On Board the Arago
A morning on Chesapeake Bay--At Newport News--At Fortress
Monroe--The journey south continued--Sickness and death on board--A
burial at sea--Quarantined.
_November 15, 1862._
We are nearly out of sight of land. Wild ducks and geese cover the
water. The sun is just coming up, and seems to me I never saw such a
lovely morning. Besides the ducks and geese on the water, the air is
full of them, some alighting on the water and others rising from it.
They are so tame they only get out of the way of the boat, and if
shooting was allowed, hundreds could be shot from where I stand. I am
sore and stiff from my run to catch the boat, but I am thankful to be
here and take in these new sights on this glorious morning. Chaplain
Parker is on board and is pointing out places and vessels, and helping
us to enjoy it all.
_11 a. m._ We are sailing over the spot where the Monitor and Merrimac
fought. An eye-witness who is on board has been giving a vivid
description of it, to which I listened with the deepest interest.
_Noon._ We have landed at Newport News; so they call it, but there are
only a few shanties in sight, and beside each one is a huge pile of
oyster shells. The boys are here, having been brought off from the
Arago, which lies off shore. Oysters are plenty and cheap, and I am full
of them, the best I ever tasted, fresh from the water, and so large many
of them make two good mouthfuls. The Monitor, which saved the day when
the Merrimac came out of the James River, lies near by, and the wrecks
of the Cumberland and Congress which were sunk, show above the water.
The Arago lies just outside and at 2 P. M. we go on board. The only
white men I have seen are soldiers. The negroes and their shanties are
all I can see of Newport News.
_November 16, 1862._
_Sunday night._ The day has been cold and blustery. We have spent it in
reading tracts the chaplain gave out, writing letters and swapping
yarns. I am new to it all, and the boys have shown me all over the Arago
where they are allowed to go. Our sleeping quarters are between decks,
and are very similar to those on Hudson camp ground. That is, long tiers
of bunks, one above the other from the floor to the ceiling above, just
high enough for a man to sit up in and not hit his head. They are wide
enough for four, but a board through the middle separates each into
berths for two men each. They are the whole length of the room, with
just enough space to walk between them. Along the sides is a row through
which are small round windows which can be opened, and which give the
only light the room has. For ventilation, a huge bag hangs down from
above deck which ends up in a big tin or iron funnel which is kept away
from the wind and so is supposed to draw up the air from our bedroom
when it becomes heated. Where fresh air comes from I have not yet found
out, but suppose it drops down through several openings in the deck
above. A swap was made with one who bunked with Walter Loucks so my
crony and I could again be together. It is on the side, and has a window
in it. Walt has kindly given me the light side so I can keep up my
scribbling. What we are here for, or where we go from here, is not yet
told us. In fact I don't know as it is yet determined.
_November 17, 1862._
_Monday._ On shore again. The well ones are drilling and the sick are
enjoying themselves any way they can. Mail came to-day and I have a
long letter from home. Every mail out takes one from me and often more.
I have so many correspondents, I seldom fail to get one or more letters
by each mail. On the bank or shore, up and down as far as I have seen,
are negro shanties which look as if put up for a few days only. They dig
oysters and find a ready sale to the thousands upon thousands of
soldiers that are encamped on the plains as far as the eye can reach.
This gathering means something, but just what, we none of us know. A
case of black measles is reported on board ship and if true we may be in
for a siege of it. I hope I may get entirely well before it hits me.
Jaundice is quite common too, and many men I see are as yellow as can be
and look much worse than they appear to feel.
_November 18, 1862._
Orderly Holmes and myself have been on shore again. We went up the beach
and found a soldiers' graveyard. We got breakfast at a darky hut, mutton
chops and onions, hot biscuit and coffee, all for twenty-five cents. The
boat that takes us to and from the Arago is a small affair that used to
run up and down the James River. The Rebs have left their mark upon it
in the shape of bullet holes most everywhere, but most often on the
pilot-house.
_November 19, 1862._
Have been paid off; $24.70 I got, and we all went ashore and washed up.
The bunks on the Arago have been used so long by so many that they are
lousy and most everyone has them. I, however, have found none as yet. We
are kept on shore as much as possible, as a guard against disease, which
would surely come when so many are crowded in so small a space. As there
is no way to spend money here except for oysters, a great many gamble it
away, then borrow again from those that win and pay any interest asked
for. There is more and more sickness every day. Many are taken to a
hospital at Fortress Monroe, which I am told is not far away.
