Historical Romance of the American Negro

But the success of the troops already raised in Kansas fired the hearts of other devoted men to lend a hand in the battle for the Union and liberty. In June, 1863, another regiment was organized at Fort Scott, and the regimental organization of the same was completed at Fort Smith, Arkansas. The regiment went into camp on the Poteau river, about two miles south of Fort Smith. The work of drill and discipline was here carried on till the regiment was in splendid condition for the field.

On the 24th of March, 1864, the regiment left Fort Smith, and set out on the Camden expedition, forming a part of Col. Williams' brigade of General Thayer's division. This division united with that under Major-General Steele on the Little Missouri river, after which they all moved on together against the rebels in the direction of the Red river.

The rebels under Generals Price, Smith and Taylor having defeated Union General Banks at the Red river, Major-General Steele retreated eastward to Camden, a distance of about sixty miles. During the retreat the regiment had several skirmishes with the enemy, and quite distinguished themselves.

On the 29th of April, 1864, the rebel cavalry came up with the rear of the Union forces at the Saline river, and skirmishing continued until night came on. A pontoon bridge had been flung over the river, and all the Union soldiers had already crossed except some artillery and two brigades of infantry, which included the Second Kansas Colored Regiment. We had six regiments in all on our side. The rebels came close up to our forces, and waited for the dawn of day to begin the battle. Union General Rice, of Iowa, formed his brigade in the centre; the Twelfth Kansas Infantry, under General Hayes, was on the left, and the Second Kansas Colored Regiment, under Colonel Crawford, was on the right. There were also two pieces of artillery on the Union side.

As soon as it was light enough, the opposing forces drew nearer one another, and the battle commenced in dead earnest. The crash of musketry was terrific. The rebels strove again and again to break through our thin lines, but the Union forces stood their ground with firmness, repelling every onset of the rebels till re-enforcements came back over the pontoon bridge to our aid. The rebels, who had in vain attempted for three long hours to break down the colored men of Kansas, next brought a battery of artillery to bear upon them, and opened fire. When Col. Crawford saw this, he ordered the brave young men to charge upon the guns with the bayonet, and led the charge himself. All the gun-carriage horses were killed but two; the gunners were killed, wounded or had fled; the intrepid and heroic Kansas colored boys took possession of the rebel battery, and brought them over to our side! Truly, this was a brave deed! (Zabulun and Naphtali were a people who jeopardized their lives unto the death upon the high places of the field). When the Second Kansas returned with the rebel guns, the officers and men, in the midst of the battle, gave them a glorious salute, waving their swords in the air, and tossing up their caps on the points of their bayonets, whilst our devoted braves smiled with pleasure. After this successful capture of the guns, the Second Kansas was moved into the centre of the line; a charge by the entire Union forces was made along the whole line, and now the rebels everywhere gave away, and the victory was complete. The Second Kansas was the first to begin the battle, and they were the last to leave the field.

Thus the war went along the Western frontier. There were no great battles, as was the case in the East. But here was plenty to do for all that, and it was done well. There were at times great hardships to endure – long, weary marches, cold, and the want of all things; but such is the life of the soldier, and such is war. We must take the rough with the smooth. Upon the whole, the Western men fought bravely and successfully, and mightily helped to pull down the rebellion.

The present generation have very little idea of the excitement that prevailed all over the country during the long war. Where all our regiments did so well – indeed, covered themselves with honor – it would be ridiculous to make any distinction, and place one before another. But I may at least make a selection at random, and single out the 54th Regiment of Massachusetts, in March, 1863, who fought with unsurpassed valor until the close of the war – yea, after the close of the war! I followed the career of that devoted regiment as if I had been one of the brave fellows! Well, how they did fight, to be sure! They fought at James Island, at Fort Wagner, at Olustee, at Honey Hill, and at Boykin's Mill, after the war was over, because they had not heard that Lee had surrendered!

