XIV.
THE SIEGE ITSELF.
_May 28th, 1863_.--Since that day the regular siege has continued. We areutterly cut off from the world, surrounded by a circle of fire. The fieryshower of shells goes on day and night. H.'s occupation, of course, isgone, his office closed. Every man has to carry a pass in his pocket.People do nothing but eat what they can get, sleep when they can, anddodge the shells. There are three intervals when the shelling stops,either for the guns to cool or for the gunners' meals, I suppose,--abouteight in the morning, the same in the evening, and at noon. In that timewe have both to prepare and eat ours. Clothing cannot be washed oranything else done. On the 19th and 22d, when the assaults were made onthe lines, I watched the soldiers cooking on the green opposite. Thehalf-spent balls coming all the way from those lines were flying so thickthat they were obliged to dodge at every turn. At all the caves I couldsee from my high perch, people were sitting, eating their poor suppers atthe cave doors, ready to plunge in again. As the first shell again flewthey dived, and not a human being was visible. The sharp crackle of themusketry-firing was a strong contrast to the scream of the bombs. I thinkall the dogs and cats must be killed or starved, we don't see any morepitiful animals prowling around.... The cellar is so damp and musty thebedding has to be carried out and laid in the sun every day, with theforecast that it may be demolished at any moment. The confinement isdreadful. To sit and listen as if waiting for death in a horrible mannerwould drive me insane. I don't know what others do, but we read when I amnot scribbling in this. H. borrowed somewhere a lot of Dickens's novels,and we reread them by the dim light in the cellar. When the shellingabates H. goes to walk about a little or get the "Daily Citizen," which isstill issuing a tiny sheet at twenty-five and fifty cents a copy. It is,of course, but a rehash of speculations which amuses half an hour. To-daywe heard while out that expert swimmers are crossing the Mississippi onlogs at night to bring and carry news to Johnston. I am so tired ofcorn-bread, which I never liked, that I eat it with tears in my eyes. Weare lucky to get a quart of milk daily from a family near who have a cowthey hourly expect to be killed. I send five dollars to market eachmorning, and it buys a small piece of mule-meat. Rice and milk is my mainfood; I can't eat the mule-meat. We boil the rice and eat it cold withmilk for supper. Martha runs the gauntlet to buy the meat and milk once aday in a perfect terror. The shells seem to have many different names; Ihear the soldiers say, "That's a mortar-shell. There goes a Parrott.That's a rifle-shell." They are all equally terrible. A pair ofchimney-swallows have built in the parlor chimney. The concussion of thehouse often sends down parts of their nest, which they patiently pick upand reascend with.
_Friday, June 5th, 1863. (In the cellar.)_--Wednesday evening H. said hemust take a little walk, and went while the shelling had stopped. He neverleaves me alone long, and when an hour had passed without his return Igrew anxious; and when two hours, and the shelling had grown terrific, Imomentarily expected to see his mangled body. All sorts of horrors fillthe mind now, and I am so desolate here; not a friend. When he came hesaid that passing a cave where there were no others near, he heard groans,and found a shell had struck above and caused the cave to fall in on theman within. He could not extricate him alone, and had to get help and dighim out. He was badly hurt, but not mortally. I felt fairly sick from thesuspense.
Yesterday morning a note was brought H. from a bachelor uncle out in thetrenches, saying he had been taken ill with fever, and could we receivehim if he came? H. sent to tell him to come, and I arranged one of theparlors as a dressing-room for him, and laid a pallet that he could moveback and forth to the cellar. He did not arrive, however. It is our customin the evening to sit in the front room a little while in the dark, withmatches and candles held ready in hand, and watch the shells, whose courseat night is shown by the fuse. H. was at the window and suddenly sprangup, crying, "Run!"--"Where?"--"_Back_!"
I started through the back room, H. after me. I was just within the doorwhen the crash came that threw me to the floor. It was the most appallingsensation I'd ever known. Worse than an earthquake, which I've alsoexperienced. Shaken and deafened I picked myself up; H. had struck a lightto find me. I lighted mine, and the smoke guided us to the parlor I hadfixed for Uncle J. The candles were useless in the dense smoke, and it wasmany minutes before we could see. Then we found the entire side of theroom torn out. The soldiers who had rushed in said, "This is aneighty-pound Parrott." It had entered through the front and burst on thepallet-bed, which was in tatters; the toilet service and everything elsein the room was smashed. The soldiers assisted H. to board up the breakwith planks to keep out prowlers, and we went to bed in the cellar asusual. This morning the yard is partially plowed by two shells that fellthere in the night. I think this house, so large and prominent from theriver, is perhaps mistaken for headquarters and specially shelled. As wedescend at night to the lower regions, I think of the evening hymn thatgrandmother taught me when a child:
"Lord, keep us safe this night, Secure from all our fears; May angels guard us while we sleep, Till morning light appears."
