They had only five pigs and three 'niggers' left now, and did not know how soon they'd go off with the rest.
Some of the soldiers who had been on picket near their plantation had behaved very bad, and had stolen and destroyed much of their corn and all their water melons (melancholy to relate); and Co. K of the 17th, was the worst of the lot—and the lady wound up with the expression of a hope "that the new recruits would be more of gentlemen than the old soldiers, and not seek to injure her as they had done."
Mr. Bray then showed me his melon patch which, though evincing some traces of the recent vandal act, still bore a goodly number, which I made a note of. He also showed me a patch of cotton, in full bloom,—and after another hour of desultory conversation, I left with the impression that old Bray was a 'great man on a small scale,' but his wife was the greater of the two.
About September 1st a storm came on, accompanied by rain, which lasted that and the following day and night, giving us and our traps a thorough soaking. During all this time I did not sleep a wink. The third morning, wet, sleepless and weary, I was detailed for guard, and was put on the third relief (from 1 to 3 P.M., and 1 to 3 A.M.), and during the first two hours of my guard was refreshed by a 'jolly' shower of rain, which came in at my coat collar and soon filled and overflowed my boots.
When the third relief turned in for the night, I lay down with the rest, on the wet ground, and attempted to sleep; but it was no go—so, lighting my pipe (sole comforter at times), I left the tent, and sat under a tree near by, and smoked the hours away (rain or no rain) until the third relief fell in, when taking my musket and falling in to my place, I was soon on my post, which extended from a tree (blown over by the wind) to the river bank, about 85 paces distant. I felt drowsy, but paced my beat rapidly to keep awake, until tired out, I leaned against the inclined trunk of the fallen tree to rest awhile. My brain was in a whirl, and everything about me seemed to reel and oscillate unsteadily. It was moonlight, but cloudy. More than once I thought I detected myself napping, and shook myself, and pinched my nose and ears to keep awake. My comrade, whose beat joined mine, came up occasionally, and we exchanged a few words. I exhorted him if he caught me napping to rouse me. He had left me, and was near the other end of his beat, when, on looking after him, I beheld, about ten paces from me, as plainly as if in daylight, the form of a huge negro. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, a linen coat blue or dark striped, vest, white shirt (seemingly of cotton,) open at the neck, around which was a colored handkerchief tied sailor fashion, the ends hanging down loose. His pants seemed of light fabric, checked. I could see his countenance plainly. It seemed, if anything, smiling, though there was something peculiar in its expression, as well as the attitude, for the figure seemed leaning its weight on one foot, its left hand resting on the hip, and the right arm hanging loosely by its side. The expression of the darky was so peculiar—jaunty, saucy—and he looked full at me, that for a moment I was taken by surprise,—and, during that moment made the observations just recorded—but quickly recovering, I brought my piece to 'charge,' and called out—
"Who comes there?"
But no response was deigned by my darky visitor. I challenged again, and again, with the same result, the object still retaining its position, and regarding me with the same complacent look—when my comrade, who heard my first challenge came up, and inquired what the matter was, just as I was about bringing my piece to 'present' to fire. I pointed to the object of my challenging, who still kept his ground in the same position. He laughed at what he supposed was a joke I was trying to come on him—not being able to see anything in the spot I pointed out,—and resumed his beat. The thought then occurred to me for the first time that what I saw was not real. What then was it? I asked myself. Surely I am not troubled with that disease known as 'nigger on the brain!' And I again leaned against the trunk of the fallen tree to think the subject over, all the while keeping my eyes fixed upon the object of my thoughts, which stood the scrutiny unmoved. Now, I am not superstition by nature, and still less so by education and experience,—and so I viewed the apparition without a particle of fear or awe, and tried to account to myself for its appearance in the most natural and rational manner. I came to the conclusion there and then, that want of rest and the stimulation of the coffee and tobacco I had been indulging in unduly excited my brain, which produced the hallucination, on the same principle that it is produced in certain stages of drunkenness, called delirium tremens. This was a very fair deduction; but still in front of me stood the grinning darky, as plainly as before. I thought then I would test the unreality of the apparition in another way. If it were an optical illusion, the figure must recede as I advanced, or follow as I retreated. I accordingly advanced towards it; but, strange to say, it remained in the same spot, until I was within arm's length, when stretching forth my hand I grasped—nothing. I walked over the exact spot where the figure stood, and returned to my old stand, to be still more puzzled to see the figure in the same spot, with the same expression on its countenance, but with both arms hanging down by its side this time. More puzzled still, I retreated to see if it would follow; but no—there it stood still gazing after me. I took three or four turns up and down my beat, and on each return to the fallen tree beheld the figure in the same position as last seen. I then halted, determined to watch if other changes would manifest themselves in shadowy being before me. My comrade came towards me again, and I reiterated my former tale of the apparition. Still he couldn't see it. But, as I was yet talking of it, and still persisting I saw it, the phantom darky disappeared—not suddenly, but seeming to melt away gradually.
"He vanished in the darkness, like a beam
Of cold, gray moonlight in a wintry stream."
This is the first and only ghost I have ever had the pleasure of seeing, or, more properly speaking, fancying I saw. What caused its appearance I neither know nor care, and only relate the fact (or fancy) because I think it singular.