History of the Forty-second regiment infantry, Massachusetts volunteers, 1862, 1863, 1864

On the twelfth, Major Stiles, with Companies C and H, reported for duty at camp, receiving a warm reception. The men were as much pleased to tread dry land once more as their comrades were to see them. The day and night was occupied by the men in reciting each other’s adventures since they parted in New York.

An aggravating case of desertion occurred January 2d, when Private Lewis Buffum, Company B, deserted the service and his regiment under circumstances proving him to be an arrant coward. Placed in a position as acting-engineer on board the transport Quincy, while on her trip from New York with the three companies, he received the best of treatment, lived in the same manner as the officers, at no cost to himself, and on arrival at New Orleans received extra pay from Captain Clapp of the Quincy, for his services on the voyage; this Buffum, regardless of all feelings of honor and duty, improved the opportunity thus given him, detached and away from his company for a few days after landing, to procure a change of clothing and bribe the first-engineer on the Quincy to conceal him on board upon her return trip to New York.

Several orders sent him to report for duty with his company and not obeyed caused a search to be made, when his desertion was discovered. An overhauling of the Quincy failed to find him. It was ascertained some months afterward (April 24th), when he came into the hands of provost-marshal Captain John Pickering of New Orleans, having surrendered himself at Fort Columbus, New York harbor, March 31st, under the promise of pardon made by President Lincoln in General Orders No. 58, War Department, issued March 11th, 1863, to all deserters who returned to duty, that Buffum was on board the Quincy during the search, stowed away on the top of her boiler. As the searching party passed one side of it he would slide down the opposite side until they had passed, and then return to the top.

There are no extenuating circumstances connected with Buffum’s desertion. He was a married man, with wife and children living. As a man he should have had some respect for their feelings, even though he was without honor himself. He never was ill-treated by his officers. His profession placed him in a position to be of great service to the Government, by performing detached duty as engineer on some of the railroads and steamers controlled by United States officers in Louisiana. Private Buffum was so detailed by orders from Department headquarters, to which detail answer had to be returned: “Deserted in New Orleans, January 2d, 1863, and has not since been apprehended.”

In connection with this case of desertion may properly be stated the three cases of enlisted men who were disciplined at this camp. Corporal Denny, Company E, was, January 22d, ordered to be placed in arrest by Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman. A captain objected to some statements that had appeared in a communication sent home by the corporal for publication, and preferred charges against him. Denny remained in arrest until after his trial by a division court-martial held January 27th, in New Orleans, and the proceedings of the court could be passed upon by General Sherman. The charge and specification was as follows:

CHARGE.

“Conduct to the prejudice of Good Order and Military Discipline.”

Specification—In this: that he, Corporal Denny, was author of, did write and cause to be published in the Worcester Daily Spy, on the morning of December 29th, 1862, an article containing sentiments false and calculated to mislead the public with reference to the acts of Captain George P. Davis, then commanding troops on board the Charles Osgood, and reflecting censure on his (Corporal Denny’s) superior officer, which article was, in form and substance, as follows:

“Considerable feeling was created by the refusal of the privilege, but a quantity of whiskey provided by the officers allayed the feeling with some, while it only added intensity with others. It was looked at by many as a kind of bribe, while others were conscientiously opposed to the indiscriminate distribution of whiskey by even superior officers. It is to the credit of a large number that they threw the stuff overboard as soon as received. There is a general feeling that whiskey drinking is already too prevalent to have it so openly countenanced, and all well-wishers of the Union army hope the practice may soon be abandoned.”

Said article, of which the above is only an extract, was written after the departure of the steamer Charles Osgood from New York and before her arrival at New Orleans.

To which charge and specification the accused pleaded as follows:

FINDING OF THE COURT.

The Court, after mature deliberation on the evidence adduced, finds the accused, Corporal Everett A. Denny of Company E, Forty-Second Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers, as follows:

SENTENCE.

And the Court does therefore sentence him, Corporal Everett A. Denny, Company E, Forty-Second Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers, to be reduced to the ranks, to forfeit ten dollars of his pay, and to be publicly reprimanded by the commanding officer of his regiment.

The sentence was approved in General Orders No. 16, Defences New Orleans, March 7th, 1863, and Corporal Denny released from arrest and returned to duty with his company March 17th.

Whether the offence was worth the trouble and expense of a trial is a debatable question. Corporal Denny was young and inexperienced at the time; with more years upon his shoulders he would probably have been more discreet. There were many young correspondents with the army who did not always confine their letters to matters of public interest, but dabbled with surmises of probable movements by the troops, their strength, positions occupied, and morale of officers and men. This is against army rules, and not to be tolerated. It is indirectly furnishing information of value to the enemy.

Private James White, of Company A, while at Carrollton, disobeyed orders, using disrespectful language towards his superior officer. A regimental court-martial convicted and sentenced him to forfeit one month’s pay and to walk six hours a day for fourteen days—three in the morning and three in the afternoon—with a log of wood tied across his back, weighing not more than fifty pounds and not less than twenty-five pounds, and to do fatigue duty every morning. As provided in orders for regimental courts-martial, the sentence was approved by the brigade commander.

