A CHANGE OF BASE.
Whatever activity and energetic preparation there may have been
elsewhere, Pensacola was the first organized camp in the South. General
Bragg and his adjutant-general were both old officers, and in the face
of the enemy the utmost rigor of discipline prevailed. There had been
no active operations on this line, yet; but the Alabama and the
Louisiana troops collected--to the number of about nine thousand--had
already become soldiers, in all the details of camp life; and went
through it in as cheerful a spirit as if they had been born there.
In popular view, both Bragg and Beauregard were on probation as yet;
and it was thought that upon the management of their respective
operations depended their status in the regular army. All was activity,
drill and practice in this camp; and if the army of Pensacola was not a
perfectly-disciplined one, the fault certainly was not with its
general.
The day we reached camp the President and Secretary of the Navy came
down from Montgomery on a special train for an inspection. They were
accompanied only by one or two officers, and had a long and earnest
conference with General Bragg at his headquarters. After that there was
a review of the army; and the then novel sight was made peculiarly
effective by surroundings.
On the level, white beach, glistening in the afternoon sun, were drawn
up the best volunteer organizations of the South--line upon line, as
far as the eye could reach--their bright uniforms, glancing muskets and
waving banners giving color to the view. Far in the rear the fringed
woods made dim background; while between, regular rows of white
tents--laid out in regiments and company streets--dotted the plain.
Out in the foreground stretched the blue waters of Pensacola harbor--the
sun lighting up the occasional foam-crests into evanescent diamonds--the
grim fortress frowning darkly on the rebellious display, while a full
band on the parapet played the "Star Spangled Banner." Over to the
left, half hidden under the rolling sand hills, stood Pensacola, with
the navy yard and hospitals; and yellow little Fort McRea, saucy and
rebellious, balanced it on the extreme right.
As the President, with the general and his staff, galloped down the
line, the band of each regiment struck up; and the wildest huzzas--not
even restrained by the presence of their "incarnate discipline"--told
how firm a hold Mr. Davis had taken upon the hearts of the army.
By the time the review was over twilight had fallen; and a thousand
camp-fires sprang up among the tents, with flickering, uncertain light.
In it sat groups preparing their suppers and discussing what the visit
and review might mean. Some said it was for the secretary to inspect
the navy yard; some to examine into the defenses of the fort; and some
said that it meant scaling ladders and a midnight assault.
That night we had a jolly time of it in an Alabama captain's tent--with
songs, cards and whisky punch, such as only "Mac" could brew. Even "the
colonel" confessed himself beaten at his great trick; and in compliment
drank tumbler after tumbler. As we walked over to our tent in the early
mist before dawn, he said:
"Egad! there's mischief brewing--mischief, sir! The seat of war's to be
removed to Virginia and the capital to Richmond!"
I stopped and looked at the colonel. Was it the punch?
"That's what the council this evening meant?"
"Just so. Bragg remains, but part of his garrison goes to Beauregard,
in Virginia. Trains to Montgomery will be jammed now, so we'd better be
off. And, egad, sir! I'm to get ready for the field. Yes, sir, for the
field!"
Next morning the information that had filtered to me through the
colonel's punch was announced in orders, and enthusiastic cheers
greeted the news that some of the troops were to go to a field
promising active service and speedily at that.
The routine of camp life had already begun to pall upon the better
class of men, and all were equally anxious to go where they could prove
more clearly how ready they were to do their _devoir_.
Some Alabamians, two Georgia regiments, the _Chasseurs-a-pied_, the
"Tigers" and the Zouaves were to go to Virginia; and through the
courtesy of the officers of the latter corps, we got seats to
Montgomery in their car; two days later.
