Mingled Reminiscences-I Relate a Mississippi River Steamboat
Experience.
Long before this I should have related a little experience I had on
my first journey south, when I was a fresh recruit. After leaving
Wisconsin, in the winter, a lot of us recruits were corralled at
Benton Barracks, St. Louis, and for six weeks we had a picnic. There
were about fifty of us, that belonged to the cavalry, our regiments
being down the Mississippi river, and the commanding officer of the
barracks seemed to be waiting for a chance to send us to our regiments.
I have often wondered what he waited six weeks for, when we were not
doing any duty in camp, and were making him trouble enough every day
and every night to turn his hair gray. He was a Colonel Bonneville, if I
remember right, a regular army officer of French extraction. Anyway, he
always swore at us in French. The camp was run in a slack sort of a way,
and it was easy for us to get out and go down town, or wander off into
the country, and, as we had plenty of money, and were dressed better
than soldiers in active service, we were welcome to all the saloons,
and painted old St. Louis all the colors of the rainbow, returned to the
barracks at unseasonable hours, crawled through the fence and went to
our quarters howling, waking up the old general, who invariably ordered
the provost-guard to arrest us, which the provost-guard invariably
didn't do, for some reason or other. The old colonel was fast aging,
in trying to lead a quiet life in the vicinity of “dose d-----d cavalry
regruits,” and he said he “would order them all shot if they didn't
behave.” Benton Barracks was the greatest place for the breeding of rats
that I ever saw. In every house there were millions of them, and at
night they were out in full force. One night our crowd of recruits,
about forty in number, had been down to St. Louis on a painting
expedition, and it was midnight when camp was reached. Every recruit had
a revolver, and it was decided that if the rats insulted us, as they
had often done before, we would shoot them. It was a beautiful moonlight
night, as still as death, and we could almost hear the snoring of the
excitable colonel in his house across the parade ground. As we came
near our barrack, a few thousand rats crossed our path, and I drew my
revolver and fired at a large one that seemed unusually impudent, and
the rest of the crowd opened fire, and there was a battle in no time. A
bugler got out and blowed some call that I did not know, a drum sounded
a continuous roll, men rushed out and formed in line, and before we
had fired the six charges from our revolvers, the Invalid Corps came
hobbling across the parade ground, the colonel behind them with his
shirt on, his pants in his hand, and swearing in French, and ordering
the troops to arrest the whole crowd of recruits. We went right in the
barrack, and retired, as soon as the troops showed up, and were snoring,
with smoking revolvers under our pillows, when the guard entered.
The colonel came in with the guard, and then put on his pants, after
which he woke up some of us, and asked what was the cause of the firing.
Every recruit swore that he had not fired a shot, but that he had heard
some firing over the fence, on the outside, at a road-house and saloon,
where bad men from St. Louis congregated and drank to excess. It seemed
very hard to thus lie to so estimable a gentleman as the colonel, but
as he was only half-dressed, and sleepy, and excited, it didn't seem as
though the lies ought to count. But they did. The colonel apologized for
waking us up, when we were enjoying our much-needed rest, and he went
away with the guard. Then we all got up and danced a can-can, in our
army underclothes, passed a series of resolutions endorsing the colonel
as one of the ablest officers in the army, recommended that he be
promoted to brigadier-general at the first opportunity, gave three
cheers and a tiger for the Union, and went to bed. That is one thing
that we recruits always come out strong in, i. e., three cheers for the
Union. We had enlisted to save the Union, and as there was no fighting
that we could do, during our stay at St. Louis, whenever we got a chance
we gave three cheers for the Union. Sometimes it was not appreciated,
however. I remember one evening our crowd went into a saloon and ordered
beer all around, and after we had drank it, I proposed three cheers for
the Union, which we gave in a hearty manner, and went out without paying
for the beer. You would hardly credit it, but the saloonkeeper, an
Irishman named Oppenheimer, became offended, and wanted us to pay cash
for the beer. The boys wanted me to reason with him, and I began by
asking him if he was a loyal man, and he said he was. Then I asked him
if he didn't believe in supporting the Union. He said he did, but he
couldn't pay the brewer for his beer by giving three cheers for the
Union. He had to put up cash. I confess that his remarks made quite an
impression on me, as I had not thought of it in that light before. I
proposed that we give three cheers for Oppenheimer, which was done, and
I thought that would settle it, but he insisted on having cash. I told
the boys, and they said he was a rebel. I told Oppenheimer, and he got
out a wooden bung-starter, and said he could clean out the whole party.
Finally we compromised, in this way. We had given two rounds of cheer,
one for the Union and one for Oppenheimer, which were a total loss, so
it was agreed that if Oppenheimer would give three cheers for the Union
and three for us we would pay him for the beer, if he would agree to set
'em up for us, at his own expense. He agreed, and then we tried to
get him to onset the beer he was going to give us, for the beer we had
drank, and not pay him for that we had consumed. That, to any business
man, we thought, would seem fair, but he wouldn't have it. So, after
he had returned our cheers to us, we paid him, and then he treated.