Private Jotham E. Bigelow, of Company K, was placed in arrest for sleeping on his sentry post. By regimental General Orders No. 11, issued January 30th, he was released from arrest and ordered to duty, because, “from his previous good conduct as a soldier in all matters, and being the first case of the kind in the regiment.” A warning was issued in the orders that future cases would not be dealt with so leniently.

All proceedings in cases proper for a regimental court-martial had to be before a field-officer of the regiment, by General Orders No. 91, issued July 29th, 1862, from the War Department. Major Stiles was in every case detailed to hear the evidence.

At Carrollton several heavy details were made of working parties to unload vessels at the levee, besides attending to a regular routine of camp duty. Short marches were taken out on the shell road to accustom the troops to that exercise. When Brigadier-General Emory assumed the command he watched sharply these marching drills, also the company and battalion drills of each organization. As some field-officers were inclined to consume time in executing fancy tactical movements when they had their regiments on drill, a general order was issued indicating a more rapid mode of instruction for the field. The following points were enjoined as of the first importance:

1st. The firings—to be executed with facility, promptness, and good order.

2d. Rapid ployments and deployments while marching as well as from a halt.

3d. Sudden and rapid formations of squares against cavalry.

With these instructions carefully and faithfully carried out, any troops could soon be made fairly efficient for field service, with discipline also enforced.

Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman, on several occasions, as field-officer of the day, had to make the grand rounds. The start was usually made between eleven and twelve o’clock at night. Considerable ground had to be covered to reach various bodies of troops occupying scattered camps, while the outpost stations would consume much time. Acting under verbal orders to thoroughly do this duty, numerous attempts were made to catch sentries off their guard; in some cases quite successfully, but it resulted in creating bad feeling between the organization so caught, and the regiment from which the field-officer of the day belonged. One of the most notable cases was a surprise of the Fifteenth New Hampshire camp. Upon approaching a sentry he failed to challenge, and seemed glad to take part in a casual conversation, which was commenced, when it was seen the man was not reliable in his duty. Finally, he was seized without resistance and his musket taken away, frightening the poor fellow to such an extent it was with difficulty the grand rounds’ party could remain by him while proceeding towards the guard quarters, where everything was found to be all right, with the men alert.

The One Hundred and Tenth New York camp was entered one night without a challenge, or being seen by any sentinels; on stealthily approaching the guard quarters, where a log fire was burning, no sign of life was seen excepting a solitary sentinel pacing to and fro before a line of stacked muskets. Watching a favorable opportunity he was made a quasi-prisoner, much to his chagrin, and on inspecting the guard tents a few men were found sound asleep, with no officer of the guard present. Routing out the regimental officer of the day to investigate the matter, it appeared that the reliefs, together with officers of the guard, had gone to their quarters for sleep.

After a few incidents like these were reported to post headquarters, it was not long before sentries were wide awake for surprises. It became dangerous business to attempt any fooling with sentries, and such attempts were abandoned. Whenever a field-officer of the Fifteenth New Hampshire or One Hundred and Tenth New York had the grand rounds, in retaliation, they tried various ways to catch the Forty-Second guard napping, but never succeeded.

On one of these grand rounds’ tour of duty, while proceeding along the levee road towards outpost stations, the road was found to be in an impassable condition, owing to a small break in the levee, not known to exist, as during the early afternoon one of the officers had found the road in good condition. An occupant of a house near at hand was awakened to obtain directions how to proceed: the man either intentionally or by mistake directed the party to take the levee embankment, his reasons for the bad condition of the road not creating any suspicion that a crevasse existed in the levee. Proceeding along the embankment with Sergeant-Major Bosson leading the mounted party, his horse suddenly stopped, and no amount of urging could induce the animal to move forward. In the pitchy darkness it was impossible to see what was the matter, so the party with difficulty (the embankment top was very narrow) turned about, going back, finally reaching another road leading to the outposts. The next morning, upon examining the road at this point, there was found a small break in the levee. Had the horse kept on for a few feet, both horse and rider would have been in the Mississippi River.

A sharp report from several muskets, fired by sentinels, followed with a cry of fire, roused the camp at two o’clock on the morning of January 26th. Not far from the camp lines was a small frame house, used by officers of the Forty-Second for messing. This had caught fire, burning to the ground. The primitive fire department of Carrollton rallied, consisting of several white men, a gang of negroes with an old worn out double-deck hand fire-engine, requiring not over ten men to man the brakes, without suction hose, water being furnished the engine by hand buckets, and a small hose carriage. A detail of men from the regiment soon took possession of this fire apparatus, relieving the local firemen of any responsibility, and earnestly endeavored to stop the flames. What was in rain water cisterns attached to the nearest houses was all the water that could be used. There was great sport in fighting this fire, as well as some sharp and brave work in saving what was in the house. For the purpose of obtaining indemnity from the Government, the owner implicated officers of the regiment with this fire. A council of investigation was ordered by Brigadier-General Emory into the circumstances; the detail consisted of Captains Cogswell and Cook and Lieutenant Gorham, who found that the fire was accidental.

