A BLIZZARD.
After so many days in the car, we were glad to stop on an open plain
about a mile from the town of Yankton, where the road ended.
The three chief considerations for a camp are wood, water, and good
ground. The latter we had, but we were at some distance from the water,
and neither trees nor brushwood were in sight.
The long trains were unloaded of their freight, and the plains about
us seemed to swarm with men and horses. I was helped down from the
Pullman car, where inlaid woods, mirrors, and plush surrounded us, to
the ground, perfectly bare of every earthly comfort. The other ladies
of the regiment went on to the hotel in the town. The general suggested
that I should go with them, but I had been in camp so many summers it
was not a formidable matter for me to remain, and fortunately for what
followed I did so. The household belongings were gathered together.
A family of little new puppies, some half-grown dogs, the cages of
mocking-birds and canaries, were all corralled safely in a little
stockade made of chests and trunks, and we set ourselves about making
a temporary home. The general and a number of soldiers, composing the
head-quarters detail, were obliged to go at once to lay out the main
camp and assign the companies to their places. Later on, when the
most important work was done, our tents were to be pitched. While I
sat on a chest waiting, the air grew suddenly chilly, the bright sun
of the morning disappeared, and the rain began to fall. Had we been
accustomed to the climate we would have known that these changes were
the precursors of a snow-storm.
When we left Memphis, not a fortnight before, we wore muslin gowns and
were then uncomfortably warm; it seemed impossible that even so far
north there could be a returned winter in the middle of April. We were
yet to realize what had been told us of the climate--that there were
“eight months of winter and four of very late in the fall.” On the
bluffs beyond us was a signal-station, but they sent us no warning.
Many years of campaigning in the Indian Territory, Kansas, Colorado,
and Nebraska, give one an idea of what the weather can do; but each
new country has its peculiarities, and it seemed we had reached one
where all the others were outdone. As the afternoon of that first day
advanced the wind blew colder, and I found myself eying with envy a
little half-finished cabin without an enclosure, standing by itself.
Years of encountering the winds of Kansas, when our tents were torn and
blown down so often, had taught me to appreciate any kind of a house,
even though it were built upon the sand as this one was. A dug-out,
which the tornado swept over, but could not harm, was even more of a
treasure. The change of climate from the extreme south to the far north
had made a number of the men ill, and even the superb health of the
general had suffered. He continued to superintend the camp, however,
though I begged him from time to time as I saw him to give up. I felt
sure he needed a shelter and some comfort at once, so I took courage
to plan for myself. Before this I had always waited, as the general
preferred to prepare everything for me. After he had consented that
we should try for the little house, some of the kind-hearted soldiers
found the owner in a distant cabin, and he rented it to us for a few
days. The place was equal to a palace to me. There was no plastering,
and the house seemed hardly weatherproof. It had a floor, however, and
an upper story divided off by beams; over these Mary and I stretched
blankets and shawls and so made two rooms. It did not take long to
settle our few things, and when wood and water were brought from a
distance we were quite ready for house-keeping, except that we lacked
a stove and some supplies. Mary walked into the town to hire or buy a
small cooking-stove, but she could not induce the merchant to bring it
out that night. She was thoughtful enough to take along a basket and
brought with her a little marketing. Before she had come within sight
of our cabin on her return, the snow was falling so fast it was with
difficulty that she found her way.
Meanwhile the general had returned completely exhausted and very
ill. Without his knowledge I sent for the surgeon, who, like all of
his profession in the army, came promptly. He gave me some powerful
medicine to administer every hour, and forbade the general to leave
his bed. It was growing dark, and we were in the midst of a Dakota
blizzard. The snow was so fine that it penetrated the smallest cracks,
and soon we found white lines appearing all around us, where the
roof joined the walls, on the windows and under the doors. Outside
the air was so thick with the whirling, tiny particles that it was
almost impossible to see one’s hand held out before one. The snow was
fluffy and thick, like wool, and fell so rapidly, and seemingly from
all directions, that it gave me a feeling of suffocation as I stood
outside. Mary was not easily discouraged, and piling a few light fagots
outside the door, she tried to light a fire. The wind and the muffling
snow put out every little blaze that started, however, and so, giving
it up, she went into the house and found the luncheon-basket we had
brought from the car, in which remained some sandwiches, and these
composed our supper.
