_New York City, Sunday, March 2._ We have a rather motley-looking set.
A good many look like broken-down schoolmasters or ministers who have
excellent dispositions but not much talent. As the kind of talent
required where we are going is rather peculiar, the men may be useful,
but I don't believe there will be a great deal of cotton raised under
their superintendence.
_Str. Atlantic, March 5._ We all repaired to the Collector's[3] house
Sunday evening, and were sworn in squads of half a dozen with our
hands on the Bible, after which our passports were made out and signed
by Mr. Barney in his library with the whole thirty-three of us
standing about.
[The next morning] I found Collector Barney on the pier with his Bible
and papers, swearing in the rest of the New York delegation. The last
of the cargo was slung aboard about eleven, and we started off at
quarter past, in a drizzling rain, freezing fast to everything it
touched. Our Boston party consisted of twenty-nine men and four
women; the New York one of twenty-three men and eight women, including
those from Washington, making sixty-four in all. At dinner (2 P. M.)
we found some one hundred and twenty cabin passengers, besides a lot
of recruits, perhaps one hundred in all, who live forward. The larger
part of the _Atlantic's_ staterooms have been taken out to make room
for stowing troops or cargo, leaving enough for only about half our
number. These rooms were assigned by the Steward and Mr. Pierce[4] to
the ladies and the oldest of us gentlemen; so I got one with Uncle
Richard,[5] for most of our party are quite youthful. Half a dozen
ladies sat on the bare deck (no other seats provided), during most of
the evening, singing Methodist hymns and glory hallelujah till after
nine o'clock. I have talked with several of our party, and got
slightly acquainted, chiefly with Messrs. Hooper,[6] G----,[7] and
Mack; also with Mr. Forbes.[8] There is a general medley of cabin
passengers, recruits, sutlers' and quartermasters' agents, and crew,
the latter not being dressed in uniform, but in nondescript old
garments such as can be found at any old Isaac's shop. Those
passengers who are outside our party are coarse-looking and
disagreeable,--Mr. Forbes and Mr. Augustus Hurd of Boston being almost
the only exceptions. I had some talk with Mr. Pierce yesterday about
your coming on, and he said as soon as I found it advisable he would
send you a pass, but I am very glad you are not here now, for I don't
believe these ladies will find anything but bare boards to sleep on.
_Thursday evening, March 6._ We had a sort of lecture from Mr. Pierce
before dinner, consisting of some very appropriate and sensible advice
and suggestions, expressed simply and with a good deal of feeling. Mr.
French[9] followed in his vein of honest, earnest Methodism. He is the
head of the New York delegation, and a worthy man, though not so
practical as Mr. Pierce.
Our Boston party improves upon acquaintance, and the longer I think of
the matter the more wonderful does it seem that such a number of
disinterested, earnest men should be got together at so short a notice
to exile themselves from all social ties and devote themselves, as
they certainly do, with a will, to this holy work. It must and with
God's help it _shall_ succeed! The more I see of our fellow-passengers
and co-workers, the more do the party from Boston stand eminent in
talent and earnestness, as compared with those from New York, and I
can't help thinking that the former were more carefully selected. The
Boston Commission acted with more deliberation than that of New York,
and I think the result will be shown in the end. But it's early to
form any such opinions, and out of place to draw any comparisons in
disparagement of any of our colleagues. We are all yoked together and
must pull together. The work is no trifle. It is Herculean in all its
aspects--in its reactive effects upon our country and its future
destiny, as well as in its difficulties. Yet never did men stand in a
position to do more lasting good than we, if we act with a single eye
to the object in view and pray God to guide us aright.
