After some delay, a pilot was procured, and the steamer started again for Wilmington, but owing to a thick fog, did not reach the city until morning, when, as she was hauling into the wharf, a harbor-master hailed the captain, wanting to know what brought him there when he had orders to go to sea. Down went the anchor again, and Lieut.-Col. Richardson went on shore to report, and see if anybody knew anything about the third brigade of the second division of the Nineteenth Army Corps. Getting instructions, the lieutenant-colonel returned, and the ship again steamed down the river. Passing by Forts Anderson and Caswell, by the obstructions in the river, and by the wreck of Admiral Porter’s mock-monitor, the ship again anchored, and waited for the fog to lift. In the afternoon, a pilot came aboard, and, it being then clear, the steamer stood out to sea, the earthworks of Fort Fisher looming up like hills in the distance.
After a pleasant voyage along the coast of North Carolina, the transport reached Morehead City on the afternoon of the 8th, and landed the troops, who marched through the straggling village, and stacked arms beside the railroad track. The place was full of rumors in regard to fighting at Kinston, where Johnston was trying to overpower Schofield before the arrival of Sherman; and all the available troops were being sent to the front.
At eight o’clock, P. M., the regiment crowded into and on top of its portion of an immense train of box-cars, and after a moonlight ride through the turpentine forests of North Carolina, reached Newbern at midnight, waking the town with cheers; for the brisk March air made the blood run quick, and the men were in the best of spirits.
Disembarking at the depot, the regiment stacked arms, and soon numerous camp-fires were blazing, and the indispensable coffee boiling.
The rumors had grown less warlike as the train approached Newbern; and upon arriving at that place, the troops were informed that they were just too late,—that the fighting was all over, and that their services were not needed. The men of the third brigade had been in the field too long to be “spoiling for a fight,” and were not sorry at being “counted out” of a battle just on the eve of peace.
The night was sufficiently frosty to harden the ground; and after drinking their coffee, the men spread their blankets, and were soon in repose. In the morning, the brigade marched a short distance beyond the city, and quartered in buildings formerly occupied as a hospital.
Newbern had been occupied for so long a time by the Union forces, that its garrison had acquired habits different from those in vogue in campaigning regiments; and the advent in their midst of such a brigade as the third made quite a commotion. As soon as they had stacked arms, the men, as usual, began to hunt for boards and other articles to make themselves comfortable, in case of going into camp in the vicinity. In an out-building, some A tents were found packed away; and, as A tents were a luxury the Thirty Eighth had not known for many days, they were at once appropriated. A commissary sergeant of a certain Massachusetts regiment soon came after the property, saying that they belonged to his company, and that he would be responsible for them. “No, you won’t,” said the Company E boys, whose portion of the prize was claimed. “You can account for them as lost in action.” This way of accounting for property was beyond the commissary’s experience, and he invoked the aid of the adjutant to recover the tents. He supposed that he got them, but afterward two canvas structures towered suspiciously above the dog-tents at Morehead.
There being no call for the services of the regiment at Newbern, it was sent back to Morehead City, arriving at that place in the afternoon, and going into camp in a grave-yard, between the railroad track and the river. The Nineteenth Corps was pretty well broken up at this time,—the first division being still in the Valley with Sheridan, the second division scattered through Georgia and Carolina, and the third division in Louisiana.