Commencement of the Mission at Fortress
Monroe.--Flight of the Rebels from Hampton.--Burning
of the Town.--The Place reoccupied by Freedmen.
About the first of September, 1861, the writer commenced the mission
at Fortress Monroe, under the auspices of the American Missionary
Association, and was quartered in a building called the _Seminary_.
Three months before this, the Union troops entered Hampton from Old
Point. The exciting scenes connected with this event have been
narrated to me by eye-witnesses. Among these troops were Duryea's
Zouaves, called by the people "red men," from the color of their
dress.
The utmost consternation seized the inhabitants of Hampton, when they
found the Union troops were approaching. Many of the colored people
even were in a state of suspense. All kinds of stories had been told
in regard to what the Yankees would do with them. Yet hope
predominated over fear. They could hardly believe that the Yankees
meant them any harm. But unmitigated fear filled the breasts of the
secessionists. There had been loud boasts of what they would do; but
when the red trowsers approached, their bravery all ran down into
their nimble feet. The battery of several large guns which they had
planted, and which might have done great mischief to the Union troops,
had they been bravely manned, was drawn off. In their confusion, the
bridge was first fired, and then the fire extinguished. Men, women,
and children ran screaming in every direction, crying, "They come!
they come! What shall we do?"
Here is a man within doors, gun in hand, pacing the floor in
consternation, ever and anon rushing to the window, and casting a
frightened glance in the direction of the road from the fort, till he
espies the Turk-like looking forms, moving "double quick," when he
darts from the house, screaming, "They are coming! they are coming!"
Off he flies, with the fleetness of fear, and in a few moments is seen
no more.
But in one house there are _two_ individuals, fearless and calm: Mrs.
Peake and her little daughter Daisy sit alike unalarmed; the one in
child-like faith, the other in child-like simplicity. Mrs. Walker,
Mrs. Peake's mother, is in a neighbor's house. Some time previous, the
lady of the house, an intimate friend, having great confidence in
sister Walker's prayers, said to her, "Sally, you must pray harder."
"Oh," said she, "I do pray as hard as I can."
"How do you pray, Sally?"
"I pray that the Lord's will may be done."
"You don't pray right, Sally," said one of them; "you must pray for
Jeff. Davis."
"Oh," said she, "I pray as well as I can, and as hard as I can. I am
praying all the time."
"That's right," said the other; "pray on, Sally--your prayer will
surely be heard. You can't pray any better prayer than you do. Pray
that the Lord's will may be done: I am sure it is the Lord's will that
the Yankees should not come here to disturb us; and I have faith to
believe they will not. Pray on, Sally; pray as hard as you can."
"I will, ma'am."
Time passed on; and now, on that fearful morning, just after the sun
has peeped above the horizon, lo, the Yankees! The strong faith above
expressed fails the possessor; and she, who would scarcely have set
foot on the ground for very delicacy, and who would not have been seen
riding out, unless in a fine carriage, drawn by fine horses, elegantly
harnessed, is now heard calling for any old horse or mule, and any
rickety wagon or cart, with rope harness--any thing--any thing to take
her out of the reach of the Yankees! Masters and mistresses are now
turned fugitives.
Here is one of many interviews between masters and slaves.
"What's the matter, master?"
"Oh, the Yankees are coming!"
"Are they? are they? What shall I do, master?" with affected tokens of
fear.
"Get out of the town as soon as you can."
"Oh, master, I'm afraid to leave the house. Oh, those Yankees! Do you
think they will hurt me?"
"Yes, they'll take you and sell you off to Cuba. Perhaps they'll kill
you."
"Will they, master?"
"Yes, I tell you; why don't you leave the town, you rascal?"
"Oh, master, I don't know what to do. You an't a-going to leave us for
the Yankees to catch; are you?"
"Yes, I'm off, and you better be off with yourself--if you don't I'll
shoot you."
"Oh, master, don't shoot me--don't leave me!"
"There they come!"
"Where, master, where? where?"
"I can't stop--good by--you better be off!"
But Tony laughs in his sleeve, and says, with upturned eyes, "I'm not
afraid of the Yankees! Bless God, old master's gone--hope he'll never
come back any more!"
The Zouaves, on "double quick," approach nearer, and up rides one of
the secessionists, in hot haste.
"What's the matter, master? What's the matter?" inquires an
intelligent negro.
"Oh, matter enough, you villain. You brought all this trouble on us. I
am disappointed in you; I thought you would stick by us; but you
desert your best friends in extremity. You won't find those Yankees
what you expect."
"Oh, master, won't you stay and protect us?"