This Boykin's Mill was a few miles from Camden, South Carolina. The Fifty-fourth Regiment had fought every step of the way from Georgetown to Camden, and the rebels made a last desperate, but unsuccessful stand at Boykin's Mill. It was a splendid place for the defense, as there was no other way of approaching it except by a narrow embankment about two hundred yards long, where only one man could walk at a time. The rebels had torn up the planks of the bridge over the mill-race, thus compelling the men of the Fifty-fourth to cross over on the timbers and cross-ties, and all this under a fatal fire of musketry, which swept the embankment and the bridge, and made it little better than a "forlorn hope" to pass over. But the Fifty-fourth did not falter. They had fought at Olustee and Fort Wagner, so they charged over the dreadful way in single file. The first men to advance were all shot down, but the rest of their comrades advanced over their prostrate bodies, till the enemy became so panic-stricken at the sight that they gave up the fight, abandoned their position at the mill, and fled. There seems to have been a poet in the regiment – Mr. Henry A. Monroe, of New Bedford, Massachusetts, who was the drummer-boy of Company C, of the Fifty-Fourth. He thus describes the fight at Boykin's Mill:

One wailing bugle note – then at the break of day,With martial step and gay the army takes the wayFrom Camden Town.There lay along the path, defending native land,A daring, desperate band entrenched on either handIn ambuscade.A low and dark ravine beneath a rugged hill,Where stood the Boykin Mill spanning the creek, whose rillFlows dark and deep.Only a narrow bank where one can scarcely tread;Thick branches meet o'erhead; across the mill-pond's bedA bridge up-torn.One single sharp report: – A hundred muskets peal, —A wild triumphant yell, as back the army fellStunned, bleeding, faint.As when some mighty rock, obstructs the torrent's course;After the moment's pause, 'twill rush with greater force,Resistless on.A moment's pause, and then our leader from his post,Viewing the stricken host, cried, "Comrades! – all is lostIf now we fail!"Forming in single file, they gaze with bated breath;Around, – before, – beneath, – on every hand, stern deathHis visage showed."Forward!" – They quickly spring with leveled bayonet;Each eye is firmly set upon that pathway, wetWith crimson gore.That Balaklava dash! – Right through the leaden hail,O'er dyke and timbers frail, with heart that never failThey boldly charge.Facing the scathing fire without a halt or break,Save when with moan or shriek in the blood-mingled creekThe wounded fall.What could resist that charge? – Above the battle's roarThere swells a deafening cheer, telling to far and near,The Mill is won!

Anecdotes of deeds of bravery and devotion kept cropping up all through the war. During the early part of the war on the Lower Mississippi, a former slave assisted in bringing in a lot of prisoners, and he himself actually drove his former owner before him into the Union camp! "Old Master" assumed bullying airs to induce him to let him escape, but the soldier pointed his gun at him repeatedly, saying, "Go on, sir, or I'll shoot!" So he brought him into the camp, all radiant with smiles, and who can blame him for smiling at such a time as this?

At Marion, Tennessee, there were many incidents of personal bravery, of which this was one. A colored soldier had got a tree stump close to the rebel line, and in spite of all efforts to dislodge him, he still stuck to his post, and picked off their men. The rebels charged on the stump, but when the Union line saw the movement they concentrated their fire on the advancing men, and drove them back. Then there followed long and loud cheering for that brave and lonely soldier, who still stuck to his stump and kept firing away with a regularity that was truly wonderful. The stump was riddled with bullets, but he still stuck to it, although at times he was nearer to the rebel lines than to the Union ones.

