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I was right in that prophecy. For this was not the Will Pinckney I saw last. So woebegone! so subdued, careworn, and sad! No trace of his once merry self. He is good-looking, which he never was before. But I would rather never have seen him than have found him so changed. I was talking to a ghost. His was a sad story. He had held one bank of the river until forced to retreat with his men, as their cartridges were exhausted, and General Lovell omitted sending more. They had to pass through swamps, wading seven and a half miles, up to their waists in water. He gained the edge of the swamp, saw they were over the worst, and fell senseless. Two of his men brought him milk, and “woke him up,” he said. His men fell from exhaustion, were lost, and died in the swamp; so that out of five hundred, but one hundred escaped. This he told quietly and sadly, looking so heartbroken that it was piteous to see such pain. He showed me his feet, with thick clumsy shoes which an old negro had pulled off to give him; for his were lost in the swamp, and he came out bare-footed. They reached the Lafourche River, I believe, seized a boat, and arrived here last night. His wife and child were aboard. Heaven knows how they got there! The men he sent on to Port Hudson, while he stopped here. I wanted to bring his wife to stay with us; but he said she could not bear to be seen, as she had run off just as she had happened to be at that moment. In half an hour he would be off to take her to his old home in a carriage. There he would rejoin his men, on the railroad, and march from Clinton to the Jackson road, and so on to Corinth. A long journey for men so disheartened! But they will conquer in the end. Beauregard’s army will increase rapidly at this rate. The whole country is aroused, and every man who owns a gun, and many who do not, are on the road to Corinth. We will conquer yet.

1st. Wrote to Sarah Felton. Nothing of interest occurred.

Fort Macon.

May 1. Martial law not being a very favorable institution for pleasure parties, I presume the usual May day festival is dispensed with here as I have not seen any parties out or demonstrations of any kind going on. I should think a May party here might be very successful as the woods abound with wild flowers in great variety and beauty.

Fort Macon surrendered to Gen. Burnside last Friday evening, after a bombardment of eleven hours. The general succeeded in getting his siege guns in battery behind some sand ridges about half a mile in rear of the fort, unobserved by the garrison, and the first notice they had of his presence was a shot from one of the guns. After holding out for eleven hours and seeing they could make no defense and that there was no chance for escape, they hauled down their colors. By this surrender, 65 guns and 450 prisoners, with stores and ammunition, have fallen into our hands. Their loss was eight killed and twenty wounded. Our loss was one killed and five wounded.

A good story is told in connection with the surrender of this fort to the Confederates.. After the war broke out and they were seizing the forts, a strong force of Confederates, with a great flourish of trumpets, presented themselves one morning at the sally port of the fort, demanding its immediate and unconditional surrender. Now it happened that the only occupants of the fort were an old ordnance sergeant and his wife who had been in charge of the property for many years. The old sergeant came to the, gate, and looking over the crowd, said to the officer in command that under the circumstances he thought the garrison might as well surrender, but he would like the privilege of taking the old flag and marching out with the honors of war. To this the officer assented and the old sergeant hauled down the flag and winding it around him, he and his wife marched out, greatly to the surprise of the officer, who found that they two comprised the whole garrison.

May 1st, 1862.—Father has engaged a book-keeper to come next week. He says it keeps me too close. This man is an Englishman with a wife, a small son and a brother-in-law; a strong, healthy man, who looks as if he ought to be in the army but he says being an Englishman he is not subject to military duty. Uncle Henry got his arm cut off just above the elbow, in the shingle mill and this young man is to take his place. They live in the house formerly occupied by the sawyer, Mr. Wheeler.

Father is so terribly afraid we will develop consumption because our grandmother Bradford died of it. That is why he requires us to spend so much time in out-door exercise. I am a little sorry to give up the book-keeping for I felt that I was helping, but there is a plenty to do in other ways. Fighting is going on all along the line but the telegraph wires have been cut and no certain news comes to us.