I mention this to show the hardships of a soldier's life, and the
difficulties of inculcating business methods into the minds of the
saloon-keepers. Oppenheimer meant well, but he did not appreciate cheers
for the Union. He got so, after that when we came in his saloon, in a
gang, he would say, “Poys, of you dondt gif any jeers fun dot Union, I
set'em oop,” and we would swallow our cheers for the Union, and his beer.
The next day after the battle of the rats, an order was issued for the
recruits to board the steamer “City of Memphis,” and go down the river
to join our several regiments, in the vicinity of New Orleans. In a
few hours we had drawn rations to last a week, and were on board the
steamer, and had started down stream. I think every soldier that is now
alive will remember that when he took his first trip on a transport, as
a recruit, during the war, he labored under the impression that he owned
the boat, or at least a controlling interest in it. That was a very
natural feeling. The opinions of the steamboat officials, it will
be remembered, were different. I had never been on a large steamboat
before, and after tying my knapsack and other baggage to a wood-pile
on the lower deck, after I had vainly attempted to induce the proper
official to give me checks for my baggage, I began to climb up stairs,
and soon found myself on top of the Texas, beside the smoke stack,
viewing the ever changing scenery of the grand old Mississippi. I was
drinking in the scenery, and the fresh air, and wondering if it could
be possible that there could be war, and killing, anywhere in this broad
land, when all was so peace-ful and beautiful on the river, when I felt
something strike me on the pantaloons most powerfully, and I looked
around and a gentleman was just removing a large sized boot from my
person. I was about to reprove him for kicking me, a total stranger, who
had not even presented letters of introduction to me, when he said, in a
voice that was deep down in his chest, “get down below.” I did not feel
like arguing with a man of so violent a nature, and I went down the
narrow stairs, after he had said he would throw me overboard if I did
not hurry. I learned afterwards that he was the mate of the steamboat.
I could see that he had mistaken me for a common soldier, which I would
not admit was the case, but I went down stairs, probably looking hurt.
I was hurt. I went into the cabin and sat down on one of the sofas, to
think, when a colored person told me to get off the sofa. As he seemed
to know what he was talking about I got on. I saw a bar, where officers
of the army and passengers were drinking, and I went up and asked for a
whisky sour, thinking that would relieve the pain and cause my injured
feelings to improve. The bar tender told me to go out on deck and I
could get plain whisky through a window where the negro deck hands got
their drinks, but I could not drink with gentlemen. That was the first
day that I realized that in becoming a soldier I had descended to a
level with negro deck hands and roustabouts, and could not be allowed
to associate with gentlemen. Soon the gong rung for supper, and I went
into the cabin and sat down to the table for a square meal, the other
seats being filled with army officers and passengers. I was going to
give my order to a waiter, when he called an officer of the boat, who
told me to get up from the table and go below, as the cabin was intended
for gentlemen and not soldiers. My idea was to kick against being turned
out, but I thought of the mate's boot, and I went out, went down on the
lower deck with the recruits, and eat some bread and meat. I was rapidly
becoming crushed. I talked my experience over with the boys, and they
all agreed with me that the way we were treated was an outrage on
American soldiers, which we would not stand. We began to wonder where
we were going to sleep, when I remembered seeing state-rooms on the deck
above, with berths, and it seemed to me they must be intended for us,
so we agreed to go up and go into the state-rooms from the doors that
opened out on deck, believing that those who got in first would be
allowed to occupy them. About fifty of us got into state-rooms, while
the officers and passengers were playing poker in the cabin. I was
asleep, when I heard a noise out on deck, and raising up in my berth
I looked over the transom and saw about twenty of the recruits being
driven along by officers of the boat, kicks and cuffs, and loud talking
being the order. “I'll teach you brutes to steal the beds of passengers
on this boat. You dirty whelps, to presume to sleep in beds. Get
down stairs and sleep on the wood-pile with the niggers,” shouted the
captain.
If there was going to be any fuss about it, I didn't want to stay in the
state-room. I didn't want to be broke of my rest, of course, but if it
was not customary for common soldiers to indulge in such luxuries, I
would go out. Just then there was a knock at the door leading into the
cabin, and I heard a female voice say, “Powtaw, I am afraid one of those
dirty soljaws has got into my state-room,” and then I heard the
mate's voice say, “Wait till I get at him.” Of course, under those
circumstances I could not remain. No gentleman would occupy a lady's
birth, and cause her to sit up all night. To be sure there were two
berths, and I could remain in the upper one, and she could turn in
below, and I would turn my face to the wall and not look, but I doubted
if a lady, who was a perfect stranger, and whose opinion of soldiers
was so pronounced, could compromise on such a basis, so when the mate
knocked at the door I took my pants and shoes and went out the door
leading on deck, and went below, without being discovered. I found my
companions, who had been routed out of their beds, dressing themselves
as best they could by the light from the furnace, when the stokers would
put in wood, and they were about as mad as I was. The treatment we had
received was not what we had a right to expect when we enlisted. We
decided to set up all night, and growl and discuss the situation.
