Chapter VII

ENLISTED MEN PRISONERS AT HOUSTON--MARCH FOR THE FEDERAL LINES--ARRIVAL AT NEW ORLEANS.

The rank and file of the Forty-Second, with captured sailors of the _Harriet Lane_, were confined in a cotton press, situated in close proximity to Buffalo Bayou. The officers were quartered in the third story of Kennedy’s brick building, upon one of the streets not far from the cotton press.

While in Houston the men received good treatment and were allowed a furlough in the city every day, four men at a time, under guard. Their officers were allowed to visit them frequently, and cheering words, coupled with good advice, was not wanting. The food furnished was the same as issued to Confederate soldiers, consisting of corn meal, rice, sugar, dried and fresh beef, corn coffee, and occasionally a small supply of salt. The coarse ground corn meal was baked and made into what was called corn-dodger, to take the place of the Federal ration of hard bread. Until General Magruder left Houston, when the ration was taken away, the officers were favored with extra rations of flour. A German baker, formerly of Roxbury, Mass., was found, who took this flour in exchange for bread. Diarrhœa and dysentery were quite prevalent under this diet and a change of water, with sudden, sharp changes of weather that occurred, from warm to cold, and _vice versa_.

Surgeon Cummings, whose ability was acknowledged at all times by the Confederate officers, was, for a time, given his parole of honor, and assisted in taking care of the wounded and sick, Federals and Confederates. It was asserted that many of the Confederate wounded would not allow their own surgeons to attend them, preferring the care of Surgeon Cummings, in whose honor be it said, friend or foe, who needed his services, shared alike.

A jolly, social set of men, who made everything pleasant as possible, composed the guard--a dismounted company of cavalry, known as Captain Clipper’s company. Their discipline and drill was very, _very_ crude, and often a subject of comment and amusement to the prisoners, who heartily enjoyed the ceremony of guard-mounting as done by this company; soldiers continually chewing tobacco, spitting the juice freely, talking with each other, and laughing all through the parade. The unsoldier-like conduct and poor quality of Sibley’s men, and the entire Confederate force under General Magruder, was a noted fact throughout the State: poorly armed and equipped, indifferently officered, without honor, discipline, or _esprit de corps_. After the fight at Galveston, Magruder issued an order to his command calling attention to these facts, entreating them to reform and be true soldiers, reciting, as an example of what well-disciplined, efficient troops could accomplish, the stubborn defence of Kuhn’s Wharf by the Forty-Second Massachusetts Volunteers.

The prisoners busied themselves with card playing, singing, making little trinkets from bones left from their meat, and in various other ways; selling their bone trinkets in large numbers to the ladies and others of Houston at good prices in Confederate money, which was used to buy what extras for food they could purchase. Many of the inhabitants would gather in the vicinity of the cotton press to obtain a glimpse at the northern barbarians, as the prisoners were termed; people from the country for miles around came to Houston for this purpose. It is related for a fact, by a sergeant who overheard the conversation, that a little girl who had been brought by her mother to see them, said to her: “Why, mother, they haven’t got any horns; you said they had!” This was about the idea Texan people had of northern troops at the time.

Previous to leaving Houston positive information was obtained relative to the fate of Amos and Revaleon. They had been sold as slaves to Texan planters, bringing somewhere near five hundred dollars each. They were bright, intelligent colored lads, cousins, fascinated with camp life, and notwithstanding the bitter opposition of their parents were determined to see service in the army in some capacity, finally prevailing upon the surgeon and quartermaster to take them as servants. Revaleon was owned by several masters, receiving good treatment, until at last he was taken for a servant by Major Leon Smith, who intended to send him into the Federal lines if he ever got near enough to do so. A few colored men that were in the _Harriet Lane_ crew did not fare so well, suffering harsh treatment by being treated as convicts, with incarceration in the State Prison at Huntsville. All were released at the close of the war and came home in the summer of 1865.

Orders were issued at five o’clock on the morning of January 22d for the men to be ready to move at ten o’clock. Permission was given the captains to visit their companies and bid them good-by. Captains Savage and Sherive did so. Captain Savage said a few words of regret at the necessary separation, and was expressing his fervent wishes for their future safety and prosperity when obliged to stop short, his feelings having completely unmanned him. Captain Sherive was full of fight, and exhorted them to pitch in and “give them h--ll” whenever exchanged and again armed. Colonel Burrell (who was refused the privilege of seeing his men) and the other officers, after an interview with the orderly-sergeants at officers’ quarters, sent by them a farewell to the companies.

