brought into camp, one day, a poor, thin little pig, which a German
soldier brought back with him on his return from a furlough. His
regiment, the 74th Pennsylvania, was just embarking for the North,
where it was ordered to join the 10th corps, and he could not take
the pig back with him, so he gave it to our colonel. That pig grew to
be the pet of the camp, and was the special care of the drummer boys,
who taught him many tricks; and so well did they train him that every
day at practice and dress parade, his pigship would march out with
them, keeping perfect time with their music. The drummers would often
disturb the devotions by riding this pig into the midst of evening
praise meeting, and many were the complaints made to the colonel, but
he was always very lenient towards the boys, for he knew they only did
this for mischief. I shall never forget the fun we had in camp with
“Piggie.”
[Illustration:
LIEUT. JOHN A. TROWBRIDGE
LIEUT. ELI C. MERRIAM
LIEUT. JAMES M. THOMPSON
LIEUT. JEROME T. FURMAN]
VII
CAST AWAY
There was a yacht that carried passengers from Hilton Head to Beaufort.
There were also five small boats which carried people over. The only
people here, beside the soldiers, were Mrs. Lizzie Brown, who came
over on a permit to see her husband, who was at this place, and was
very ill (he died while she was there), Corporal Walker’s wife, with
her two years old child, and Mrs. Seabrooke. As soon as we could get
the yacht, these persons I have mentioned, together with a comrade
just discharged, an officer’s boy, and myself, took passage on it for
Beaufort. It was nearly dark before we had gone any distance, and about
eight o’clock we were cast away and were only saved through the mercy
of God. I remember going down twice. As I rose the second time, I
caught hold of the sail and managed to hold fast. Mrs. Walker held on
to her child with one hand, while with the other she managed to hold
fast to some part of the boat, and we drifted and shouted as loud as
we could, trying to attract the attention of some of the government
boats which were going up and down the river. But it was in vain, we
could not make ourselves heard, and just when we gave up all hope,
and in the last moment (as we thought) gave one more despairing cry,
we were heard at Ladies’ Island. Two boats were put off and a search
was made, to locate our distressed boat. They found us at last, nearly
dead from exposure. In fact, the poor little baby was dead, although
her mother still held her by her clothing, with her teeth. The soldier
was drowned, having been caught under the sail and pinned down. The
rest of us were saved. I had to be carried bodily, as I was thoroughly
exhausted. We were given the best attention that we could get at this
place where we were picked up. The men who saved us were surprised when
they found me among the passengers, as one of them, William Geary, of
Darien, Georgia, was a friend of my husband. His mother lived about two
miles from where we were picked up, and she told me she had heard cries
for a long time that night, and was very uneasy about it. Finally, she
said to her son, “I think some poor souls are cast away.” “I don’t
think so, mother,” he replied; “I saw some people going down the river
to-day. You know this is Christmas, and they are having a good time.”
But she still persisted that these were cries of distress, and not
of joy, and begged him to go out and see. So to satisfy her, he went
outside and listened, and then he heard them also, and hastened to get
the boats off to find us. We were capsized about 8.15 P. M. and it was
near midnight when they found us. Next day, they kept a sharp lookout
on the beach for anything that might be washed in from the yacht, and
got a trunk and several other things. Had the tide been going out, we
should have been carried to sea and lost.
I was very ill and under the doctor’s care for some time, in Beaufort.
The doctor said I ought to have been rolled, as I had swallowed so much
water. In January, 1865, I went back to Cole Island, where I could be
attended by my doctor, Dr. Miner, who did all in his power to alleviate
my suffering, for I was swollen very much. This he reduced and I
recovered, but had a severe cough for a long time afterward.
