Where care falls too.”
95I found that there was a horrible sense of being a prisoner—of being in somebody’s possession—of eating, drinking, sleeping, moving, living, by somebody’s permission; and worst of all, that somebody the very enemy you had been striving to overcome. There was a feeling of dependence10 on those who were the very last persons on whom you were willing to be dependent. There was a dreary11 sense of constraint12 in your freest hours, of being shut in from all the world, and having all the world shut out from you.
In the first days of imprisonment13 the novelty carried the new prisoners along, and buoyed14 them up. Then came a season of work, when they built cabins and made stools and tables; and then, a restless fit, when they felt most keenly the irksomeness of the life, and made foolish plans to escape, which (so the “old prisoners” said) had been tried before and failed. Then the “new prisoners” would grow quiet and sad. The most of them would become idle, inert15, neglectful of their dress and quarters, peevish16 and listless, despondent17 of exchange, yet indifferent to all present improvement. A few (about one in ten) would struggle to make matters better; they would take hopeful views of affairs and perform active work on things around them.
For a day or two after our arrival at Camp Groce we lay by, idle and weary. As I thus looked on, and saw the listless despondency of the “old prisoners,” I discovered quickly that those were happiest who were busiest. Experience since has confirmed me in the value 96I early set on occupation. Those labors18 which the rebels have imposed on our men—the chopping of wood—the building of houses—the cooking of rations—have been, I think, the prisoner’s greatest blessings19. Our active northern minds chafe20 at enforced idleness, and the freshly caught Yankee, or Hoosier, after the work of cabin building is done, and the rough tables and stools are made, becomes dejected and then sick; and yet while he was doing the work at which he growled21, both soul and body bore up easily. It is no wonder then that I said to my lieutenant22, “This will never do for us, Sherman, we must be busy.”
We turned over a new leaf, therefore, for the following day. The Captain of the “Morning Light” joined us and pledged himself to provide and devise quantities of work. With the first gleam of light one of us rose, and from a little private hoard23 abstracted a small handful of coffee. These sailor prisoners, I early found, had no idea of going without while the Confederacy could supply them for either love or money (they did not care much which); and they inspired the rest with a little of their own easy impudence24.
Accordingly on the door-post hung one of the last coffee-mills that the shops of Houston had held, and in the galley25 (as they called the kitchen) stood a stove—the only one, probably, in any Texan camp. The first riser then kindled26 a fire in the stove, if it was not already there, and ground and made the coffee. Then bearing it to the sleepers27’ bunks28, he quickly roused them with 97the cheerful salutation of “Here’s your coffee—your fine hot coffee!” When a tin mug of coffee is the only luxury of the day it rises in importance and becomes great. We sipped30 it slowly and discussed it gravely. One thought that if it were strained a fourth time it would be stronger—the maker31, on the contrary, thought that straining it again would take the strength out; a second insisted that it ought to boil—but the maker maintained that boiling dispelled32 the aroma33 and sent it flying through the air. The coffee ended before the argument; and then after rinsing34 out our mugs and restoring them to their private pegs35, we took down our towels and started for the “branch.” We descended36 the hill by a little path that was nearly hidden in tall weeds and led to some thick bushes and trees that grew along the “branch.” The chain of sentinels around the camp consisted of broad-hatted Texans, sitting at irregular intervals37 on stumps39 and logs, and generally engaged in balancing their rifles on their knees. One of these, Captain Dillingham hailed in a patronizing way, in return for which attention the sentry40 halted us.
“I reckon,” he said, “you can’t go no further jist yit awhile.”
“Halloo,” said the Captain, “what’s the matter now?”
“Well, there be three down there now, and the orders is not to let no more down to once.”
“Orders?” said the Captain, indignantly: “who cares for orders! What difference does it make to Jeff Davis 98whether there are three prisoners or six washing themselves?”
“Well, I reckon it don’t make an awful sight of difference,” the sentry admitted.
“Of course it doesn’t,” said the Captain, following up the concession41. “The idea of making us wait here because there’s somebody down there!”
“Well, I reckon you might as well go on,” yielded the sentry: “I reckon you won’t run off this morning;” and on we went.
The “branch” was a little brook42, sometimes running over sand-bars, sometimes filtering through them, and occasionally settling into pools, which were our bathing places. It was a happy relief to be out of sight of the barracks and alone. We clung to this under all sorts of difficulties and restrictions—sometimes going out with a patrol—sometimes squeezing through on parole, and holding fast to it, until we left Camp Groce in the cold weather of December.