The night had almost settled down upon us when the adjutant came for
orders. Knowing the scarcity of fuel and the danger to the horses from
exposure to the rigor of such weather after their removal from a warm
climate, the general ordered the breaking of camp. All the soldiers
were directed to take their horses and go into Yankton, and ask the
citizens to give them shelter in their homes, cow-sheds, and stables.
In a short time the camp was nearly deserted, only the laundresses,
two or three officers, and a few dismounted soldiers remaining.
The towns-people, true to the unvarying western hospitality, gave
everything they could to the use of the regiment; the officers found
places in the hotels. The sounds of the hoofs of the hurrying horses
flying by our cabin on their way to the town had hardly died out before
the black night closed in and left us alone on that wide, deserted
plain. The servants, Mary and Ham, did what they could to make the room
below-stairs comfortable by stopping the cracks and barricading the
frail door. The thirty-six hours of our imprisonment there seems now
a frightful nightmare. The wind grew higher and higher, and shrieked
about the little house dismally. It was built without a foundation,
and was so rickety it seemed as it rocked in a great gust of wind that
it surely would be unroofed or overturned. The general was too ill for
me to venture to find my usual comfort from his re-assuring voice. I
dressed in my heaviest gown and jacket, and remained under the blankets
as much as I could to keep warm. Occasionally I crept out to shake
off the snow from the counterpane, for it sifted in between the roof
and clapboards very rapidly. I hardly dared take the little phial in
my benumbed fingers to drop the precious medicine for fear it would
fall. I realized, as the night advanced, that we were as isolated from
the town, and even the camp, not a mile distant, as if we had been on
an island in the river. The doctor had intended to return to us, but
his serious face and impressive injunctions made me certain that he
considered the life of the general dependent on the medicine being
regularly given.
During the night I was startled by hearing a dull sound, as of
something falling heavily. Flying down the stairs I found the servants
prying open the frozen and snow-packed door, to admit a half dozen
soldiers who, becoming bewildered by the snow, had been saved by the
faint light we had placed in the window. After that several came,
and two were badly frozen. We were in despair of finding any way of
warming them, as there was no bedding, and, of course, no fire, until I
remembered the carpets which were sewed up in bundles and heaped in one
corner, where the boxes were, and which we were not to use until the
garrison was reached. Spreading them out, we had enough to roll up each
wanderer as he came. The frozen men were in so exhausted a condition
that they required immediate attention. Their sufferings were intense,
and I could not forgive myself for not having something with which to
revive them. The general never tasted liquor, and we were both so well
always we did not even keep it for use in case of sickness.
I saw symptoms of that deadly stupor which is the sure precursor of
freezing, when I fortunately remembered a bottle of alcohol which had
been brought for the spirit-lamps. Mary objected to using the only
means by which we could make coffee for ourselves, but the groans and
exhausted and haggard faces of the men won her over, and we saw them
revive under the influence of the fiery liquid. Poor fellows! They
afterwards lost their feet, and some of their fingers had also to
be amputated. The first soldier who had reached us unharmed, except
from exhaustion, explained that they had all attempted to find their
way to town, and the storm had completely overcome them. Fortunately
one had clung to a bag of hard-tack, which was all they had had to
eat. At last the day came, but so darkened by the snow it seemed
rather a twilight. The drifts were on three sides of us like a wall.
The long hours dragged themselves away, leaving the general too weak
to rise, and in great need of hot, nourishing food. I grew more and
more terrified at our utterly desolate condition and his continued
illness, though fortunately he did not suffer. He was too ill, and I
too anxious, to eat the fragments that remained in the luncheon-basket.
The snow continued to come down in great swirling sheets, while the
wind shook the loose window-casings and sometimes broke in the door.
When night came again and the cold increased, I believed that our
hours were numbered. I missed the voice of the courageous Mary, for
she had sunk down in a corner exhausted for want of sleep, while Ham
had been completely demoralized from the first. Occasionally I melted
a little place on the frozen window-pane, and saw that the drifts
were almost level with the upper windows on either side, but that the
wind had swept a clear space before the door. During the night the
sound of the tramping of many feet rose above the roar of the storm.