Susan Bradford is 16 years old when this entry was made.

May 1, ‘62.

We are in sight of the abandoned rebel quarters at Ship Point, now used as a hospital, on low, filthy ground surrounded by earth-works, rained on half the time and fiercely shone on the other half, a death place for scores of our men, who are piled in there covered with vermin, dying with their uniforms on and collars up, dying of fever. Of course there is that vitally important thing, medical etiquette, to contend with here as elsewhere, and so it is:– “Suppose you go ashore and ask whether it would be agreeable to have the ladies come over, just to walk through the hospital and talk to, the men?” So the ladies have gone to talk with the men with spirit lamps and farina and lemons and brandy and clean clothes, and expect to have an improving conversation!

While we are lying here off Ship Point, New Orleans has surrendered quietly, and round the corner from us Fort Macon has been taken. What is it to us so long as the beef tea is ready at the right moment? We have been getting the beds made on our side of the cabin; only 25 are ready, but in two of them a lieutenant and private of the 16th are lying, brought over from the shore yesterday–Eliza’s game. She has taken them vigorously in hand, stealing clean clothes from the Wilson Small and treating them to nice breakfasts and teas. Dr. Haight, of New York, has just put his head in to know if Miss Woolsey has any rice ready. “No. She has used it all up on the man in the bunk-ward, with the dysentery.” Ask the cook–cook won’t boil it; so Miss W. lights her spirit lamp and boils it, and boils it. She has her reward–two men, each with his little plate of it–Was it good?–“Yes, beautiful.”

New York, May 1st, 1862.

My Dear Girls: Never were two creatures pounced on and whirled out of sight more completely than you. Fate seems to descend and wrap you from the vision and the reach of your family, and every event only carries you farther off. Do write us when you can and help us to realize what and where you are! . . . We hear from Mrs. Buck or somebody that the Daniel Webster is expected here the last of this week, on her first trip with wounded and sick, but I should hardly think it could load so soon. Is it to come through the canals, as the “Richard Welling” is coming with the Vermont wounded? Perhaps we shall see you too! That will be famous if you come on in her to New York. . . . We have got sponges, lots of towels, doylies, castile soap, etc., etc. together, and are all ready to put them up and send them to you at any moment. If you find you don’t need them on board, keep them for the use of the 16th. We must do something for that, as our regiment. .. . There are three times as many ladies as are needed at the hospital, 194 Broadway, and Jane’s work finished, she will not go again. . . . Mrs. Buck, Jane and Miss Caroline Murray are to have Thursday each week as their day at the Park Barracks. Young Dr. Schauffler lives there, and the notice is posted all over the city, so that disabled soldiers returning (singly sometimes) may see it and know that there is rest for them and surgical treatment, all freely provided, and Mrs. Stetson of the Astor House, who is one of the committee, engages to have beef tea, broth, gruel, etc., always ready in case they are called for, and to have any delicacy quickly prepared.

Eliza‘s Journal.

Before we were up this morning, Joe came over to the Webster to ask us to go down to Fortress Monroe for the day with him, General Slocum and Colonel Bartlett of the 27th New York. Finding I was not likely to be wanted, I accepted gladly, Georgy preferring to go over to Ship Point again. The sail down was only about two and a half hours, and we came upon the fleet almost before we knew it. A great deal of shipping was lying off Old Point Comfort, and in the midst lay the “Minnesota,” and the “Vanderbilt,” with her great steel prow, prepared to meet and run down the Merrimac; and just off the Rip Raps we saw the “Galena,” the “Naugatuck,” and the “Monitor.” We landed at once and began our sight-seeing with a great space covered by some three hundred enormous cannon lying side by side like giant mummies in Egypt. Then we went directly to the Fortress itself unchallenged, and meeting Captain, now Colonel, Whipple, A. A. G., were taken to his nice little house and office just put up within the pretty enclosure of the fort, and then to General Wool’s headquarters. The old General was alone and very polite, said he remembered Uncles Gardiner and Sam Howland, and took me for a daughter and therefore Joe’s sister. He read us the despatches he was just sending to Washington announcing the fall of Fort Macon and the retreat of Beauregard from Corinth to Memphis. He insisted on taking us through his pretty garden and gave me a lovely bunch of lilacs and tulips, jonquils, wall-flower, etc., which the old gentleman picked himself (mostly without stems) and presented with very gallant little speeches.