The bath being taken, we walked leisurely43 back, wondering that so few sought this relief from the misery44 of prison. At the barracks our sailor cook had prepared the breakfast, which was set out on the long table. He blew his boatswain’s whistle, and all members of the mess hurried at the call. I had felt poor when I arrived at Camp Groce. I had expected to broil45 beef on sticks, and bake dodger46 in a dodger pot, and live on my ration3 as the Texans did. I was amazed at the extravagance I beheld47, and when Captain Dillingham, with a sailor’s 99heartiness, invited me to join the navy mess, I hinted to him that probably I should become insolvent48 in a fortnight, if I did. The Captain laughed at the idea. He said there was plenty of money in Texas—he had never seen a country that had so much money—and it was the easiest thing to get it—anybody would lend you all you wanted—the only fault he had to find was, that after he got it he couldn’t spend it. Now, making reasonable allowances for nautical49 exaggeration, this was true. Sometimes a secret unionist—sometimes a Confederate officer fairly forced his money upon us. They took no obligation, save the implied one of our honor; and the manner of payment, and the specie value of their Confederate funds, they left entirely50 to ourselves. To spend this money was a harder task. To change this easily gotten spoilt paper into something of real intrinsic worth was to acquire wealth.
When breakfast was finished, I took up a little French volume of ghost stories (which I read over five times carefully in the course of the next five months), and spent on it and some military works the next four hours. “Prisoners have nothing to do but to eat;” so at the end of four hours we had our breakfast over again. When “dinner,” as it was called, was finished, the Captain stoutly51 asserted that a load of wood must be got, and somebody must volunteer to get it. The Captain volunteered, so did Lieutenant Sherman and myself, so did another officer cheerfully, and two more tardily52; but the mass of closely confined prisoners were too weak and 100too dejected, and they shrunk back from the effort that this work would cost them, preferring to stay idle and listless in their horrid53 prison. Those of us who volunteered, seized a couple of dull old axes, and proceeded to head-quarters.
“We are going out for wood to cook with,” said the Captain to the lieutenant that we found there, “and we must have an arbor55 to keep the sun off those sick fellows, or they’ll all die, and you’ll have nobody to exchange. Wake up one or two of your men, and send them out with us.”
The lieutenant reckoned he could not, he hadn’t a man to spare, all were on guard who hadn’t gone off to a race. The Captain pointed56 to the axes and said, “we were all ready to go.” This struck the lieutenant as a powerful reason, and he reckoned he would let a nigger hitch57 up the mules58, and then let us go without any guard, but we must not go across the “branch.” The Captain replied that we would not go a great way across the “branch;” but he was fond of liberty, he said, and would not be circumscribed59 by “branches.” The lieutenant insisted on the “branch,” there had been orders given to that effect, he reckoned. The Captain did not care anything about orders—what difference could it make to Jeff Davis, he asked, whether we cut wood on this side of the “branch” or the other. The lieutenant could not answer this question, so he said, coaxingly60, “Well, you won’t go a great ways on the other side, will you?”
101This little difference being thus compromised, we mounted an old rickety “two-mule wagon61,” and drove down the “wood road,” till a sentry, sitting on a stump38, reckoned we had better stop. Stop! what should we stop for? He reckoned he’d orders to let nobody out. Orders! Why, we had just been up to head-quarters, and got orders to go out, and also the wagon; what more could he want. Then why had not the lieutenant sent down a man to tell him; it was no way to do business. The Captain said the wagon was pass enough as long as the mules would travel, and that we were going out for wood, which he thought altered the case; if he, the sentry, doubted it, there were the axes. The sentry looked at the axes, and could not doubt the evidence of his eyes, so he let us out.
The sun went down, and then began a long evening. There was nothing to do but to sit in the dark and talk of nothing. Then there was a detail made of two for the sick watch, and finding that I was “on,” I went to bed. In the morning there had been several late sleepers who wondered why people got up early and ran a coffee-mill. As a matter of course these individuals now wondered why people went to bed early and wanted to sleep. The topics, too, which they chose were exactly the topics that always keep you awake; and if by chance you forgot them long enough to fall asleep, then there would be a furious argument on some important matter; and if that did not waken you, then some other man (who, like yourself, turned in at taps,) would lose patience and roar out, “taps,” “lights out,” “guard-house,” etc., etc.
102In small assemblages men may wake up and fall asleep when they please, but in camps and barracks, where many men of different habits are brought together, there must be some uniform rule for all. The Confederates never enforced military usage upon us, much to the regret of all who were accustomed to it, and a few very early and very late individuals, some of whom sat up till after taps, and others of whom turned out before reveille, were an endless annoyance62 to each other and to all. I think no officer of experience ever ran this gauntlet without inwardly resolving that, if ever he got back to his own command, stillness and darkness should rule between taps and reveille; that with daylight every blanket should go out, and every tent be put in order; that every shaggy head should be clipped, and all the little regulations which weak-minded recruits think to be “military tyranny,” should be most rigorously enforced.