_Friday, March 7._ We waked this morning still adrift off Port Royal
Bar, where we had been tossing all night, near the lightship. The wind
was blowing cold and clear from the northwest just as it does at home
in March, almost cold enough for a frost. We continued to drift till
the tide was near the flood, about noon, when a pilot came out and
took us in to Hilton Head. Here in this magnificent harbour, larger
than any other on our coast, lay some fifty transports and steamers at
anchor, and here we dropped our anchor, almost directly between the
two forts[10] taken by Dupont last November. These forts, by the way,
are so inconspicuous as to be hardly perceptible to a passer-by, and
would certainly fail to attract the attention of a person not on the
lookout for them. The shore is as flat as flat can be, sand-banks and
beaches being the only variety, backed by long dark green masses of
foliage of the pitch-pine, reminding me forcibly of the coast of
Egypt, with its sand and palm forests. Yet even Egypt was sufficiently
enterprising to line its coast with windmills, while this state has
not yet arrived at a stage of civilization sufficiently advanced to
provide them. So, there being no water-power and no steam, every negro
grinds his peck of corn in a handmill as in the year one. We came to
anchor about one P. M. and have been waiting for the necessary passes
from the quartermaster to enable us to proceed up to Beaufort, the
only town in possession of our forces. Here we lie in the still
harbour under the splendid moon, surrounded by the regiments encamped
on the neighboring islands, with the prospect of another day afloat,
before we can begin to be distributed over our field of labor.
8 P. M. The acting Provost Marshal has just come aboard with our
passports viséed, enabling us to land here, but I don't care to do
that to-night, there being nothing but sand-banks to sleep on, while
we have tolerable berths aboard. To-morrow I may go, if there is time
before going upstream to Beaufort, though I imagine there is little to
see but sand and tents, which look quite as well at a distance.
_March 8._ We spent the greater part of the day transferring freight
and baggage to the _Cosmopolitan_, a white river-steamer. We got
started at last about three P. M. The distance to Beaufort can't be
more than fifteen miles, and we had already made half of it at a
tolerable rate of speed when we ran aground in the mud, about two
hours before ebb tide. We were in the middle of a creek called
Beaufort River, between Cat Island and Port Royal Island, whose flat
shores did not look very inviting. I fell to reading about
cotton-culture in my book, but some of our companions got a boat and
went ashore on St. Helena Island, bringing back their hands full of
beautiful flowers from some private garden, peach-blossoms,
orange-blossoms, hyacinths, fleur-de-lis, etc. We succeeded in getting
afloat about 9.30 P. M. and arrived at Beaufort about midnight, after
poking slowly along the crooked channel under the glorious moonlight.
On getting up in the morning, which we did betimes, we found the deck
slippery with hoarfrost, and are told that it is the coldest night of
this winter. Somebody has told me that Beaufort was on a bluff, and
that its environments were not so flat as the rest of the islands.
_Beaufort, Sunday, March 9._ But I can't find any place over ten feet
above tide-water, and no hill over six feet high. So things are judged
of by comparison. We all went ashore soon after sunrise and walked
about the town, which is laid out in rectangular streets, lined with
pleasant but weedy orange-gardens and often shaded by live-oak and
sycamore trees, _i. e._, when the latter leave out, as they will soon.
The soil is a fine sand, very like ashes, and the streets are
ankle-deep with it already, wherever the grass doesn't grow.
Dilapidated fences, tumble-down outbuildings, untrimmed trees with
lots of dead branches, weedy walks and gardens and a general
appearance of _un_thrift attendant upon the best of slaveholding
towns, was aggravated here by the desolated houses, surrounded by
heaps of broken furniture and broken wine and beer bottles which the
army had left about after their pillage. Quantities of negro children
lay basking in the morning sun, grinning at us as we passed. We saw a
chain-pump in a yard and walked in to wash our faces, there having
been no chance on the steamer, and were waited upon by an old negro,
who brought us bowls, soap, and towels. Mr. Pierce succeeded in
getting us some bread and coffee from one of the regiments, having no
time to go to headquarters. They were carried to an old negro cabin in
the remotest corner of the town, where the coffee was made and served
up in the poultry-yard in our tin mugs.
Our quarters are in a very fine house in the east end of the town,
bordering on the river, against which is a garden wall, built of
oyster-shells and mortar, there being no stone to be had here.
We are to wait here till our positions are assigned to us by Mr.
Pierce, which will be done in a few days. He told me he wanted me to
take the most important one, which I suppose means Coffin's.[11] I am
to have W---- G---- for my clerk and assistant. He is a very
agreeable, quiet fellow, and works like a beaver, but like several
others, is too young to take charge of the organization of the labor
to good advantage.
There is something very sad about these fine deserted houses. Ours has
Egyptian marble mantels, gilt cornice and centre-piece in parlor, and
bath-room, with several wash-bowls set in different rooms. The
force-pump is broken and all the bowls and their marble slabs smashed
to get out the plated cocks, which the negroes thought pure silver.