_November 21, 1862._
A death on board last night. The guns are being taken off the Cumberland
and Congress by divers. Lieutenant Colonel Smith let himself out to-day,
and says if there isn't land enough in the South for his men, he thinks
they should be disbanded and sent home. Hurrah for Colonel Smith! He is
a soldier all over and knows what is fair treatment better than the new
officers, and acts as if he meant to have it. We have been on board all
day and have put in the time trading watches and anything else.
Everything goes here. Richmond is taken, so we hear, and hope it may be
so.
_November 22, 1862._
The sun rose clear this morning, and the air is just right. Our lower
regions are hot and stuffy, but on deck it is delightful. Great birds,
sea-gulls I hear them called, are all about and pick up, or pick at,
everything that floats on the water. We went ashore and while there saw
General Corcoran and staff. If he amounts to much he is, like a "singed
cat," better than he looks. My throat troubles me yet and to-night is
about as bad as ever. Good-night, diary.
_November 23, 1862._
OFF FORTRESS MONROE. We left Newport News about six this morning, and
came here where lie many other vessels loaded with soldiers. There's a
big move going on, which I will know about when it comes off. Coal and
hard-tack are coming aboard by the boat-load. The colonel's horse died
last night and went overboard. Poor things. They have more air than we,
but have no chance to move. They do not lie down at all.
_November 24, 1862._
_Monday._ All night the coal kept rattling down, and it would seem this
old craft would sink. There are about 1300 men on board.
_November 25, 1862._
_Tuesday._ If I have kept track right, this is Thanksgiving day up
north. My mouth waters as I think of the good things they will eat
to-day. I suppose we should feel thankful for the fare we have, but it
is hard to do it, and is harder yet to eat it. Still I know how
impossible it is to do much better by us than they do. The family is so
big, the individual member of it must not expect pie and cake with every
meal. Some drilling in the manual of arms is done on the quarter-deck.
It makes something to do, and anything is better than nothing. A gun
feels pretty heavy to me these days. It is curious to see how we divide
up into families. Men who were friends and neighbors at home are even
more than that here. Our duties may separate us, but when they are over
we hunt each other up again. We know and talk with others, but
confidences are all saved for the few. Our beds are next to each other,
but with the fellows next to us on the other side we have little to do.
The waves run high to-day, higher than any I ever saw, and yet the
sailors say this is almost a dead calm. Still the vessel pitches and
dives, so we run against some one or something every move we make.
_November 26, 1862._
_Wednesday._ Rainy to-day. This keeps us below and such a racket as we
make! I begun to wonder if I didn't make a mistake in leaving Stewart's
Mansion. Dr. Andrus is dosing me and when it clears off I hope to feel
better.
_November 27, 1862._
_Thursday._ This is really Thanksgiving day. So by my mistaking Tuesday
for it I really have two holidays. The men are ashore for a Thanksgiving
sermon. I am taking mine in my bunk. Have less fever but more sore
throat.
_November 28, 1862._
Lots of sick men to-day. I am better and was on duty again. Had only to
attend sick call and take the men to the doctor. There were only six
from Company B, while some companies had twenty. Sergeants Noble and
Kniffin were sent ashore to the Chesapeake hospital to-day.
_Night._ John Thompson and Isaiah Dibble, fresh from the North, came on
board to-night. Gave us all the home news and many loving messages from
those we love so well. But the way they spoke of our quarters was
scandalous. Said hogs would die if confined in such a pen as this.
_November 29, 1862._
Hurrah for camp once more! Our tents are being sent ashore and a detail
from each company goes to put them up. This began just at night and
lasted all night. Nobody slept, for some were working and the rest were
thinking of living outdoors again.
_November 30, 1862._
_Sunday._ Camp Hamilton, right in sight of Fortress Monroe. The last day
of fall and as perfect a day as ever was. We are on the ground again and
it feels cold after the heated quarters on the boat. God help us if it
rains, for this bare ground would soon be like a mortar bed. But we are
not to cross any bridges until we come to them. Still I think we had
better pray for a dry spell.
_December 1, 1862._
_Monday._ _Winter._ Just think of it, and yet but for the almanac I
should call it Indian summer.
