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Jackson (Tennessee, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.2
s of women! And all the juvenile rag-tag. The lower steamboat landing, well covered with sugar, rice, and molasses, was being rifled. The men smashed; the women scooped up the smashings. The river was overflowing the top of the levee. A rain-storm began to threaten. Are the Yankee ships in sight? I asked of an idler. He pointed out the tops of their naked masts as they showed up across the huge bend of the river. They were engaging the batteries at Camp Chalmette — the old field of Jackson's renown. Presently that was over. Ah, me! I see them now as they come slowly round Slaughterhouse Point into full view, silent, grim, and terrible; black with men, heavy with deadly portent; the long-banished Stars and Stripes flying against the frowning sky. Oh, for the Mississippi! the Mississippi! Just then she came down upon them. But how? Drifting helplessly, a mass of flames. The crowds on the levee howled and screamed with rage. The swarming decks answered never a word; but
Louisiana (Louisiana, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.2
roaring mart! And there was a Foreign Legion. Of course, the city had always been full of foreigners; but now it was a subject of amazement, not unmixed with satire, to see how many whom every one had supposed to be Americans or citizens of Louisiana bloomed out as British, or French, or Spanish subjects. But, even so, the tremendous pressure of popular sentiment crowded them into the ranks and forced them to make every show of readiness to hurl back the foe, as we used to call it. And the men walked to the City Hall to demand the town's surrender. It was one of the bravest deeds I ever saw done. Later events, except one, I leave to other pens. An officer from the fleet stood on the City Hall roof about to lower the flag of Louisiana. In the street beneath gleamed the bayonets of a body of marines. A howitzer pointed up and another down the street. All around swarmed the mob. Just then Mayor Monroe--lest the officer above should be fired upon, and the howitzers open upon
Tennessee (Tennessee, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.2
dless variety of good and bad uniforms, a stately body of tall, stalwart Germans, clad from head to foot in velveteen of a peculiarly vociferous fragrance, and a boy, spelling out the name upon their banner, said: H-u-s-s-a-r-s: what's them? Aw, you fool! cried a dozen urchins at once, them's the Hoosiers. Don't you smell ‘em? But that was earlier. The day of grand reviews was past. Hussars, Zouaves, and numberless other bodies of outlandish name had gone to the front in Tennessee and Virginia. Our cultivated eyes were satisfied now with one uniform that we saw daily. Every afternoon found us around in Coliseum Place, standing or lying on the grass watching the dress parade of the Confederate guards. Most of us had fathers or uncles in the long, spotless, gray, white-gloved ranks that stretched in such faultless alignment down the hard, harsh turf of our old ball-ground. This was the flower of the home guard. The merchants, bankers, underwriters, judges, real
Cuba (Cuba) (search for this): chapter 2.2
weather-bleached bones. How quiet and lonely the harbor grew! The big dry-docks against the farther shore were all empty. Now and then a tug fussed about, with the yellow river all to itself; and one or two steamboats came and went each day, but they moved drowsily, and, across on the other side of the river, a whole fleet of their dingy white sisters laid tied up to the bank, sine die. My favorite of all the sea-steamers, the little Habana, that had been wont to arrive twice a month from Cuba, disgorge her Spanish-American cargo, and bustle away again, and that I had watched the shipwrights, at their very elbows, razee and fit with three big, raking masts in place of her two small ones, had long ago slipped down the river and through the blockaders, and was now no longer the Habana, but the far-famed and dreaded Sumter. The movements of military and naval defense lent some stir. The old revenue-cutter Washington, a graceful craft, all wings, no steam, came and went from the fo
Lake Pontchartrain (Louisiana, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.2
s. The men fell into ranks. I was left entirely alone in charge of the store in which I was employed. Late in the afternoon, receiving orders to close it, I did so, and went home. But I did not stay. I went to the river-side. There until far into the night I saw hundreds of drays carrying cotton out of the presses and yards to the wharves, where it was fired. The glare of those sinuous miles of flame set men and women weeping and wailing thirty miles away on the farther shore of Lake Pontchartrain. But the next day was the day of terrors. During the night fear, wrath, and sense of betrayal had run through the people as the fire had run through the cotton. You have seen, perhaps, a family fleeing with lamentations and wringing of hands out of a burning house: multiply it by thousands upon thousands; that was New Orleans, though the houses were not burning. The firemen were out; but they cast fire on the waters, putting the torch to the empty ships and cutting them loose to fl
Orange, N. J. (New Jersey, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.2
