Williamsburg.—Condition of the Roads.—Pamunkey
River.—Contrabands.—Arrival of General Franklin.
The retreat of the enemy left Williamsburg in our possession. No place
in the Old Dominion is fraught with more historic interest than this
city, it having been the first incorporated town in the State; the
Capital until 1769, and the seat of the Royal Government prior to the
revolution of 1776. It is now the Capital of James City County, situated
midway between the James and York Rivers, sixty miles east of Richmond
and sixty-eight north-west of Norfolk. Among other public buildings is
the Insane Retreat, which in years past has been one of the most popular
institutions of the kind in the country. The College of William and Mary,
founded here in the time of King William, is, next to Harvard, the oldest
literary institution in the United States, having been projected during
the year 1693. King William gave it an endowment of twenty thousand
dollars and twenty thousand acres of land, together with a revenue of
a penny a pound on tobacco exported from Virginia and Maryland. Other
endowments were afterwards added. The College buildings, churches,
and many private dwellings were used as hospitals for the confederate
wounded.
[Illustration: WILLIAMSBURG, V.
Insane Asylum. William and Mary College.]
After a delay of three or four days, in order to bring up supplies,
the army resumed the march Friday May 9th, for the Chickahominy. The
Thirty-third broke camp early in the morning, and proceeding through
Williamsburg, bivouacked for the night, at “Burnt Ordinary,” a small
hamlet some fifteen miles beyond. The next day it moved on again,
encamping near New Kent Court House.
It was near this point that Gen. Stoneman had overtaken the rear guard of
the fleeing enemy, who were drawn up in line of battle with a section of
artillery to receive him. Evidences of the conflict were seen on every
hand, and many of our own and the rebel wounded were scattered about
in the neighboring farm-houses. While tarrying here, the roar of Gen.
Franklin’s artillery at West Point, seven miles away, could be distinctly
heard, and the result of the battle, which was made known the next day,
increased the buoyancy and confidence of our troops.
Owing to the rains, passage of trains, and steady tramp of men, the roads
had now become reduced to a terrible condition. Scattered all along the
route, were gun-carriages, caissons, ambulances and supply wagons, stuck
fast in the mud or lying disabled by the road-side. Horses and mules,
either dead or dying from exhaustion, were seen every few rods, and the
ground was strewn with guns, cartridge-boxes, knapsacks and clothing,
which the fleeing enemy had cast aside. Nearly two weeks time were
occupied in reaching the Chickahominy, between forty and fifty miles
distant from Williamsburg. Smith’s division resumed the march again on
the 10th, reaching “Cumberland Court House” the same day, and remained
there until the 13th, when it proceeded towards “Cumberland Landing,” on
the Pamunkey River.
A beautiful—and after the long and tedious march exhilarating—sight
here met the eye. Stretching far away to the left and front was a vast
plain, variegated with green pastures, and field after field of cereals
yellowing into maturity. To the right the tortuous Pamunkey appeared,
skirted with dense forests and rich pasture lands, and bearing upon its
sluggish waters Federal transports of every description. For the first
time in a twelvemonth, vessels flying the stars and stripes were pursuing
its serpentine course. No sooner had the order been given to halt and
stack arms, than the soldiers began to scatter in every direction, some
to bathe in the river, others to enjoy a siesta under the shade trees,
or indulge in a pipe of the royal weed, that never failing solace for a
soldier’s griefs.
Reports of every description concerning operations elsewhere were served
up to the troops here; one to the effect that Gen. Brooks with his whole
brigade had been captured, another that we had made prisoners of Gen.
Magruder and most of his force. The further we advanced the more filled
the air became with these
“Flying rumors gathering as they rolled.”
Moving five miles up the river, Col. Taylor’s command encamped in
a large clover-field, on the old Custis estate, at present in the
possession of Gen. Fitzhugh Lee, of the rebel cavalry service. On every
side were magnificent fields of grain, into which the jaded horses and
lank cattle were turned loose.
[Illustration: Ruin of R. R. Bridge at White House, over the Pamunkey.]
Here for the first time the men began to find negroes scattered around on
the plantations, whom, owing to their rapid flight, the rebels had not
driven before them. Several of these contrabands were appropriated by the
officers, and remaining with the regiment through its various campaigns,
came home with their new “Masters.” Among this number was a comical
specimen of the race, who, on being approached as he stood huddled
together with a squad of fifty or more, and asked by Sergeant Windchip
if he “would not like to see the north,” replied, “God bless you, massa,
don’t care if I do.” Then turning to his fellow contrabands, he took a
most affectionate as well as droll adieu—the tears coursing down his
ancient cheeks—broke away from the sobbing “brothers and sisters” and
“fell into line.”
Upon reaching the White House, which was merely a landing on the river,
the left wing of the Regiment was detailed for picket duty, along with
a detachment under command of the Lieut.-Col. of the Seventy-seventh
New York. The orders were to proceed as far as a certain Court House,
and connect with Gen. Brooks’ pickets on the left. After marching some
two miles and a half, on what was supposed to be the right road, they
were suddenly brought to a halt by rebel cavalrymen, who fled rapidly
on being fired at. A few moments reconnoitring served to convince the
Lieutenant-Colonel that the picket lines did not extend in that locality.
So deploying his men in a wheat-field, he returned to head quarters to
ascertain its whereabouts. They remained here until near dark, when an
Aid came out and ordered them into camp. The laugh over this fruitless
search of eight hours after our picket line became intensified, when
it was afterwards ascertained that the force had proceeded full a mile
beyond our outer or cavalry pickets.
The band serenaded Gen. McClellan one evening, when he sent an Aid to
extend his compliments to the regiment. There was a perfect forest of
masts here; government transports constantly arriving and departing,
and on every side was seen the ceaseless activity which marks an active
campaign.
Gen. Franklin soon reached this point and assumed charge of the 6th
corps, to which Gen. Smith’s Division was assigned. Prior to that time it
had been in Gen. Keyes’ corps and comprised a portion of the left wing
of the army. But this change brought the Division on the extreme right.
Monday, 19th, the Brigade moved up the river six miles, and halted on the
farm of an Æsculapian rebel, whom his contrabands described as suddenly
seized with the gout on our approach. The boys designated this place as
“Camp Onion,” owing to the quantities of this odoriferous vegetable which
were hawked through the encampment. Saturday, May 21st, the march was
resumed, the division proceeding to within eleven miles of Richmond.