At New Orleans, La.
Good-bye to the 128th--Down the river to New Orleans--Looking for
General Grant--Finding General Grant--Joined the Corps de
Afrique--Franklin's expedition to Texas--The return trip--Pilot
Town, La.--Easy times.
_August 31, 1863._
_Monday._ Was too busy yesterday to even write in my diary. A general
order from department headquarters came and was read to us in the
morning. Several enlisted men and some commissioned officers from the
128th are ordered to report to the general mustering officer in New
Orleans, for muster into the Corps de Afrique for recruiting service,
your humble servant being one of them. Just when we go I cannot say, but
suppose as soon as we can get transportation. Reuben Reynolds and Henry
C. Lay from Company A; Charles C. Bostwick, George S. Drake, George H.
Gorton and L. Van Alstyne from Company B; Captain George Parker, Charles
Wilson and Wm. Platto from Company D; Lieutenant Rufus J. Palon, Martin
Smith and Charles M. Bell from Company G; Garret F. Dillon, John F. Keys
and George A. Culver from Company H; Richard Enoch and Charles Heath
from Company I; Jacob M. Ames from Company K, and several other names of
people I never heard of before, and have no idea to what regiment they
belong. The most of us are sergeants, and as we are ordered to rip our
stripes off and turn them into the quartermaster we are expecting to
have shoulder straps instead. We were not discharged from the service,
only from the regiment, but we are in honor bound to report for this new
service, and then the shackles will be put on for three years more, if
the war should last that long. Just what to think of this new move none
of us seem to know. Some feel an inch or two taller already. I have not
fully come to my senses so as to know how I do feel. Things have
happened so fast it has kept me busy to keep up with them. We seem to
have no choice in the matter. Men are transferred from one company or
regiment to another every little while, and now our turn has come, and
that is all there is of it.
_September 1, 1863._
BATON ROUGE, LA. We are waiting for a boat to come along and take us to
New Orleans. Our commissions came and were passed around last night. We
each got one and I suppose will get pay accordingly. Bostwick is
colonel; Captain Parker lieutenant colonel; Lieutenant Palon is major;
Dick Enoch is a captain; Charlie Heath, Garret Dillon, Rube Reynolds,
Charlie Bell, Mart Smith, Sol Drake and Henry Lay are first lieutenants;
Jacob Ames, John Keys, George Culver, Charlie Wilson, Wm. Platto and
Lawrence Van Alstyne are second lieutenants. I may wish myself back
looking after the fodder of Company B, but so far my only regret is
leaving the boys. We have seen good times together and times not so
good, but we have hung together through it all like so many brothers.
But every day brings something new to think of, and the day before is
soon forgotten.
_Sundown._ On board a steamer called the Exact. She lies at the dock,
and is taking on the First Vermont Battery. They are the fellows that we
supported when posted in the woods on the center at Port Hudson. They
don't know any better than we do what is before them. With good luck
loading, and no accident going down, we ought to see New Orleans by
morning.
_September 2, 1863._
_Wednesday._ On board the steamer Metropolitan going to New Orleans. We
remained on the Exact until midnight with no signs of a start. Just
then the Metropolitan came along on its way from Vicksburg, and took us
off. It is said General Grant and staff are on board. I am looking out
for General Grant, for I have a great curiosity to see him. There are so
many officers of all grades on board that I may have seen him already,
but I have enquired out all those that make the biggest show and none of
them were him. One is covered with badges and medals, but he proved to
be a foreigner of some sort. At any rate, he has quite a brogue.
I finally gave it up and went up on the hurricane deck and smoked while
watching the sights along the river. A solitary soldier, with nothing on
him to tell of rank, had his feet cocked up on the rail and I joined
him. He asked if I knew whose fine place it was we were passing, and
just then an officer came after him and I had the whole deck to myself.
I had a lot of thinking to do and I was glad to be alone. The news
to-day is that Charleston is taken. So many are talking of it, I began
to think it may be true.