Bureaus, commodes, and wardrobes are smashed in, as well as
door-panels, to get out the contents of the drawers and lockers, which
I suppose contained some wine and ale, judging by the broken bottles
lying about. The officers saved a good many pianos and other furniture
and stored it in the jail, for safe-keeping. But we kindle our fires
with chips of polished mahogany, and I am writing on my knees with a
piece of a flower-stand across them for a table, sitting on my camp
bedstead.
I am anxious to get to work, as I hope to in a few days. Mr.
Eustis[12] has gone to his plantation, a few miles distant on Ladies
Island, and Mr. Hooper is spending a few days with him. The latter is
to be Mr. Pierce's private secretary at present.
_Beaufort, March 10._ I can't tell until I get settled at my post what
to say about your coming on here. If my post should be exposed to any
of the rebels' scouting-parties you had better stay at home. I must
say it seems rather _near_ to live within rifle-shot of their
outposts, as some of the plantations are.
_March 11._ We had a visit from the Provost Marshal last evening. He
has had a good deal to do with the contrabands and came to give us
some advice about them. He thinks that rebel spies may come among us,
but don't apprehend any trouble, says we can govern the negroes easily
enough by firm and judicious treatment, and says the officers in
charge are very glad to have them taken off their hands.
_Hilton Head_,[13] _March 13._ This is a most desolate-looking place,
flat and sandy, and covered with camps and storehouses for a mile
along the river. A line of intrenchments encloses the whole, some
seven miles long, resting on the river at each end. There is a long
wharf just built out to deep water, at the end of which the _Atlantic_
is discharging. This is the general dépôt for stores for the whole
army on the Atlantic coast and the blockading fleet.
_March 14._ A fortnight has passed since I left Brookline, without my
being able to get at my work. This loafing about and waiting upon the
movements of Government officials is the hardest work I ever tried to
do.
If you can't come early in April you had better not come at all, for
it will be too hot for even me to live on the plantations later than
June 1. They say the planters never lived on the plantations in summer
months, though they were acclimated, for fear of fevers. Beaufort is
the healthiest place on these islands and their resort when leaving
their plantations. Yet, if H---- W---- will come with you, _and not
without_, and you think it will pay, come as soon as you can. I shall
probably be on Coffin's plantation then, about fifteen miles east of
Beaufort, on St. Helena Island, coast of St. Helena Sound. This
plantation is one of the most secure from any interference from the
rebels, so I don't feel the slightest uneasiness on that score, for
the whole circumference of the island is picketed, and our forces also
occupy the opposite or northeasterly coast of the sound.
Now as to outfit. Not over $5 each in money, _silver_, for you are
supplied with transportation and food by Government and there's
nothing here to buy. Bed-sacks and pillow ditto. Three umbrellas with
light covers, fly-paper, tin cups, bowls, and tea-pot, set of wooden
boxes for rice, sugar, and other stores furnished by army rations.
Spring-balance that will weigh about twenty pounds, knife, fork, and
spoons for each of you, _plated_, thermometer, three pounds of tea in
one of the boxes. We now have plenty of rice, sugar, molasses,
vinegar, hominy, potatoes, coffee, and beans, from army stores, and on
plantations can get fresh lamb, mutton, chickens, eggs, milk; so we
shall fare better than I thought.
_Beaufort, March 17._ I don't think they would let you take a servant;
it's difficult enough to get you here alone, and there are plenty of
servants here which you are supposed to teach not only to read
but--what is more immediately important--to be _clean_ and
industrious. If you feel any hesitation about coming in contact with
them you shouldn't come, for they are sharp enough to detect apathy or
lurking repugnance, which would render any amount of theoretical
sympathy about worthless. Tell your father their nature and
disposition is nothing new to me. I was with them in Egypt long enough
to get pretty well acquainted, and though these sons of Western Africa
are not exactly of the same stock as the Nubians, they are certainly
no more degraded or lazy. In fact, from what I have already seen here
I am agreeably disappointed. Think of their having reorganized and
gone deliberately to work here some weeks ago, without a white man
near them, preparing hundreds of acres for the new crop! The Irish
wouldn't have done as much in the same position.