VIII
A FLAG OF TRUCE
In October, 1864, six companies of the regiment were ordered to Gregg
Landing, S. C. Captain L. W. Metcalf, of Co. G, was appointed on
General Saxton’s staff as provost captain, Lieutenant James B. West
acting as assistant general. As in some way our mail had been sent
over to the Confederate side and their mail to us, Captain Metcalf and
Lieutenant West were detailed to exchange these letters under a flag
of truce. So, with an escort of six men of the companies at Port Royal
Ferry, the flag was unfurled and the message shouted across the river
to the Confederates. Captain Metcalf asked them to come over to our
side under the protection of our flag of truce. This the Confederates
refused to do, having for their excuse that their boat was too far up
the river and so they had no way to cross the river to us. They asked
Metcalf to cross to them. He at once ordered his men to “stack arms,”
the Confederates following suit, and his boys in blue rowed him over,
and he delivered the message, after having introduced himself to the
rebel officers. One of these officers was Major Jones, of Alabama,
the other Lieutenant Scott, of South Carolina. Major Jones was very
cordial to our captain, but Lieutenant Scott would not extend his hand,
and stood aside, in sullen silence, looking as if he would like to take
revenge then and there. Major Jones said to Captain Metcalf, “We have
no one to fight for. Should I meet you again, I shall not forget we
have met before.” With this he extended his hand to Metcalf and bade
him good-by, but Lieutenant Scott stood by and looked as cross as he
possibly could. The letters were exchanged, but it seemed a mystery
just how those letters got mis-sent to the opposite sides. Captain
Metcalf said he did not feel a mite comfortable while he was on the
Confederate soil; as for his men, you can imagine their thoughts. I
asked them how they felt on the other side, and they said, “We would
have felt much better if we had had our guns with us.” It was a little
risky, for sometimes the flag of truce is not regarded, but even among
the enemy there are some good and loyal persons.
[Illustration:
CAPT. L. W. METCALF
CAPT. MIRON W. SAXTON
CAPT. A. W. JACKSON
CORPORAL PETER WAGGALL]
Captain Metcalf is still living in Medford. He is 71 years old, and
just as loyal to the old flag and the G. A. R. as he was from 1861 to
1866, when he was mustered out. He was a brave captain, a good officer,
and was honored and beloved by all in the regiment.
IX
CAPTURE OF CHARLESTON
On February 28, 1865, the remainder of the regiment were ordered to
Charleston, as there were signs of the rebels evacuating that city.
Leaving Cole Island, we arrived in Charleston between nine and ten
o’clock in the morning, and found the “rebs” had set fire to the city
and fled, leaving women and children behind to suffer and perish in the
flames. The fire had been burning fiercely for a day and night. When we
landed, under a flag of truce, our regiment went to work assisting the
citizens in subduing the flames. It was a terrible scene. For three or
four days the men fought the fire, saving the property and effects of
the people, yet these white men and women could not tolerate our black
Union soldiers, for many of them had formerly been their slaves; and
although these brave men risked life and limb to assist them in their
distress, men and even women would sneer and molest them whenever they
met them.
I had quarters assigned me at a residence on South Battery Street,
one of the most aristocratic parts of the city, where I assisted in
caring for the sick and injured comrades. After getting the fire
under control, the regiment marched out to the race track, where they
camped until March 12, when we were ordered to Savannah, Ga. We arrived
there on the 13th, about eight o’clock in the evening, and marched
out to Fairlong, near the A. & G. R. R., where we remained about ten
days, when we were ordered to Augusta, Ga., where Captain Alexander
Heasley, of Co. E, was shot and killed by a Confederate. After his
death Lieutenant Parker was made captain of the company, and was
with us until the regiment was mustered out. He often told me about
Massachusetts, but I had no thought at that time that I should ever see
that State, and stand in the “Cradle of Liberty.”
The regiment remained in Augusta for thirty days, when it was ordered
to Hamburg, S. C., and then on to Charleston. It was while on their
march through the country, to the latter city, that they came in
contact with the bushwhackers (as the rebels were called), who hid in
the bushes and would shoot the Union boys every chance they got. Other
times they would conceal themselves in the cars used to transfer our
soldiers, and when our boys, worn out and tired, would fall asleep,
these men would come out from their hiding places and cut their
throats. Several of our men were killed in this way, but it could not
be found out who was committing these murders until one night one
of the rebels was caught in the act, trying to cut the throat of a
sleeping soldier. He was put under guard, court-martialed, and shot at
Wall Hollow.
First Lieutenant Jerome T. Furman and a number of soldiers were killed
by these South Carolina bushwhackers at Wall Hollow. After this man was
shot, however, the regiment marched through unmolested to Charleston.