Captain Whipple took us over the moat and on the ramparts, and to the wonderful water battery where the great guns stand ready to belch forth at any moment on the Merrimac or any other enemy. The monsters “Union” and “Lincoln” stand by themselves and point towards Sewall’s Point. Even the lighthouse is on its guard and has its faces towards the enemy darkened with canvas.

Got back to the ship all right and found nothing had occurred.

May 1st.–Awoke this morning, feeling very badly– sick. How I wish I could now be nursed a little by my family. Heard yesterday of the capture of New Orleans. This ought to have made me well, but it has not. Attended to a little business in the afternoon, but was very feeble. Hope to be able to work to-morrow. My wounded men are taken from my immediate control, and placed in what is called a brigade hospital. This is an outrage, and if we were not in expectation of a fight, I should resign at once. If it were found necessary to send the wounded away from the field to a general hospital, we would not complain. But they are simply transferred from one tent, under charge of their own Surgeon, sent here by the State to look after them, to another tent alongside, under charge of some other Surgeon, whom they know nothing about. It is an outrage on the men, simply to raise the importance of “red tape.”

APRIL 30th.—Troops from the South are coming in and marching down the Peninsula.

Wednesday, 30th–We were routed from our beds of leaves at 4 o’clock and moved on two miles farther in the direction of Purdy, when we received word from General Wallace that we were not needed. We marched back to camp, arriving here about noon, in a heavy rainstorm, soaked to the skin and covered with mud. We had lain all night with rifle in hand, in a heavy timber, on beds of leaves, without blankets, and some of the boys caught cold. The Eleventh Iowa was inspected today for pay. Thus ends this month in old Tennessee.

April 30th. At 2 P. M., a steamer came up and landed the prisoners from the forts. This day, between the hours of ten and twelve o’clock, the carpenter of the fleet held a survey on this ship, and reported her not seaworthy, on account of a shot under her starboard counter.

30th. Received letters from Fannie and Uncle Albert. Answered Fannie’s. Beautiful day. Arrested a suspicious looking fellow, acted like a spy. Told of the fight at Neosho and the Indian band on Cowskin Prairie.

April 30th.–The last day of this month of calamities. Lovell left the women and children to be shelled, and took the army to a safe place. I do not understand why we do not send the women and children to the safe place and let the army stay where the fighting is to be. Armies are to save, not to be saved. At least, to be saved is not their raison d’être exactly. If this goes on the spirit of our people will be broken. One ray of comfort comes from Henry Marshall. “Our Army of the Peninsula is fine; so good I do not think McClellan will venture to attack it.” So mote it be.

April 30.

