June 19, 1863, The Charleston Mercury
(FOR THE MERCURY.)
At 5 o’clock, a.m., June 21, 1863, I was awakened in my bed by the driver, who rushed precipitately in my room, and informed me that two of the enemy’s steamers were in full sight, and would soon by opposite to my landing. I arose hastily, dressed myself with all possible speed, went upon the portico of the house, which commands an extensive view of the river and all the neighboring plantations, and, sure enough, there were the two steamers – one quite small, and the other very large, crowded with armed men in dark uniform. It seemed to me that I also saw women seated in chairs upon the upper deck of the large steamer, surveying with curiosity the beautiful and peaceful scene that lay stretched before them. It was a very pleasant morning – the sky was clear, and from the state of the atmosphere, every residence, building and mill loomed out, and seemed nearer than they really were. The rice crops were growing luxuriantly, and the negro settlements upon the hills looked like a succession of tranquil villages. The steamers did not fire a gun, and had I not known them to be the enemy by their flags, I would have supposed them a large party on a pleasure excursion. Upon perceiving that the smaller steamer was steering for my landing, I ordered the driver to bring the people to me, as they had come from the fields, and were gathering at the settlement. My house servants all stood around me, professing the utmost attachment, and their perfect willingness to obey my commands, but not exhibiting the slightest degree of alarm or surprise. Finding that the negros did not come to me from the settlement, as I had ordered, I immediately went there, found them all about their houses, and seeing that the enemy had now landed about twenty negros under the leadership of one white man, I ordered them to follow me and take to the woods, which form a deep forest near my house. They all professed a willingness to do so, but not one made a sign of moving. As I had not a single arm of defence about my person, I was forced to fly to the woods for protection. There is a forest which extends from my house to Mr. Kirkland’s place, skirting the rice fields the whole way. I took refuge in it, and determined to watch, as far as I could, the operations of the enemy. They came up to my house, and in a very short time it was set on fire. I looked towards Mr. Kirkland’s place, and soon perceived the smoke rising from the direction of his residence. Presently the mill, overseer house and stables on his place, also the threshing mill and barns upon my own place, as well as those upon Mr. Lowndes and Col. Heyward, were burning almost simultaneously. The negros, men and women, were rushing to the boat with their children, now and then greeting some one whom they recognized among the uniformed negros, and who were probably former runaways from the various plantations in the neighborhood. The negros seemed to be utterly transformed, drunk with excitement, and capable of the wildest excesses. The roaring of the flames, the barbarous howls of the negros, the blowing of horns, the harsh steam whistle, and the towering columns of smoke from every quarter, made an impression on my mind which can never be effaced. Here, I thought to myself, is a repetition of San Domingo. Remaining about five hours in the woods, I concluded to steal towards my own burning house, and ascertain the amount of destruction. I approached cautiously, as the small steamboat had not yet left my landing, and I could still see the negros carrying from my burning barn bags of rice upon their heads, in rapid movement towards the steamboat. At eleven o’clock the steamer moved off, not having left her station for six hours, and I was left alone to survey with tearful eyes the wide scene of desolation around me. My pleasant and comfortable house was in ashes. My library, containing over 3500 volumes, in the collection of which I had employed twenty years of my life; shelved thoughts of the richest minds of ancient and modern times, which I had treasured up as a consolation for the present, and as a refuge against disease and old age; every memorial I possessed of my past life, and every material object to which my heart still clung, not for its intrinsic value, but for the unspeakable associations connected with it – vanished, perished in the flames; and this was not done in a tempest, by the lightning of heaven, but sanctioned by the order of the civilized, philanthropic, liberty-loving Yankee. Besides my house, they burnt three negro houses, one of which the driver lived in, my steam threshing mill and barn, corn house, kitchen, wash kitchen and store room, mule stable, and six thousand bushels of rice. They also carried off 73 negros and three mules. What contributed most to my mortification was, that in my whole gang of slaves, among whom there were any amount of Aarons, Abrahams, Isaacs and Jacobs, there was not one Abdiel – not one remained loyal to the rebel. They left an old woman who had been bedridden for a year, and whose house was next to the driver’s house that had been burnt. I went into her house and found her naked in her bed, stript of her clothing, abandoned by her children and grandchildren. She has since died. This is an instance of Abolition humanity. They all left me, saints and sinners, and nothing remains to testify of their former presence but the famishing cats and dogs, who, in coming around me, seem to demand by their anxious expression the sense and meaning of their present loneliness. The negros were not allowed by their sympathizing friends to carry off any of their clothing, except what they wore on their backs; not a pot, nor a kettle; and there was left at the landing a strange medley of clothes, pots and kettles, baskets, bolts of cloth, hats and shoes, together with the familiar faces of many articles which had miraculously disappeared from the premises years ago, and of whose mysterious disappearance no intelligible explanation had ever been given. There was enough […..] to fill ten wagons. They have all gone, and I expect by this time realize the meaning of that other abstraction, liberty and the rights of man. I think old Pompey will miss his garden and his favorite vegetables; old Janus will no longer captivate his admiring audience by misquotations from the Bible; and old driver George will find his occupation gone. No ready compliance now with his commands, and no secret services rendered to his personal convenience, of which I was kept in ignorance. I have no doubt, if ever I should see that infidum’ again, I shall find them a wiser and sadder people. The boon of liberty they will discover, to their cost, does not comprise clothing, comfortable houses, kind treatment and medical attendance, but to them is misery, privation, hunger and a cheerless death. The question now is, could this raid have been prevented? I think so. Had Jeffords’ squadron been stationed here, I think, though I profess to be no judge in military matters, the enemy could have been intercepted. They had been posted here for eighteen months, knew every foot and by-path of the country, all the plantations, and by a proper disposal of a few men upon each place, might have checked their progress. The squadron under the command of Major Manuel had been recently transferred to this country, which they did not know, from a country with which they were perfectly familiar. They were entirely ignorant of the localities, and though no doubt willing to render assistance, were unable to do so, from their want of familiarity with this region. One or two cannon at Tar Bluff, I feel confident, would have arrested the progress of the steamboats; and had the fort at Combahee Ferry retained the cannon which now repose at Green Pond, it might have done them some damage. But in these matters I say I am no judge, and these are my small opinions, besides I am in no mood for impartial criticism. It is merely my desire to give a simple and succinct account of what I saw and suffered; and, to use the language of Pius Aeneas, […..] rum pars magna ful.’ The world should know that the valiant Yankee, despairing of conquering the Confederates in a fair field, has resorted to the easy and expeditious method of making war upon private dwellings, burning provisions, barns and store houses, and seeking to wreak his petty malice on localities where he is confident of meeting no resistance. This is an act commanded and sanctioned by the best of all possible governments; yes, best indeed, in the estimation of the innumerable Rev. Dr. Panglosses’ that swarm over the North. To talk of reconstruction is about as sensible as to attempt the reconstruction of the Tower of Babel, or the rebuilding of the Temple of Jerusalem.
They have laid me under obligations which I hope my brave countrymen will repay with interest.
FINIS.