"Where's Co. G? Ah, there yez are." It was Pat, who had brought them his camp kettle filled with cool water.
"Pat, what the divil are ye doing here? Don't ye hear them fellers?" Thus spoke his brother Jim.
Pat cocked his ear a moment, for he was quite deaf, then turned to the boys.
"Ah, what the divil do I care for them. Say, b'ys, don't yez want some water?"
Never did Ziba allow his boys to be neglected if he could prevent. Sometimes the marching was hard for him and then the boys carried his kettle. But if any company was better served, it is not known.
Much has been written of the "Swamp Angel," a gun planted away out in the marsh on the south side of Morris Island and a mile or more from Cummings Point. The battery consisted of one gun which burst after firing twenty or thirty shots; afterwards the place was occupied as an outpost. Beyond the "Angel" battery was another post called Paine's Dock. The dock was the historic floating battery used by the rebels in 1861, when Sumter was first attacked. Proving a veritable slaughter-pen it was dismantled and abandoned and floated away with the tide and grounded on the southern point of Morris Island. It received a new name in honor of Capt. Paine, a Union officer who, while scouting, was captured there. The pathway which led over the soft marsh to those points, was for two miles covered with planking. Frequently Co. G had representatives sent there on picket, who sometimes were obliged to seek refuge under Paine's Dock to escape the shells from a James Island battery known as "Bull-of-the-Woods."
There were times, when snugly protected from the heavy fire, the boys at the Point found time dragging heavily. Then the story-tellers were called upon. Hugh O'Brien was requested to narrate the trials and triumphs of the handsome cavalier and a princess, entitled "The Beauty of the W-o-r-rld." John Miller was easily prevailed upon to produce with dramatic effects, the narrow escape of a Negro from being buried in the hay-mow at "Old Harve's" (his father's) farm. For the boys needed some relaxation in the struggle for glory—slight compensation for duty well-done, and fun counted big, sometimes. History records exposures in winter's sleet, marches under a tropical sun, sleeping on frozen ground, as well as in a climate where the dew falls like fine mist—where fog rolls up dank from malarious swamps. But when the boys rehearse their stories of the war, they will cherish most the little kindnesses and words which helped to ease their burdens and drive away the gloom.
Inspections on that barren Morris Island were very trying. A man to stand for an hour fully accoutered, with knapsack strapped on his back, the dress coat buttoned close to his chin, his straps drawing his clothing tight about him—to stand thus in a hot sun on a breezeless day, is pitiful torture. Occasionally a man fell down in the ranks. And when the men returned to their quarters they were as tired as though they had been marching. Of course it would not have been the proper thing to inspect the troops in the cool of the day—that would not have been consistent with Folly Island tactics.
And so went along the duty on Morris Island. At night when at the Point on picket, the comrades remaining in camp saw the flying bombs from Sullivan's Island, like meteors, rise from the mortars and following a regulated arc, drop apparently where their comrades were stationed. At times the display was fearfully grand and then a monitor or two would steam up toward Fort Moultrie and take a hand in the excitement. Suddenly, the rebel fire ceased, the monitors and Cummings Point ceased; and all was quiet for the night, save the regular booming of the city gun.
An interesting event occurred while the 157th lay on Morris Island. It was casting the soldiers' vote. Gov. Seymour vetoed the bill allowing the soldiers to vote and it was carried to the people in the spring elections of 1864, and thus was legalized. In the district of Canastota but two votes were cast against the privilege, thus placing the western portion of Lenox on record as not only loyal, but true to their boys in the field. The vote in the regiment was three hundred and nine. Of these, Lincoln received two hundred and sixty-eight. McClellan received forty-one.