"No; good by, you villain. I'm out of town, and so you had better be,
very quick." And on he flies.
The Zouaves are now crossing the bridge,--now they enter the
town,--and as they pass through street after street, with hats off,
they bow politely to the colored people, who cheer them from doors and
windows. Now every fear is dissipated. Colored knees are bent, and
colored lips praise the Lord. The hope that had all along predominated
over fear is more than met, and the town is full of gladness. The
tidings spread, and the place is soon thronged with colored people
from the country around.
But how different with the white inhabitants! Go with me to the
Sinclair estate--a mile or two north of the town. One of the officers
rides up to the house, and says,--
"Do you own this place?"
"Yes."
"Well, deliver up all your horses."
Sam Simpson, the colored foreman, says, "Boys, bring up the horses."
"Oh, sir, spare an old man!"
"Hurry out those horses!"
"Oh, Sam, stand by me! Oh, dear, I shall die! Don't leave me! Don't
leave me!"
Poor old man! His ill-gotten riches are taking wings; the day of
retribution has come upon him, and, in spite of a sense of its
justice, we can not withhold our pity.
The colored people were soon set to work in constructing the battery
in Hampton, under the superintendence of Mr. Pierce, of the
Massachusetts regiment, since then superintendent of the Port Royal
cotton culture. They worked with a will, so that he was obliged to
suspend labor during the heat of the day, lest they should over-exert
themselves. After a month had elapsed, the battle of Big Bethel was
fought, and _not_ won; and soon after, the disastrous defeat and
flight of Bull Run occurred.
To reënforce the army of the Potomac a large part of the troops at
Fortress Monroe were ordered away. General Butler, concluding that he
had not sufficient force to hold Hampton, ordered it to be evacuated.
He gave a week's notice to the colored people to leave, and find
refuge on the other side of the bridge. But many of them delayed too
long, and were able to move but a part of their goods; in consequence
of which they suffered serious loss.
Among these was Mr. Peake. He lost a large part of his furniture, as
well as his two houses. The order of the rebel General Magruder to
fire the place was a gross exhibition of vandalism, without the
justifiable plea of military necessity. The incendiary work began on
the west side of the village, and spread toward the wharves. Hemmed in
by the conflagration on one side, and our firing on the opposite
shore, many of the executers of the order fell dead or wounded, and
were consumed by the voracious flames. Those who witnessed it said it
was an appalling sight.
The evacuation took place on the 7th and the conflagration on the 8th
of August. I arrived about a month afterward, and on visiting Hampton,
in company with the provost marshal, Captain Burleigh, I found only
about half a dozen houses that had escaped. One large house had had
its floor fired, but the fire had mysteriously gone out, without doing
much damage. A large new building, a little out of town, was also
standing uninjured. But the most of the village was a charred ruin;
the unsightly chimneys, and a few more or less dilapidated walls,
surviving to tell the story of what had been.
Thus the place remained in abandoned isolation during the winter. But
with the beginning of spring, the progress of our arms opened Hampton
to reoccupation. It was thought proper that those who, during the
winter, had been confined in large houses, overcrowded, should at
once build up the ruins, and provide themselves homes. To this end,
application was made for an appropriation of government lumber for
past services. Some lumber was received in this way, and the
evacuation of the camps by the soldiers, who had winter quarters here,
furnished still more.
Quite a large number of neat cottages have already been built. I
encouraged the people to build these small tenements on lots belonging
to the most decided rebels, hoping that, if not claimed by former
owners, these homesteads would be given to the occupants by
government. Thus Hampton is becoming quite a thriving, free
settlement, supported by fishing, oystering, huckstering, artisanship,
gardening, and farming. Colored people have settled on farms vacated
by owners, and will do well in keeping dairies, and cultivating the
land, and gathering its fruit, if not molested.
The old court-house walls, that survived the fire, have been inclosed
for a church and school house. The work was done by colored mechanics.
It seems fit that this place, where injustice has been sanctioned by
law, should be converted into a sanctuary of justice, righteousness,
and free education.
We consider that we are here trying the very highest experiment with
ex-slaves. They are here emphatically "turned loose," and are shifting
for themselves,--doing their own head-work and hand-work. It is not to
be expected that on the "sacred soil of Virginia" this experiment
should be carried out without encountering difficulties; but we feel
it to be a thing of blessed interest to follow as Providence leads,
and do the work of faith and love, leaving the result with him. There
is inspiration in the reflection that we are doing a representative
work, and whatever the issue, the work will not be burned up, nor the
workers permitted to suffer essential loss. We know that our labor is
not in vain in the Lord.