The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers, Series 3
LETTER LXXXVII.
IN WHICH OUR CORRESPONDENT HAS A DEADLY AFFAIR OF HONOR WITH A GENTLEMAN FROM KENTUCKY; EXPERIENCES "CONTRABAND" HOSPITALITY AND MELODY; ATTENDS A GREAT MEETING IN ACCOMAC; AND WITNESSES A PRODIGIOUS NAVAL ACHIEVEMENT.
WASHINGTON, D.C., March 15th, 1863.
Kentucky, my boy, has considered herself a general boon to mankind eversince she was discovered by Colonel Boone; but there are differentkinds of boons known to mankind, and if I should chance to mention thebaboon as amongst the noisiest and least respectable of the species, myremark may not be regarded as entirely destitute of a personal bearing.It was in the honeyed accents of admiring friendship that I conveyedthis chaste zoological idea to the Conservative Kentucky chap on Mondaylast, as we took Richmond together at Willard's bar, and I regret tosay that he made it _casus belli_. Accidentally dropping hisbowie-knife on the floor, and hastily replacing his ruffles over thehandle of his pocket revolver, he polished the blade of his dirk with ablood-colored silk handkerchief, and says he:
"Kentucky fought for Washington in the Revolution; she has, thus far,prosecuted the present war without fear; nor will she shrink from evenshedding personal gore where the provocation is the offspring of Yankeelowness."
He said this, with exceeding majesty, my boy, and I felt that I wasindeed involved in complications with the Border States.
"I understand you, my warrior," says I, calmly; "but if this affair isto come off immediately, where are we to find our seconds?"
The Kentucky chap hastily called a small boy to him, and says he:
"Sonny, just run out into the street and ask any two gentlemen you meetto step in here for a moment." "You see," says he, turning to me, "it'sbetter to have two brigadier-generals for seconds, as a battle mighttake place while we are away, and there are no private soldiers tospare at present."
"Yes," says I, thoughtfully, "that's very true."
The brigadiers were obtained, my boy, and, with murder in our hearts,we started forth to seek a spot appropriate for carnage in private. Itwas just the hour of mid-day, and we were wending our sanguinary way insilence, when, upon turning a corner of one of the public buildings,the sound of sweet music fell upon our ears, and we came suddenly upona brass band and a party of singers, who were discoursing witchingstrains under one of the windows.
I listened for a moment, and then, says I: "What may be the occasionfor this noonday melody?"
The Conservative Kentucky chap motioned for us to pause, and says he,feelingly: "It's a serenade to Secretary Welles of the Navy. Let usheed the voice of the singer."
Here a young vocal chap, under the window, commenced singing thefollowing words, in a fine tenor manner:
SERENADE.
"O lady, in thy waking glance There lurked a wondrous spell, To hold young Cupid in thine eye As in a prison cell.
"And now, the god of Slumber finds Thy drooping lids so fair, He makes of them his chosen couch And dwells forever there."
As the last note of the singer fainted into the eternity of lostsounds, I looked at the Conservative Kentucky chap, my boy, and beheldthat his eyes were suffused with the tears of an exquisite sensibility.
"Yes," says he, softly, "--'and dwells forever there.'" Here theKentucky chap shed another tear to wash out the stain of the last one,and says he, "Mr. Welles is indeed a lady who offers some attraction toslumber. May he rest in peace!"
We were all too deeply affected to speak, but proceeded silently to avacant lot across the river, where accommodations for law-breaking wereample. Everything about us here seemed fraught with the spirit ofpeace; on each side, and as far as the eye could reach behind andbefore, were the tents of the Army of the Potomac, growing in the spotswhere they were planted years ago. We alone, of all the human beingswithin sound of our weapons, were about to be breakers of theestablished war--to shed human blood. It seemed like a sacrilege, and Itrembled with the cold.
At first, my boy, we had some trouble to keep the brigadier-generalswith us, as it suddenly struck them that they had not drawn their payfor two whole hours, and were frantic to return; but when I suggested,that if they should be missed from their posts, they would probably benominated for major-generalship, they consented to remain.
When the Conservative Kentucky chap took his position, I noticed thathis countenance was contorted into a horrible expression of severity,and asked him why it was?
"Hem!" says he, "this is a solemn moment, young man. We are both aboutto fly into the face of our Maker." Here he pointed his weapon at me;and says he: "I think you are frightened."