Lieutenant Proctor was without a command, as his company were prisoners of war. Upon landing, with men of Company G who were with him, he met Colonel N. A. M. Dudley, an old friend, in the city, who requested him to join his brigade, then at Baton Rouge, as he wanted a brigade quartermaster, and wished to appoint the lieutenant to that position. Although attached to another brigade and division, Colonel Dudley thought he could arrange the matter with his division general, Grover, and the Department headquarters. Lieutenant Proctor proceeded to Baton Rouge, but Dudley could not carry out his plan, as Adjutant-General Irwin stated it was against the rules of the service. This was true. Lieutenant Proctor and his men reported back to the regiment February 3d.

First Sergeant Nichols, Company G, was detailed acting lieutenant of Company E, vice Stowell, a prisoner of war.

Sergeant Attwell, Company G, remained unattached.

Private H. C. Green, Company G, was attached to Company K for duty.

Private John Luzardo, Company G, was attached to Company K for duty.

Sergeant Vialle, Company G, remained unattached.

War Department General Orders No. 5, issued January 5th, 1863, had made the troops in the Gulf Department to constitute the Nineteenth Army Corps, to date from December 14th, 1862. Orders were issued from Department headquarters on the thirteenth of January attaching the Forty-Second to the Second Brigade, Second Division, Nineteenth Army Corps. In the brigade were the Twenty-Sixth Massachusetts Infantry, three years men; Forty-Second Massachusetts Infantry, nine months men; Forty-Seventh Massachusetts Infantry, nine months men; Ninth Connecticut Infantry, three years men; Twenty-Eighth Maine Infantry, nine months men. The brigade was then under command of Colonel Farr, Twenty-Sixth Massachusetts Volunteers, and constituted part of the garrison in the Defences of New Orleans.

The regiment remained in camp at Carrollton until January 28th, receiving marching orders for five companies to take post at Bayou Gentilly, on the Ponchartrain Railroad crossing, on the twenty-seventh.

Up to this date the following changes by detail and sickness had occurred:

January 17th—Companies C and H left for duty in engineer service.

January 25th—Quartermaster Burrell was detailed by brigade orders as acting brigade quartermaster. Lieutenant Albert E. Proctor, Company G, by regimental orders, was detailed as acting regimental quartermaster, on the twenty-sixth.

Assistant Surgeon Isaac Smith, Jr., Twenty-Sixth Massachusetts Volunteers, was detailed to act as surgeon during Surgeon Hitchcock’s sickness, relieving Surgeon Smith, One Hundred and Fifty-Sixth New York Volunteers, and joined the regiment for duty on the twenty-ninth, at Bayou Gentilly.

Captain George P. Davis, Company K, and Lieutenant T. M. Duncan, Company F, by department orders, were detailed for duty in the provost-marshal general’s office, on the twenty-first.

Captain Charles A. Pratt, Company E, had been absent from camp on sick leave, and not on duty since his company landed from the Charles Osgood. Captain Pratt did not see any service with his company. He resigned, and was discharged for ill health by Special Orders No. —, Gulf Department, March 28th, 1863.

January 3d—Corporal Alonzo I. Hodsdon, Company D, was appointed acting quartermaster-sergeant, in place of Foster, taken prisoner at Galveston. Hodsdon, with the pay of his rank as corporal to July 12th, performed the arduous duty of the position in a most admirable manner during the term of the regiment. Special mention is made in his case over that of other non-commissioned staff-officers, because of his devoted attention to the duties with no prospect before him of any promotion to the position. While Foster lived, Corporal Hodsdon remained a corporal. Foster’s parole, when released by the Confederates, did not allow him to take his position until exchanged, which did not occur during the term of service.

January 1st—Private Eldridge G. Harwood, Company B, was appointed regimental carpenter.

January 15th—Private Clark K. Denny, Company F, was detailed as orderly and clerk at regimental headquarters.

January 15th—Private Leavitt Bates, Company A, was detailed as clerk to headquarters of General Emory, at Carrollton. Relieved February 3d.

January 15th—Private John A. Loud, Company A, was made regimental armorer.

January 30th—Private Winfield B. Tirrell, Company A, was detailed as orderly at brigade headquarters, by brigade orders.

The Quartermaster Department was advanced a stage in its appointments, by organizing the wagon train, as follows: Private John Willy, Company B, chief wagoner; Private Porter Carter, Company K, Corporal Alfred Thayer, Company I, Privates Chauncey K. Bullock, Company D, G. G. Belcher, Company F, Joseph B. Ford, Company A, as wagoners.

On moving to Bayou Gentilly the following sick men were left in general hospital at Carrollton: Privates Adin P. Blake, Company B, George E. Pond, Company B, Lucius M. Turner, Company B, and Surgeon Hitchcock.

CHAPTER VI.
FEBRUARY—AT BAYOU GENTILLY—MORE DETAILS.

