We remained at Savannah nearly a month, refitting and repairing for the
next campaign. Christmas day was passed here, but there was no Christmas
trees, nor did any Santa Claus appear to reward us for our good
behavior. We had been paid off before leaving Atlanta, and consequently
there was a good deal of money in camp, and the "chuck-a-luck" gamesters
were in the height of their season. Gambling was positively against
orders, but all the same it was carried on, and wherever a squad of men
could be seen grouped together, you might be sure there was a
chuck-a-luck board in full play. The guards detailed to arrest these
fellows, had a lively time of it. Every point of strategy of which they
were cognizant, was employed to bring the offenders to justice. Coming
on them by a flank movement, surrounding them, or approaching them by a
direct charge on the double quick. All their manœuvering generally came
to naught, for some one was always on the lookout, and was sure to see
the first appearance of danger, and with a shout would give the alarm,
when all would take to their heels, leaving the pursuers to reflect on
the uselessness of their endeavors. But sometimes the guards would make
a capture, and march the luckless offenders off to headquarters, where,
after receiving a lecture on the immoral practice of gambling in
general, and of chuck-a-luck in particular, he would be ordered to stand
on a barrel, or carry a rail on his shoulder for a few hours.
Savannah is a beautiful city, the streets are wide and lined with live
oak trees, with promenades beneath them, and the dwelling houses are
very handsome, the yards and gardens are filled with the richest and
most varied kind of plants and shrubs. Here we saw the monument erected
to the memory of Count Pulaski, a beautiful shaft, covered at its base
with appropriate inscriptions, recording, in letters of stone, the
memory of him in whose honor it was raised. The city has some charming
parks, and when not on duty, we would pass the time rambling around and
noting all that was to be seen. Here one day the writer and a comrade,
having secured the necessary pass, proceeded to the river, and obtaining
a boat, pushed off, bound on a visit to the gunboat Wissahickon, then
anchored in the stream below the city, her crew being employed in
fishing for torpedoes which the rebels had thrown into the channel of
the river, in order that they might blow up our vessels as they
proceeded up the stream to the wharfs. We had a pleasant row, and an
equally pleasant visit with the officers and crew. We were the first of
Sherman's men that they had seen, and they were very anxious to know the
particulars of the march; we told them our adventures since leaving
Atlanta, which seemed greatly to excite their wonder and admiration. We
left the Wissahicken with kindly feelings for all on board, and as we
pulled up the river back toward the city, we sang:
"The Army and Navy ne'er sever,
But still to their colors prove true,
It's the Army and Navy forever,
Three cheers for the Red, White and Blue."
We arrived safely in camp, feeling that we had passed a pleasant day.
When we arrived at Savannah we were the proud owner of a very large red
rooster, whom we named "Jeremiah," but for short we generally addressed
him as "Jerry." He was a character, if ever a rooster could be termed
such, and if he had not acquired a great knowledge as the man's chickens
who, on account of his many moves and changes, they had got so in the
habit of having their legs tied, that they would, whenever they saw a
covered wagon, run into the front yard, fall on their backs, and cross
their legs ready for tieing; if Jeremiah had not learnt this much, he
still was very easily managed, and would stand round of a morning while
"Dick," our darkey, was loading down our pack mule with blankets, and
other necessaries, getting ready for the march, and when it came time
for "Jerry" to be lifted to his place on top of the load, he would make
no objection, but would suffer himself to be tied on securely, and there
he would ride all day. This had come to be such an every day matter,
that it was almost a second nature to him, and his amazement was great,
when day after day passed, and he was not called on to take his
accustomed place on top of our portable treasures. "Jeremiah" waxed-fat,
and would every now and then express his satisfaction at the situation,
by a shrill crow. But the boys were getting tired of him, for in spite
of our endeavors "Jerry" would somehow manage to get in our tents, and
sleep, and at the first dawn of day, his crow would ring upon our ears.
This was all right enough while we were on the march, but now that we
were in camp, they failed to appreciate it, so threats of vengeance were
loudly made. We begged and plead for him, but all to no purpose, "they
were not going to have that miserable rooster crowing in their ears
every morning," they said, so finally we had to yield to the pressure of
public opinion, and gave the order for "Jerry" to be executed, which was
accordingly done, and we whetted our teeth to devour him. "Jeremiah" was
undoubtedly an old bird, for constant boiling all day, failed to render
him tender. But we had a feast, all the same, as "Jerry," after being
cut up in small pieces, and having for accompaniment a large piece of
pork, and a handful or two of hardtack, made a camp kettle full of food.
We picked poor "Jerry's" bones clean, thereby proving, although in
different words, the truth of the old adage, "the big roosters eat up
the little ones."
[Illustration]