X
MUSTERED OUT
The regiment, under Colonel Trowbridge, reached Charleston in November,
1865, and camped on the race track until January, when they returned to
Morris Island, and on February 9, 1866, the following “General Orders”
were received and the regiment mustered out.
They were delighted to go home, but oh! how they hated to part from
their commanding chief, Colonel C. T. Trowbridge. He was the very first
officer to take charge of black soldiers. We thought there was no one
like him, for he was a “man” among his soldiers. All in the regiment
knew him personally, and many were the jokes he used to tell them. I
shall never forget his friendship and kindness toward me, from the
first time I met him to the end of the war. There was never any one
from the North who came into our camp but he would bring them to see me.
While on a visit South in 1888, I met a comrade of the regiment, who
often said to me, “You up North, Mrs. King, do you ever see Colonel
Trowbridge? How I should like to see him! I don’t see why he does not
come South sometime. Why, I would take a day off and look up all the
‘boys’ I could find, if I knew he was coming.” I knew this man meant
what he said, for the men of the regiment knew Colonel Trowbridge first
of all the other officers. He was with them on St. Simon and at Camp
Saxton. I remember when the company was being formed, we wished Captain
C. T. was our captain, because most of the men in Co. E were the men
he brought with him from St. Simon, and they were attached to him. He
was always jolly and pleasing with all. I remember, when going into
Savannah in 1865, he said that he had been there before the war, and
told me many things I did not know about the river. Although this was
my home, I had never been on it before. No officer in the army was more
beloved than our late lieutenant-colonel, C. T. Trowbridge.
[_Copy of General Orders._]
“GENERAL ORDERS.
“HEADQUARTERS 33D U. S. C. T.,
“LATE 1ST SO. CAROLINA VOLUNTEERS,
“MORRIS ISLAND, S. C., Feb. 9, 1866.
“_General Order_, }
“_No. 1._ }
“COMRADES: The hour is at hand when we must separate forever, and
nothing can take from us the pride we feel, when we look upon the
history of the ‘First South Carolina Volunteers,’ the first black
regiment that ever bore arms in defense of freedom on the continent
of America.
[Illustration: C. T. TROWBRIDGE
LIEUT. COL. 33D U. S. C. T.]
“On the 9th day of May, 1862, at which time there were nearly four
millions of your race in bondage, sanctioned by the laws of the land
and protected by our flag,--on that day, in the face of the floods
of prejudice that well-nigh deluged every avenue to manhood and true
liberty, you came forth to do battle for your country and kindred.
“For long and weary months, without pay or even the privilege of
being recognized as soldiers, you labored on, only to be disbanded
and sent to your homes without even a hope of reward, and when our
country, necessitated by the deadly struggle with armed traitors,
finally granted you the opportunity again to come forth in defense
of the nation’s life, the alacrity with which you responded to the
call gave abundant evidence of your readiness to strike a manly blow
for the liberty of your race. And from that little band of hopeful,
trusting, and brave men who gathered at Camp Saxton, on Port Royal
Island, in the fall of ’62, amidst the terrible prejudices that
surrounded us, has grown an army of a hundred and forty thousand
black soldiers, whose valor and heroism has won for your race a
name which will live as long as the undying pages of history shall
endure; and by whose efforts, united with those of the white man,
armed rebellion has been conquered, the millions of bondsmen have
been emancipated, and the fundamental law of the land has been so
altered as to remove forever the possibility of human slavery being
established within the borders of redeemed America. The flag of our
fathers, restored to its rightful significance, now floats over
every foot of our territory, from Maine to California, and beholds
only free men! The prejudices which formerly existed against you are
well-nigh rooted out.
“Soldiers, you have done your duty and acquitted yourselves like men
who, actuated by such ennobling motives, could not fail; and as the
result of your fidelity and obedience you have won your freedom, and
oh, how great the reward! It seems fitting to me that the last hours
of our existence as a regiment should be passed amidst the unmarked
graves of your comrades, at Fort Wagner. Near you rest the bones
of Colonel Shaw, buried by an enemy’s hand in the same grave with
his black soldiers who fell at his side; where in the future your
children’s children will come on pilgrimages to do homage to the
ashes of those who fell in this glorious struggle.
