On shore at Hilton Head the men were allowed to roam at will, an opportunity they exercised to the utmost,—visiting other troops in camp; taking daily baths at the sand beach, where they also washed their under-clothing; feasted on fresh bread from the post-bakery, equal to any furnished by the best of hotels in Boston; stole apples at night from under the noses of a guard posted upon the wharf where the barrels lay; sight-seeing upon the island like school-boys on a vacation. The quarters were in some empty barracks near a sluggish bayou, upon whose bank was a small graveyard, covered with ashes, with a neglected appearance in general, where were interred the remains of a few sailors who lost their lives at the capture of Forts Beauregard and Walker by the Federal Navy in November, 1861.
Everything wore a quaint look, not only here but at every stopping place en route to New Orleans, exercising a peculiar charm over men from the North who had never visited the South, experienced by all travellers to parts of this world remote from their own residences, regardless of any facts bearing on the climatic influences on unacclimated beings. Until the stern reality of war was forced upon them, it seemed to each and every man as though he was travelling for pleasure at the Government expense. The first agreeable impressions of localities visited on the voyage from New York to New Orleans cannot be eradicated from minds of men belonging to the Forty-Second Regiment.
After repairs were finished the men reëmbarked December 16th, proceeding at once to sea, and made a fine run to Tortugas, arriving at Fort Jefferson on the twentieth, at nine o’clock A.M., to take in coal. While coasting in sight of Florida Keys the steamer Memenon Sanford, that formerly ran between Boston and Bangor, was seen upon the reefs with wreckers around her. The Sanford had the One Hundred and Fifty-Sixth New York Infantry Regiment on board; every man was saved and taken to Key West, December 11th, with nothing but what they carried in their hands. The baggage and stores were afterwards obtained, but the steamer could not be saved.
In Fort Jefferson was a garrison of four companies, Ninetieth New York Infantry, weak in numbers from heavy losses by yellow fever during the summer months. There was a large number of military and civilian prisoners kept at work upon the fort, not then in a finished state. Occupying a part of the parade within the walls were several three-story brick dwelling houses with gardens attached, and trees of large growth under whose sheltering branches several head of cattle, belonging to the Commissary Department, would collect to escape the hot sun at mid-day.
As another instance of danger that existed during the transportation of Banks’ expeditionary corps to New Orleans, while the Quincy was at Tortugas an old rat-trap steamer came into port in a leaky condition with New York troops on board. The pumps were kept constantly at work since leaving New York, so the men stated. How the unseaworthy transports managed to carry their human freights without loss of life from dangers of the sea is one of those curious mysteries of God’s providence.
After coaling and starting again seaward a collision occurred in the channel with a Government schooner, carrying away the after part of the steamer’s deck cabin, which caused a detention of several days to repair damages. At dusk, on the twenty-second, the Quincy put to sea, arriving at Ship Island on the twenty-fifth, at nine o’clock P. M. Early on the morning of the twenty-fifth Private W. H. Young, Company C, Twenty-Eighth Connecticut Volunteers, died of fever, and was committed to the deep at eleven A.M. with appropriate services. Before the death of Young was announced, scattered on deck and below, were knots of men engaged in the pastime of cards. Lounging around, fishing and card playing were what the men did to kill time since leaving Hilton Head; a book of any sort in their hands was not to be noticed. On the announcement—presto—a sudden change; cards were put away; nearly every man had his Bible, and was intently engaged in its contents for the balance of the day. A death at sea with solemn funeral rites was not without effect.
Receiving his orders, Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman had the Quincy sail for New Orleans on the twenty-sixth, arriving late at night on the twenty-ninth, after a passage of twenty-five days from Sandy Hook. The South-West Pass was reached at nightfall; a thick curtain of mist preventing an entrance then. In company with several other transports the Quincy lay outside the bar until morning; a continual noise from fog-whistles causing one to think he was in New York harbor. In the morning, as the heavy fog lifted, a beautiful mirage was seen in the sky, showing a brig ashore on a mud bank of the Delta. A perfect representation of what was soon seen to be actually the case.
The Quincy disembarked her troops at Carrollton, who went into camp at Camp Mansfield.
The Charles Osgood was an unfortunate vessel. An old propeller used on Long Island Sound, she was in every respect consort of the Shetucket; each fitted up in the same manner to convey troops, i.e., with a false deck to cover bunks and cooking apparatus. In a serious blow, with heavy sea running, this deck was liable to be swept away at any moment. The steamer anchored in the river after all hands were on board, proceeding to Sandy Hook on the fifth; there remained until she put to sea at half past five o’clock A.M. December 6th. Captain Geer never was beyond Fortress Munroe, and knew little about ocean navigation. He put to sea with one small compass, no charts, no chronometer, no life preservers on board, and with two small boats. With clear, cold weather, a high wind and rough sea, the Osgood ran down the coast and into Cape May harbor during the night of the seventh, for refuge. While in Delaware Bay a severe blow split sails and caused a slight displacement of the boiler, causing the captain to run into Delaware River and anchor off Delaware City at six o’clock, eighth, then to Philadelphia next day for repairs. She remained at Philadelphia for five days, to obtain new sails, new boat oars, life preservers, charts, and repairs on the boiler. The captain secured the services of an old and experienced navigator, Captain Sears.
As the men were afraid to continue the voyage on the steamer they were not allowed to go ashore, for fear none would return when all was ready to start. They grumbled considerably, and when the vessel ran aground on League Island, about half past seven A.M. on the fourteenth, some men improved the opportunity to run ashore upon the ice. They went to Philadelphia, got drunk, but all came back before she got afloat at the next full tide except Private Chauncey Converse, Company K. Private Converse did not rejoin his regiment until April 11th, 1863. He surrendered himself to United States officers, taking the benefit of general orders No. 58, War Department, series of 1863, granting pardon to all deserters who did so. Regarding this case of apparent desertion Adjutant-General Schouler wrote Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman, under date of February 21st, that Converse reported he was left sick at Philadelphia, and said he had tried and wished to rejoin his regiment.