Delays occurred in the preparations, and it was two o’clock in the afternoon before the men fell into line for roll-call, proceeding at once, after repeated cheers for the officers were given, to the depot, where platform cars with seats built upon them were in readiness. With a good-by to the guard a start was made about six o’clock for Beaumont.

The following sick and wounded men were left behind, not able to stand the fatigue and exposure of the journey: Private Edwin F. Josselyn, Company D, wounded; Private Francis L. Morrill, Company D, wounded; Private James O’Shaughnessy, Company D, wounded; Corporal Henry W. McIntosh, Company D, sick; Private Dennis Dailey, Company D, sick; Sergeant David L. Wentworth, Company G, wounded; Private Joseph W. D. Parker, Company G, wounded; Private Joseph W. McLaughlin, Company I, sick, returned to Houston from Beaumont; Private Samuel R. Hersey, Company C, remained with the colonel; Citizen Frank Veazie, cook to officers’ mess, remained with the colonel.

Corporal McIntosh, suffering with diarrhœa, was so weak he had to be supported by two soldiers when led out to say good-by to his comrades he never expected to see again, and never did.

At first General Magruder intimated his intention to march the men across Texas to the Red or Mississippi Rivers. Such a march was condemned by prominent officers in his Department as certain death to a large number, and transportation was furnished for part of the way. It was stated in a boastful manner by the guards and citizens, that few would live to reach the Federal lines. This may have been mere boasting and only an expression of what they wished would occur, for the condition of the country passed over, and hardships endured by the men, were in no measure to be compared to what they had been led to expect by the representations of these parties, and it may safely be said their enemies were ignorant of what would have to be encountered.

With enlisted men and Chaplain Sanger, of the Forty-Second Regiment, were the sailors of the _Harriet Lane_, Assistant-Surgeon Thomas N. Penrose, Paymaster R. Julius Richardson, and the third assistant-engineers of that vessel, who had been allowed to go upon a claim made by all the captured officers, that these officers were non-combatants and could not be classed as commissioned officers. Considerable argument had to be used before the Confederate officials were made to acknowledge the point and let them go.

There was one smart affair managed successfully by a few warrant officers of the Forty-Second that saved the life of Andrew Romain, a Texan refugee, who was smuggled through as a member of the regiment with great difficulty, and when detection was almost certain. Romain, who formerly had lived in one of the New England States, was at the head of a little band of refugees who quartered on Kuhn’s Wharf under protection of the naval guns, and was of great benefit to the fleet before land forces arrived as a spy, from his intimate acquaintance with the inhabitants and country in the immediate vicinity of Galveston. His person, character, and the service he rendered United States officers was well known to the Confederate leaders, hence he was a marked man. Of medium size, he wore an immense black beard of great length, almost covering his face to the eyes, and up to the time of surrender wore citizen’s clothes.

After the surrender, and when names of prisoners were taken by the Confederate officers, Romain was not to be seen, and it was surmised by the boys he had escaped to the fleet. By some lucky chance he had safely hid away, until, at a favorable moment, he joined the ranks on the march through Galveston towards Virginia Point, clad in a blue army blouse, buttoned close to the neck, covering the long, flowing part of his beard, wearing a fatigue cap, and with knapsack upon his shoulders. On arrival at Houston he was partly shaved by Sergeant Frye, Company D, who left him with whiskers of the mutton-chop style. Each successive shave was improved to alter the style of cut to the hair upon his face. A sailor from the _Harriet Lane_ assisted at times in these tonsorial duties.

Shortly after arriving in Houston the Confederate officers began to inquire after Romain, their actions indicating they suspected he was among the prisoners.

A great difficulty to overcome was passing him through the roll-calls, as Confederate officers attended these calls of names, which were made one company at a time. Romain would dodge from one company in line, ready for roll-call, to the ranks of a company whose roll-call was over, assisted in this by various devices of those most active in getting him through, and managed with success for some time in this way. Feeling confident he was among the prisoners, a last effort was made to detect him when the men were ready to march for the depot.