Meantime, all was hum and bustle through the whole camp, and as the
limited rolling stock on the still unfinished railroad could only
accommodate a regiment at a time, they left at all hours of the day, or
night, that the trains arrived. Constantly at midnight the dull tramp
of marching men and the slow tap of the drum, passing our quarters,
roused us from sleep; and whatever the hour, the departing troops were
escorted to the station by crowds of half-envious comrades, who "were
left out in the cold." And as the trains started--box cars, flats and
tenders all crowded, inside and out--yell after yell went up in
stentorian chorus, echoing through the still woods, in place of
"That sweet old word, good-bye!"
One gray dawn, six hundred Zouaves filed out of the pines and got
aboard our train. They were a splendid set of animals; medium sized,
sunburnt, muscular and wiry as Arabs; and a long, swingy gait told of
drill and endurance. But the faces were dull and brutish, generally;
and some of them would vie, for cunning villainy, with the features of
the prettiest Turcos that Algeria could produce.
The uniform was very picturesque and very--dirty. Full, baggy, scarlet
trowsers, confined round the waist by the broad, blue band or sash,
bearing the bowie-knife and meeting, at mid-leg, the white gaiter; blue
shirt cut very low and exhibiting the brawny, sunburnt throat; jacket
heavily braided and embroidered, flying loosely off the shoulders, and
the jaunty _fez_, surmounting the whole, made a bright _ensemble_ that
contrasted prettily with the gray and silver of the South Carolinians,
or the rusty brown of the Georgians, who came in crowds to see them
off.
But the use of these uniforms about the grease and dust of Pensacola
camp-fires had left marks that these soldiers considered badges of
honor, not to be removed.
Nor were they purer morally. Graduates of the slums of New Orleans,
their education in villainy was naturally perfect. They had the vaguest
ideas of _meum_ and _tuum_; and small personal difficulties were
usually settled by the convincing argument of a bowie-knife, or brass
knuckle.
Yet they had been brought to a very perfect state of drill and
efficiency. All commands were given in French--the native tongue of
nearly all the officers and most of the men; and, in cases of
insubordination, the former had no hesitancy in a free use of the
revolver. A wonderful peacemaker is your six-shooter.
They might be splendid fellows for a charge on the "Pet Lambs," or on
a--pocket; but, on the whole, were hardly the men one would choose for
partners in any business but a garroting firm, or would desire to have
sleep in the company bedroom.
Their officers we found of a class entirely above them; active, bright,
enthusiastic Frenchmen, with a frank courtesy and soldierly bearing
that were very taking. They occupied the rear car of the train, while
the men filled the forward ones, making the woods ring with their wild
yells, and the roaring chorus of the song of the _Zou-Zou_.
We had crossed the gap at Garland, where the road was yet unfinished,
and were soon at the breakfast house, where we mounted the hill in a
body; leaving our car perfectly empty, save a couple of buglers who
stood on the platform. As I looked back, the elder musician was a most
perfect picture of the _Turco_. He had served in Algiers, and after the
war in Italy brought a bullet in his leg to New Orleans. He was long
past fifty--spare, broad-shouldered and hard as a log of oak. His sharp
features were bronzed to the richest mahogany color, and garnished with
a moustache and peak of grizzled hair "a cubit and a span"--or
nearly--in length. And the short, grizzled hair had been shaved far
back from his prominent temples, giving a sinister and grotesque effect
to his naturally hard face. Turc was a favorite with the officers, and
his dress was rather cleaner than that of the others; a difference that
was hardly an improvement.
We were just seated at breakfast--and having a special train we took
our time--when a wild scream of the whistle, succeeded immediately by
the heavy rumble of cars, came up the hill. We rushed to the windows,
just in time to see a column of smoke disappearing round the curve and
the officers' car standing solitary and empty on the road.
The Zouaves had run away with the train!
The language the officers used, as we surrounded the "sole
survivors"--the two buglers--was, at least, strong; and short, hard
words not in the church service dropped frequently from their lips.
It was no use; the train had gone and the men with it, and the best we
could do was to speculate on the intention of the runaways, while we
waited the result of the telegrams sent to both ends of the line for
another engine. At last it came puffing up, and we whirled at its full
speed into Montgomery.