_December 2, 1862._
_Tuesday._ On board the Arago again. That is, most of us are. Some were
sent to the hospital instead, Leonard Loucks among them. Orders came in
the night, we were routed out, tents struck and tied up. We waited until
morning and then till 9 A. M., when we were put on a boat and taken back
here, just what for nobody knows that will tell. I declare this
"hog-pen," as Thompson called it, seems like home. There is a familiar
smell to it, and the beds are dry too.
_December 3, 1862._
_Wednesday._ Rainy day. Many have taken cold from our stay in camp and
coughing and sneezing is going on all over the boat. I manage to keep up
at this, and for coughing I think I take the lead. I am lucky in one
thing though. Dr. Andrus once knew a Van Alstyne who he says was a very
decent sort of a man, and often stops to talk of those of the name he
knows, and to ask me about those I know. In that way he is able to keep
track of my condition and give me more of his attention than he
otherwise would.
_December 4, 1862._
Judging from appearances we are to move again. The anchor is coming up
and there is hustling and bustling about all over the boat. Anything by
way of excitement is good and I am glad something is going to happen. I
miss a great many boats that were lying about us yesterday and every now
and then one goes past us towards the open sea.
_Later._ We're off, heading in the only direction where no land is in
sight.
_Later still._ Have learned this much. The Baltic is the flagship, with
General Banks and staff on board. She has stopped and all the other
vessels are forming in lines. Each vessel has orders which are only to
be opened in case of separation from the flagship. It is too dark to see
or to write and the ship pitches and dives terribly. Water dashes on
deck sometimes, and this was almost thirty feet above water before we
loaded up with coal.
_December 6, 1862._
_Saturday._ Wind and waves both much higher. Nearly everyone except
myself is seasick. Before it reaches me I am going to try and describe
what is going on about me.
To begin with, our cabin quarters. I have told how the bunks are
arranged, so just imagine the men hanging over the edge and throwing
whatever is in them out on the floor or on the heads of those below
them. The smell is awful. I was afraid to stir for fear my turn would
come, but after a while did get out on deck. Here everyone seemed trying
to turn themselves wrong side out. The officers bowed as low as the
privates, and except for the sailors, there was no one in sight but
seemed to be determined to gaze upon what they had eaten since the war
began.
No one could stand without hanging fast to something, and fast to a rope
that came from above to a ring in the deck were four men, swinging round
in a circle, each one every now and then casting up his accounts on the
back of the man in front. The deck was slippery and not being sailor
enough to get about I climbed down again and after some narrow escapes
reached my bunk to tell my diary the sights I had seen. I cannot tell of
the smells. There is nothing I can think of to compare it with.
_December 7, 1862._
_Sunday night._ My turn came, but did not last long. I was able to see
the others at their worst, and came out of it before the others were
able to take much notice. Some are as sick as ever, but most of them are
getting over it, and cleaning house is the order of the day. The sea is
very rough, though not as bad as in the night. It seemed sometimes as if
the Arago was rolling over. Lieutenant Sterling of Company D died a few
hours ago. He had some sort of fever. We have a variety of diseases
abroad if reports are true. I am getting careful about putting down what
I cannot see for myself. It takes but little to start a story and by the
time it has gone around the original teller would not believe it
himself. For myself, I am all the better for my seasickness, and think
those that are over it feel the same way. Rockets are going up from the
different vessels in sight. I suppose someone knows what for, but I do
not.
_December 8, 1862._
_Monday._ The storm is over and it is warm and pleasant. Lieutenant
Sterling's funeral sermon was preached this morning on the quarter-deck.
On account of lack of room only his company and the commissioned
officers attended. His body will be sent home when we land.
_December 9, 1862._
_Tuesday._ Land ho! I was on deck by the crack of dawn, saw the sun come
up from the water; a beautiful sight. Saw two vessels going towards home
and wished I was on board. Wm. Haight of our company is very sick. He is
a general favorite and we all feel badly at the possibility of losing
him.
_December 10, 1862._
Off the coast of Florida. We must be going to New Orleans as has been
reported. I did not believe it at first, as there was a report that
Charleston was our destination.