A great many war incidents were recorded in the annals of the fighting in Mississippi between Union General Sturgis and the rebels there under General Forrest. Here are a few of them. A corporal in one of the colored regiments was ordered to surrender. He allowed his would-be captor to come up close to him, when he struck him down with the butt end of his gun. Whilst the regiment was fighting in a ditch, and the order came to retreat, the color-bearer threw out the flag, intending to jump out and get it, but the rebels made a rush for it, and in the struggle one of our men knocked down with his gun the rebel who had the flag, and caught it and ran. A rebel, with an oath, ordered one of our men to surrender. He thought the rebel's gun was loaded, and dropped his own gun; but when he saw his enemy commence loading, our colored soldier made a sudden spring for his own gun, and struck the rebel dead. One of our captains was surrounded by about a dozen of the enemy, when he was seen by one of our own men, who called several of his companions to his side, when they rushed forward together and fired, killed several of the rebels, and rescued their captain at once. A rebel came up to one of our men, and said, "Come, my good fellow; go with me, and wait on me." In a second our Union soldier shot his would-be master dead. Once when our men made a charge on the enemy they rushed forward with the cry, "Remember Fort Pillow!" when the rebels called back to them and said, "Lee's men killed no prisoners!" One of our men in a charge threw his antagonist to the ground, and pinned him fast there, but when he tried to withdraw his bayonet it came off the gun, and as he was very busy just at that time, he left it behind him, still transfixed to the ground. Another soldier killed a rebel by striking him with the butt end of his gun; the gun broke, and as he was unwilling to stop his work just then, he kept on loading, and fired three times before he could get a better gun. The first time, as he was not very cautious, the rebound of his gun cut his lip badly. When the troops were in the ditch, three rebels came upon one man and ordered him to surrender. But as his gun was loaded he shot one of them and bayoneted the other; but forgetting in his haste that he could bayonet the third he turned the butt end of his gun and knocked him down. (The above are a few incidents culled from the annals of the fighting done by our men in Northern Mississippi.)

A great many good stories have been related in connection with the Army of the Cumberland. Here is one that refers to an incident when that army was in Tennessee. Early one morning, as a company of white soldiers were about to resume their march, a Kentucky lieutenant rode up to the commanding officer, saluted, and said he had some runaway slaves under his charge, whom he had arrested for the purpose of sending them back to their masters; but as he had been ordered away from there just then, he turned them over to this officer in command. (At that time rewards could be claimed for returning fugitive slaves to their masters). So the officer took charge of them, and purposely assuming a stern air and manner, which he did not feel at all, he said:

"Where are you going?"

"Going to the Yankee army."

"What for?"

"We want to be free."

"All right; you are free now; go where you wish!"

And their warm thanks gave great joy to the officer.

The same officer relates another incident for the purpose of showing the humor of the colored soldier. A spent ball had struck one of our men on the side of the head, passed under the scalp, and making nearly a circuit of the skull, came out on the other side. His comrades merrily declared, when the ball struck him it sang out, "Too thick!" and then merrily passed on.

Here is another incident that happened, which I think is very diverting, even amidst the horrors of war. An officer was riding at the head of his column, and the men were swinging along "arms at will," when they spied General George H. Thomas and his staff approaching. Without orders, at once they brought their arms to "right shoulder shift," took the step, and striking up their favorite tune of "John Brown," whistled it with most admirable effect while they were passing the general, who was greatly amused and pleased at the incident.

There was a private soldier who during an engagement had taken his position up a tree as a sharpshooter, when he had his right arm broken by a ball. The captain called out to him, "You had better come down from there, go to the rear, and find the surgeon."

"Oh, no, Captain," he replied; "I can fire with my left arm!"

And so he did.

When General Thomas rode over the field, after the battle of Nashville, and saw the bodies of colored men side by side with the foremost of white men, and upon the very ramparts and works of the Confederates, he turned to his staff and said:

"Gentlemen, the question is settled; Negroes will fight!"

And thus I might go on, adding incident to incident, and that without end. Where a war was being carried on all the way from the Potomac to the Rio Grande, it must needs have been that thousands of such incidents were taking place every day.

CHAPTER X

Mrs. Beulah Lincoln and the Girls Leave Buffalo for New Orleans – The Journey to Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati, Ohio – Voyage Down the Ohio to the Mississippi – Arrival at New Orleans – Met by Old Friends at the Landing – Meeting With Tom at the Hospital – The Newspaper Reports.

Weeks and months had passed away, during which my gallant Tom had written incessantly from the hospital at New Orleans, and the two girls and myself had answered him. It was now the winter of 1864, and Tom was not yet well enough to get his discharge from the hospital, much less to take the field. I was beginning to tire of writing letters, and things called for a change of scene and fresh air. Besides, another stern winter was setting in, and I thought I might get along better in another climate. So I got the girls ready, and we boarded the train for Cleveland, Columbus and Cincinnati, Ohio. It was wonderful to see and feel how warmer the weather became as we got further South. The icy fetters of winter relaxed their hold as we advanced, and we were quite delighted with the hills and forests of the beautiful State of Ohio all the way to Cincinnati. Here we travelled over a great part of the city, and called at the parsonage of the A. M. E. Church, and visited the A. M. E. Church itself, where Tom and I were so happily married upon the evening the self-same day when we took our departure from Riverside Hall, near Louisville, Kentucky.