. . . We had a very pleasant visit the other night from Charles Johnson, of Norwich, just returned from Port Royal. He went down as Allotment Commissioner from Connecticut and had pretty good success. He was particularly indignant about the chaplain of the Connecticut __th who had made a “handsome thing” all along out of the men whose money he received for being forwarded to their homes. He charged them a commission, and then by buying drafts on New York, which are at a premium in Bridgeport, Conn., managed to make his one per cent net. Charles J. arrived out the day of the bombardment of Fort Pulaski and was among the first visitors after its surrender. It was curious, he said, to see the extra defenses prepared by the rebels; heavy timber blindages against the casemates and quarters, all round the fort inside, sodded six feet deep with earth dug from trenches with which the whole parade was crisscrossed. These ditches were already two feet deep with the green, slimy water which had oozed upward through the soil. . . . He said that the 7th Connecticut, now garrisoning the fort, were a pale, peaked, sick-looking set, but every man of them as proud as Lucifer, and he came home with a higher idea than ever of the energy and spirit of our troops. One night he and Colonel Terry and Dr. Bacon couldn’t sleep on account of the mosquitoes and heat, and they agreed to bring out the letters left behind by the rebel prisoners, which had to be examined and sent some day to Savannah by flag of truce. There were more than a hundred; some very laughable specimens of course, but some well written and sensible. About thirty were written in one hand, by some officer for his different privates I suppose, and every one of them began, “We have met the enemy and we are theirs!” always winding up with the earnest advice to their friends, to quit Savannah. . . . Mr. Prentiss has lately spent a week in Washington, in company with Dr. Stearns and Professor Schaff. Everywhere they went, of every great man, Professor Schaff asked his stock question–whether the social and political conquest of the South was not to be more difficult than its military conquest. He received very characteristic answers. President Lincoln thought “perhaps, yes–but it wouldn’t cost so much money! “ Mr. Seward said, decidedly, “No” and then trotted himself out, most obligingly, in a dainty little sort of oration, using one of his fine figures in illustration. “You are like President King,” he said, “who was greatly concerned here, last week, about the dome of the Capitol, how it was ever to be finished, and whether it would bear the weight of the figure of Liberty that is to be placed on it, and how the figure was to be got up there, etc. I don’t know how it is to be done, but the engineers know. The plans were all made to accomplish just that result. The dome was built for the figure, and this figure cast to be in harmony and size with it, and the pulleys and ropes are all agreed upon; and though it is a long way from the ground, where the statue lies now, to the top of the finished dome, I know that the work will be done, and the figure of Liberty shall yet stand on the top of the Capitol.” . . . Mr. Chase was not so eloquent or philosophic. He thought we ought to “do our present duty and leave the future to Providence,” which perhaps was the best answer of all; and putting the three together Professor Schaff was well satisfied with the argument and quite willing to be laughed at by his friends for his pertinacity in asking the question.

From Eliza’s Journal.

S. S. Daniel Webster.

Just before sunset, last night, we passed the mouth of the York River, and could see our gunboats and a fleet of some four hundred sloops and schooners lying a little way up it–among them our fleet, Franklin’s Division, still lying off Ship Point. We made our way in among them and dropped anchor just off the Point within a stone’s throw of the rebel barracks, now used as a hospital for our men. After dark we could see the lights of the fleet all around us like the lamps of a great city on the shores of a harbor, and these, with the camp-fires on shore lighting up the horizon, and the little row-boats darting about, dashing up phosphorescence at every stroke of the oar, made the scene a magical one; while the bugle calls and regimental bands on the different boats increased the effect. Joe’s boat, the Daniel Webster No. 2, lies further away from us up towards Cheese-man’s Creek. . . .

Georgeanna’s Journal.

Next morning Mr. Olmsted hailed the steamer which carried the 16th New York, to “let the Colonel know that his wife was on board among the nurses.” He received an acknowledgment from the Colonel in the form of a check for one thousand dollars for the Sanitary Commission, and what was still better, Mr. O. said, a note of hearty appreciation of the Commission’s work for the soldiers. Joe soon came over to the steamer himself, and Lenox Hodge, who was with a Philadelphia detail of surgeons on the steamer Commodore, also came on board.

Floating Hospital, Daniel Webster.
Cheeseman’s Creek, April 30, ‘61.

The sail down the Potomac to Acquia Creek, where we anchored for the night, was extremely pretty. Just as we started the little gunboat “Yankee” passed up, bringing, all on a string, five rebel craft she had just taken in the Rappahannock.