"No," says I, making ready.
The Kentucky chap's face then assumed the most terrific expression Iever saw, and says he:
"Are you not alarmed at your awful position?"
"No," says I.
The Conservative Kentucky chap lowered his pistol, and, motioning forthe brigadiers to come from behind their trees, advanced to my side.
"Hem!" says he, frowning majestically, "I think I understood you tointimate that you were terrified."
"No," says I.
Here the Conservative Kentucky chap took me suddenly by the arm in avery confidential manner, and, having led me a few paces back, says he,in a horrible whisper: "You find yourself frightened, as it were."
"Why, no," says I.
"Well," says the Conservative Kentucky chap, "I AM."
And we all went home together.
Since then, my boy, I have weighed and contrasted my own feelings andthose of the Conservative Kentucky chap on that occasion, when I won aneverlasting reputation for bravery; and I am satisfied that the braveryof a man in an affair of honor is a superior capacity for concealingterror.
It was toward the middle of the week that I went down to Accomac toattend a great Union meeting there, and it's my private opinion, myboy, my private opinion, that the human tongue is not without itsprovince in this war. But before the meeting commenced, and whilst Iwas reflecting upon the fact that it was the day on which the Prince ofWales was to be married, a redeemed contraband saluted me, and says he:
"Mars'r, I hab been made a free man by Mars'r Lincoln, and hab opened aRefreshment Saloon on de European plan. If you want to dine, sar,here's my card. My name is Mister Negg."
I looked at the card as he left me, and found it to read thus:--
HAMAN NEGG'S
RESTAURANT.
ICH DIEN OYSTERS IN EVERY STYLE.
There was one thing about this inscription that I did not understand,and says I to a chap near me:
"See here, my patriotic friend, what does this mean? What kind ofthings are Ich Dien Oysters?"
"Oh," says he, obligingly, "you do not understand the Hanoveriantongue. '_Ich Dien_' is the Prince of Wales' motto, and means '_Iserve_.' The phrase 'Ich Dien Oysters in Every Style' means, 'I serveoysters in every style.'"
Then it was, my boy, that I saw in Mr. Negg's device the despisedAfrican's testimonial of gratitude to Great Britain for the recentreaction of anti-slavery sentiment there. A more delicate compliment,my boy, was never offered to the mother country, who has given us allat least 290[3] reasons for loving her.
[3] Persons who despise Europe may remember, that, "The 290," (supposed to mean, from 290 British Merchants) was the original name of the rebel pirate "Alabama."
And speaking of redeemed contrabands, reminds me of the new Africanhymn, which the more pious colored Americans of South Carolina mightdenominate
DE GREAT HALLELUGERUM.
"My mars'r's gwine away to fight With Mars'r Linkum's horde, An' now dis chile's at libaty To dance an' bress de Lord. Dar's no more swearin' round de house When missus cut up bad; Dar's no more kickin' niggers' shins, And, darfor', I is glad.
"When mars'r take his horse to go, He kindly say to me: 'I hab such confidence in you, I leab you all, you see; Of all de niggers round de place, I trust to yo
u alone.' By golly! dat's what mars'r say To eb'ry nig he own!
"'Now if dem Bobumlitionists Should kill me dead,' says he, 'I hab instruct your missus kind To set you niggers free.' But mars'r say dat bery same Wheneber he get sick, And bressed Jesus wrastle him To make him holy quick.
"'Dem Yankees, dam um all,' says he, 'Am comin' down to steal You niggers, and to sell you then For Cuba cochineal. De Suvern chiverly,' says he, 'Am fightin' jist fo' you.' Now mars'r swearum when he lie, And, darfor', dat wont do!
"Den mars'r trot away to war With 'Dolphus by his side,-- A poor cream-colored, common dark Dat isn't worf his hide. He leab me and de other nigs To clar the place alone, With nuffin' but to play and shake De fiddle and de bone.
"I hab a talk with Uncle Pete, De old plantation hand, And though he am intelligums Dis chile can understand. He say de Hallelugerum For cullud folks hab cum, And dat he bressed Lord hab heard And beat his thunder-drum.
"He say dat Northern buckra man Hab sent his gun an' ship To make de rebel chiverly Give up his nigger whip, He say dat now's de darkey's time To break de bonds of sin, And take his chil'en an' his wife To whar de tide comes in.
