One of our party was conspicuous by being the proud possessor
of a high-crowned beaver.
He was the grenadier of the party.
, in his book, makes mention of an amusing circumstance connected with the owner of the headgear in question.
He had incautiously stepped over the ‘dead line’ of the prison pen, when he was hailed by the negro guard from the parapet, ‘White
man, ef you don't get back over dat line I'll blow dat ar nail kag offen top of you head.’
It is hardly necessary to say the proprietor of the ‘nail kag’ beat a hasty retreat.
The following morning we were again placed on board a steamer, arriving late in the afternoon at Point Lookout
We disembarked on the wharf, where we remained all night without any shelter, exposed to the bitter blast coming up the bay, cutting into our very vitals.
It was by long odds the roughest treatment we received.
Though it was the month of June, it was very cold and we suffered much; sometimes we would lay down close together and get up to walk about to keep our blood in circulation.
It would have taken a Mark Tapley
to be ‘jolly’ under such circumstances.
The Federal officer into whose custodywe were delivered was a cross-looking customer.
He carried a curious-looking grapevine stick, and with much roughness he had us all examined for money or articles contraband of war, preparatory to our being ushered into the prison pen which was to be our post office address for a long time to come.