_June 7th, 1863. (In the cellar.)_--I feel especially grateful that amidthese horrors we have been spared that of suffering for water. The weatherhas been dry a long time, and we hear of others dipping up the water fromditches and mud-holes. This place has two large underground cisterns ofgood cool water, and every night in my subterranean dressing-room a tubof cold water is the nerve-calmer that sends me to sleep in spite of theroar. One cistern I had to give up to the soldiers, who swarm about likehungry animals seeking something to devour. Poor fellows! my heart bleedsfor them. They have nothing but spoiled, greasy bacon, and bread made ofmusty pea-flour, and but little of that. The sick ones can't bolt it. Theycome into the kitchen when Martha puts the pan of corn-bread in the stove,and beg for the bowl she has mixed it in. They shake up the scrapings withwater, put in their bacon, and boil the mixture into a kind of soup, whichis easier to swallow than pea-bread. When I happen in they look so ashamedof their poor clothes. I know we saved the lives of two by giving a fewmeals. To-day one crawled upon the gallery to lie in the breeze. He lookedas if shells had lost their terrors for his dumb and famished misery. I'vetaught Martha to make first-rate corn-meal gruel, because I can eat mealeasier that way than in hoe-cake, and I prepared him a saucerful, put milkand sugar and nutmeg--I've actually got a nutmeg. When he ate it the tearsran from his eyes. "Oh, madam, there was never anything so good! I shallget better."
_June 9th, 1863_.--The churches are a great resort for those who have nocaves. People fancy they are not shelled so much, and they are substantialand the pews good to sleep in. We had to leave this house last night, theywere shelling our quarter so heavily. The night before, Martha forsook thecellar for a church. We went to H.'s office, which was comparativelyquiet last night. H. carried the bank box; I the case of matches; Marthathe blankets and pillows, keeping an eye on the shells. We slept on pilesof old newspapers. In the streets the roar seems so much more confusing, Ifeel sure I shall run right into the way of a shell. They seem to havefive different sounds from the second of throwing them to the hollow echowandering among the hills, which sounds the most blood-curdling of all.
PRINTED ON WALL PAPER IN THE SIEGE OF VICKSBURG.]
_June 13th, 1863_.--Shell burst just over the roof this morning. Piecestore through both floors down into the dining-room. The entire ceiling ofthat room fell in a mass. We had just left it. Every piece of crockery onthe table was smashed. The "Daily Citizen" to-day is a foot and a halflong and six inches wide. It has a long letter from a Federal officer, P.P. Hill, who was on the gun-boat _Cincinnati_, that was sunk May 27th.Says it was found in his floating trunk. The editorial says, "The utmostconfidence is felt that we can maintain our position until succor comesfrom outside. The undaunted Johnston is at hand."
_June 18th_.--To-day the "Citizen" is printed on wall paper; therefore hasgrown a little in size. It says, "But a few days more and Johnston will behere"; also that "Ki
rby Smith has driven Banks from Port Hudson," and that"the enemy are throwing incendiary shells in."
_June 20th_.--The gentleman who took our cave came yesterday to invite usto come to it, because, he said, "it's going to be very bad to-day." Idon't know why he thought so. We went, and found his own and anotherfamily in it; sat outside and watched the shells till we concluded thecellar was as good a place as that hill-side. I fear the want of good foodis breaking down H. I know from my own feelings of weakness, but mine isnot an American constitution and has a recuperative power that his hasnot.
_June 21st, 1863_.--I had gone upstairs to-day during the interregnum toenjoy a rest on my bed and read the reliable items in the "Citizen," whena shell burst right outside the window in front of me. Pieces flew in,striking all round me, tearing down masses of plaster that came tumblingover me. When H. rushed in I was crawling out of the plaster, digging itout of my eyes and hair. When he picked up beside my pillow a piece aslarge as a saucer, I realized my narrow escape. The window-frame began tosmoke, and we saw the house was on fire. H. ran for a hatchet and I forwater, and we put it out. Another (shell) came crashing near, and Isnatched up my comb and brush and ran down here. It has taken all theafternoon to get the plaster out of my hair, for my hands were rathershaky.