“The flag which was presented to us by the Rev. George B. Cheever and
his congregation, of New York city, on the 1st of January, 1863,--the
day when Lincoln’s immortal proclamation of freedom was given to
the world,--and which you have borne so nobly through the war, is
now to be rolled up forever and deposited in our nation’s capital.
And while there it shall rest, with the battles in which you have
participated inscribed upon its folds, it will be a source of pride
to us all to remember that it has never been disgraced by a cowardly
faltering in the hour of danger, or polluted by a traitor’s touch.
“Now that you are to lay aside your arms, I adjure you, by the
associations and history of the past, and the love you bear for
your liberties, to harbor no feelings of hatred toward your former
masters, but to seek in the paths of honesty, virtue, sobriety, and
industry, and by a willing obedience to the laws of the land, to
grow up to the full stature of American citizens. The church, the
school-house, and the right forever to be free are now secured to
you, and every prospect before you is full of hope and encouragement.
The nation guarantees to you full protection and justice, and will
require from you in return that respect for the laws and orderly
deportment which will prove to every one your right to all the
privileges of freemen. To the officers of the regiment I would say,
your toils are ended, your mission is fulfilled, and we separate
forever. The fidelity, patience, and patriotism with which you have
discharged your duties to your men and to your country entitle you to
a far higher tribute than any words of thankfulness which I can give
you from the bottom of my heart. You will find your reward in the
proud conviction that the cause for which you have battled so nobly
has been crowned with abundant success.
“Officers and soldiers of the 33d U. S. Colored Troops, once the
First So. Carolina Volunteers, I bid you all farewell!
“By order of
“LT. COLONEL C. T. TROWBRIDGE,
“_Commanding regiment_.
“E. W. HYDE,
“1st Lieut. 33d U. S. C. T. and acting adjutant.”
I have one of the original copies of these orders still in my
possession.
My dear friends! do we understand the meaning of war? Do we know or
think of that war of ’61? No, we do not, only those brave soldiers, and
those who had occasion to be in it, can realize what it was. I can and
shall never forget that terrible war until my eyes close in death. The
scenes are just as fresh in my mind to-day as in ’61. I see now each
scene,--the roll-call, the drum tap, “lights out,” the call at night
when there was danger from the enemy, the double force of pickets, the
cold and rain. How anxious I would be, not knowing what would happen
before morning! Many times I would dress, not sure but all would be
captured. Other times I would stand at my tent door and try to see what
was going on, because night was the time the rebels would try to get
into our lines and capture some of the boys. It was mostly at night
that our men went out for their scouts, and often had a hand to hand
fight with the rebels, and although our men came out sometimes with a
few killed or wounded, none of them ever were captured.
We do not, as the black race, properly appreciate the old veterans,
white or black, as we ought to. I know what they went through,
especially those black men, for the Confederates had no mercy on them;
neither did they show any toward the white Union soldiers. I have seen
the terrors of that war. I was the wife of one of those men who did not
get a penny for eighteen months for their services, only their rations
and clothing.
I cannot praise General David Hunter too highly, for he was the first
man to arm the black man, in the beginning of 1862. He had a hard
struggle to hold all the southern division, with so few men, so he
applied to Congress; but the answer to him was, “Do not bother us,”
which was very discouraging. As the general needed more men to protect
the islands and do garrison duty, he organized two companies.
I look around now and see the comforts that our younger generation
enjoy, and think of the blood that was shed to make these comforts
possible for them, and see how little some of them appreciate the old
soldiers. My heart burns within me, at this want of appreciation.
There are only a few of them left now, so let us all, as the ranks
close, take a deeper interest in them. Let the younger generation take
an interest also, and remember that it was through the efforts of these
veterans that they and we older ones enjoy our liberty to-day.
XI
AFTER THE WAR
In 1866, the steamers which ran from Savannah to Darien would not take
colored people unless they stayed in a certain part of the boat, away
from the white people; so some of the colored citizens and ex-soldiers
decided to form a syndicate and buy a steamer of their own. They
finally bought a large one of a New York company. It arrived in fine
shape, apparently, and made its first trip to Darien. The next trip
was to Beaufort. I went on this trip, as the pilot, James Cook, was a
friend of my family, and I thought I would enjoy the trip; and I did,
getting back in safety. The next trip was to go to Florida, but it
never reached there, for on the way down the boat ran upon St. John
bar and went entirely to pieces. They found out afterwards that they
had been swindled, as the boat was a condemned one, and the company
took advantage of them; and as they carried no insurance on the boat
they lost all the money they had invested in it. The best people of the
city expressed great sympathy for them in their loss, as it promised to
prove a great investment at first.
