On our way I picked up my discarded overcoat and a piece of a limb which served as a rudder to guide the boat to a successful landing, and thus ended the music on the water.
We went to the house, changed our clothes and returned, mingling with the fishermen and kept all the fun we had to ourselves. They all made a fine catch and there was fish a plenty for all. Linville and myself enjoyed the repast, as the physical exercise we had just undergone sharpened our appetite.
A few days later we rendezvoused at Sandersville, and the Company left for Savannah, our camp of instruction. Under the tuition of Jacobi, leader of the band of the 32nd Georgia, W. H. Harrison's Regiment, I soon learned all the calls and commands.
While thus engaged the Company had a gross misunderstanding with Capt. Martin, who, before coming in contact with the members of his command, was an entire stranger to them. Most all were ignorant of military duties, but strictly honest and patriotic citizens. Capt. Martin was a strict disciplinarian and putting the screws on rather a little too tight placed him into disfavor with the men, who petitioned him to resign, otherwise they would prefer charges against him. Thus matters stood when I returned to camp. Martin was tried before a board and exonorated. To revenge himself upon those who were active in his persecution he reduced those that were non-commissioned officers to ranks and appointed others in their stead; and to make matters more galling, appointed a substitute, a mercenary as orderly Sergeant over a Company of volunteers, who solely served their country through patriotism. Ned Irwin, when elevated to the position he was, proved himself a worthy tool in the hand of his promoter. Men could not express an opinion on hardly any subject without being reported, he would sneak about in the dark, crouch behind a tent evesdropping and make report as unfavorably as he could to bring the individual into disfavor. He made himself so obnoxious that he did not have a friend in the whole Company, and when he died at Yazoo City, you could hear freely expressed the following sentiment: "Poor old Ned is dead, thank God this saves some good men of having to kill him."
When I returned to camp I presented myself before Capt. Martin who examined me as to my proficiency as a bugler. I said, "Captain, there has been quite some changes made since I have been away," he said, "Yes, the men have accused me of speculating on their rations." I said I was very sorry that such a state of affairs existed among officers and men, where harmony ought to prevail; he said he insisted that those charges be substantiated and demanded a court martial, who on hearing the facts cleared him of any criminality, so he punished the leaders of the gang by reducing them to ranks.
Capt. Martin, however, proved himself a capable officer in handling artillery and the men finally came to love him on account of his efficiency and fairness.
While in camp of instructions in Savannah, the Government furnished us with six brass pieces (2 Howitzer and 4 Napoleon) with the necessary accoutrement and horses and we were ordered to Bryan County in support of Fort McAllister. We went into camp by the side of the Ogeechee River, about three miles this side of the Fort, which camp we named "Camp McAllister." The fort was an earth structure, strongly constructed with redoubts and parapets. The magazine underground was strongly protected by heavy timbers, and so was what we called bomb-proof, for the men not actually engaged, but who were ready to relieve those who were, or became disabled under fire and exposure, and compelled to be at their post of duty. Short reliefs were necessary, for it is hard work to manage heavy seige guns, but the heaviest in that fort were only of forty-two caliber. For some time nothing of importance worth to chronicle happened; the boys attended to their regular camp life duty, roll calls and drills; those off duty went fishing along the river banks.
The country surrounding was low, flat, marshy and replete with malarial fever, so that we had to remove our camp several miles further up the river, but still within close call of the fort. This new camp was called "Camp Arnold," in honor of Doctor Arnold, on whose land we stationed. One morning I was ordered to blow the call, only one man, Sergeant Cox, reported. All the rest of the command were down with chills and fever. There was no quinine to be had, owing to the blockade, such medicines being considered by our adversaries as contraband of war. Men tried every remedy possible, even drank cottonseed tea, at the suggestion of a country physician by the name of Dr. Turner, who pronounced it as a good substitute (it was in taste if not in efficiency). The writer was also stricken with the disease, and was sent to Whitesville Hospital, about thirty miles from Savannah on the Central of Georgia Railroad. Dr. Whitehead was in charge of the same, and Madam Cazzier and her daughter from New Orleans were matrons. During my fever spells I would rave sometimes and not having been in this country over three years in all, my friends predominated over the English language. Madam Cazzier, who spoke French also, took a great interest in me; in fact, she was strictly interested in all the patients, but she seemed to be a little partial to myself, and spent some time by my bedside when the fever was off, and would tell me what I said during my delirium. She nursed me and devoted on me a motherly care, for which I shall always remain thankful. My recuperation was rapid, and I soon felt myself again.
