As Mr. Davis passed the aperture, he stopped for a second to say good-bye to me, then he, too, disappeared. A few moments passed, and then the weeping of children and wailing of women announced the return of the stricken family. I heard a soldier say to Mr. Davis’s little son, “Don’t cry, Jeff. They ain’t going to hang your pa!” and the little fellow’s reply, made through his sobs.
“When I get to be a man,” he cried, “I’m going to kill every Yankee I see!”
When the child approached my door and I caught him in my arms and tried to cheer him, his resentment quickly changed to a manly tenderness; and, putting his baby lips up for a kiss, he said, “My papa told me to keep care of you and my Mamma!”
I referred in my diary to the serio-comic incidents of the search of our party. The event occurred early in the morning of the day following that of my husband’s removal. While gazing sadly across the waters toward the grim fort, I espied what seemed to be a pretty shallop, dancing lightly over the waters, in which were seated two women, brightly dressed. The little vessel seemed to be making for the Clyde. When I observed this, I called Mrs. Davis’s attention to the approaching party, saying, “Thank God! Here, I do believe, are two Virginia ladies come to give us some comfort.”
In a few moments one of our unknown visitors was at my cabin door. In my eagerness to meet a friendly face, I had almost extended my hand, when something in the appearance of the person before me struck me as peculiar. My surprise and curiosity was soon relieved, for my visitor said glibly, “We’ve been sent by the Government to see if you have any treasonable papers on board!” I looked at her in amazement.
“Is it possible,” I asked, “that the United States Government thinks we are such simpletons as to have carried treasonable papers aboard this ship?” My indignation grew.
“I frankly confess that if I could sink the whole Yankee nation in Hampton Roads I would do so; but carry valuable papers here? Pshaw!” and I turned away from her, full of contempt.
It was a hot, sultry day; one of those May days when the sun strikes the water vertically, and even breathing becomes a fatiguing effort. Despite the weather, the women who had thus unexpectedly presented themselves were greatly overdressed. Each wore an immense chignon on the back of her head, and was rouged and powdered and be-frizzed to an extent that was altogether unusual in ordinary circles. Bustles of the largest size, high-heeled shoes, conspicuous stockings, and as freely revealed gay petticoats completed the gaudy costumes of these remarkable agents of the Government. The person who had addressed me entered my cabin and proceeded to strip the pillow-case from the by no means immaculate pillow. She shook and felt carefully each article of bedding; then opened my valise and as minutely examined every article of borrowed finery therein. She commented on their quality as she did so, but I speedily put an end to this. “Proceed with your work, Madam!” I said, and I turned from the unpleasant sight before me.
As she emptied my gripsack, I heard her utter a half-shriek of alarm.
“Oh!” she cried, “you have a pistol!”