Several of the recruits made remarks that were very scathing, and
the officials of the boat were held up to scorn, and charged with
inhumanity. We sat there till daylight, and then organized an
indignation meeting, and appointed a committee to draft resolutions
indicative of the sense of the meeting. I had been lightning on
resolutions before I enlisted, having attended several county
conventions, and I was appointed to draft the resolutions. As near as I
can remember the following were the words:
“_Whereas_, The undersigned, members of the army of the
union, in the course of our duty as soldiers, have been
ordered to proceed to our several regiments down the
Mississippi river, on board of the 'City of Memphis,' and,
“_Whereas_, We have been treated by the officers of the
aforesaid boat more like animals than human beings, in being
deprived of luxuries to which we have been accustomed, have
been driven from the public dining-table, driven from our
beds at the dead hour of night, that shoulder-strapped
officers might be made comfortable, and kicked down stairs,
therefore, be it
“_Resolved_, That we demand of the captain of the steamer
'City of Memphis,' that we be allowed the same privileges on
this boat that others enjoy. 'We hold these truths to be
self-evident,' that one man is just as good as another, no
matter what his rank. We demand that we be allowed to eat at
the table in the cabin, to sleep in the state-rooms, to
drink at the bar if we so elect, and to go to any place on
the boat that other passengers are allowed, and that we be
treated like white men, which we, have not up to the adoption
of these resolutions.
“_Resolved_, That a copy of these resolutions be presented
to the captain of the boat, that a copy be sent to the
secretary of war, and that the resolutions be published in
the newspapers.”
When I read the resolutions to the boys they were passed unanimously,
after a few amendments had been voted down. One of the boys wanted a
resolution passed demanding that the mate be discharged, and one moved
the captain be requested to apologize. I argued that if the captain
received the resolutions in the proper spirit, and acceded to our
demand, that would be an apology in itself, and in that case the mate
would probably resign. I was appointed one of a committee of three to
wait on the captain, and read the resolutions to him, after the boys had
all signed them. I had rather some one else had been appointed, as I had
been kicked once already, but the boys said it needed somebody that
was equal to making a little speech, as it would be necessary to say
something before reading the resolutions. They also said, it needed a
man with plenty of gall, one that was not afraid to stand up be-fore the
world and ask for our rights. I felt flattered at being selected, but I
took the precaution to place a gunny-sack, nicely folded up, in the seat
of my pants, because I didn't know what might happen. After breakfast, I
took the committee and the resolutions, and went up into the cabin,
and told a colored man that he might tell the captain that a committee
wished an audience with him. He was playing poker in the ladies' cabin,
and I have always thought he had an idea there was a committee of
passengers who wanted to present him with a gold headed cane, a thing
that was often done on the boats. Any way he came along smiling, and
when the nigger pointed me out, and the captain noticed that I had a
large paper in my hand, he said, “What is it, gentlemen?” This was the
first time I had been alluded to in that manner since I enlisted. I
asked him to be seated, and he sat down on a lounge, and I proceeded. I
forgot to make any speech, but went right at the _whereases_ at once.
I say the captain smiled when he came up. Of course, reading the
resolutions, as I was, I could not see his face change, but afterwards
one of the committee told me about it. I could not tell that a storm was
coming. I noticed that quite a number of people had collected around
the captain, from curiosity, I supposed. I had just got to the last
resolution where it spoke of sending a copy to the secretary of war,
when there was a howl. The captain got up and grabbed me by the throat,
while somebody else took me by the hind legs. As we went towards the
door, I noticed other men were carrying the rest of the committee. My
idea was that they would throw us overboard, and as I could not swim, I
closed my eyes and said, “Now I lay me.” The stairs leading to the lower
deck were covered with brass. I remember that distinctly, because I rode
down the stairs on the small of my back, and we had a committee meeting
at the foot of the stairs. I brought up on top of the rest of the
committee. We sat there a moment, and decided, unanimously, that we had
been unceremoniously chucked down stairs, resolutions and all, and we
picked ourselves up and limped back to where our companions were, and
so reported. The expedition was a total failure, for in a short time a
notice was tacked on the foot of the stairs, stating that all enlisted
men were forbidden from occupying any portion of the boat except the
lower deck, and if one was found above that deck, he would be turned
over to the first army post, a prisoner. So we remained on the lower
deck, and took it out abusing the officers, and hoping the boat would
blow up. But the scenery was just as nice from the lower deck.