Our mail is very irregular now. The boat that got in from Washington yesterday was three days late, being delayed by ice in the river. She had to break her way for fifty miles through ice thick enough to bear a man. One wooden boat attempted to force her way up the river, but was so badly cut up by the ice that she had to turn back. But we have a connection for outgoing mail by way of the Fortress Monroe and Baltimore boat, and I now send much mail that way.
The prison camp is soon to be enlarged, and all the rebel officers now at Sandusky, Ohio, are to be brought here. I hear that 200 men from our regiment, with a battery, are going over into Virginia on a scouting expedition.
Two of our tent’s crew will, I expect, move out tomorrow. If they do I shall be in no particular hurry to get into my new quarters, as Dan. and I can be as comfortable as you please right where we are.
CXXVIII
Point Lookout, Md., January 16, 1864.
A MAIL reached us yesterday—the first we have had since the 9th. Reason, the ice in the river. The boat started from Washington all right, ran down as far as Mount Vernon, about fifteen miles, and anchored for the night. When she started, she didn’t start, for she was frozen in as tight as a drum. And there she lay in the ice, for two days, with our mail aboard. Then another boat came and cut her out. During this lay-up some of our boys on board went ashore on a visit to Washington’s home and tomb.
The monotony of camp life has been broken by a raid across the river into the counties of Northumberland, Lancaster and Richmond. The expedition left here last Tuesday, the 12th, and was made up of 150 cavalry and detachments of 150 men from both the Second and Twelfth. Bill Ramsdell was one of the marauders, and he says it was one of the greatest larks of the war. The men came home loaded with every conceivable kind of plunder, but they were pretty well fagged out. The expedition went up the river about fifteen miles, then up a creek several miles, where they destroyed a sloop and several schooners, then landed and marched inland. They spread out over the country, and picked up quite a number of prisoners—soldiers on furlough, conscript officers, &c. One of these was a captain, who was enjoying a carriage ride with his lady love. He was politely requested to get down, one of the boys politely took his seat in the carriage, politely drove the young lady home, politely helped her out, bade her good bye with exquisite politeness, and drove away with the team as a prize of war.
You ask me about Charlie Farnam. It was not here, but down in South Carolina, I think, that he was drowned. He had been discharged from this regiment and had joined the navy. As we hear it, he was in a boat, which capsized, and he had nearly reached the shore when he sank.
Sunday, January 17.