That part of Bayou Gentilly where a portion of the Forty-Second was to remain in camp for nearly five months was, at the time of arrival, a most desolate looking place. The Gentilly road passed the camp ground, leading to Fort Macomb, on Lake Ponchartrain, and at this point, at this time, was in a wretched condition. Each side of the road was lined by small plantations and pasture lands, extending back for a short distance to swamps. Most of the plantations were uninhabited, the land covered with rank vegetation, and showed every sign of abandonment. Occasionally some hut or rude cabin would give signs of life—occupied by charcoal burners, who carried on their vocation in the swamps. The Ponchartrain Railroad, from New Orleans to Lakeport, on Lake Ponchartrain, five miles long, in a direct line through the swamp to the lake, ran only two trains a day. Save the regiment, scarcely a person would be seen for days.

A sugar-cane plantation near the camp, belonging to a Mr. Lee, was used to pasture private and Government cattle, and recruit the strength of horses and mules run down by hard service in the army. The private residence, negro cabins, stables and work houses remained in very good order. The sugar-house was a mass of ruins. An extensive grove of plum trees was in good condition.

Pent up in this flat spot of land, with nothing to relieve the eye but a mass of trees situated in the swamp, their limbs covered with light-colored moss, had a depressing effect on the spirits of some men, who began early to show signs of home-sickness.

The ground selected for the camp was upon the old Louisiana race-course, the best to be found in the neighborhood. This race-course had been surrounded by a high board fence, such as enclose similar grounds, but had disappeared, leaving the ground as open as the land about it. Adjoining the Gentilly road and Ponchartrain Railroad, the side towards New Orleans was on the border of a swamp. This ground was formerly occupied for a camp by Confederate troops. The famous Washington Artillery, of New Orleans, first went into camp at this place at the commencement of hostilities. A portion of the Confederate garrison of New Orleans, when General Butler landed, were also encamped here. What few inhabitants were to be seen said that a large number of men had at various times been in camp at this point, and was a general rendezvous for many of the Louisiana troops when organizing for the war. Many an hour has been pleasantly passed inspecting the writings and pictures upon the walls of a building used by them as a hospital, placed there by men from the Thirtieth and Thirty-First Louisiana regiments.

By railroad the distance from New Orleans to Gentilly Station was three miles, and from Gentilly Station to the Lake End, or Lakeport, was two miles. A short distance up the track towards Lakeport and back from the Gentilly road, which the railroad crosses at grade, was an earthwork mounting four heavy guns, called Battery Gentilly, flanked by extensive breastworks for infantry, with wide and deep ditches in front filled with water. Trees in the swamp in front had been cut down for a considerable distance to give good range to the guns. Another earthwork, mounting nine guns, was situated on the Gentilly road, towards Fort Macomb, some two and one-half miles from the railroad track, and was in all its surroundings similar to Battery Gentilly.

On the twenty-eighth of January, when the regiment changed camps, the roads were in very good condition in spite of cold weather, and rain falling for two days previous. Great coats were worn; the men were in excellent spirits, and the distance, about three miles, was accomplished early in the afternoon. Very few men straggled; most of those that did were suffering from diarrhœa. The line of march embraced a circuit of New Orleans on its immediate outskirts, affording few opportunities to see subjects of interest to strangers in a new land. A greater part of the houses were either deserted or occupied by the poorer class of people; only a few were evidently the property of wealthy individuals. Some handsome residences were seen, but their occupants were decidedly unfriendly. They could be seen looking slyly through blinds and from door corners, but none threw their windows open in a bold manner to look out of them, as the regiment marched past.

The houses were generally in good repair, many of one or two stories in height, with large windows and doors; nearly one-half had a veranda in front of each story. The gardens were in a deplorable condition. Few people were seen on the roads, and they, except the negroes, evinced no interest in the regiment. There was one knot of women collected together who would frequently hiss: “d——d Yankees,” “ain’t you ashamed,” “hope you will all die,” and similar words of welcome. None of the men paid any attention to them. Coffee houses and apologies for restaurants, located on the route, were generally closed for want of business; their signs were retained, put up when the secession excitement was in full blaze. Beauregard was the favorite name for use on these signs.

Having arrived at Bayou Gentilly, by night-time camp was pitched and everything made as comfortable as possible. The hospital was located in a wide and long one-story wooden building, formerly used for a liquor and refreshment saloon, attached to the race-course. Headquarters was also established in the building. The quartermaster and commissary stores, and the horses, occupied a similar building, which had been built or refitted for the purpose, a short distance away towards the railroad crossing.

General Banks, having issued a general order calling for volunteers to fill the Second Vermont Battery, Captain Holcomb, the next day, twenty-ninth, Corporal Thomas Hanson White, Company K, Private John B. Williams, Company K, Private Addison J. Williams, Company K, Private William F. Howard, Company K, Private Horace M. Cowles, Company K, Private Oscar J. Stockwell, Company E, and Private Oliver King, Company E, who had volunteered, received their descriptive lists, final orders, and left camp to join the battery then stationed at Donaldsonville, to remain until their term of service expired. This battery was in the army before Port Hudson, and the men saw some hard service. None of them died from disease, or were wounded or killed. They rejoined the regiment at Algiers, July 23d.

The month of January closed with five companies on duty at Bayou Gentilly, showing a strength of sixteen officers and four hundred and forty-nine men present, with sixteen of the men sick in hospital.