The companies were separately ordered into line, outside of quarters; as each name was called the man stepped to the front and had his name checked. Romain, who saw that his chances to get off with the rest were very slim, prudently remained in the building, and the rolls were found correct. Company G had passed out of the gate, leaving the other companies inside, when Sergeant Phil. Hackett obtained permission to go into the quarters for some few things he stated were left there, and in a short time came out followed by Romain, whom he rated soundly with abuse and curses for having left the ranks to go back to quarters without leave. On his approach towards Confederate Lieutenant Todd, who stood at the gate, Romain was the picture of a devil-may-care sort of man, puffing away at a large pipe, with a broom thrown over his shoulder. Lieutenant Todd sharply asked why he was there, and Romain replied that Sergeant Goodrich had sent him back to get a broom to sweep the cars, because they were covered with charcoal dust. Todd asked his name, and Romain gave one suggested to him by Hackett. Calling for Sergeant Goodrich, Todd inquired who he had sent back, the Sergeant answering with the same name that Romain used, for Hackett and Goodrich were acting in concert. Examining the roll of Company G the name was found, and Romain was ordered to “get out of here.”

The whole thing was so neatly planned and carried out by the two sergeants that the Confederates were completely hoodwinked, and Romain got off with the prisoners. After leaving Houston it was easy work to pass him along.

He left a wife and child at Galveston, who probably thought him dead. He was able to give valuable information to General Banks regarding Texas, and Andrew Romain was afterwards in the secret service corps of the Gulf Department. He was a brave man. It required uncommon fortitude to bear up under the constant dread of capture which must have haunted him, as death was certain were he discovered. From the fact that Romain was armed with a revolver, furnished by some friendly hand, it is surmised, if discovered, he would have sold his life dearly, if not contemplating suicide rather than fall into Confederate hands. A man of quiet reserve, seldom making any conversation with others, it was thought by the paroled men he had no gratitude for the assistance rendered by them, because he never expressed any. When Phil. Hackett was buried at Gentilly Camp, Romain was present, and his presence at those last sad rites is good proof he was grateful for what had been done to save him.

The train left Houston with a speed of about four miles an hour, crossing San Jacinto Bayou at midnight, not reaching Beaumont until four o’clock in the afternoon next day--distance eighty-three miles by rail. This was a tiresome ride for it rained all night, rendering sleep impossible, besides the charcoal dust upon the cars became wet, and in the shifting and turning about hands would get covered with it; these same hands were often applied to faces, and in the morning the men were a sight to behold. As the locomotive could not draw the entire train at once, sections were taken and run until a siding was reached, when the engine would go back for the remaining cars. There appeared to be plenty of cattle in sight grazing on the prairie lands through which the railroad ran, and this was also noticed to be the case on the trip from Galveston to Houston.

At Beaumont the men remained until the twenty-ninth, awaiting the return of a steamboat that had preceded them with baggage, horses, beef cattle, commissary stores, and wagons brought from Houston, to be used on the march to Alexandria. Occupying several abandoned shanties near Drake’s Bayou, the time was made to pass quickly by various expedients. Pigs were plenty in the neighborhood, so that pork was not a luxury, four or five being killed each day, the owners not missing them. They were caught by the lassoing process from a trap-door in an old blacksmith shop, underneath which they congregated. Wild mules were also plenty, whose backs the soldiers and sailors did not miss any opportunity to ride, affording great amusement to spectators by their antics.

Finally the steamer _Roe Buck_ arrived, and a start was made at half-past one o’clock in the afternoon down the narrow Neches River to Sabine Bay; proceeding up the Sabine River, at daylight on the thirtieth, the steamer tied up at Novell’s Bluff, Louisiana, for a short time, and then proceeded to Morgan’s Bluff to remain over night, arriving there at half-past six o’clock in the afternoon.

After wooding-up the trip was resumed early next morning on the crooked and narrow river, lined with forests upon either bank, causing the boys to keep a sharp lookout, as the boat would often snap limbs off the trees to fall upon the deck. At six o’clock in the afternoon a stop was made at Possum Bluff for the night. Here the men had to use fence rails, near at hand, for fuel to cook rations, as all of the cut wood was required for the boat.