At the close of the war, my husband and I returned to Savannah, a
number of the comrades returning at the same time. A new life was
before us now, all the old life left behind. After getting settled, I
opened a school at my home on South Broad Street, now called Oglethorpe
Avenue, as there was not any public school for negro children. I had
twenty children at my school, and received one dollar a month for
each pupil. I also had a few older ones who came at night. There were
several other private schools besides mine. Mrs. Lucinda Jackson had
one on the same street I lived on.
I taught almost a year, when the Beach Institute opened, which took
a number of my scholars, as this was a free school. On September 16,
1866, my husband, Sergeant King, died, leaving me soon to welcome a
little stranger alone. He was a boss carpenter, but being just mustered
out of the army, and the prejudice against his race being still too
strong to insure him much work at his trade, he took contracts for
unloading vessels, and hired a number of men to assist him. He was
much respected by the citizens, and was a general favorite with his
associates.
In December, 1866, I was obliged to give up teaching, but in April,
1867, I opened a school in Liberty County, Georgia, and taught there
one year; but country life did not agree with me, so I returned to the
city, and Mrs. Susie Carrier took charge of my school.
[Illustration: MY SCHOOLHOUSE IN SAVANNAH]
On my return to Savannah, I found that the free school had taken all
my former pupils, so I opened a night school, where I taught a number
of adults. This, together with other things I could get to do and the
assistance of my brother-in-law, supported me. I taught this school
until the fall of 1868, when a free night school opened at the Beach
Institute, and again my scholars left me to attend this free school. So
I had to close my school. I put my baby with my mother and entered in
the employ of a family, where I lived quite a while, but had to leave,
as the work was too hard.
In 1872 I put in a claim for my husband’s bounty and received one
hundred dollars, some of which I put in the Freedmen’s Savings Bank. In
the fall of 1872 I went to work for a very wealthy lady, Mrs. Charles
Green, as laundress. In the spring of 1873, Mr. and Mrs. Green came
North to Rye Beach for the summer, and as their cook did not care to
go so far from home, I went with them in her place. While there, I
won a prize for excellent cooking at a fair which the ladies who were
summering there had held to raise funds to build an Episcopal Church,
and Mrs. Green was one of the energetic workers to make this fair a
success; and it was a success in every respect and a tidy sum was
netted.
I returned South with Mrs. Green, and soon after, she went to Europe.
I returned to Boston again in 1874, through the kindness of Mrs.
Barnard, a daughter of ex-Mayor Otis of Boston. She was accompanied
by her husband, Mr. James Barnard (who was an agent for the line of
steamers), her six children, the nurse, and myself. We left Savannah on
the steamship Seminole, under Captain Matthews, and when we had passed
Hatteras some distance, she broke her shaft. The captain had the sails
hoisted and we drifted along, there being a stiff breeze, which was
greatly in our favor. Captain Matthews said the nearest point he could
make was Cape Henry Light. About noon, Mr. Barnard spied the light and
told the captain if he would give him a boat and some of the crew, he
would row to the light for help. This was done, the boat was manned and
they put off. They made the light, then they made for Norfolk, which
was eight miles from the light, and did not reach the city until eight
o’clock that night.
Next morning he returned with a tug, to tow us into Norfolk for
repairs; but the tug was too small to move the steamer, so it went
back for more help, but before it returned, a Norfolk steamer, on its
way to Boston, stopped to see what was the matter with our steamer.
Our trouble was explained to them, and almost all the passengers were
transferred to this steamer. Mr. Barnard remained on the steamer, and
Mrs. Barnard deciding to remain with him, I went aboard this other
steamer with the rest of the passengers. We left them at anchor,
waiting for the tugs to return.
This accident brought back very vividly the time previous to this, when
I was in that other wreck in 1864, and I wondered if they would reach
port safe, for it is a terrible thing to be cast away; but on arriving
in Boston, about two days later, I was delighted to hear of the arrival
of their steamer at T Wharf, with all on board safe.