On the 1st of October, the 17th again assumed the provost duty of Newbern, relieving the 27th Mass., where it has, I believe, remained ever since.
The rebels had during the winter of 1863, made several feints upon Newbern, and drove in our pickets at various times, but never approached nearer the city than ten miles. During the Fall of '63, after the nine months troops had been all withdrawn from the department, their time having expired, the comparatively small garrison had been still further depleted by Gen. Butler (who succeeded Gen. Foster as department commander) for the purpose of strengthening other posts. The rebels fully aware of this, determined upon the capture of Newbern, and, during January, collected a force of 15,000 or 20,000 men at Kinston, and on the 26th, reached our outposts, which they drove in. About 114 men of the various companies of the 17th under command of Lieut. Col. Fellows, went to the assistance of the pickets at Batchelder's Creek, and on the 1st of Feb. were attacked by an overwhelming force of rebels, and lost eight officers and fifty men taken prisoners, and one killed and four wounded. Among the prisoners were Lieut. Col. Fellows, Adjutant Cheever (wounded), Capt. Lloyd (wounded), and Lieuts. B. F. Mann and Comins. But the rebs didn't get Newbern, although they captured Plymouth and its brave commander (Gen. Wessells), and the heroic garrison under his command. And after all the blood shed in the efforts to hold Little Washington, it has been abandoned to the enemy. Let us hope that the same policy will not be pursued in the case of Newbern, which is certainly one of the most important and strongly fortified posts held by our army on the coast.
I was taken sick in April, and sent down to Beaufort with thirty or forty other sick men. We took the cars at Newbern, and in about three hours were transported from the heat and dust of the interior to the cool, bracing air of the sea coast. On the way down I noticed that the country we passed through seemed little better than a continuation of swamps. We passed Havelock station, where a block-house had been erected in the midst of a swamp, and I pitied the poor fellows whose duty it would be to garrison that post during the coming warm season. Further on we came to clearing, and saw a line of breastworks behind which it was intended to dispute the advance of Burnside's forces in their march from Slocum's Creek to Newbern, but which he drove them from with little trouble. Newport Barracks, about ten miles from Morehead City, was a collection of some dozen houses, and the quarters of the cavalry and infantry pickets in that section. Carolina City was next reached, but where the city was I couldn't for the life of me make out. It was not anything like so grand a place as Newport Barracks, and I should not have known of its whereabouts but for the camp of the 23d Mass., which was said to be in the city. We next passed through Morehead City to the railroad terminus or wharf, about a mile further on. Morehead consists of one or two hotels, and forty or fifty houses and stores. A number of steamers and transports were laying at and off the railroad wharf. To the south, across the sound, I beheld Fort Macon, and anchored abreast of it and inside the sound were ships of all descriptions, from the captured blockade runner to the huge blockaders which were taking their rest and preparing to resume their dangerous duties off Wilmington, relieving in turn some other blockader. The city of Beaufort lay to the eastward, and looked much larger than it really was, and quite imposing.
While waiting for transportation, and looking at the various objects of interest around, my eye lit upon an individual (a sergeant in the—Mass.) whom I instantly recognized as having seen at Camp Cameron, whither he had been detailed to gather up recruits. But what a change had been wrought in his appearance! When I saw him at Cambridge he was full of life, spirit, confidence, and business—and drove a profitable trade there in the retail of porter, ale, &c. (under the rose, of course.) Now he looked cheerless and forlorn—utterly 'played out,' and as anxious as the most peacefully inclined rebel that 'this cruel war' should be ended. Hard marching, hard beds, hard usage, hard fighting and hard tack, had evidently left their mark upon him. And yet he was not sick—only dispirited a little.
A boat being at length in readiness we embarked, and after an hour's sail reached the Hammond Hospital at Beaufort. This hospital was in a building or series of buildings formerly known as Pender's Hotel, and was one of the most considerable and extensive of its class in Beaufort, and before the war was the summer residence of many planters and their families from the interior who made this city their watering place. The main structure was built out upon the shore, on piles, so that the tide ebbed and flowed under it, and was altogether one of the most delightful places I have seen in that section. The former owner (Pender) was among the first and most active in the secession movement in North Carolina, and, with a company of men he had raised in Beaufort, took possession of Fort Macon; but Burnside came along, and after taking Newbern, Morehead City and Beaufort, leisurely proceeded to knock him and his fellow traitors and their arrangements into a 'cocked hat,' and Pender was taken prisoner and forced to leave his fine hotel, with its plate, furniture and bedding, behind him; and the story went that the negroes, the poor whites who remained, and some of the officers of a Rhode Island regiment divided the spoils.
The city of Beaufort is well laid out and looks quite pleasant from the water; but though there are a few good dwellings and some old-fashioned stores, the houses are scattering and the sand ankle-keep in the streets. In fact, the city is built upon a bank of sand; and how the inhabitants managed to cultivate gardens was a mystery to me—but they did make gardens, and in some instances very creditable ones. The soil, however, seemed too sandy for any fruit trees but the fig, which flourished in great plenty. The majority of the people—who, I judge, never exceeded two thousand in number—seemed to live by fishing and gathering shells. Beaufort is so situated within the folds of a marsh, and the approaches to it are so intricate and shallow, that it can never become a place of any great commercial importance—Morehead City will be its successful rival in that respect.
We (that is, the sick men) were assisted to land, and, after our names were checked and our surgeons' certificates or assignments deposited, shown to our ward room; and, to tell the truth, we had no cause to complain of our new quarters, which were pleasantly situated in the main building, commanding an extensive view of the harbor and the sea beyond. The beds were really good—but to us poor devils who had known nothing of the kind since leaving home, they appeared truly luxurious. A little experience in the productions of the culinary department of the hospital, however, did not impress us so favorably with that part of the programme. The bread was often hard and mouldy, and the beef as solid as a frozen turnip and salt as Lot's wife. As for the soup, it was whispered around that it was nothing but sea water in which salt junk was boiled, and a few carpenters' shavings thrown in for vegetables—it was called 'salt-water soup.' Of fresh meat I never tasted any in the hospital, while of fish and oysters, which were in great abundance in the market, I did not have more than two meals during the four weeks I was in hospital. When we complained to our fellow patients of the fare, they told us it was much better than it had been.
A few days after our arrival we were called up to undergo examination by the hospital surgeon, Dr. Ainsworth. In answer to one of his queries, we all told him we liked our quarters very well, but complained about the poor quality of the 'grub.'
When Tom McNally (the hero of the kicking mare) came up, Dr. Ainsworth asked—
"Well—what's the matter with you, sir?"