The boat steamed along, with occasional stops to take in wood and tie up each night, until half-past four o’clock in the afternoon, February 4th, when the journey by boat was over, on arriving at Burr’s Ferry Landing. The weather had been cloudy, rainy and cold almost the entire trip, creating great inconvenience to the men, who were obliged to use rubber and woollen blankets to stop rain-water leaks in their sleeping-places. Several were quite sick. Private David Chapin, Company I, nineteen years old, died at night, February 2d, at quarter-past eleven, when the boat was stopped at Starks’ Ferry Landing, Newton County, Texas. Chapin was not well when he left Houston, and was down with intermittent fever in a few days. After breakfast, on the third, a beautiful spot in the woods, under cypress and pine trees, was selected for a grave. The funeral took place at half-past nine o’clock in the morning, with three volleys fired over the remains by the guard, as poor Chapin, in a rough-made coffin, the best his comrades could make, was lowered into the grave.

At Burr’s Landing the prisoners went into bivouac in a pine grove about one-half a mile from the river. To make a shelter from the cold, northerly winds, some men made tents with rubber blankets; others built shanties made of bushes, pine boughs and such other material as they could gather, in a manner peculiar only to the “Yankee” soldier. All hands had washed their flannels during the fifth, leaving them out over night to dry, to find them frozen stiff the next morning, and a white frost covering the ground.

Private Henry C. Sellea, Company D, had been sick on board the boat for four days with intermittent fever, and, as his case seemed hopeless, arrangements were made by his comrades to remove him to a farm house owned and occupied by Mrs. Burr, who came from Springfield, Mass., where he would be sure to receive the best of care. This was accomplished at two o’clock on the afternoon of the sixth; but poor Sellea, only nineteen years old, died at five o’clock P.M. the next day.

As in the case of Private Chapin, a rough coffin was made by his comrades, the burial services taking place at eleven o’clock A.M. on the eighth, with Privates Charles G. Weymouth, Daniel L. Weymouth, R. P. Mosely and Henry Fisk acting as pall bearers. The grave was in Mrs. Burr’s private burying ground, where the boys sang “There will be no more sorrow there,” and the guard fired the customary volleys. A neat head-board, with name, age, company and regiment inscribed thereon, was placed on both graves.

Chapin and Sellea were delirious the last days of their life, not recognizing anybody. Every attention possible was paid to them by the members of their companies, and if the sympathy of their fellow soldiers could have saved them they would not have died. These two deaths were the only losses suffered on the trip, but several laid the foundation for diseases, which subsequently carried them to their graves.

Orders were issued on the eighth to be ready to commence the march for Alexandria at four o’clock A.M. on the ninth. Extra rations were given out to the cooks, who were at work all night attending to cooking. Mess kettles were few in number, and the practice on the entire trip, either on board boat or on the march, was to detail each night four men to cook until midnight, relieved by four men from that hour until daylight. The rations consisted of corn meal, pork, and fresh beef killed about every day, with such vegetables as the boys could forage, or buy from the few inhabitants living near the route of march.

The Confederate guard consisted of thirty men from the Fourth Texas Cavalry, commanded by Lieutenant W. J. Howerton, a pompous, overbearing individual, without military knowledge or manners. On the march the enlisted men were mounted upon Texas mustang ponies, tolerably well armed and equipped, but without drill or discipline. At any time they could have been overpowered by the prisoners. The guard were well disposed and well behaved towards their prisoners with a few exceptions; one private, a large, fat, red-headed man, whose looks was enough to condemn him to be a coward, was very bitter in speech and treatment of the men. In turn, the prisoners neglected no opportunity to work him up by badinage, partaking more of a sacrilegious tone than the chaplain thought was proper.

With the exception of a few fights among themselves to settle old scores, and retaliating in kind for any taunts made by members of the guard, the conduct of the prisoners was good. Lieutenant Howerton had his good and ill-natured days. At one place where a halt was made for the night some of the prisoners obtained permission to get food and lodging in a so-called tavern, neglecting in the morning to pay for the accommodation. This neglect put the lieutenant in a rage, when the landlord complained about it. Previous to this occurrence the men had been allowed to march in disorder, but on forming column that morning the lieutenant ordered column of fours, and made a speech from his saddle, the substance being, that a citizen of the Confederate States, whom one of his own men would not dare to wrong, had been grossly insulted by some “scabs” of Northern soldiers. He had given orders that the march that day would be in column of fours, and any man who straggled from that formation of column would be shot down or cut down, “by G--d.” One of the sailors slyly shouted S-H-O-W, when the enraged lieutenant rose in his stirrups and yelled: “I’ll show yer!” swinging his sabre over his head to suit action to his words. Several men did get struck for not obeying the orders, although none were seriously hurt. This did not help Howerton, in the estimation of the boys.