This comparison of the negroes with the Irish is made by the
letter-writers, as will be seen, more than once,--almost
always to the disadvantage of the Irish. Forty years ago the
Irish were still merely immigrants, and, further, they were
practically the only people in this country who suggested
comparison with negroes.
The next letter is the first from W. C. G., whom Mr.
Philbrick has already mentioned as destined to be his
assistant.
_March 24. Coffin's Point._ It is the largest plantation on the
Islands, numbering in its full days over 250 hands, or head, as the
negroes call themselves.
A large amount of cotton is still in store here, for which the boat I
hope will call this week; meanwhile the cotton-agent[14] and a guard
occupy the house with us. The former has been on the place three or
four months in charge of a large district with several plantations; he
is a smart young fellow, very dashing and jockey-like. We were
received by the guard with shouldered arms and by this agent, who did
their best to induce or rather bluff us into leaving the premises and
taking possession of another house; for we have two plantations
besides this,--estates belonging to William Fripp's sons.[15] We
stayed, however, and are now occupying two rooms, with plenty of
furniture of different kinds stored by the agent, probably for
removal. The whole business of our Commission and all its agents are
much disliked by the cotton-agents, partly because they don't
sympathize with our purposes,--partly because we seem about to usurp
their authority, to which of course we do succeed.
The cotton-agents have started the corn-planting on most of the
estates,--and almost everywhere the whole condition of people and land
is much better than I expected to find it. The present state of a
plantation depends on the previous character and age of the people,
the influence of the drivers,[16] and the circumstances to which they
have been exposed since the soldiers came. If the people are on the
whole old and steady, if the drivers are intelligent and
strong-minded, if their masters have been humane and fatherly, and if
they have seen few soldiers,--then the work has usually been kept up
pretty well and the negroes are still at home and willing to go
a-field,--and their condition varies as those items vary. On the
larger number, as I have said, things are much better than I expected
to see them. As is proper, more attention has as yet been paid to the
_corn_ lands, and very little to the cotton. Two precious months have
been lost for that crop. On most of the plantations corn enough
remains to last through the next crop,--so there is little danger of
much suffering for want of food. But everything except corn, and their
own eggs and poultry, is wanting,--no molasses, no sugar, no salt, no
tobacco,--and no clothing.
On two of our three plantations things are doing well, but this big
Coffin place is in a very miserable, demoralized condition. It used to
be very successful in cotton--and of late, especially, the hands have
been worked very hard. There are many _young_ people--so all the more
likely to leave. They are within a few miles of Bay Point opposite
Hilton Head, so the temptation to leave is very pressing, for smart
fellows can get money there,--one York with whom I was talking
yesterday got over $30 a month by cooking for two or three messes; he
is sick now and thinks he had better come home for the good of his
_soul_. And perhaps as evil an influence as any was the early presence
of the guards from the 19th N. Y. V., a regiment rather notorious for
wild ways, I believe,--certainly one which greatly injured these
people by their talk about _freedom_ and no need of work, etc., and
their rampant deeds. We are therefore in a hard place here,--and shall
take pretty energetic measures and do the best we can. Mr. Philbrick
has charge of the farming, etc.,--I of the teaching. We were not all
sent out two by two; small plantations had single men. Some men are
expected to overlook several estates lying near each other.
_March 29._ The women work much better than the men, but very few are
faithful. Nor can we hope for any regularity and real improvement till
we are delivered from our cotton-agent and the influences which
emanate from him and his interests.
The people are very discontented here, and as they have logic and need
on their side, it is hard to meet their complaints. In fact, they
can't be met,--very few do full work, many half or none. They need
_clothing_ very badly. They need salt and tobacco,--this summer they
need a little molasses and some bacon. These things[17] they have been
accustomed to receive in stated quantities at stated times,--at
Christmas, and in April or May. If we could supply them simply as they
have been supplied by their masters, the majority I think would be
contented and would work well. The _promises_ to pay to which they
have been treated by the agents of the Government for the last three
months haven't kept them warm. The agent here will probably soon give
them some cloth in part payment. Money they don't know the value
of--and especially now can't spend it to advantage; besides, as I
said, I think few desire it.
The following fragment of a letter, from which the date and
the beginning are missing, was written from Pine Grove at
about this time; its subject is, of course, the negroes.