NEW ORLEANS. _Night._ We landed about 1 P. M. I watched for General
Grant but did not see him. If he was on the boat he must have kept in
his stateroom, but I don't think he was on board, for I would surely
have seen him go ashore. We, late of Company B, left the others and went
to the French market and filled ourselves full. If I ever had so good a
meal I have forgotten it. None of us being very well off for money, we
began to consider a suitable place to stop at. We decided on the Murphy
House on St. Charles Street for the night, and then to look for a place
more in accord with our pocket-books. We found Colonel Bostwick at the
St. Charles, the principal hotel of New Orleans. He looks pale and thin,
but says he is well. He had no orders for us and will have none until we
are mustered. He hardly knows what we are to do, but supposes we will go
with an expedition that is being fitted out here, under the direction of
General Franklin. Its destination is said to be Texas, but by what route
no one that knows has yet told.
_September 3, 1863._
NEW ORLEANS, LA. _Thursday._ A mail steamer came in last night, and the
mail will be distributed at eight this morning. We are going to head off
the carrier and get our letters, if we have any.
_Later._ We did it, and I have a letter from Jane. God bless her, she
writes for all the family. This time she sent me her photograph, so I
won't forget how she looks. No danger of that, but I am glad enough to
see her. The folks are all well. That's the best news I can get, and is
what I am very thankful for. Sol and I set out to find cheaper board and
lodging. We were directed to a place in Gravier Street and made a dicker
at a very reasonable price. After supper we went up to the St. Charles
and found it crammed with army officers and city officials, and that
General Grant was among them. He was sitting at a table covered with
papers and was busy talking with those around him. I worked my way in,
determined not to miss this chance, and imagine my astonishment when I
saw it was the fellow I had sat beside on the upper deck of the
Metropolitan. A couple of small stars on his shoulder was his only mark
of rank. Of all the men I saw on the Metropolitan he was the last one I
should have called General Grant. The troops in the Gulf Department are
to be reviewed at Carrolton to-morrow and I suppose this was what they
were planning for.
_September 4, 1863._
We were up early and at the St. Charles to see General Grant and staff
start for Carrolton. General Banks has his headquarters in Julia Street,
and soon after we got to the St. Charles he and his staff rode up. A
horse was led out for General Grant, which took two men to hold. He was
in full uniform now and made a better appearance mounted than on foot.
It was a fine sight to see them ride off up St. Charles Street, and I
wished I could see the review. I had much rather see it than take part
in it, for there is a lot of hard work about such affairs. Later we went
to the mustering office and reported according to order received at
Baton Rouge. We also got our fatigue uniforms and are now ready for
business. This is the first I have been off duty since I left the
hospital at Camp Parapet last spring. We have had quite a rest up and
upon the whole are anxious to tackle the unknown which now lies before
us. The strangest thing to me has been to undress and go to bed. I have
not, and I do not expect to sleep sound again, until I can drop down as
I am and pulling a blanket over my face to keep off the mosquitoes, know
that however sudden the call I can be ready inside of two minutes.
_September 5, 1863._
_Saturday._ Our boarding place at 184 Gravier Street has not proved to
be all we hoped for, that is, the sleeping accommodations are not quite
as desirable as we would like. In the first place the room is close and
hot. The mosquito bars shut out what air there might be, but still have
holes enough to let through the hungry varmints by the dozen. Then there
were bed bugs that act as if they had been starving all summer, and
could never get blood enough. The rooms were alive with cockroaches, but
these we didn't mind so much, for they did nothing worse than make a
noise running across the floor. But on the whole we concluded to move
and are in much better quarters at a house on Carondalet Street. I told
Sol, as we had nothing to do but scratch and as our play spell might end
any day, we should not be so particular, but he was decided and we went.
_September 6, 1863._
_Sunday._ Sailing down the river on the steamer A. G. Brown, the very
one our regiment and the Sixth Michigan captured on Pearl River last
May. She has been repaired and chartered for the use of Colonel
Bostwick and his "nigger-stealers," as the Secesh call us. The colonel
says we are going with Franklin's expedition, whose destination is said
to be Texas. We had a busy time getting off, for we had no hint of our
departure until afternoon. I attended church this morning, but it isn't
much like going to church at "The City," where every one knows every one
else. We were hunted up and told where the boat lay, and were none too
soon in getting to her. We have formed an officers' club, "Officers'
Mess," it is called here, each one putting in $5 towards the expense of
grub. We have to board ourselves now. We are each allowed one government
ration for a servant, and as none of us have servants we will live on
that until pay day.
It is a beautiful night, too much so for me to waste time scribbling any
longer.