No tents were carried, and the men were obliged to sleep in the open air, through fair or foul weather. No rivers were in their path, but several swamps had to be passed, one of them while a heavy rain-storm was in progress. The train, in charge of a wagoner, consisted of four wagons, each drawn by six mule teams. The feed for horses and mules was chiefly wild sugar-cane.

Doctor Penrose acted as surgeon for everybody when he could obtain medicines, for the escort carried none. He attended Chapin and Sellea, doing the best in his power, travelling some miles to obtain a supply of medicine to treat their cases. The sick had to suffer and get along as best they could; those very sick were taken in the wagons, while the men who did not feel strong enough to be encumbered by the weight of a knapsack, but able to march when not encumbered, could purchase from the guard the privilege of stowing away what they wished in the wagons. Frequently a ride upon the ponies belonging to good-natured men of the guard was to be had by parting with some article of value to them, as the Texans were always ready to trade or steal when they could. A Sergeant Bradford is said by the boys to have been a “tip-top fellow.”

The story of the march cannot be described in a more interesting manner than is given by Sergeant Waterman, Company D, in his diary, and the same is presented here:

“February 9th--Breakfast at five A.M. At six o’clock formed line, and one half an hour later commenced the march for the day from Burr’s Ferry. The first eight miles were done without a halt, over a good road, through a heavily-timbered country. Hard pine, very large and tall, some one hundred feet high to the limbs. After we started again from a rest, we went through a swamp about three miles in length, timbered with beach, magnolia and other trees, and at noon halted, after making eleven miles. On this halt killed and dressed two beeves. Marched again about two miles through swamps and then came to higher ground with pine trees again, large and straight, as before. At six o’clock P.M. arrived at a place called Huddleston and went into bivouac for the night, with the boys about played out after marching eighteen miles, and after lying still about two months.

“February 10th--Started at seven o’clock A.M. footsore and weary, with the sky looking like rain. At noon had marched seven miles. Dined on corn-dodger and beef; some of the boys felt as if they had eaten so much beef they were ashamed to look a cow in the face. Weather became warm and pleasant. At half-past five o’clock P.M. halted for the night in a pine grove with a brook near by, at a little place with two houses and one cotton press, called Fifteen Mile Mill.

“February 11th--Started at half-past six A.M. and at eight o’clock met the mail--a man on horseback with a mail bag. It is trying to rain, but cannot make out very well. At noon it cleared off and a halt was made for dinner in a pine forest. Has been nearly all pine woods so far. Passed over a sandstone ledge this morning so soft that it could easily be broken in the hand. At three o’clock P.M. we were halted once more to rest and remain over night, as the march has badly blistered the feet of the boys.

“February 12th--Rain commenced to fall at four o’clock A.M., raining hard until seven o’clock, when, slacking up some, we started again through a swamp seven miles long, with the water knee deep all the way. Had to stop in the rain for a bridge to be repaired, so that the wagons could pass. Passed Hineston, a village of three shanties and a pig-sty, at quarter-past ten, and at noon halted to cook a pot of mush for dinner, the rain spoiling all of the corn bread and meat. The mush tasted good, as we had very little breakfast. Are on high pine land with wild flowers in bloom. Put up for the night in a very pretty place with enough old shanties to hold all the men. Had to sit up until eleven o’clock trying to dry our clothes.

“February 13th--Started at eight in the morning over a very good road for about three miles, and then came down on to what they call Red River bottom, composed of a red sand, clay and glue. Such walking was never seen. Passed by some very fine plantations, where the negroes were as happy as clams at high water, lining the fences and grinning like so many Cheshire cats. Halted near a bayou for dinner, where, upon the opposite side, the mocking birds were singing. Sun came out and it is warm. The grass is green and looks like the last of May at home. Plenty of sheep and lambs all around. Passed through a hedge of rose bushes at least twenty feet high. We are in sight of Alexandria, and at seven P. M. went aboard the roomy steamer _New Falls City_, in time to escape the rain.