In February the regiment was still further scattered by several details. Cold and rainy weather, combined with these continual details, rather dispirited for awhile both officers and men, who gradually became convinced that as a body the regiment was not destined during its service to perform any gallant deeds, or be placed in a position to try and do so.

A detachment of one sergeant, three corporals and twenty-five privates from Company A, under command of Lieutenant Martin Burrell, Jr., was ordered February 3d to take charge and guard the battery situated on the Gentilly road, towards Fort Macomb. At the time of taking charge of this battery it mounted nine guns. Battery Gentilly did not have an armament. During the month, as nothing was to be feared from the enemy in this direction, and the Confederates could attempt a demonstration against New Orleans from the direction of the lake in the neighborhood of Lakeport, Bayou St. John and Hickok’s Landing, General Sherman, commanding Defences New Orleans, had his ordnance officer, Captain Pease, Forty-Seventh Massachusetts Volunteers, remove the guns from this battery and use them to equip Battery Gentilly on the railroad track and Battery St. John on St. John Bayou. Removal of these guns and putting them into their new positions occupied about one month. On the eighteenth the transfer had so far advanced that the detachment under Lieutenant Burrell was ordered to the battery on the Ponchartrain Road. It was not until March 10th that Battery St. John was occupied and taken in charge by the remaining men of Company A, under command of Captain Coburn.

Pay day were talismanic words to the soldier. Visions of a pocket full of “Uncle Sam’s” greenbacks float before the eyes of those men who had not allotted their money. Depending altogether on his frugality, for days or weeks after being paid off a soldier can visit the sutler, and at enormous prices buy little delicacies and necessaries to go with his Government rations, to make them more palatable. Tobacco and pipes were the most popular articles of purchase. Liquor had peculiar charms for a great many.

The first muster for pay of the regiment took place at Carrollton on the twenty-seventh of January, when the troops at that place were mustered to December 31st, 1862. Government always has its troops in arrears two months at least, to cover any overdrafts on clothing account, or fines charged them by sentence of courts-martial for misdemeanors. The troops are mustered for pay on the last day of the month every two months during the year, when all men present are reported on the muster and pay rolls, who draw their pay when the paymaster makes his appearance. Absent men, except on detached service by orders, do not get mustered, but have to wait until the next muster and payment before obtaining any money; this, to most men, is sufficient punishment for their absence without leave.

Companies A, B, E, F and K were paid off at Bayou Gentilly on February 2d, by a major in the Paymasters’ Department attached to the Department of the Gulf. Companies C and H were paid a few days later at Camp Parapet. Payments to all companies of the regiment (except Company K) were made with regularity and promptness during the term of service, because, stationed in close proximity to New Orleans most of the time afforded paymasters easy access to them. Company K, while on duty with the army in the field, was not so fortunate. The paroled men of Companies D, G and I were first mustered for pay on the regular muster day, February 28th, and first paid April 27th, when they were paid from the date of their enlistment to March 1st.

Those who did not allot any of their pay, received what seemed to be at that time large sums of money. The nine months troops were allowed regular pay from time of signing the enlistment rolls, and a large number had done so early in August and September, 1862; they had, therefore, some six and seven months pay due them. The allotment system never found much favor with men of the Forty-Second, so that nearly every soldier received the full amount due him without any deductions. Many men, with families at home, availed themselves of an express arrangement at low rates with the Adams & Co. Express, to forward most of their pay, every pay day, to those in need of it.

The unmarried men, with those of a spendthrift character, retained their money, spending the larger part of it in a bar-room, otherwise called a sutler’s shop, situated in the same building used for headquarters and for a hospital, kept by a man called Charley Ellis. This man Ellis, in all outward appearances a well-meaning man, was at heart a perfect rogue. Formerly lessee of the New Orleans race-course (the grounds occupied by the regiment for a camp), at the time Louisiana seceded he was a professed Union man, suffering a short imprisonment in the Parish jail, and was treated to a coat of tar and feathers for his sentiments. Nothing definite is known of his former history except that he was a professional horse jockey, an admirer of sports of the turf, and a regular sporting man. As lessee of the race-course he ran in debt, and was unable to pay. Upon the occupation of New Orleans by troops under General Butler, he enlisted the sympathies of that general. He kept a regular drinking saloon in the city, and whenever troops occupied the race-course for a camp opened a branch establishment on the ground, if he was lucky enough to hoodwink the commanding officer, nominally to furnish sutlers’ stores, but practically as a drinking saloon.

Ellis, by his plausible stories and seductive manners, completely blindfolded the eyes of officers in the Forty-Second at first, and was allowed to open his saloon. By rendering little favors and trifling services to the officers he managed to keep in their good graces, and became intimate enough to borrow considerable sums of money from them, much of which was never repaid. He once got a loan from the hospital fund that created some trouble in the hospital by his not paying back the money at the stipulated time, thereby preventing the surgeons from obtaining those little extras they were in the habit of furnishing to their patients, until, by threats, Ellis was made to pay this borrowed amount.

