
curiosity was aroused by our boat running suddenly against the shore and
sticking there. All hands were called, and, with the aid of soldiers, she was
soon shoved off, and on we went again. A Sergeant asked the Mate why we landed
there. His reply was, "Something wrong in the wheel house." One of
our boys asked a darkey the same question. "Well, boss, I 'specs dey see a
rabbit ober dere, an' t'ink dey kotch 'im." Soon after, as two comrades
and myself were sitting in the bow enjoying the cool breeze, my attention was
attracted by the glassy stillness of the water in front of us. Pointing to the
right, I said, "Yonder is the safe place to sail." The words had
scarcely left my mouth when we felt a sudden shock, the bow of the boat was
lifted about two feet, a full head of steam was turned on, which carried us
over the obstruction. We had "struck a snag." Soon after, we anchored
for the night, as the pilot was "too sick" to run the boat.
The sick from our
regiment are doing well. I never saw wounded men do so nicely. Of five who came
as nurses, four are on the sick list. As for myself, I have not been so well in
years.
SOURCE: David Lane,
A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 74-5