“February 14th--A pleasant day. Boys feel somewhat sore. Heard yesterday that we might have to march two hundred miles more, but I told Lieutenant Howerton to-day that we could not do it any way, and he says we may not have to march more than twenty-five or thirty miles--perhaps none at all. At three P. M. it looks like a heavy shower; the clouds are black and threatening, with heavy thunder. The river is high and roily; as we use it to cook with, the corn-dodger looks like a red sweet cake.”

Marching was over when the Red River was reached. The men had done well, bearing sickness, suffering and fatigue without a murmur; obeying the orders of Sergeants Waterman, Goodrich and Hunt (who were in command of Companies D, G and I, respectively), with commendable zeal, excepting in one instance when Private Fitzallen Gourley, Company D, defied the authority of Sergeant Waterman, who had placed him upon a working detail of men while at Beaumont, and obliged the sergeant to report the case to the Confederate lieutenant, who threatened to return Gourley to Houston, and place him in jail, before he would yield.

That part of the country covered by the line of march was generally admired by the men, so different from anything to be seen at home, and their first sight at pine woods. Small villages on the route, considerable distance apart, with very few houses intervening, made it seem as though they were passing through a wilderness. The dense woods furnished an abundance of wood for cooking purposes, and torches for light at night. The few inhabitants to be met were well-disposed, simple-minded, honest people.

It was on Sunday, February 15th, that the Federal war steamer _Queen of the West_, an inferior looking craft, having safely passed the Vicksburg batteries to play a flying-devil upon the Red River, gave the Confederates a great scare at Alexandria. The prisoners were ashore, when word came at four o’clock A.M. to be ready to start at any moment as the Federals were coming up river. After breakfast, at half-past six o’clock, all hands were hurried on board the steamer _General Quitman_, and a race was run for about five miles, with the river behind them full of boats skedaddling in a perfect panic. In the afternoon the panic subsided, and at four o’clock, after news had been received that two Federal gunboats had been taken--the _Queen of the West_ captured, and the _De Soto_ abandoned and burnt--all speed was made for Alexandria again, where mules and wagons were taken aboard.

After starting down the river at daylight next day, the _Queen_ was met during the morning in tow of a river steamer on her way to Alexandria for repairs. The crew of the _Queen_ had escaped to the gunboat _De Soto_ by floating upon cotton bales, except five men who were noticed on shore, where a fire was started to obtain warmth, and were made prisoners. Everything went on quiet and smooth until passing three small one-gun batteries upon the right bank; at half-past two o’clock P. M., because a signal to stop was not noticed, two rounds of grape-shot were fired at and almost into them. Shot flew thick all around the boat, fortunately hitting no one. Turning back, despatches for the Confederate officer in command were sent on board, causing a delay of half an hour before the trip was resumed, and continued until dark. About midnight, orders came from the lieutenant of the guard for all hands to turn out and help wood-up ship; but his unbearable manner in giving his order roused the devil in them and they refused to do so. He threatened and swore, to no purpose, for the men remained obdurate. He had his revenge, however, in not allowing the prisoners to draw rations next day until late in the afternoon, thus allowing them only one meal in twenty-four hours.

On the seventeenth, early in the morning, while proceeding up river again in wake of three other steamers, all making fast time, the subject of seizing the transport-boat was again broached by sailors anxious and ready to try it. While on their way down the Neches River to Sabine Lake, a seizure of the boat then was talked over by the warrant officers in command of companies, but was abandoned from a want of knowledge where to go after obtaining possession. Upon the Red River there did not exist so favorable circumstances for success as there was at Sabine Lake. At the latter place they would have had to pass down the lake to Sabine Pass, and by a fort commanding the channel, before reaching the blockading vessels. Stratagem could have effected this purpose, but upon the Red River Confederate gunboats held the river to the Mississippi after the _Queen of the West_ and _De Soto_ were lost by the Federals. To have passed the enemy’s boats by deceit, or otherwise, would have been impossible. Frequent consultations of the men concerned in the plot failed to develop any plan of action all would give coöperation, and the attempt was wisely abandoned.

After remaining over night above the three batteries before mentioned waiting the return of a courier, sent to Alexandria early in the evening for orders, at noon a transport-boat came alongside with a detachment of two hundred and seventy-eight men, Eighth Infantry, United States Regulars, who had been basely surrendered in Texas, by General Twiggs, May 9th, 1861, on the commencement of hostilities between the North and South, and been retained in close confinement up to this time. Five or six of the men had their wives with them; one with a family of two children.