Meanwhile the _Zou-Zous_ had several hours' start. Led by one ardent
spirit--whose motto had been _similia similibus_, until he lost his
balance of mind--they had uncoupled the officers' car and forced the
engineers to take them on. On arriving at Montgomery, they wandered
over the town, "going through" drinking houses until they became wild
with liquor; then bursting open the groceries to get whisky, threatening
the citizens and even entering private houses. The alarm became so
great, as the Zouaves became more maddened, that the first Georgia
regiment was ordered out and stationed by platoons, with loaded muskets
and fixed bayonets, across the streets where the rioters were. Serious
trouble was beginning, when the car with their officers dashed into the
depot.
The charge of the Light Brigade was surpassed by those irate Creoles.
With the cars still in rapid motion, they leaped off, revolver in hand;
and charged into the quarter where their drunken men were still engaged
in every sort of excess. The old bugler still trotted at their head,
his black eyes gleaming at the prospect of a row, and his bugle
occasionally raised to sound the "rally." Into the midst of the drunken
and yelling crowd dashed the officers; crackling French oaths rolling
over their tongues with a snapping intonation, and their pistols
whirling right and left like slung-shot, and dropping a mutineer at
every blow. Habit and the rough usage overcame even the drunken frenzy
of the men, and they dropped the plunder from their arms, snatched
muskets from the corners they had been whirled into, and rapidly
dressed into line in the street.
I saw one beardless boy, slight and small, rush to a huge sergeant and
order him into ranks. The soldier, a perfect giant, hesitated to drop
the handful of shoes he had seized, only for a second. But that was
enough. The youth had to jump from the ground to seize his throat; but,
at the same moment, the stock of the heavy revolver crashed over his
temple, and he fell like a stricken ox.
"Roll that carrion into the street!" said the lieutenant to another
soldier near; and before his order was obeyed the store was empty.
In a half hour from the officers' arrival the battalion was mustered on
Main street, and only nine absentees were reported at roll-call; but
many a _fez_ was drawn far down over a bleeding forehead, and many a
villainous countenance was lighted by one eye, while the other was
closed and swollen.
The colonel and I had jumped from the car and run on with our French
friends; but the colonel was not the son of Atalanta, and by reason of
a _soupcon_ of gout his feet were not beautiful upon Zion or any other
place. Neither could he make them "swift to shed blood."
As we entered the street where the rioters were, I turned and saw him,
perfectly breathless, bear his two hundred and fifty pounds avoirdupois
against a door. It was not closed, but had only been slammed by the
score of _Zou-Zous_ enjoying the whisky within; and as I looked I
saw a dignified colonel in the C.S. army turn a complete somersault
into a group of red-legged devils, who immediately closed around him.
Gabriel Ravel, though a lighter man, never made a cleaner leap through
the third story in the side-scene; but there was no time to waste and I
went back at speed. I had scarcely turned when I saw the colonel's huge
form tower among the red-legs. By the time I reached the door my
apparition, revolver in hand, completed what he had begun; and they
slipped by and vanished.
Luckily the bar of the door had fallen with him, and the old gymnastics
of other days coming back like a flash, he had seized it, made two
rapid blows and laid as many of his assailants at his feet; roaring,
meanwhile, oaths as thunderous as they were unintelligible.
"_Sacre-e nom!_" he shouted as he saw me; "shoot 'em, me boy!
_Poltrons_, egad! Laugh at me! D----n their eyes! _Can-n-naille!_"
There was a wicked light in my fat friend's eye, and he had recovered
his second wind; so we sallied out, the colonel still clinging to his
weapon of chance.
"Good enough for these dogs!" he roared, wrathfully shaking the bar.
"Saves the pistol."
That night at "the Ranche," as later about many a camp-fire, our French
visitors declared that the colonel's bar had done more effective
service than their revolvers; and, as it stood dented and blood-smeared
in the corner of that vine-clad porch, it did not belie their praise.