A great drove of mules rushed up to the sheltered side of the house.
Their brays had a sound of terror as they pushed, kicked, and crowded
themselves against our little cabin. For a time they huddled together,
hoping for warmth, and then despairing, they made a mad rush away, and
were soon lost in the white wall of snow beyond. All night long the
neigh of a distressed horse, almost human in its appeal, came to us
at intervals. The door was pried open once, thinking it might be some
suffering fellow-creature in distress. The strange, wild eyes of the
horse peering in for help, haunted me long afterwards. Occasionally a
lost dog lifted up a howl of distress under our window, but before the
door could be opened to admit him he had disappeared in the darkness.
When the night was nearly spent I sprang again to the window with a new
horror, for no one, until he hears it for himself, can realize what
varied sounds animals make in the excitement of peril. A drove of hogs,
squealing and grunting, were pushing against the house, and the door
which had withstood so much had to be held to keep it from being broken
in.
It was almost unbearable to hear the groans of the soldiers over their
swollen and painful feet, and know that we could do nothing to ease
them. To be in the midst of such suffering, and yet have no way of
ameliorating it; to have shelter, and yet to be surrounded by dumb
beasts appealing to us for help, was simply terrible. Every minute
seemed a day; every hour a year. When daylight came I dropped into an
exhausted slumber, and was awakened by Mary standing over our bed with
a tray of hot breakfast. I asked if help had come, and finding it had
not, of course, I could not understand the smoking food. She told me
that feeling the necessity of the general’s eating, it had come to her
in the night-watches that she would cut up the large candles she had
pilfered from the cars, and try if she could cook over the many short
pieces placed close together, so as to make a large flame. The result
was hot coffee and some bits of the steak she had brought from town,
fried with a few slices of potatoes. She could not resist telling me
how much better she could have done had I not given away the alcohol to
the frozen men!
The breakfast revived the general so much that he began to make light
of danger in order to quiet me. The snow had ceased to fall, but for
all that it still seemed that we were castaways and forgotten, hidden
under the drifts that nearly surrounded us. Help was really near at
hand, however, at even this darkest hour. A knock at the door, and the
cheery voices of men came up to our ears. Some citizens of Yankton
had at last found their way to our relief, and the officers, who
neither knew the way nor how to travel over such a country, had gladly
followed. They told us that they had made several attempts to get out
to us, but the snow was so soft and light that they could make no
headway. They floundered and sank down almost out of sight, even in the
streets of the town. Of course no horse could travel, but they told me
of their intense anxiety, and said that fearing I might be in need of
immediate help they had dragged a cutter over the drifts, which now had
a crust of ice formed from the sleet and the moisture of the damp night
air. Of course I declined to go without the general, but I was more
touched than I could express by their thought of me. I made some excuse
to go up-stairs, where, with my head buried in the shawl partition, I
tried to smother the sobs that had been suppressed during the terrors
of our desolation. Here the general found me, and though comforting me
by tender words, he still reminded me that he would not like any one to
know that I had lost my pluck when all the danger I had passed through
was really ended.
The officers made their way over to camp, for they were anxious and
uncertain as to what might have happened to the few persons remaining
there. I had been extremely troubled, for each of the soldiers for whom
we had been caring had, with a trooper’s usual love of the sensational,
told us of frozen men and of the birth of babies to the laundresses.
These stories had reached town through stragglers, until we imagined
from the exaggeration that enough newly-born children might be found to
start a small orphan asylum. The officers soon returned with the story
reduced to one little stranger who had come safely into this world
in the stormy night, sheltered by a tent only. No men were frozen,
fortunately, though all had suffered. The soldier detailed to take care
of the general’s horses found his way back with them, and in his solemn
voice told us that in spite of every effort, sharing his blankets and
holding the little things through the storm, the thorough-bred puppies
had frozen one by one. There was one little box-stove in camp which the
officers brought back, accompanied by its owner, an old and somewhat
infirm officer.