_September 7, 1863._
_Monday._ In the Gulf of Mexico again. We passed the too familiar
quarantine station where we landed from the Arago, and where we started
quite a graveyard, and came on down past Forts Jackson and St. Philip,
reaching the South West Pass early this morning. I don't know how many
boats there are, but the water ahead of us seems covered. I did not
suppose the river boats ever went out into the Gulf. We rock and roll
like chips on the water. It is curious to watch the tall smokestacks.
They slant in every direction at the same time. It is good weather, and
the water is smooth. It is what the boatmen call ground swells that are
tumbling us about so.
_September 8, 1863._
_Tuesday._ We are just over the bar inside of Sabine Bay. The light of
camp-fires can be seen on the Louisiana side, but whether of friends or
enemies we know not.
The captain of the boat told us to-day what he says is the object of
this expedition. Through his scouts, General Banks has learned that the
Rebels under General Dick Taylor are at Vermillionville with 20,000
troops. That Banks had sent about as large a force up the Red River to
Marksville, from which place they were to march upon Vermillionville.
Another force had been sent by rail to Brashear City, and then up the
Bayou Teche (pronounced Tash) to get at Taylor from the other side,
while Franklin with his expedition is to land and cut off the retreat. I
don't know enough about the geography of the country to know whether any
or all of this can be true, but that is the way it is given to us. We
had a rough night of it. The horses and mules on the lower decks had
hard work to keep their footing and could not have possibly stood up on
the deck we are on. There were times when it seemed as if we were going
over, but the sailors didn't seem scared and so I tried to act as if I
was not. We came through all right, and that is the main thing.
_September 9, 1863._
_Wednesday._ I was mistaken last night. We only arrived off the bar this
morning. The fires I saw and thought were camp-fires were dry grass on
the prairie, and which is still burning. The fleet is lying outside the
bar, and unable to cross, though these boats are said to run on a good
big dew. General Franklin is on the Suffolk, and signals are being
wig-wagged from vessel to vessel. The wind is getting stronger every
minute, and what will become of Franklin's expedition if it really comes
on to blow can be guessed to a certainty. It will fetch up on the bottom
of the Gulf of Mexico.
_Later._ We are going back. What's the matter I don't know. We were
signaled to go back and that it all we need to know. The water is rough,
and if it were not for the danger, which is becoming apparent to all,
the sight of the boats pitching and diving, this way and that, would be
worth sitting up all night to see. We are going farther out from land
than when we came, but that makes little difference, for at the nearest
we are too far to swim ashore. The wind is dead ahead, and our progress
is very slow.
_September 11, 1863._
_Friday._ Pilot Town, in the mouth of the Mississippi. Our boat is tied
up here, repairing damages. We got in early this morning after the most
exciting twenty-four hours of my life, and I think many others can say
the same.
Yesterday the wind kept blowing harder and the water kept getting
rougher. For sea-going vessels it was nothing, but for these cockleshell
river boats it was anything but fun. Wednesday night the water was
rough. I got into my berth for a nap and the next thing I knew I was
sprawling on the floor, where a lurch of the vessel had thrown me. There
was no more sleep that night. The boat not only rolled, but it pitched
and dove. The wind and the waves seemed to get up more steam every
minute and I for one was glad to see daylight. But except for the light
there was no improvement. We could see several of the boats, but not a
quarter as many as were in sight the night before. Whether they had gone
to the bottom or were just out of sight none of us knew. The Laurel Hill
was near by. Both her smokestacks were gone, shaken off even with the
upper deck. Another boat tried to get hold of her, but did not make out.
