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Lieutenant Warley, with whom I had served on theMcRae, was the only living human being I knew in Charelston,and the great difference in our rank, as well as age,precluded the possibility of my making a companion of him;so, a lonely boy, I roamed the streets of the quaint old city.Evidently the war as yet had had no effect on the style keptup by the old blue-bloods, for I was amazed to see handsomeequipages, with coachmen in livery on the box, drivingthrough the town. Little did their owners dream that beforevery long those same fine horses would be hauling artilleryand commissary wagons, and those proud liveried servantswould be at work with pick and spade throwing up breastworks!To my great delight, George Hollins, a son of my dearlyloved old commodore, a boy of about my own age withwhom I had been shipmate on the Mississippi River,arrived in town, and the boarding-house man consented toallow him to share my little room at the same rate chargedme. George had been in Charleston only a few days whenyellow fever became epidemic. It was the latter part ofAugust and the heat was something fearful. I had no fearof the fever, as I had been accustomed to its frequent visitsto my old home, but with Hollins, a native of Baltimore, itwas different.
The Dictator, exclusive of her cargo, was valued ateighty-six thousand dollars. By decree of the ConfederateGovernment we were to receive one half of the value ofevery ship destroyed, and the full amount of the bondsgiven by vessels carrying neutral cargo. Under the lawregulating the distribution of prize money the total amountwas divided into twentieths of which the commanding officergot two and the steerage officers got the same, the restbeing shared by the wardroom officers and the crew. Ibeing the only midshipman, or steerage officer, on board ofthe Georgia for most of the cruise, the amount of prizemoney (still due me) which I should have received wouldhave almost equaled the share of the captain.
As an example of the demoralization of the ConfederateGovernment at this time, I remember going into the SenateChamber one day while that august body was in session.Heavy firing was going on at the front which couldnot only be plainly heard inside the building, but madethe windows rattle when particularly heavy guns weredischarged. To this ominous obligato the lawmakers wereearnestly debating the question as to how many daily newspapersshould be placed on the desk of each Senator everymorning. While these petty quarrels were going on, thedestiny of a whole people was being ruthlessly decided inblood and suffering; we men in the trenches fought, shivered,and starved outside the city, and danced and mademerry whenever we were allowed to come within its limits,little dreaming that the end was so near.
I sat on my trunk for a long time watching the moonbeamsthat penetrated through the great windows, which were devoidof sashes as well as of curtains, until the loneliness became sooppressive that it became unbearable. A loud snort fromNapoleon decided me to seek his companionship. I found thehorse in a very nervous state, but my presence seemed to quiethim. I talked to him and soothed him, andwhen he seemed contented with his lot I went out on to thestreet to look at the moon and take a little stroll. The only livingthing I met was a pariah dog that snarled and disappearedthrough the entrance of a handsome house. While perfectlyharmless to natives I knew that these wild dogs, especially whenin packs, had a great aversion for Christians, and where one wasmet it was certain that there were many more near by, so Idetermined to return to my palace where I again foundNapoleon in a great state of excitement, making a clatter bypawing on the stone floor and snorting. It was some time beforeI could quiet him, and then I sat down resting my back againstthe column to which he was made fast. Wearied I dropped off tosleep, but was soon startled out of it by a loud snort. Aftersoothing the animal I dozed off again, and this performance waskept up all night. At times when awake I thought I could seeshapes flitting about among the shadows, but I soon came to theconclusion that what I saw was the result of my own imagination.At last the horse quieted down seemingly resigned to thesituation, and I fell into a sound sleep and awoke only when thesun streamed into the portal. When I opened my eyes I wasastonished to see a dozen or more wretched human beingsstanding within a few feet of me, and as soon as they discoveredI was awake they commenced to clamor for backsheesh (alms),so my spectres of the lonely night had not after all beenCleopatras and Pharaohs, or the creation of my overwroughtimagination. One of the horrible creatures became emboldenedand came quite close to me extending his fearfully distortedhands. One glance and I knew that my guests were lepers.Horrified, I hastily saddled my horse and vaulted into the saddle,throwing some small coins on the stone floor as I dashed out intothe street.
