[
185]
Chapter 8: the Baby of the regiment.
We were in our winter camp on
Port Royal Island.
It was a lovely November morning, soft and spring-like; the mocking-birds were singing, and the cotton-fields still white with fleecy pods.
Morning drill was over, the men were cleaning their guns and singing very happily; the officers were in their tents, reading still more happily their letters just arrived from home.
Suddenly I heard a knock at my tent-door, and the latch clicked.
It was the only latch in camp, and I was very proud of it, and the officers always clicked it as loudly as possible, in order to gratify my feelings.
The door opened, and the
Quartermaster thrust in the most beaming face I ever saw.
“
Colonel,” said he, “there are great news for the regiment.
My wife and baby are coming by the next steamer!”
“Baby!”
said I, in amazement.
“Q. M., you are beside yourself.”
(We always called the
Quartermaster Q. M. for shortness.) “There was a pass sent to your wife, but nothing was ever said about a baby.
Baby indeed”
“But the baby was included in the pass,” replied the triumphant father-of-a-family.
“You don't suppose my wife would come down here without her baby!
Besides, the pass itself permits her to bring necessary baggage, and is not a baby six months old necessary baggage?”
“But, my dear fellow,” said I, rather anxiously, “how ”
