CHAPTER XXXV—WIT AND HUMOR OF THE WAR.
Negro Wit and Humor.—The Faithful Sentinel.—The Sentinel’s Respect for the United-States Uniform.—The “Nail-kag.”—The Poetical Drummerboy.—Contrabands on Sherman’s March.—Negro Poetry on Freedom.—The Soldier’s Speech.—Contraband capturing his Old Master.
With all the horrors of the Rebellion, there were occasions when these trying scenes were relieved by some amusing incident. Especially was this true with regard to the colored people. Thus when Adjutant-Gen. Thomas first announced the new policy in Mississippi, and they began enlisting freedmen, one was put on guard at night, at Lake Providence, and was instructed not to allow any one to pass without the countersign. He was, however, told not to fire upon a person until he had called out, “One, two, three.” The negro seemed not to understand it, and asked to have the instructions repeated. “You are to walk from here to that tree, and back,” continued the white sergeant, “and, if you see or hear any one, call out, ‘Who comes there? Give the countersign. One, two, three.’ And, if you receive no reply, shoot.”—“Yes, massa,” said Sam. “I got it dis time, and no mistake.” After an hour or more on duty, Sam thought he heard the tramp of feet, and began a sharp lookout. Presently bringing his gun to his shoulder, and taking sight, he called out in quick succession, “Who comes dar? Give de countersign. One, two, three!” And “bang” went the gun. Fortunately, the negro’s aim was not as reliable as was his determination to do his whole duty; and the only damage done was a bullet-hole through the Intruder’s hat. When admonished by the officer for not waiting for the man’s answer, the negro said, “Why, massa, I was afraid dat ef I didn’t shoot quick, he’d run.”
A colored sentinel was marching on his beat in the streets of Norfolk, Va., when a white man, passing by, shouldered him insolently off the sidewalk, quite into the street. The soldier, on recovering himself, called out,—
“White man, halt!”
The white man, Southerner like, went straight on. The sentinel brought his musket to a ready, cocked it, and hailed again,—
“White man, halt, or I’ll fire!”
The white man, hearing shoot in the tone, halted, and faced about.
“White man,” continued the sentry peremptorily, “come here!”
He did so.