The building occupied for headquarters and hospital Ellis endeavored to make the officers believe belonged to him, as lessee of the grounds, although it was known his lease was void from non-fulfilment of its conditions on his part. On the departure of the regiment from Bayou Gentilly he presented a bill for rent of the building, at the rate of five hundred dollars a month, for the length of time it was occupied by the regiment, to Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman, for his approval. It was never approved. Why Ellis was allowed to remain inside of the regimental lines with his stock of bad liquors for sale was a mystery to those who had learned his character and saw what mischief he was doing. The surgeons were opposed to his being allowed there, and remonstrated against it, and Chaplain Sanger, who could not help seeing that not alone disease of the body but disease of the mind was one of the results sure to accrue from this sutler’s shop, joined in the remonstrance.

Two other liquor saloons on the road, in close proximity to the camp, were also doing mischief. Verbal orders were at one time given their proprietors not to sell liquor to a soldier, on pain of having their stock demolished; but as no extra vigilance was exercised in detecting offences against the orders, they were not considered as of any account.

February 4th, Privates Thomas Burns, John Nolan and Thomas Mathews, stragglers in New York from Company D, returned and were assigned to duty with Company E. On the eighteenth, Privates Greene and Luzardo, of Company G, on duty with Company K, were detached and assigned to duty with Company E, and Private Joseph V. Colson, Company G, was assigned to Company E. Private Colson was a straggler in New York from the regiment. He had a varied experience on his trip to New Orleans. Reporting to the proper officer in New York, he was put aboard the ship Planter, with some two hundred other men belonging to various regiments of the Nineteenth Corps. The ship went upon the reefs at Grand Abaco Island, in the Bahama Channel, during good weather, about four o’clock in the morning. All hands were saved by the ship’s boats, landing them upon the island, where they remained seventeen days, subsisting on pork and water saved from the wreck and shell fish obtained on the island. Finally a few wrecking schooners carried the troops to Key West, and from there they were sent to New Orleans to rejoin their several commands. Of the two hundred and fifty horses aboard, all were lost. The vast amount of medical stores and other property was mostly saved by wreckers; some fifty wrecker sails were counted by Colson hovering about the ship in three days after going upon the reef. What was saved by these wreckers was taken to Nassau. Aboard the ship it was believed that the captain, a Southerner, purposely wrecked the vessel. Colson reported having a good time on the trip, but it seemed like home to him when he reached the regiment.

The only case in February before Major Stiles, for discipline, was that of Private James Minz, Company K, for disobedience of orders and using disrespectful language to his superior officer. Conviction and sentence followed, the sentence meeting the approval of the brigade commander, which was, to forfeit eight dollars a month of his pay to the United States for two months and to remain a prisoner at the guard tent for seven days, doing fatigue duty each day.

A system of rocket signals was arranged between the brigade headquarters in New Orleans, the Gentilly Station and Lakeport. In case the enemy appeared at night upon the lake, three rockets at Lakeport, or in the city, was the signal for the regiment to get under arms and await orders from the general commanding Defences of New Orleans. Several times the sentries mistook shooting stars for rockets, and raised alarms in the camp; even the officers have been led at times to think these stars were signal rockets. They certainly did have that appearance when seen for a moment in the remarkable clear atmosphere prevailing during the early part of the night, just above tall trees of the swamp, and would be apt to mislead any person who was on the lookout for such signals.

Among the several new sensations experienced at Bayou Gentilly were a few night alarms. Only those who have for the first time in a hostile country heard the drums beat to arms near the midnight hour can form any idea of the sensation it gives to a raw soldier. The heart beats quick; he can feel his blood warming up; every nerve is strung to the highest tension in anticipation of stirring events about to happen.

The regiment, for several nights in succession, during February, was under arms for what, at the time, were thought to be good causes, but at a later period partook of the ludicrous and provoked a smile. The first alarm was started one night by Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman, for the purpose of testing the guard in a knowledge of its duty. At a distance of about one-quarter of a mile from camp he fired his pistol some three or four times towards the camp and then quickly returned to his headquarters. The officer of the guard aroused the camp at once by causing the long roll to be beaten, and reported the circumstances to the officer of the day, who proceeded to report to Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman, and entered headquarters a moment after his return. The regiment was always in line from five to ten minutes after a call to arms, ready to obey orders.

On the occasion narrated a detachment of thirty men was sent down the road leading toward Fort Macomb, with orders to scour the plantations upon each side and ascertain the cause of firing. Sergeant-Major Bosson was fond of giving his experience on this, his first night on a scout. In detail he gave the peculiar feelings that came over him when prowling around and looking into every nook and corner of a ruined sugar-house, accompanied by two men, expecting to find a body of armed men secreted there; how he afterwards joined the detachment on the road, and then with another detail of two men searched plantations upon the left of the road as far down as the battery, where Lieutenant Burrell with his detachment was stationed, saving the life of a cow one of his companions mistook for a man dodging around among the swamp trees and made ready to fire at.

A number of officers had with them patent-armored vests, that were sold extensively when the nine months troops were enlisting. Those iron-clad arrangements were put on with such alacrity at every night alarm that the officers who unfortunately owned them must have laughed when, at home safe and sound after their term of service expired, they thought over the dangers they passed through in Louisiana, especially at Bayou Gentilly. Some of the officers have slept at night with these iron cases on, and it came to be a fixed custom until the hot weather set in for owners of iron vests to don them when the regiment was under arms for any supposable emergency, more for the purpose of making some use of them, or, as they jocosely remarked, “get their money’s worth out of them at any rate.” Officers who were in the Galveston action also had these iron vests. They were forgotten when trouble was expected and no use made of them.