A day or two after these prisoners arrived on board, one of the women got into a wordy warfare with a private of the guard, who was abusive in speech and manner. The Confederate soldier had said to the woman that if she was only a man he would shoot her, when a private of the Eighth Regulars, who could stand it no longer, made the quarrel a personal one with himself, calling the Confederate a d----n coward, and offered to go ashore for a fight with any weapon he would name. To this bold challenge the Confederate interposed an objection, that he could not fight with a prisoner of war. Our “bold soger boy” said: “That need not interfere; I will fight you with pistols, ten paces apart, right here.” Nothing but sneers were given in reply by the soldier and his comrades of the guard, who had clustered around. In return the United States soldier taunted them all with being cowards, offering to fight the crowd in any fashion they chose, without effect; they finally slunk away. The women were not molested afterwards.

All of the prisoners were conditionally paroled on the eighteenth and nineteenth, and a flag of truce raised upon the boat, with the intention of proceeding to Vicksburg. Horses, mules and wagons were sent ashore, but a start was not made until the twenty-third, on account of trouble experienced in obtaining wood. There was a dispute on the twenty-first, between the officer of the prisoners’ guard and officers upon the steamer _Grand Era_, in regard to wood that had been supplied the flag of truce boat by the steamer _La-Fourche_ in the morning, resulting finally in a compromise, allowing the _Grand Era_ to have one-half of what was on board. Pistols were drawn amid a general cursing match in the altercation, and at one time a fight was imminent between the two factions. Just as the wood was gone the _Grand Duke_ came alongside searching for the same article, but left without obtaining any.

At last, during the evening of the twenty-second, a boat load of sixty cords was received, about half enough for one day’s consumption, for the _General Quitman_ used from ninety to one hundred and ten cords each twenty-four hours, when the boat steamed down river at daylight next day. After stopping at a wood pile to take on about one hundred cords more, a final start was made for Port Hudson, instead of Vicksburg as first intended, passing Fort De Russy during the day, when Romain was able to rough sketch the work. The Mississippi River was reached at half-past two P. M., and at the sunset hour a high bluff, lined with cannon and men, was dimly discernible, on account of the thick misty rain storm prevailing, which the guard called Port Hudson.

Early on the morning of the twenty-fourth the prisoners were turned over to Federal naval officers, who sent them and the _General Quitman_ to Baton Rouge, where they landed and were made comfortable, glad to be once more within the Federal lines. Lieutenant Howerton received a torrent of abuse as the paroled men left his boat, after revenge prompted them to throw overboard all movable property they could find upon the steamer, without any attention to Howerton’s request: “Now, gentlemen, please stop.” The red-headed soldier of his command did not dare to show his ugly face, for the prisoners wanted to thrash him. Several negroes were on the river shores, above Alexandria, when the sight of blue-coated soldiers upon the _Quitman_ conveyed an idea to them that the Federals occupied the river. They shouted and sang for “Massa Linkum’s sogers”--“take us wid yer”--in a manner that upset the temper of Lieutenant Howerton, who ordered his men ashore to capture them. They were brought aboard and made to attend boiler fires until reaching Port Hudson, when they stole a boat belonging to the _Quitman_ and made their escape.

Cloudy, or rainy and cold weather had been experienced about every day since their arrival at Alexandria. Cooped on board river steamers most of the time, using Red River water for cooking and drinking, with the depressing effect of bad weather, caused a great deal of sickness among the men, chiefly diarrhœa. On the march, or on board river steamers, through sickness, suffering and fatigue, the men kept up their spirits wonderfully. Very little recreation in the way of foraging for food could be done upon the march, although every opportunity that presented itself was improved to the utmost, many a “porker” falling victim to their snares. Pigs appeared to be the only animal available when a foraging party went to work.

Embarking upon the _Iberville_, at nine o’clock on the evening of the twenty-fourth, the prisoners arrived at New Orleans about daylight on the twenty-fifth. Through some negligence they were not reported at general headquarters until the twenty-sixth, when special orders were issued, stating that “two hundred and forty men of the Forty-Second Regiment, Massachusetts Volunteers, paroled prisoners, not having been reported to the headquarters, and on the _Iberville_ unattended to and in a starving condition, will be taken charge of by Lieutenant Farnsworth, Fourth Wisconsin Volunteers, and conducted to the camp at Gentilly Crossing, and turned over and kept as paroled men under proper officers.”