"He say dat in de Norf, up dar, Whar Mars'r Greeley dwell, De white folks make de brack folks work, But treat them bery well; He says dey pay them for de work Dey's smart enuff to do, And nebber sells them furder Souf When sheriff put um screw.
"I hab a wife an chil'en dear, And mars'r say to me He nebber sell them while he live,-- He'd rather set them free; But dar's de mortgage on de house, If dat should hab to fall, Ole Uncle Pete hab told me dat He'd hab to sell us all.
"I lub de ole plantation well, And missus she is kind; But den dis chile's inclined to try Another home to find. Now mars'r gwine away to war, And give me such a chance, I'll bress de Lord for libaty. And hab a Juba dance.
"De Hallelugerum am cum With glory in his eye, And all de niggers in de Souf Am fit to mount de sky. My wife an' chil'en hab de spoons Dat's owned by--(here a cough)-- I hab de sugar-tongs myself, And, darfor,' I is off."
Among the distinguished speakers invited to be present at the greatmeeting in Accomac, were: the Emperor of Russia, the Emperor of France,the Sultan of Turkey, Queen Victoria, the King of Sweden, the Presidentof the United States, and Theodore Tilton; but, as the walking was verybad, they did not all come. The celebrated American patriot, Mr. PhelimO'Shaughnessy, took the chair in the absence of the President, andsaid, that as the Emperor of France was unavoidably absent, he wouldbeg leave to introduce Mr. Terence Mulligan, whose ancestors were onceIrishmen themselves.
Mr. Mulligan was received with prolonged applause, and said, thatalthough he bore an Irish name, he had never been ashamed to associatewith Americans. His father, while yet on his way from Ireland, had beenelected a Justice of the Peace in New York, and his son should be thelast one to neglect the Union in its hour of need. What we wanted now,was, that the example of our Irish citizens should be imitated by theothers, and that the war should be prosecuted with vigor. (Continuedcheering.) Irishmen need never despair of this glorious Union, whichhad often been a House of Refuge for them, and could not fall withoutcarrying Ireland with it,--so closely were the two great nations knittogether. The Irish would never despair:
"For Freedom's struggle once begun, Bequeathed from bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever won."
When the enthusiasm had subsided, the chairman expressed his regretthat the Emperor of Russia had not arrived yet; but felt confident thathis place could not be better supplied than by Mr. Mickey Flanigan,whose forefathers were themselves the fellow-countrymen of DanielO'Connell. (Great applause.)
Mr. Flanigan arose amidst great cheering, and said that it was a timewhen every Irishman should feel as though the eyes of the whole worldwere upon him. He had found the natives of this country intelligent,kind, and hospitable; and though they had not taken his advice as tothe management of this war, he firmly believed that no Irishman woulddisagree with him when he said, that Irish arms and Irish hearts wouldfinally conquer:
"For Freedom's battle once begun. Bequeathed by loyal sire to son, Though baffled oft is ever won."
As soon as the demonstrations of approval had sufficiently subsided,the chairman stated, that, for some unknown reason, Queen Victoria wasbehind time; yet he could not, for his part, feel sorry for an eventwhich gave him an opportunity to introduce Mr. Figsey Korigan, whorepresented that element of the world's hidden, free spirit which hadthundered in an Emmett and an O'Brien. (Great enthusiasm.)
Mr. Korigan acknowledged the glorious welcome he had received, anddeclared that this was a proud day for Ireland. Her sons were everforemost in the ranks of human freedom, shedding their votes for theoppressed of all lands, and fighting all the time. He would say to thatIrishman who despaired of this Union, that he was unworthy of anyoffice, and should blush to call himself an American. The speaker's ownfamily had always been Irish, though he himself was born in Cork, andhe would be ashamed to stand on that platform if he did not believethat the freeborn Irish soul would eventually triumph:
"For Freedom's contest once begun, By bleeding sire bequeathed to son, Though baffled oft is ever won."
The chairman now arose, amid frantic applause, and said that themeeting was now at an end; but proposed that all the persons presentshould enroll themselves as members of a Union League for thePrevention of Distress among our Irish Soldiers in the Field. This wasresponded to with a thundering "Ay." He also proposed that each personpresent should contribute one dollar as a basis of a fund for thepurpose. A gentleman here moved that the chairman's last suggestionshould be amended by omitting the words "dollar" and "fund." Carriedunanimously.