In the midst of all this excitement, and the reaction from the danger,
I could not suppress my sense of the ludicrous when I saw the daintiest
and most exquisite officer of “ours,” whom last I remembered careering
on his perfectly equipped and prancing steed before the admiring eyes
of the Memphis belles, now wound up with scarfs and impromptu leggings
of flannel; his hat tied down with a woollen comforter; buffalo gloves
on his hands; and clasping a stove-pipe, necessary for the precious
stove.
Some of the officers had brought out parcels containing food, while
our brother, Colonel Tom Custer, had struggled with a large basket of
supplies. In a short time another officer appeared at our door with
a face full of anxiety about our welfare. He did not tell us what we
afterwards learned from others, that, fearing the citizens would give
up going to us, and knowing that he could not find the way alone over
a country from which the snow had obliterated every landmark, he had
started to go the whole distance on the railroad. Coming to a long
bridge he found the track so covered with ice that it was a dangerous
footing; the wind blew the sleet and snow in his face, almost blinding
him, but nothing daunted, he crawled over on his hands and knees, and
continuing to use the track as his guide, stopped when he thought he
might be opposite our cabin, and ploughed his way with difficulty
through the drifts.
When the officers had returned to town, we made a fire in the little
stove which had been put up-stairs, as the pipe was so short. We
ensconced our visitor, to whom the stove belonged, near by. He was
a capital fireman; we divided our bedding with him, and put it on
the floor, as close as possible to the fire. The shawl and blanket
partition separated our rooms, but did not seem to deaden sound, and
at night I only lost consciousness of the audible sleeping of our
guest after I had dropped the point of a finger in my ear. He was the
one among us who, being the oldest of our circle, and having had a
varied experience, was an authority on many subjects. He had peculiar
and extreme ideas on some questions. We listened out of respect, but
we all drew the line at following some of his advice, and over one
topic there was general revolt. He disbelieved entirely in the external
or internal use of water, and living as we did in countries where
the rivers were flowing mud, and the smaller streams dried up under
the blazing sun, his would have been a convenient system, to say the
least. Unfortunately, our prejudices in favor of cleanliness increased
with the scarcity of water. Bathing became one of the luxuries as
well as one of the absolute necessities of life. From being compelled
to do with very little water, we had learned almost to take a bath
in a thimble, and to this day I find myself pouring the water out
of a pitcher in a most gingerly manner, so strong is the power of
habit--even now with the generous rush of the unstinted Croton at my
disposal. The theory of our venerable friend on the danger of bathing
was fortified with many an earnest argument, and the advantages of
his improved system of dry rubbing set out elaborately in his best
rhetoric. Nevertheless, taking a bath with the palm of the hand was
combated to the last by his hearers. When I had heard him arguing
previously I had rather believed it to be the vagary of the hour. I
had proof to the contrary the next morning after the storm, for I was
awakened by a noise of vigorous friction and violent breathing, as of
some one laboring diligently. I suddenly remembered the doctrine of
our guest, and realized that he was putting theory into practice. As
softly as I awakened my husband, and tried to whisper to him, he was
on nettles instantly, hearing the quiver of laughter in my voice. He
feared I might be heard, and that the feelings of the man for whom he
had such regard might be wounded. He promptly requested me to smother
my laughter in the blankets, and there I shook with merriment, perhaps
even greater because of the relief I experienced in finding something
to counteract the gloom of the preceding hours. And if I owned to
telling afterwards that the old officer’s theory and practice were one,
it could not be called a great breach of hospitality, for he gloried in
what he called advanced ideas, and strove to wear the martyr’s crown
that all pioneers in new and extreme beliefs crowd on their heads.
Our friend remained with us until the camp was inhabitable and the
regular order of military duties was resumed. Paths and roads were made
through the snow, and it was a great relief to be again in the scenes
of busy life. We did not soon forget our introduction to Dakota. After
that we understood why the frontiersman builds his stable near the
house; we also comprehended then when they told us that they did not
dare to cross in a blizzard from the house to the stable-door without
keeping hold of a rope tied fast to the latch as a guide for their safe
return when the stock was fed. Afterwards, when even our cool-headed
soldiers lost their way and wandered aimlessly near their quarters, and
when found were dazed in speech and look, the remembrance of that first
storm, with the density of the down-coming snow, was a solution to us
of their bewilderment.