A private in Company F, a troublesome fellow and great shirk, endeavored to pass a sentinel without giving the countersign on the night of February 14th. He was properly challenged but paid no attention to the call, “Who goes there!” repeated a number of times, when the sentry, also a private of Company F, aimed his musket and fired at him for his temerity. The ball whistled by his head and passed through the hospital without damage. The fellow did not receive any sympathy, nor did he deserve any, and the fright given him was deemed sufficient punishment and warning not to repeat the blunder.9

Quite a number of men in Company F were sick. Two of the cases baffled the surgeon’s skill until it was decided, after an inspection of company quarters, that in these two cases signs and symptoms of scurvy was manifested, and fresh meat in place of “salt horse” ought to be provided. The brigade quartermaster was unable to fill a requisition for fresh meat, while the camp was serenaded night and day by constant tinkling of a hundred cow-bells, attached to as many cows. The idea of going without fresh meat when it was needed, with a herd of cattle within reach, was more than the officers could stand, and a council was held at regimental headquarters. The result was, Captain Cogswell received authority to take some of his men, who understood how to slaughter and dress cattle, and go to work that night.

The party consisted of Major Stiles, Captain Cogswell, Sergeant-Major Bosson, Sergeant B. A. Bottomley, Corporal Sylvander Bothwell, Privates Harvey Allen (company cook), George Mann and Charles Sanderson, of Company F. They selected a fine animal, placed a rope around her horns with difficulty, and dragged the cow towards a grove of trees, selected as a proper place to dress her. Everything was done in a workmanlike manner, as the butchers knew their business, and after the fresh beef was carried upon a confiscated ladder to the regimental quartermaster’s depot all hands returned to Company F’s quarters, to partake of broiled steak and liver, cooked by Harvey Allen about one o’clock in the morning.

Not satisfied with this supply of beef, Lieutenant Harding and men from his company (Company K) again made a raid on the herd of cattle shortly after and slaughtered cow number two, without authority. In this case the hide and entrails were buried in the swamp, while Captain Cogswell’s butchers threw the head, hide and entrails into a well of water used by the cattle, near the paroled camp. No one supposed these cows would be missed, until the owner appeared and made inquiries about them. He was not satisfied with his reception in the camp, proceeding to prowl around to ascertain where they were. His attention was attracted to the well of water, where all that remained of cow number one had been placed, by the moaning of several head of cattle that stood near smelling of the water and tearing up the turf with their feet, when a hundred men of the regiment, who had been watching him with curiosity from the camp line, saw the owner fish out the head and hide with a long pole.

He then made complaint to the provost-marshal in New Orleans, who invited the regimental officers to explain. In order to prevent an unpleasant inquiry the affair was settled by the officers making up a purse of about three hundred dollars to pay the owner’s claim; this fresh meat costing them dear in the end. No cattle were molested afterwards.

Before Assistant-Surgeon Smith, Twenty-Sixth Massachusetts, was relieved from charge of the hospital a curious case came under his care, ending in a manner discreditable to him. Private Francis N. Prouty, Company F, was sick in hospital with malarial fever. No one thought the case serious until, one morning, Surgeon Smith came into the headquarters office excited and breathless, reporting Prouty as dying. Word was sent to Captain Cogswell and his company officers, who at once repaired to the sick-room, accompanied by Chaplain Sanger and several others, to witness the dying scene. There Prouty lay upon his cot, with head and shoulders bolstered up by pillows, breathing short and quick, no sign of death in his face, that had an intelligent look, and his eyes their natural appearance. The other patients in the room were resting upon elbows on their cots watching Prouty with wondering eyes, as the solemn procession filed in and took positions near the supposed dying man. While the surgeon kept one hand upon the patient’s pulse, Chaplain Sanger offered a fervent prayer in his behalf that only served to produce a look of wonder in Prouty’s eyes, that appeared to say, what in the devil is this all about? He did not die, and afterwards said, had no intention of doing so, to please any one. The whole scene ended, after waiting about half an hour, in the solemn procession retiring from his side, pleased to find that the end was not to come, and somewhat mad with the surgeon for his opinion on the case. Smith had not been considered a surgeon of any skill before this event, and this case served to deepen the distrust of his ability.

During February New Orleans was alive with army officers and men, on furlough and without leave, indulging in all sorts of wild dissipation. The evil became so great that special orders were issued by General Banks to General Sherman to stop it. Stringent orders relative to passes, rigidly enforced, soon put an end to this demoralizing conduct. Another source of trouble was the presence of large negro contraband camps in the vicinity of the city, requiring other stringent orders to be issued for their government, and regulating the behavior of soldiers towards them. In January the ladies in New Orleans had shown a disposition to indulge in petty insults to soldiers whom they met on the streets, and caused a circular, dated January 13th, to be issued, which put a stop to much of this silly nonsense, but did not do away with it entirely. The circular read as follows:

“Headquarters Dept. of the Gulf,
“New Orleans, January 13th, 1863.