They disembarked on the twenty-sixth, and marched to camp under escort of Companies A, B, E and F, after attending a brigade drill. Many were the heartfelt greetings exchanged all around, and for days afterwards the boys were occupied in reciting their adventures and trials.

A communication from General Sherman, commanding Defences of New Orleans, gives the status of the prisoners as follows:

“The Forty-Second Regiment on the _Iberville_, with the exception of the chaplain, are paroled but not exchanged; the chaplain is unconditionally released. The conditions of the parole are thus stated in the fourth article of the cartel between the United States and the enemy, promulgated in General Orders No. 146 of 1862 from the War Department, adjutant-general’s office: ‘The surplus prisoners not exchanged shall not be permitted to take up arms again, nor to serve as military police or constabulary force in any fort, garrison or field work held by either of the respective parties, nor as guards of prisons, depots, or stores, nor to discharge any duty usually performed by soldiers, until exchanged under the provisions of this cartel.’”

A reply was made March 6th, which elicited from General Sherman a response that everything was satisfactory.

“HEADQUARTERS, 42ND MASS. VOLS.,
“CAMP FARR, BAYOU GENTILLY, LA., March 6th, 1863.

“_Sir_,--I have the honor to state that your communication of the third inst., enclosing a copy of letter of instructions from headquarters, Department of the Gulf, and inquiring whether special orders from these headquarters, No. 73, current series, February 26th, have been fully carried out, is just received.

“In reply, I would respectively state, that the two hundred and forty men of this regiment, paroled prisoners, were reported to me by Lieutenant Farnsworth, as ordered; and that I have placed them in a separate camp, at a distance of three hundred and eighty paces, or seventy-six rods, from the camp of the men under my command. That I have placed Captain J. D. Cogswell, a competent and efficient officer, at the camp to take charge of them, with instructions to treat them as paroled but unexchanged prisoners of war, and to make such rules and regulations, subject to my approval, as shall conduce to their comfort and welfare.

“I have also given instructions to Lieutenant A. E. Proctor, acting regimental quartermaster, to furnish for them proper rations and such articles of clothing as they are in need of, some of them being quite destitute of clothing. I would also respectfully add, that I have required nothing whatever that shall in the least manner effect their parole, or cause a violation of the ‘cartel’ alluded to.

“I have the honor to remain,

“Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
“J. STEDMAN,
“_Lieut-Colonel commanding_.
“TO CAPTAIN WICKHAM HOFFMAN,
“_A. A. General Defences New Orleans_.”

Had the men at Galveston been captured prior to January 1st, 1863, they would have been declared duly exchanged and ordered to report for duty immediately, February 9th, 1863; a general order issued that day from Department headquarters required all officers, enlisted men and camp followers captured in the States of Texas and Louisiana up to January 1st, 1863, to return to duty at once, as they are declared duly exchanged prisoners of war by General Orders No. 10, dated January 10th, 1863, from the War Department, adjutant-general’s office. The men of the Eighth Regiment, United States Regulars, were exchanged and organized into a battalion for duty with the army. A portion of them under command of Lieutenant Copley Amory, Fourth Cavalry, arrived at Opelousas April 23d to join in the campaign then under way by the Nineteenth Corps. On the twenty-fifth, they were relieved from this service and ordered to return North, as an act of justice to those gallant men. A national salute was fired when leaving Opelousas, and a similar honor was paid them on their departure from New Orleans; General Orders No. 34, Nineteenth Army Corps, made honorable mention of their record, accompanied by a full roster of the men.

The trouble between Federal and Confederate War Departments over the exchange of prisoners commenced in 1863, so all attempts to effect an exchange for the men of the Forty-Second failed. At Gentilly Crossing they remained, until about the time the regiment embarked for home, in a camp laid out very neat, kept in good order, with ovens and fire-places for cooking purposes, built of brick obtained from the ruins of an old sugar house across the Gentilly road, opposite their camp.

Familiarly nicknamed the “pet lambs,” their military life was one of inglorious ease, much to their disgust.