Having seen a few of our dear friends here – friends whose acquaintance we had made at the time of our marriage – the girls and I, escorted by some of those beloved acquaintances, moved down to the "Public Landing," where we boarded the "Natchez" for New Orleans. We took a fond leave of those dear souls, and got on board, and soon felt quite happy in our nice and cosy stateroom, which the girls thought the most delightful little home they had ever been in. At 4 P. M., whilst the bright and dazzling sun was still some distance above the horizon, and after all the loud racket and wild confusion of the embarkation were over, the last whistle was blown, they drew in the gang-planks, and we pushed out into the river Ohio.

Our hearts felt as light as feathers as the "Natchez" ploughed out into mid-stream, a thousand branches up above, swollen with the recent rains, having filled up the mighty and splendid Ohio from bank to bank, so that we seemed to be floating down a grand, heaving, fresh-water sea! Now, indeed, did we enjoy new life with a vim. I told the girls how the first French owners and explorers named the Ohio "La Belle Rivière," that is, "The Beautiful River," and it is the beautiful river, still. Our eyes were quite enchanted with the endless hills on both sides, all clothed with primeval forests up to their summits, and coming down to the water's edge. The girls were quite transported with the beautiful, endless turns and windings, and seemed to get no rest for the thousands of boats and barges, and floating things of every shape and size, rushing up and down the river day and night, whistling and screaming, and that without end. It was a perfect delight for me to be once more on this river, for nature is always fresh, fair and enchanting, but for my two daughters the whole scene was nothing but a succession of unending delights. Their feet and eyes had no rest, and their tongues were never still. It was more than I could do to answer all their questions. I was quite delighted to see how the girls and several other nice children on the boat became acquainted, and learned to love one another. And this acquaintanceship and love seemed to grow upon them all from day to day as we advanced farther south. Indeed, children are great people, and they will have ways of their own. And on, on, still flew "The Natchez," whilst our glorious river increased with innumerable branches from the right and left, till we reached the lower end of Kentucky, where the lands were more flat and uninteresting. We made a call here or there, and rushed down the stream again, until at last our glorious Ohio was swallowed up in the Mississippi, "The Father of Waters."

I don't know how it is! I suppose it is because I am a sensitive woman; but our arrival in the Mississippi river seemed to put a new soul into me that I am altogether unable to define. Like the far-travelled Queen of Sheba, there seemed no more spirit left within me. My first and grandest sensation arose, no doubt, from the fact that the reunion between my well-beloved Tom and me was almost an accomplished fact, because we were now both on the same river, and the rapid "Natchez," assisted by the mighty forces of the great rushing river, would soon bring us face to face, after several years of separation, which looked to me like half a lifetime already. Then there was the mighty "Father of Waters" himself, always majestic, solemn and grand, bearing your boat along upon his mighty bosom, like a perfect fly! And then we seemed to live our lives over again in our dear children, and the two thoughtful, contemplative girls were filled with a wonder that seemed to strike them dumb. It was a truly wondrous sight, especially for those passengers who had never been on the mighty "Father of Waters" before, nor even seen his rushing waters. Oh, the Mississippi, the Mississippi! How I thought and thought, and thought again how my dear Tom had battled on for many a day against the powerful rebel forts on this very river, to clear Uncle Sam's way from the headwaters to the Gulf of Mexico! It brought the tears to my eyes when I thought how my own tender husband had fought and bled on this very stream that the Union, one and all re-united, might be restored to the nation at large; how Tom had fought and bled, and almost died that the shackles might be knocked off the suffering slave, and freedom reign all over the land, from the Lakes to the Gulf.