New Orleans before the capture. George W. Cable, Co. 1, 4th Mississippi Cavalry. The Confederate cruiser Sumter, Captain Semmes, leaving New Orleans, June 18, 1861. from a sketch made at the time. In the spring of 1862, we boys of Race, Orange, Magazine, Camp, Constance, Annunciation, Prytania, and other streets had no game. Nothing was in ; none of the old playground sports that commonly fill the school-boy's calendar. We were even tired of drilling. Not one of us between seven and seventeen but could beat the drum, knew every bugle-call, and could go through the manual of arms and the facings like a drill-sergeant. We were blase old soldiers — military critics. Who could tell us anything? I recall but one trivial admission of ignorance on the part of any lad. On a certain day of grand review, when the city's entire defensive force was marching through Canal street, there came along, among the endless variety of good and bad uniforms, a stately body of tall, stalwart
) (Mississippi, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.2
n (as I remember), I being again in the store with but one door ajar, came a roar of shoutings and imprecations and crowding feet down Common street. Hurrah for Jeff Davis! Hurrah for Jeff Davis! Shoot them! Kill them! Hang them! I locked the door on the outside, and ran to the front of the mob, bawling with the rest, Hurrah Jeff Davis! Shoot them! Kill them! Hang them! I locked the door on the outside, and ran to the front of the mob, bawling with the rest, Hurrah for Jeff Davis! About every third man there had a weapon out. Two officers of the United States navy were walking abreast, unguarded and alone, looking not to right or left, never frowning, never flinching, while the mob screamed in their ears, shook cocked pistols in their faces, cursed and crowded, and gnashed upon them. So thJeff Davis! About every third man there had a weapon out. Two officers of the United States navy were walking abreast, unguarded and alone, looking not to right or left, never frowning, never flinching, while the mob screamed in their ears, shook cocked pistols in their faces, cursed and crowded, and gnashed upon them. So through the gates of death those two men walked to the City Hall to demand the town's surrender. It was one of the bravest deeds I ever saw done. Later events, except one, I leave to other pens. An officer from the fleet stood on the City Hall roof about to lower the flag of Louisiana. In the street beneath gleamed the bayonet
Charleston (South Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.2
New Orleans before the capture. George W. Cable, Co. 1, 4th Mississippi Cavalry. The Confederate cruiser Sumter, Captain Semmes, leaving New Orleans, June 18, 1861. from a sketch made at the time. In the spring of 1862, we boys of Race, Orange, Magazine, Camp, Constance, Annunciation, Prytania, and other streets had no game. Nothing was in ; none of the old playground sports that commonly fill the school-boy's calendar. We were even tired of drilling. Not one of us between seven and seventeen but could beat the drum, knew every bugle-call, and could go through the manual of arms and the facings like a drill-sergeant. We were blase old soldiers — military critics. Who could tell us anything? I recall but one trivial admission of ignorance on the part of any lad. On a certain day of grand review, when the city's entire defensive force was marching through Canal street, there came along, among the endless variety of good and bad uniforms, a stately body of tall, stalwart
Shiloh, Tenn. (Tennessee, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.2
t. Not that the town seemed so desolate then as it does now, as one tells of it; but the times were grim. Opposite the rear of the store where I was now employed,--for it fronted in Common street and stretched through to Canal,--the huge, unfinished custom-house reared its lofty granite walls, and I used to go up to its top now and then to cast my eye over the broad city and harbor below. When I did so, I looked down upon a town that had never been really glad again after the awful day of Shiloh. She had sent so many gallant fellows to help Beauregard, and some of them so young,--her last gleaning,--that when, on the day of their departure, they marched with solid column and firm-set, unsmiling mouths down the long gray lane made by the open ranks of those old Confederate Guards, and their escort broke into cheers and tears and waved their gray shakoes on the tops of their bayonets and seized the dear lads' hands as they passed in mute self-devotion and steady tread, while the trum
Texas (Texas, United States) (search for this): chapter 2.2
d got letters of mark and reprisal, and let slip these sharp-nosed deerhounds upon the tardy, unsuspecting ships that came sailing up to the Passes unaware of the declaration of war. But that game too was up. The blockade had closed in like a prison-gate: the lighter tow-boats, draped with tarpaulins, were huddled together under Slaughterhouse Point, with their cold boilers and motionless machinery yielding to rust; the more powerful ones had been moored at the long wharf vacated by Morgan's Texas steamships; there had been a great hammering, and making of chips, and clatter of railroad iron, turning these tow-boats into iron-clad cotton gunboats, and these had crawled away, some up and some down the river, to be seen in that harbor no more. At length only the foundries, the dry-docks across the river, and the ship-yard in suburb Jefferson, where the great ram Mississippi was being too slowly built, were active, and the queen of Southern commerce, the city that had once believed it w
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