Late in the afternoon we passed the stone fleet, eight boats all ready to sink in the channel, in case the Merrimac should try to run up the Potomac. The rebels having taken up all the buoys, we had to come to anchor at dark. Sunday, the first day, was gone. As for us, we had spent it sitting on deck, sewing upon a Hospital flag fifteen by eight, and singing hymns to take the edge off this secular occupation. It is to be run up at once in case we encounter the Merrimac. Just as we anchored, a chaplain was discovered among the fifty or sixty soldiers on board–men returning to their regiments, and in half an hour we got together for service and an unprepared discourse exhorting the Sanitary Commission to works of charity! The contrabands all came in and stood in a row, so black, at the dark end of the cabin, that I could see nothing but eyes and teeth; but they sang heartily and everybody followed them.

30th.–Still quiet to-day, with exception of an occasional report of artillery along the line, and some picket firing. A. B. Millard, Co. G, 5th Wisconsin, brought in to-day, badly wounded in the shoulder. He lived about four hours after being shot. He is the first man killed from that regiment, though it has been eight months in the field. Am not well to-day. Have diarrhÅ“a, and threat of fever.

General Washington’s rifle pits extend for miles in front of our camps. The state of perfection in which they now are, after the lapse of eighty years, is surprising. A road runs by the side of the ditches, and were it not for the immense pine trees growing on the embankments, they would be taken for modern works to drain the road. These rifle pits surrounded Cornwallis at Yorktown, and from them was fought the closing battle of the revolution. May they serve the same good purpose for us now!

April 30.—The last two weeks have glided quietly away without incident except the arrival of new neighbors—Dr. Y., his wife, two children, and servants. That a professional man prospering in Vicksburg should come now to settle in this retired place looks queer. Max said:

“H., that man has come here to hide from the conscript officers. He has brought no end of provisions, and is here for the war. He has chosen well, for this county is so cleaned of men it won’t pay to send the conscript officers here.”

Our stores are diminishing and cannot be replenished from without; ingenuity and labor must evoke them. We have a fine garden in growth, plenty of chickens, and hives of bees to furnish honey in lieu of sugar. A good deal of salt meat has been stored in the smoke-house, and, with fish in the lake, we expect to keep the wolf from the door. The season for game is about over, but an occasional squirrel or duck comes to the larder, though the question of ammunition has to be considered. What we have may be all we can have, if the war last five years longer; and they say they are prepared to hold out till the crack of doom. Food, however, is not the only want. I never realized before the varied needs of civilization. Every day something is “out.” Last week but two bars of soap remained, so we began to save bones and ashes. Annie said: “Now, if we only had some china-berry trees here we shouldn’t need any other grease. They are making splendid soap at Vicksburg with china-balls. They just put the berries into the lye and it eats them right up and makes a fine soap.” I did long for some china-berries to make this experiment. H. had laid in what seemed a good supply of kerosene, but it is nearly gone, and we are down to two candles kept for an emergency. Annie brought a receipt from Natchez for making candles of rosin and wax, and with great forethought brought also the wick and rosin. So yesterday we tried making candles. “We had no molds, but Annie said the latest style in Natchez was to make a waxen rope by dipping, then wrap it round a corn-cob. But H. cut smooth blocks of wood about four inches square, into which he set a polished cylinder about four inches high. The waxen ropes were coiled round the cylinder like a serpent, with the head raised about two inches; as the light burned down to the cylinder, more of the rope was unwound. To-day the vinegar was found to be all gone and we have started to make some. For tyros we succeed pretty well.”

Note: To protect Mrs. Miller’s job as a teacher in post-civil war New Orleans, her diary was published anonymously, edited by G. W. Cable, names were changed and initials were generally used instead of full names—and even the initials differed from the real person’s initials. (Read Dora Richards Miller’s biographical sketch.)

APRIL 29th.—Major Griswold is here, and so is a new batch of Marylanders.