One morning it was announced that General Mercer of Savannah, and the Board of Inspectors were to come on a round of inspection, when we heard heavy firing, the sounds coming from the east. Presently we heard that the enemy with a large fleet was attacking Fort McAllister. General Mercer and his Board had come up from Savannah on a special train. He called for all convalescent, able to fight to volunteer to go to the front. I presented myself; I was the only one. We cut loose the locomotive and one car and went flying to Savannah at the rate of a mile a minute, crossed the City in a buss at full speed to the Gulf Depot, now known as the S. F. & W., just in time to board the train to Way Station, twelve miles from Savannah. An ambulance carried us to the Fort; the whole distance from the hospital to the Fort was about fifty-two miles. We changed conveyances three times and arrived at destination in less than two hours. Capt. Martin was in charge of a Mortar Detachment, so I reported to him for duty, but my place had been taken, and the detachment was complete, hence he had no use for me. I learned that Major Galley, the Commander of the Fort, had been killed by the first shot from the enemy's guns, which penetrated a sixteen foot embankment, knocked off the left hand trunnion of a thirty-two pounder, and struck the Major above the ear, and took off the top of his head, so Captain Anderson, of the Savannah Blues, took command. Captain Martin sent me up the River to a band about half a mile to the rear, which position placed me at a triangle point to the Fort and the gun boats. I was instructed to notice the effect of our shots on the enemy's boats. I kept tally sheets as to the hits between the belligerent points. From my observation I counted seventy-five hits by the guns of the Fort, and one hundred and seventy-five hits by those of the boats, which raised a cloud of dust equal to an explosion of a mine. Their caliber being three hundred and seventy-five pounders, and fifteen inches in diameter, while our shots merely made a bright spot where they struck the heavy armoured vessels and ricochet beyond. While thus observing I noted a strange move of one of the boats, suddenly I saw an immense flash, and a splash in the river a couple of yards in front of me. The water being very clear, we noted a large projective at the bottom of the stream, evidently aimed at me, as it was in direct line, as I sat on my horse; undoubtedly they must have taken me for a commanding officer and thus paid me their res— I mean disrespect.
A concourse of people in the neighborhood gathered to observe this unequal artillery duel of five armoured gun boats and eleven wooden mortar boats hidden behind a point below the Fort, sending their projectiles like a shower of aerolites into and around the Fort. Undaunted, the boys stood by their guns, having the satisfaction to notice one of the armoured vessels break their line and floating down the River, evidently having been struck in some vital part, and thus placed hors de combat. This bombardment continued from early morning until near sundown, when the enemy withdrew, we giving them parting shots as they steamed down to their blockade station, lying in wait for the Nashville, a blockade runner, who plyed between Nassau, and any Confederate Port, which it might enter with goods, easily disposed of at remunerative prices. The Fort was badly dilapidated, our breastworks had been blown to atoms, the guns exposed to plain view, all port holes demolished, the barracks injured by fire, which the boys extinguished while the battle was raging; in fact, had a cyclone struck the Fort in its full majestic force, it could not have been worse. However, that night we pressed into service all the negroes on the rice plantations. Spades, shovels and pick axes were handled with alacrity; baskets, bags and barrels were filled, the enfeebled portions of the Fort were reinforced by working like Trojans all night long, and the Fort was again placed in a presentable condition.