Another one, which we could just see behind us, had a signal of distress
flying and the flagship signaled us to go back to her. When we turned
broadside to the wind, I surely thought we were going over, but we got
around and in a short time were close to the Laundress, whose flag was
flying upside down, which was the reason of our being sent back. She was
loaded with men and animals, and wanted a tow. We made two turns about
her trying to get a line to or from her, and then gave it up. Both
boats were rolling about like chips on a mill pond, the great high
smokestacks swinging first towards each other and then far apart. It did
not seem as if either boat could stand it much longer. The only thing
that kept my spunk up was to hear the captain and mate swear. It didn't
seem possible that men could swear like that if the danger was as great
as it seemed. We came on and what became of the Laundress I don't yet
know. By noon the wind was at its highest. Life preservers were got out,
but not distributed. There were islands, or sandbars, all along towards
where the shore must have been. We could see these only a part of the
time, on account of the waves. Colonel B., who went to the captain and
first asked, and then ordered, him to run in between the sandbars and so
get into smoother water, was told to "go to hell. I'll run this boat to
the South West Pass or to the bottom of the gulf." After that no attempt
was made by the landsmen to dictate to the boatmen. About noon the upper
cabin seemed to be tearing itself loose. The woodwork was splintered in
several places, and the groaning of the timbers added to the alarm that
was felt. I went below to find a place where I could keep still, but it
was worse there than above. Everything was soaked. The engines and
boilers were crusted white with salt water. The live stock was in a
pitiable condition, scared to death and pulling every way on the hawser
to which they were tied. The lower decks of these river boats are close
to the water. On them is the machinery and fuel, and freight, when any
is carried. Everything, living or dead, was soaking wet, including the
boxes of hard-tack. On the next floor or deck is the dining room and
sleeping berths, and above that the hurricane deck, on which is the
pilot house. How he made out I don't know, but the fact that we got here
shows he stuck to his post. A few got drunk, so drunk they could just
hang on to something and slam about with it. No one thought of eating or
sleeping. Some were dreadfully seasick, and these were the only ones I
envied. They just lay on the floor and didn't care whether we sank or
swam. Towards night we could see the worst was over, though the pitching
and diving kept up about the same. As night came on we settled down as
best we could and got what rest we could. I did not think I slept any,
but I must have, for the first I knew we were in smoother water and were
soon tied up here. The day has been pretty warm, but we are not
complaining about that.
Pilot Town is a curiosity to me. It is where the pilots live, that pilot
vessels out and in the river. They go out in small boats as soon as they
see a vessel, and the one that gets to her first gets the job of
bringing her in over the bar, and sometimes way up the river to New
Orleans. Then if they are lucky they get a boat to pilot down the river
and out into deep water again. Some vessels have some particular pilot
that they will take on, and so this racing out after a job amounts to
nothing. Then again some captains know the river so well they only have
use for a pilot while crossing the bar. It seems the bar, as they call
it, shifts its position, and this the pilots keep track of, and so no
vessel ventures in or out without their aid. They have a little house on
poles from which some one is always looking by day, and from which a
light is kept burning at night. There is no dry ground. The houses,
which are only little small one-room affairs, are built on piles, high
above the water, and along in front of them is a wooden sidewalk about
even with the floor. Here they live and raise families. They are as
ignorant as can be on all subjects except that of their trade, piloting.
There is a little store, where tea, coffee and tobacco are the main
stock in trade. I saw what I took to be calico on one shelf. When the
tide is in they are surrounded with water, and when it is out there is
nothing but mud. When I told him of the time we had had, he said "yaas,
it was a bit nasty." The boatmen are cleaning up, getting the salt off
the machinery and making things shipshape. The horses and mules are
taking their rations and from all appearances have already forgotten
the uncomfortable trip we have just had. Fish of many kinds are swimming
about the boat, and with some borrowed tackle the men are having great
fun catching them. I saw one that looked as big around as a barrel. My
friend, whom I have kept busy answering questions, says it must have
been a porpoise, and that they often come in for whatever they can find
to eat. From a boat that has just gone up we learn that two gunboats,
the Clifton and the Sachem, were captured. That an unknown fort, just
inside the Sabine River, had crippled one, and when the other went to
her assistance, that was also crippled and both crews made prisoners.
That the Laurel Hill threw overboard 240 mules. So far as I can find out
no other boats were lost. What become of the Laundress, which we tried
to help, no one seems to know. The most of them must have got in ahead
of us, for very few have passed us to-day. Franklin's expedition seems
to have been a failure.
_Later._ Another boat says a transport, name not known, was lost with
700 men. That may have been the Laundress. We may never know any more
about it. Something else will come and take our attention, and this trip
will soon be forgotten.
_Night._ New Orleans again. We got here about 3 o'clock, after a
delightful ride up the river. Colonel Bostwick tells us he doesn't know
what the next move will be, but we are to be ready for it at any time.
In the meantime we may enjoy ourselves in any way we please. That will
be eating at a cheap boarding place and picking our teeth at the St.
Charles, I suppose. I wrote nearly all the time we were at Pilot Town
and have just got caught up. Good-night.