_June 25th_.--A horrible day. The most horrible yet to me, because I'velost my nerve. We were all in the cellar, when a shell came tearingthrough the roof, burst upstairs, and tore up that room, the pieces comingthrough both floors down into the cellar. One of them tore open the leg ofH.'s pantaloons. This was tangible proof the cellar was no place ofprotection from them. On the heels of this came Mr. J., to tell us thatyoung Mrs. P. had had her thighbone crushed. When Martha went for the milkshe came back horror-stricken to tell us the black girl there had her armtaken off by a shell. For the first time I quailed. I do not think peoplewho are physically brave deserve much credit for it; it is a matter ofnerves. In this way I am constitutionally brave, and seldom think ofdanger till it is over; and death has not the terrors for me it has forsome others. Every night I had lain down expecting death, and everymorning rose to the same prospect, without being unnerved. It was for H. Itrembled. But now I first seemed to realize that something worse thandeath might come; I might be crippled, and not killed. Life, without allone's powers and limbs, was a thought that broke down my courage. I saidto H., "You must get me out of this horrible place; I cannot stay; I knowI shall be crippled." Now the regret comes that I lost control, for H. isworried, and has lost his composure, because my coolness has broken down.
_July 1st, 1863._--Some months ago, thinking it might be useful, Iobtained from the consul of my birthplace, by sending to another town, apassport for foreign parts. H. said if we went out to the lines we mightbe permitted to get through on that. So we packed the trunk, got acarriage, and on the 30th drove out there. General V. offered us seats inhis tent. The rifle-bullets were whizzing so _zip, zip_ from thesharp-shooters on the Federal lines that involuntarily I moved on mychair. He said, "Don't be alarmed; you are out of range. They are firingat our mules yonder." His horse, tied by the tent door, was quivering allover, the most intense exhibition of fear I'd ever seen in an animal.General V. sent out a flag of truce to the Federal headquarters, and whilewe waited wrote on a piece of silk paper a few words. Then he said, "Mywife is in Tennessee. If you get through the lines, give her this. Theywill search you, so I will put it in this toothpick." He crammed the silkpaper into a quill toothpick, and handed it to H. It was completelyconcealed. The flag-of-truce officer came back flushed and angry. "GeneralGrant says that no human being shall pass out of Vicksburg; but the ladymay feel sure danger will soon be over. Vicksburg will surrender on the4th."
"Is that so, general?" inquired H. "Are arrangements for surrender made?"
"We know nothing of the kind. Vicksburg will not surrender."
"Those were General Grant's exact words, sir," said the flag-officer. "Ofcourse it is nothing but their brag."
We went back sadly enough, but to-day H. says he will cross the river toGeneral Porter's lines and try there; I shall not be disappointed.
_July 3d, 1863._--H. was going to headquarters for the requisite pass, andhe saw General Pemberton crawling out of a cave, for the shelling has beenas hot as ever. He got the pass, but did not act with his usual caution,for the boat he secured was a miserable, leaky one--a mere trough. LeavingMartha in charge, we went to the river, had our trunks put in the boat,and embarked; but the boat became utterly unmanageable, and began to fillwith water rapidly. H. saw that we could not cross it and turned to comeback; yet in spite of that the pickets at the battery fired on us. H.raised the white flag he had, yet they fired again, and I gave a cry ofhorror that none of these dreadful things had wrung from me. I thought H.was struck. When we landed H. showed the pass, and said that the officerhad told him the battery would be notified we were to cross. The officerapologized and said they were not notified. He furnished a cart to get ushome, and to-day we are down in the cellar again, shells flying as thickas ever. Provisions are so nearly gone, except the hogshead of sugar, thata few more days will bring us to starvation indeed. Martha says rats arehanging dressed in the market for sale with mule meat,--there is nothingelse. The officer at the battery told me he had eaten one yesterday. Wehave tried to leave this Tophet and failed, and if the siege continues Imust summon that higher kind of courage--moral bravery--to subdue my fearsof possible mutilation.
Strange True Stories of Louisiana Page 59