Haight died about sunrise, and his death has cast a gloom over Company
B. He was one of the best fellows I have met with in the army. He was a
little wild at first but later seemed to change. Talked of the trouble
his habits had caused his parents and seemed determined to atone for it
by a right about-face change. We shall miss his cheery voice. Such is
war. It is over thirty-six days since the 128th and two companies of the
114th New York came aboard this vessel. It is a wonder so many are alive
to-day. We get on deck now and the nights are so warm some of us sleep
there. We suffer for good water to drink. What we have may be good, but
it is distilled water, and there are so many of us we use it before it
has time to get cold. On the quarter-deck, where we are not allowed to
go, are barrels which contain _real water_, for officers' use only. I
was let into a secret last night, how to get some of it, and I drank all
I could hold. With a long rubber tube I crawled up behind a barrel and
let the end down the bunghole, which is left open for ventilation, and
sucked away as long as I could swallow. This will go on until someone is
caught at it, and then the game will be up.
_December 11, 1862._
In the Gulf of Mexico. Flying fish and porpoises are in sight. The
sailors say the porpoises are after the flying fish, and they skip out
of the water and go as far as they can and then drop in again. It is a
beautiful morning, and the water is smooth as glass on top. Under it,
however, there seems to be a commotion, for the surface is up and down
like hills and hollows on land. Ground swells, the sailors call it. In
spite of the nice weather a great many are yet seasick. Three cases of
measles are reported this morning. Every one who has never had them
seems to be having them now. Only a few new cases of fever were
reported. A big shark is following the vessel, after anything that is
thrown overboard. It keeps up easily and as far as I can discover makes
very little effort to do so.
_December 12, 1862._
At daylight Company B was called on deck and made to form in a
three-sided square, the open side towards the rail. Poor Haight was then
brought up in a rough box, which was set across the rail, the most of it
projecting over the water, the end towards us being fastened down by a
rope fastened to an iron on the deck. The chaplain made a prayer, and
just as the sun rose out of the water the rope was slipped off, and the
box plunged down into the water. I should have said that the engines
were stopped and except for the chaplain's words the utmost silence
prevailed. I shall never forget this, my first sight of a burial at sea.
It has all been so sudden, and so unexpected. He was only sick a few
days. Never complained no matter what came, but always was foremost in
any fun that can be got out of a life like this. It was at his father's
house I took tea when home on my five-day furlough, and I am glad I
could give his mother such a good account of him. It is hard for us to
understand why Lieutenant Sterling's body can be kept for shipment home,
while that of Haight could not.
_December 13, 1862._
Yet in the Gulf of Mexico. Company C lost a man last night. Company G
has been turned out of their quarters and a hospital made of it. That
crowds the others still more, but at the rate we go on the whole ship
will soon be a hospital.
_10 a. m._ We have stopped at a sandy island, which they say is Ship
Island. The man who died last night has been taken off and they are
digging a hole in the sand to put him in.
Ship Island so far as I can discover is only a sand bar with a small
fort on it, and with some soldiers about it the only live thing in
sight. We weighed anchor about 4 P. M. and the next morning, Dec. 14th,
stopped off the mouth of the Mississippi for a pilot. I am told this is
called the South West Pass, being one of several outlets to the great
Mississippi river. It looks like a mud flat that had been pushed out
into the Gulf farther in some places than others. As far as the eye can
reach the land is covered with a low down growth of grass or weeds that
are but little above the water. We passed a little village of huts near
the outlet, where the pilots with their families live and which is
called "Pilot Town." What they live on I did not learn. The huts are
perched on piles driven in the mud, with board walks from one to the
other and water under and about the whole.
_December 15, 1862._
Went on up the river until hard ground appeared. Passed two forts, Fort
Jackson and Fort St. Philip they call them, and say Butler's men had
hard fighting to get past them when they came up. The secret is out.
Banks is to relieve Butler in the Department of the Gulf. I wonder what
harm it would have done had we been told this long ago. Chaplain Parker
went ashore and brought off some oranges. A small limb had twenty-four
nice oranges on it and this the Dominie said he would send home to show
our friends what sumptuous fare we have. Some one suggested his putting
in a few wormy hard-tack with the oranges.
We have anchored opposite a large brick building with a few small wood
buildings near it.
_December 16, 1862._
The U. S. surgeon from the Marine Hospital has been on board looking us
over. Found only four diseases: measles, scurvy, typhoid fever and
jaundice. He did not put down the graybacks that keep us scratching all
the time. For a long time after they appeared they left me alone, but
one morning as I lay on my back in bed writing in my diary one came
crawling up over my knee and looked me straight in the face; from that
on they have seemed to like me as well as anyone.