There was always a long stop at this point, as it was not only a strong military station, well-fortified and strongly guarded by troops and gunboats, but it was a great hospital centre. Thousands of sick and wounded lay sorely stricken in these great barracks and tents by the sea.
It was about nine o’clock that evening when we reached City Point. We had discussed the question of lodging before we left the boat, and Miss Dix had said,—
“I have no concern. There are always plenty of cots, and I’ll find room in some of the nurses’ tents,” and she urged me to go with her.
But I was equally confident, and assured her that the Christian Commission would take care of me. Mr. Cole, of Boston, the chief agent, was standing beside a tent, in deep thought, when I approached. When he saw me he lifted up his hand in dismay.
“I have no place for you; every foot of space is occupied,” was his greeting.
“How about the little tent where I stayed the last time?”
“It is full of delegates lying on the ground on their blankets. I’ve given up my little corner to Dr. ——, and have no place to sleep myself.”
“How about the storeroom?”
His face brightened.
“I never thought of that; but it’s full of barrels and boxes, and is not in order.”