From H. W.
July 3. We were all standing at the back door when a small crowd became visible at the first gate. We watched to discover what it meant, as it was an unmistakable “gang” drawing nearer. ‘Siah’s boy had come over from the Point to tell C. that some white soldiers were there from the village stealing corn, etc., after the manner of the soldiers in this region, but so far our plantations have been very free from such depredations C. had just told Tony that he did not feel well enough to go over, and that the men would be gone before he could get there—and turning to Mr. Soule he said that those Point men were just the men to catch white soldiers, if they could do it, and he should not be surprised if they did. The words were hardly out of his mouth before the “gang” appeared, so you may imagine we watched it with great curiosity as it drew near. On they came, a compact body of people, among whom we tried to discover some white faces. Presently the gleaming of muskets was distinctly visible, and as one of the men stepped forward and threw the gate wide open for the company to pass through, three white soldiers appeared in the front ranks. They were all perfectly quiet, not a word was said; and as C. ran down the steps to receive them and they came to a halt, the men brought the muskets to the ground and the women emptied their aprons of corn-shucks at his feet, waiting quietly for him to do what he thought right. I did not hear one loud or angry tone while I stood listening as C. heard their story and then questioned the soldiers. They were perfectly quiet, too,—young fellows from the One Hundred and Fourth Pennsylvania Volunteers, a new regiment,—and they evidently thought that C. was a person of authority or the blacks would not have marched them three miles to him. He took from them their dirks and pistols, and the musket which one of them had, and they made no resistance—nor did they say a word when he called to me for “three pair of hand-cuffs” (all he brought down), and asked the three men from the Point who had guns, if they would stay and guard them all night. It was rather a troublesome elephant and he did not quite know what to do with it now it was in his possession. It was a good chance to do something if he would be sustained, but General Saxton has not conferred any magisterial powers138 on the superintendents yet, and if he undertook too much and was not sustained, it would be worse than nothing. At any rate, he would have to take them to the village in the morning, so he decided to do so that night, and went off with his prisoners and their guard, driving his light sulky, and carrying the light arms, one of the men taking the musket again. He did not use the hand-cuffs.
It was strange to see how very quiet and apparently unexcited the people were. After the first few minutes they came up to me to buy, and then all went off when C. did, as quickly as possible.
July 5. When two buckra were reported as approaching while we were at breakfast it turned out to be two men from the village picket with a note from the Lieutenant to C. I did not find out the sequel to the story the other night, but it seems that C. and William crossed the creek with the soldiers, only taking two men to row. The blacks certainly behaved extremely well, and Moll told the men they might have the corn, which of course they refused to take. And as they went into the boat a boy put in the watermelon they had taken, saying, “B’longs to you, sah,” but the man sent it ashore. The coals were rather hot, I guess, and the men were heartily ashamed of themselves and thoroughly penitent. C. went with them to the mess-room and saw the sergeant, who expressed great regret and said it was the first time any of their men had been guilty of such acts. The Lieutenant was away, and as C. drew paper towards him to report the case in writing, they looked very blank and begged him not to report. After some consideration he concluded not to report them, as he could not see the Lieutenant and they had behaved so well about it, and told them he would not unless some further acts of the kind were perpetrated by their men. They were very grateful, but C. did not feel sure that the Lieutenant would not hear of it. And so he did, in some way; investigated the affair and sent the men to Beaufort to be punished by the Commander of the post, who is now not General Saxton but, as it happens, is their own Colonel,139 who is not likely to be lenient towards them. The Lieutenant sent a note to this effect to C. this morning, and also wished to know what would repay the negroes for the damage done. (The soldiers had already promised to make it good to them, and were to have been paid off yesterday, but their pay was stopped in consequence of this very occurrence.) So the whole affair has ended very satisfactorily. I am sorry for the poor fellows, for they will probably suffer not so much for what they actually did themselves, but to serve as an example to all other offenders.
July 7. Mr. Wells was to come at nine o’clock to the wharf to take Mr. Soule140 to Morgan Island, one of his plantations. Mr. Wells appeared at the door to say that he had a large sail-boat—it was only a half-hour’s sail to the island, and would not I go too. So I put up a little lunch and C. had his horse saddled and down to the wharf we went, and were soon at our destination. The only white-house on the island now occupied is on quite a bluff looking directly out to sea, pleasantly shaded, with a fresh breeze all the time up the Sound, and is a very healthy situation. But the house is of the roughest description, without paint inside or out, very much like a New Hampshire farmhouse in the back-woods a quarter of a century ago, but not so large, clean, or thrifty-looking, by any means. Here we stopped to see an old man who was brought from Africa when he was over twenty, and remembers his life in his own country, from which he was sold by his brother to pay a debt. Mr. Soule said he was bright and talkative when he last saw him, but now he is very much broken; and after sitting a few minutes we went on to the driver’s house, a great contrast in neatness, and the gentleman left me in a rocking-chair under the shade of the large Asia-berry tree in front of the house, while they went off with Bacchus, the foreman, to see the cotton-fields. Here I stayed for a couple of hours, I should think, talking with Elsie, Bacchus’ wife, who was not in the field because she had a headache, and very neat and nice she looked in her calico gown. She has no children, but made up for the want as far as she could by the number of chickens and ducks she had round. By and bye she got up, and picking up a piece of brick, pounded it up with an axe, and began to clean a large knife, which I knew meant watermelon. And when the gentlemen came back, Bacchus brought out a small table and put a melon on it which was almost large enough for a tablecloth; then he produced plates, and Mr. Wells carved the huge monster, which we nearly devoured. The air and grace with which one of the men, who came up to clear off the table for Mr. Wells to pay the people, touched his hat with a bow and a scrape would not have misbecome a Commencement Dinner or Wedding Party.
The keen interest which these Northern interlopers took in everything that concerned the people into whose shoes they had stepped, and their constant sense of the strangeness and romance of their situation appear in the extracts that follow. Again the chronology of the letters has been somewhat disregarded.