Tuesday, 29th–We received orders this afternoon to march out towards Purdy, about twelve miles, to be in readiness as a supporting column to General Wallace in command of the right. He was expecting to be attacked by the rebels and sent for reinforcements. We went in light marching order without knapsacks, and we have to lie on our arms at night.

April 29th. We have been lying quietly at our anchorage here for two or three days, negotiating about the city and its flag and transfer. The river is alive with steamers which our people have taken possession of, and are gliding about seemingly practicing for duty by-and-by; among others, a fine steamer, the Tennessee, has been taken possession of and will doubtless prove quite a prize for us. The rebel gunboat McRae came up from the forts with a flag of truce, asking permission to bury her dead, but instead, watched her chance and scuttled her in deep water.

This morning a gunboat from the forts brought the pleasing intelligence that Forts Jackson and St. Philip had both surrendered to our forces below, and that a powerful floating battery, mounting eighteen guns and covered with railroad iron, had been fired and drifted down the river and blown up. This intelligence called all hands into the rigging, and they gave three times three cheers for the Union. At nine o’clock A. M., the marines of the squadron, under the command of Capt. J. L. Broome, went ashore to hoist the flag, backed by the howitzers; they proceeded to the Custom House and gave the Star-Spangled Banner to the breeze; thence they went to the Council House and lowered the State flag and brought it aboard as a trophy. Crowds of people frequent the levee to gaze on the shipping from day to day.

At 6:30 A. M., Capt. Bailey brought word up from below, that both forts had surrendered, and the Stars and Stripes were waving over them. At 3 P. M., Mr. Osbon, Flag Lieutenant, left the ship to go on board the gunboat Cayuga; as he was leaving, gave him three cheers. Cayuga, Capt. Bailey in command, went down the river, bound North with dispatches. Manned the rigging, and cheered ship.

29th. Baggage train and remainder of companies came in. Letter from Lucy Randall and several papers–rich treat. Wrote to Will Hudson.

April 29th.–A grand smash, the news from New Orleans fatal to us. Met Mr. Weston. He wanted to know where he could find a place of safety for two hundred negroes. I looked into his face to see if he were in earnest; then to see if he were sane. There was a certain set of two hundred negroes that had grown to be a nuisance. Apparently all the white men of the family had felt bound to stay at home to take care of them. There are people who still believe negroes property–like Noah’s neighbors, who insisted that the Deluge would only be a little shower after all.

These negroes, however, were Plowden Weston’s, a totally different part of speech. He gave field-rifles to one company and forty thousand dollars to another. He is away with our army at Corinth. So I said: “You may rely upon Mr. Chesnut, who will assist you to his uttermost in finding a home for these people. Nothing belonging to that patriotic gentleman shall come to grief if we have to take charge of them on our own place.” Mr. Chesnut did get a place for them, as I said he would.

Had to go to the Governor’s or they would think we had hoisted the black flag. Heard there we are going to be beaten as Cortez beat the Mexicans–by superior arms. Mexican bows and arrows made a poor showing in the face of Spanish accoutrements. Our enemies have such superior weapons of war, we hardly any but what we capture from them in the fray. The Saxons and the Normans were in the same plight.

War seems a game of chess, but we have an unequal number of pawns to begin with. We have knights, kings, queens, bishops, and castles enough. But our skilful generals, whenever they can not arrange the board to suit them exactly, burn up everything and march away. We want them to save the country. They seem to think their whole duty is to destroy ships and save the army.

Mr. Robert Barnwell wrote that he had to hang his head for South Carolina. We had not furnished our quota of the new levy, five thousand men. To-day Colonel Chesnut published his statement to show that we have sent thirteen thousand, instead of the mere number required of us; so Mr. Barnwell can hold up his head again.

29th.–A quiet day. Men seem cheerful and happy, but sickness increases. No medicines nor hospital stores, except those furnished by Sanitary Commission. I must take the liberty of thinking our Medical Director deficient in–something. What should we do now without the Sanitary Commission?