Then all the Accomackians went pleasantly home, my boy, except oneseedy chap who had stood patiently before the platform during all theproceedings; and there he still stood, with his arms folded, when allthe rest had gone. He was a somewhat loaferish chap, with someappearance of the philosopher.
The chairman looked at him, and says he:
"What are you waiting for, my friend?"
The chap gave an extra chew to his tobacco, and says he:
"I'm waiting for that ere Great Union meeting to come off."
"Why," says the chairman, "the meeting is all over."
"Yes, I know--_that_ meeting," says the chap, explainingly; "but I meanthe Great _Union_ meeting."
It is astonishing, my boy, how much ignorance there is in this world.Here was a sane human being who had attentively stood all through ameeting in aid of our sacred national cause, and yet did not know thatit was a Union meeting.
Thursday was the day when I reached the head-quarters of the MackerelBrigade, at the ancient city of Paris, arriving just in time to witnessone of those strategic naval exploits which will yet cause the Americanname to be respected wherever there is nothing particular against it.
It appears, that after his last successful experiment with his patentswivel gun, that stanch old sea-dog, Rear Admiral Head, devoted much ofhis time on Duck Lake fishing for bass, believing that noble expanse ofwaters to be free from all obstructions and open to the commerce of theworld. The commerce did not come, my boy; but several insidiousConfederacies did; and as our glorious old son of Neptune always satwith his back to their side of the lake when fishing, they constructeda pier which extended from the shore to the main deck of theiron-plated Mackerel Squadron, the "Secretary Welles," and had plantedseven villanous horse-pistols to command the Admiral's fish-basket andumbrella before our hoary old salt discovered that the war was stillgoing on.
"Riddle my turret!" says the grim old Triton, in his iron-platedmanner, "I believe a blockade is established; dent my plates if Idon't."
Heartily
did that pride of our Navy call up the culpably inattentiveMackerel crew, who were eating clams in the stern-sheets, and quicklywas the gallant "Secretary Welles" withdrawn out of the range of theConfederacies' murderous fire; her swivel gun raking the atmospherefore and aft, whilst the fearless old sea-dog sat down upon a reversedpail amidships, and addressed a letter breathing future vengeance tothe unseemly Copperheads of the North. "Sink my Monitor!" says hehotly; "let them beware of the time when the Navy returns to itspeaceful home!"
But it was on Thursday, my boy, that the Rear Admiral was to run theblockade of the Confederacies' pier, and Captain Villiam Brown, CaptainBob Shorty, and myself, stood upon the edge of Duck Lake, with ourpieces of smoked glass in our hands, to behold this triumph ofconsummate naval strategy.
At the hour appointed, we beheld Rear Admiral Head and his Mackerelcrew slipping over the stern of the Mackerel squadron into the water,and immediately the "Secretary Welles" commenced to float past theConfederacies' batteries with the tide. Onward she went, despite theplunging fire from the horse-pistols, and, presently, we could see hergo safely ashore. Never shall I forget the beautiful glow of triumphthat overspread the noble countenance of Rear Admiral Head, as he andhis crew waded through the water to the place where we stood.
"Unrivet my armor!" says he, in his stern, iron-plated manner; "I callthat running a blockade in good style."
"Yes," says I, sceptically; "but how are you going to get the squadronback again?"
"Eh?" says he, "what was that question, young man?"
"Why," says I, anxiously, "now that the squadron has run the blockade,how are you going to get her back again?"
"By all that's iron-clad," says the grim old sea-dog, violently, "Iforgot all about that."
"Ah!" says Captain Villiam Brown, pleasantly, "can't you dig a canal?"
At this moment there was a tremendous explosion; something was seenflying through the air, and then the swivel gun of the "SecretaryWelles," with the Admiral's fish-basket and umbrella attached, fellbeside us on the sand. In their haste to take possession of oursquadron, the Confederacies had dropped some sparks from their pipesinto the powder-magazine, blowing our entire armament back to us!
Providence, my boy, is evidently on our side in this war; whichaccounts for the fact that human naval genius has not yet entirelyruined us.
Yours, devoutly,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.