There was also a very good water-power on the place,furnished by a creek which divided the estate into two parts.Once there had been a gristmill on its banks, but Sherman haddestroyed it and the dam; only the millstones were left intact.General Dennis, a carpetbagger, superintendent of thepenitentiary, sized up my situation and generously (?) came to myrelief with a proposition that if I would give him the hay crop, hewould build a dam and rehabilitate the mill for me. I grabbed atthe offer as a drowning man would at a straw, with the result thatGeneral Dennis brought his convicts down to the plantation,harvested the hay, and when the last load had safely comeacross the bridge he tore that structure down and pretended for afew days to be busily engaged in repairing my dam. He soonwearied of the farce and I saw no more of either him, hisconvicts, or my hay crop. I had enough sense left not to go to lawwith him about it, as a negro jury or a carpetbag judge wouldsurely have decided in favor of Dennis, who was a politicalleader. I simply should have had to pay the costs of court, andshould have been lucky if they had not awarded Dennis damagesagainst me.
One day a mob of several thousand negro men and womengathered near the City Hall, and became very violent in theirthreats, which this time were directed principally against thewhite carpetbaggers, who they claimed had got all the swag andhad not divided fairly with them, and they clamored for theirblood. The carpetbaggers were badly frightened, fled to thearsenal, and begged General Hunt for protection. General Hunt atonce marched his skeleton company to the scene of the riot, andarriving at the intersection of Broad and Meeting Streets he cameface to face with the mob, which did not seem disposed to giveway before his troops, whom he had ordered to ground arms whilehe advanced and commanded the rioters to disperse. Thisorder was replied to with jeers and curses, and while GeneralHunt was trying to persuade them to go quietly to their homes,they began to throw bricks and stones at the soldiers. I was on thesidewalk near where the soldiers were drawn up, and never did Isee a better example of discipline than was exhibited by thosepoor fellows standing there like statues, with their faces bleeding,while they awaited orders under a perfect shower of missiles.General Hunt knew that every negro in the crowd carried a weapon, eithera pistol or razor, and he also knew that by sheer weight of numbersthey could sweep his small command off the street if they rushedthem. In this dilemma he asked some of the white bystanders ifthey could point out to him the commander of the rifle clubs ofwhich he had heard. They directed him to a one-legged man,General Conner, a veteran of the war, and General Huntrequested him to call out the clubs, and form them behind hisregulars. Almost instantly there, was heard a bell tolling in thesteeple of old St. Michael's. This was the signal agreedupon, and as though by magic there came a rush of severalcompanies of infantry, a battery of artillery, and a squadron ofcavalry. The negroes knew, these men, and before they had fairlytaken up their stations in support of the regulars, the mob hadmelted away, and in less than ten minutes there was not a black faceto be seen on the street.
I wonder if any one ever understood the workings of ahorse's mind, or instinct, as some prefer to call it? Thestaid and sober old family horse who will with the utmost sangfroidwalk up to a locomotive and smell it, or who will refuse to becomeinterested in blasting operations going on near him, or who will go tosleep while the racing horses drag a fire engine with its clanging bellsby him on the street, will throw a dozen fits, go into convulsions, andsmash things generally if he sees a piece of paper on theground, or when a chicken flies across the road in front of him. Iattended to the breaking of my colts myself, andthey usually afforded enough excitement to prevent my suffering fromennui. Runaways and smash-ups were of frequent occurence and wereregarded as being in the day's work. One day, while driving a very gentle coltto a light sulky, the ubiquitous chicken ran across the road in front of himwith the usual result. The colt jumped sideways and fell, overturning thetwo-wheeled vehicle and throwing me out, landing me at the bottomof a deep ditch with the colt on top of me. When the colt struggled to his feethe stood for a few moments with one hind foot planted on my breast. I wasalmost suffocated, and for an instant thought that the bones would becrushed in by the weight of the animal; but he was a kindly creature and seemed to knowhe was hurting me, as he, with deliberation, lifted his foot from my chest and put it downalongside of my face. With all that tangled mass of broken harness hanging fromthe young animal, I did not know at what moment a kicking exhibition wouldcommence, and slowly raised myself to a sitting position and inchedmyself out of immediate danger. A violent fit of coughing, followedby the expectoration of a quantity of blood, left me feeling quite weak, butI managed to get the colt out of the ditch, and the only memento I now haveof my narrow escape from death is a protuberance of bone as bigas the end of my thumb which adorns the end of one of my upper ribs.
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