“Notice is hereby given by the commanding general of this Department that offensive personal demonstrations, by language or conduct of any character, by persons of any class whatever, with the intention of giving personal offence, or tending to disturb the public peace, are forbidden, and will be punished with relentless severity. Parents will be held responsible for the respectful conduct of their children, and prompt measures will be taken to fasten upon the proper parties any act of this character. All persons who may be witnesses to such conduct, are directed, as a measure of public peace, to give information thereof to the provost-marshal, or at these headquarters.

“By command of
“MAJOR-GENERAL BANKS.
“Richard B. Irwin,
“Lieut.-Col., Assistant Adjutant-General.”

Brigade drills under Colonel Farr, and a brigade review and inspection, by Brigadier-General Sherman, commanding division, were had while at Gentilly Bayou. The brigade drills were interesting, and considering the short time most of the regiments had been in service were quite satisfactory. Three drills were all this brigade ever had, on account of its being posted over a large extent of ground, and at posts that could not be left exposed by gathering the men together for such a purpose.

It was the custom to leave camp at eight A.M. on brigade drill days, in light marching order, as a march had to be made of about three miles to the drill ground. The weather would be hot and sun very scorching; on one drill only did the weather prove treacherous, and then the regiment was caught in a thunder shower. After several hours devoted to drill, and then a march back to camp with but short intervals for rest during the time, no rations in haversacks to make a dinner from, when the regiment arrived in camp, usually about half-past three to four o’clock in the afternoon, the men would be thirsty, hungry, hot and dusty. While such service may not be equal to a day’s march in an active campaign, yet for the regiment to perform it with so few men falling out of the ranks from fatigue, as was the case, shows what good material for service composed the regiment.

These drills were not without their attendant scenes and excitements. Crowds of negroes, of both sexes, would hover around the ground to hear the bands of music and witness the evolutions. Colonel Farr would frequently lose his temper and damn both officers and men; Colonel Marsh, Forty-Seventh Massachusetts Volunteers, particularly meriting the displeasure of the brigade commander, and received many of that officer’s choice remarks. Colonel Marsh was not a military man. The way in which he managed to twist his regiment around, mix the companies up and the brigade also, caused more laughter among the men than any other incident. It was amusing to see the expression of wonder on the face of Colonel Marsh when his regiment would be out of place, with the brigade standing at ease, waiting for him to place the regiment where it belonged, and Colonel Farr, accompanied by his entire staff, coming up at a full gallop to know “What in h—ll is the matter now?” Captain “Ned” Bird, Company I, Forty-Seventh Massachusetts, acting as major, would always have to give the correct orders that brought his regiment into proper position.

At a brigade drill which took place on the twenty-sixth of February, the new colors, which had been sent to the regiment by Governor Andrew, to replace those lost at Galveston, were unfurled and carried in the ranks for the first time. This second set of regimental colors never trembled from the whistle of bullets or fluttered amid smoke from powder during the term of service. They were seldom used, consequently on the return home of the regiment they looked new, bright colored and clean, as though fresh from the designer’s hand.

Brigadier-General Sherman impressed an observer very favorably. He was a regular army officer, familiar with all details of the service, courteous in manner towards all officers—a thorough soldier and gentleman. When inspecting the brigade assembled for a drill, February 19th, on reaching the Forty-Second, in position for inspection, he noticed the regimental colors were missing. He sharply called the attention of Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman to the fact, and when informed they had been lost at Galveston his tone of voice quickly changed; lifting his hat he replied: “I beg your pardon, colonel.” There is no importance attached to this incident, except that it showed the thoroughbred officer, and made quite an impression on those near enough to hear the conversation, engendering a feeling that here was an officer to be trusted, and his orders could be obeyed with confidence. Not many volunteer officers display such tact and discrimination.

During February the following additional changes by detail occurred: Private Martin Proctor, Company F, was made steward for the field and staff officers’ mess at regimental headquarters; on that duty until relieved in July in consequence of sickness.

February 2nd—Private Henry E. Putnam, Company E, was detailed as clerk at brigade headquarters by brigade orders, where he remained until July, and then returned to his company.

February 18th—Private Edward J. Worcester, Company E, was made regimental armorer, a position he held until his term of service expired, vice Private Loud, detailed to assist Lieutenant Pease.

February 18th—Company K left the regiment to act as pontoniers to the Nineteenth Army Corps.

February 25th—Captain Cogswell, Company F, appointed as corporals George L. Stone and Sylvander Bothwell, in place of C. H. Woodcock and E. A. Spooner, who preferred to join the regimental band.

At the close of February there were present for duty in the four companies at Gentilly Bayou, and Company K, in New Orleans, twenty officers and four hundred and twenty-five men. Present sick in hospital, seventeen men. The average sick per day of the regiment during February was: taken sick, five; returned to duty, five; in hospital, fourteen; in quarters, eleven. Two men were sent to general hospitals in New Orleans. Surgeon Hitchcock returned to duty on the twenty-fourth, relieving Surgeon Smith, and Surgeon Heintzelman reported for duty March 1st.

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.