Thus I stood for many a long hour in my usual feeling, womanish, sentimental way, watching the gathering and thundering waters, over which the swift and beautiful "Natchez," the floating palace of the Mississippi, hurried and bowled along like a thing of life. And as we swept on past Vicksburg and other places that had long ago surrendered to the Union armies, I thought of Lincoln's famous words (President Lincoln's): "The Mississippi, the 'Father of Waters' flows once more annexed to the sea!"

And in this way the joyous days and nights passed away on the rapid "Natchez," whilst the passengers spent the time in any way they pleased, reading, talking and sleeping by day, and dancing, courting and lolling away the evening hours, or looking lazily at the rushing waters of the great river. Attracted by the hilarity in the saloon, my girls spent some time flirting and waltzing around with the other children on the boat, nice, harmless playmates, whom I mentioned before. Indeed, the girls were quite fortunate in having such nice girl companions, for of all the curses on the face of the earth, I think bad company is about the worst of all!

Somehow or other this voyage down the Mississippi and Ohio seemed food for my health. The complete want of domestic cares, the fresh air on the open deck, the happiness of the two children, and all my delightful surroundings, made me fat and rosy, and the girls, also. Indeed, we were complimented on our appearance before we left the boat. The rapid "Natchez" flew along in, and in due course the "Crescent City," as New Orleans is called, arose upon our view, and thrilled us with the utmost delight.

We drew up to the land-place in due time, and now followed one of those wild, exciting scenes that usually take place when we come to the end of a grand journey and anticipate grand things in the immediate future. No sooner had the gang-planks been thrown out, but the usual rush for the shore, and the usual rush on board, took place at once. Cabs, carriages and porters, all were on hand. As I had taken the precaution to communicate with those dear friends at whose house I lodged when I rescued my own dear mother, Mrs. John B. Sutherland, from slavery, there were two of the self-same sweet ladies awaiting us on the wharf, and signalling to us before we even came up to it, whilst myself and the girls waved our handkerchiefs to them in reply. But when the gang-planks were flung down between us and the shore, the dear souls rushed on board, and a scene of wild embracing, kissing, tears and laughter followed, that it would be quite vain for me to describe. In that brief and joyous meeting on the deck of the "Natchez," we all experienced a lifetime of bliss. With a terrible vim, indeed, did we all realize the truth of the 13th chapter of First Corinthians, wherein the great apostle of the Gentiles dilates so eloquently on love (not charity). Well, the girls and I got all our traps together, called for a cab, when we all got in, and drove for my cosy old quarters. Although I had only spent a week with that dear family on my last visit, the attachment that had grown up between us was truly wonderful. I had heard from them several times, and they never, never forgot my dear mother and me. When we all reached the never-to-be-forgotten house with the cab, we received another ovation at the door from those who had remained at home. The grand welcome put the girls and me into the very best humor. After we had heard and told each other's news, the girls and myself walked forth to meet dear husband and father at the hospital. Our impatience was so great, mine at least was, that we did not seem able to live out this day unless we met with Capt. Thomas Lincoln, of the Union Army, in the South. We soon reached the hospital, where we were received with all that politeness, tenderness and humanity that are so characteristic of doctors and nurses. I told them at once who we were, and they were very greatly astonished and delighted, indeed, to think that we had thus purposely travelled all the way from one extreme end of the United States to the other on a pilgrimage of love and devotion for husband and father. As I told them that Tom knew nothing about our coming, I asked them to take us into a parlor, and simply to announce to my husband that some friends had called to see him. Our attendants smiled with pleasure at the proposal, and led us into one of the parlors of this beautiful hospital, and we had not long to wait till we heard a heavy man coming – clank, clank, clanking along on one crutch. (He sent me word that at first he used two, but now he only required one of them). When Tom came to the door, we three advanced to meet him, and now followed a wild scene of tears, laughter, embracing and joy, which my dear readers will understand far better than I am able to describe. The wild, heaving, rushing waters of the Mississippi were as nothing to this. Oh, sweet is the pleasure after pain! We seemed to live a whole lifetime of joy of the most Elysian bliss whilst seated in that never-to-be-forgotten parlor. Thus hour after hour passed away, till it was dinner time, but on this occasion, Tom's dinner and ours were served up in this parlor.