PORTSMOUTH AND NORFOLK.
The contest between the Monitor and the Merrimac, and general
operations of the war during the seven days’ battle near Richmond.
The taking of the cities of Norfolk and Portsmouth by the Union
forces. Sisters narrowly escape drowning while crossing the river
in a row boat. One instance where hatred was turned to love.
[Illustration]
In the East the Union cause had not been so successful. When the Union
forces at the beginning of the war abandoned Norfolk, with its navy
yard, they blew up all the Government vessels to prevent them from
falling into the hands of the Confederates. One frigate, which had been
sunk, was raised by the Confederates and transformed into an ironclad
ram, making her one of the most formidable vessels then afloat, though
now she would be considered ridiculous. This vessel, rechristened the
Merrimac, aided by three gun boats, destroyed the United States frigate
Cumberland, forced the surrender of the Congress and scattered the
remainder of the Union fleet in Hampton Roads. That night, amid the
consternation which prevailed, the new Union gun boat, called the
Monitor, designed by John Ericsson, arrived in Hampton Roads and
prepared to resist the Merrimac the next day. The Monitor was a turreted
ironclad. The following morning, after a severe battle, the Monitor
drove the Merrimac back to Gosport Navy Yard, where she was later blown
up. This was one of the turning points of the war.
In the meantime General McClellan made his advance on Richmond, going by
sea to Yorktown and advancing thence on Richmond. For seven days there
was tremendous fighting near Richmond, the Confederates usually getting
the best of it. Finally McClellan retreated to Harrison’s Landing to
make a new effort. He was greatly disappointed in not getting
reinforcements, and finally was ordered back with his army to
Washington.
During the contest known as the “seven days’ battles” the fighting
commenced about 2 o’clock A. M., and continued until 10 P. M. each day.
The bombs were bursting and reddening the heavens, while General
McClellan’s Reserve Corps ranged about three hundred yards from the door
of the Sisters’ house. While the battle lasted the Sisters in the city
hospitals were shaken by the cannonading and the heavy rolling of the
ambulances in the streets as they brought in the wounded and dying men.
The soldiers informed the Sisters that they had received orders from
their general “to capture Sisters of Charity, if they could,” as the
hospitals were in great need of them.
One night the doctors called on the Sisters to see a man whose limb must
be amputated, but who would not consent to take the lulling dose without
having the Sisters of Charity say he could do so. The Sisters said it
was dark and the crowd was too great to think of going. The doctors
left, but soon returned, declaring that the man’s life depended on their
coming. Two Sisters then, escorted by the doctors, went to see the
patient, who said to them: “Sisters, they wish me to take a dose that
will deprive me of my senses, and I wish to make my confession first,
and a priest is not here.” They put his fears at rest, and he went
through the operation successfully. Sometimes the poor men were brought
to them from encampments where rations were very scarce or from
hospitals from which the able-bodied men had retreated and left perhaps
thousands of wounded prisoners of war, who, in their distress, had fed
on mule flesh and rats. These poor men, on arriving at the hospitals,
looked more dead than alive.
Norfolk, being left undefended about this time, was soon occupied by
General Wool, who swooped down upon it with a force from Fortress
Monroe. The bombardment of the cities of Portsmouth and Norfolk gave
notice to the Sisters of Charity that their services would soon be
needed in that locality. They had a hospital, an asylum and a day school
in Norfolk. The tolling of the bells on that May morning first announced
the destruction of the city. Soon Portsmouth was in flames. Large
magazines and powder exploding shook the two cities in a terrible
manner. The hospital where the Sisters were in charge was crowded with
the sick and wounded. They were cared for as well as possible with the
limited means at hand. In a short time, however, Norfolk was evacuated,
and both that city and Portsmouth taken by the Union troops. All of the
Southern soldiers that could leave before the coming of the Northerners
left, and the hospital was comparatively empty. The Union soldiers
crowded into the city and great confusion ensued. The Marine Hospital
in Portsmouth was prepared for the sick and wounded, and the Union
authorities asked the Sisters to wait upon their men. These troops were
in a deplorable condition. There was no time to be lost and the Sisters
lost none. They were constantly administering by turns to soul and body.
Indeed, as far as possible, the self-sacrificing Sisters subtracted from
their own food and rest in order that the suffering men might have more
of both.
In a few days several more Sisters came to aid those who were in charge.
The newcomers met with many vexatious trials on the way. First they were
denied transportation, and next barely escaped being lost in crossing a
river in a small rowboat, the frail craft, through the carelessness of
some one in charge, being heavily overloaded. They eventually reached
their destination, however, and were enabled to effect much good among
the men. Many affecting scenes took place in the wards. The Sisters were
applying cold applications to the fevered men. One soldier, bursting out
in tears, exclaimed:
“Oh, if my poor mother could only see you taking care of me she would
take you to her heart.”
A man of about 23 years saw a Sister in the distance and raised his
voice and cried:
“Sister, come over to my bed for awhile.”
He was in a dying state, and the Sister knelt by his bedside making
suitable preparations for him in a low voice. He repeated the prayers
she recited in a very loud tone. The Sister said:
“I will go away if you pray so loud.”
“Ah, Sister,” he said, “I want God to know that I am in earnest.”
The Sister showed him her crucifix, saying: “Do you know what this
means?”
He took it and kissed it, reverently bowing his head. While another man
was receiving instructions he suddenly cried out at the top of his
voice: “Come over and hear what Sister is telling me.” She looked up and
saw a wall of human beings surrounding her, attracted by the loud
prayers of the poor man. In this crowd and on his knees was one of the
doctors, who, being on his rounds among the patients and seeing the
Sister on her knees, involuntarily knelt, and remained so until the
Sister arose. The patient soon after died a most edifying death,
receiving the last rites of the Church.
Another poor fellow seemed to have a deep-seated prejudice against the
Sisters. He constantly refused to take his medicine, and would even go
so far as to strike at the Sisters when they offered it to him. After
keeping this up for some time and finding the Sisters undisturbed and
gentle as ever, he said, “What are you?”
The Sister replied: “I am a Sister of Charity.”
“Where is your husband?”
“I have none,” replied the Sister, “and I am glad I have not.”
“Why are you glad?” he asked, getting very angry.
“Because,” she replied, “if I had I would have been employed in his
affairs, consequently could not be here waiting on you.”
As if by magic he said in a subdued tone: “That will do,” and turned his
face from her. The Sister left him, but presently returned and offered
him his medicine, which he took without a murmur. When he recovered from
his long illness he became one of the warmest friends of the Sisters.
As the war continued the Government also made use of the Sisters’
Hospital of St. Francis de Sales. Here all things were under the direct
charge of the Sisters, the Government, in this particular instance,
paying them a stated sum for their services. During the time their house
was thus occupied about twenty-five hundred wounded soldiers were
admitted, of whom but one hundred died.
The Sisters had been at Portsmouth about six months when the hospital
was closed. Several of the Sisters were sent to other points, while the
remainder started for Emmittsburg. The cars took them to Manassas, in
the midst of an extensive encampment, where they were told they could
not pass the Potomac, as the enemy was firing on all who appeared.
The army chaplain celebrated Mass at this point, an old trunk in a
little hut serving as an altar. The Sisters were obliged to go to
Richmond, and it was two weeks before a flag of truce could take them
into Maryland. They met the Judge Advocate of the army on the boat and
he showed them every attention, saying: “Your society has done the
country great service, and the authorities in Washington hold your
community in great esteem.”