But as I tossed around and made these resolves, the little sailor who was acting63 as hospital steward64 came in with both hands full of prescriptions65. We had two excellent and faithful surgeons at Camp Groce, Dr. Sherfy of the “Morning Light,” and Dr. Roberts of the Confederate service. They kept their little office outside of the lines, came round on their second visit in the afternoon, and during the evening made up their prescriptions. This evening the first watch took the prescriptions from the hospital steward, and received the directions. It was Lieut. Hays, of the 175th N. Y., a happy, generous, warm-hearted Irishman, youthful and with 103the humor and drollery66 of his race. He was always making fun when others were dull, and making peace when they were angry. Soon I heard him going round among the sick. “I will listen,” I thought, “and find out what I have to do when my watch comes.”
“Here’s your medicine now, Mr. Black,” I heard him say, “wake up and take it.”
“What is it?” asked the sick man.
“Oh! it’s blue pills to touch your liver; come, take it, and don’t be asking questions.”
“How many of them are there?” inquired the patient after swallowing several.
“There are just seven of them, but what’s that to you? it won’t do you any good to know it.”
“Why, the doctor said he would send me six. Perhaps you are not giving me mine.”
“Just you take what’s sent to you. If you don’t take the whole seven, they won’t touch your liver a bit; six would be of no use at all.”
The man with the untouched liver swallowed the pills, and soon I heard the first watch rousing another sick man with the same formula of “Here’s your medicine now, wake up and take it—it’s blue pills to touch your liver.”
“How many of them are there?” asked this patient.
“There are just six of them—what’s the use of your knowing?”
“Why, the doctor said he would send me seven—perhaps these are not mine.”
104“No matter, six are just as good as seven, and seven are just as good as fifty. All you need do is to take what I give you, and it will touch your liver all the same.”
Much enlightened by this mode of distributing doses, and re-assuring patients, I went to sleep, and slept till one A.M., when the first watch called me, and I took my turn. It was rather dreary, sitting in the dark and cold, occasionally giving a man his medicine or a drink, and wishing for daylight. There was one poor fellow, also a lieutenant of the 175th, fast going in consumption. His constant cough, his restless sleep, his attenuated67 form, bright eye and hectic68 cheek, all told of the coming end. Yet with him there was nothing to be done but wait and watch.
Now this, of itself, was not such a bad sort of day; but there was a month of such days; and then another month, and then a third, and then many more. What wonder that the strongest resolutions failed!
Then death came in among our little company, and came again and again. Then sickness increased under the August sun. The long moss70 that hung down from the trees and waved so gracefully71 on the breeze, had betokened72 it long before it came, and the uncleaned camp and listless life made the prediction sure. It went on until all but one had felt it in some shape or other, and there were not enough well to watch the sick. It never left us, and down to our last day at Camp Groce the chief part of our company were frail73 and feeble and dispirited.
105Near to the barracks stood a little shanty74 of rough boards, divided by a plank75 partition into two rooms. One of these had been assigned to Mr. Stratford and his wife, and the other after several weeks came into the possession of Col. Burrell of the 42d Mass., Dr. Sherfy, Capt. Dillingham and myself. After living amid the sickness, the discord76, and the misery of the barracks, this room measuring ten feet by twelve, promised to four of us a quiet and retirement77 that amounted almost to happiness. We went to work upon our little house with all the zeal78 of school-boys, and positively79 look back upon it with affection. It boasted doors, but neither windows nor chimney. Its walls were without lath and plaster, and through innumerable chinks let in the wind. The Captain and I also messed with Mr. and Mrs. Stratford; so we had a double interest in the shanty, and when we had built ourselves bunks and swung a shelf or two, we went to work on our other half.
“What shall I do for a blanket line?” was one of the first questions I had asked after our arrival.
“Let me lend you mine,” said an officer of the “Morning Light,” “we sailors always hang on to our ropes.”
“I will take it this morning, with thanks; but I want something of my own. If there is anything I despise, it’s a soldier’s blanket in his tent after reveille.”
“We are not so particular here, I’m sorry to say,” said my friend; “and unless you can find a line among the sailors, you won’t find one in Texas.”
“I am going out in the woods this afternoon, with 106Mr. Fowler,” I answered, “and will try to get one there.”
Now, Mr. Fowler, the acting Master of the “Morning Light,” was an old sailor, who had hardly been on shore for forty years. But in his early boyhood he had watched the Indians at their work, and caught from them, as boys do, some of their simple medicines and arts. For years and years these facts had slept undisturbed in his mind. If any one had asked him, he would have said they were forgotten; but now, under the pressure of our wants, they, one by one, came back. With this long-time worthless knowledge, Mr. Fowler was now busily and usefully employed. He made Indian baskets of all shapes and sizes, and even bent80 his ash-slips into fantastic dishes. He made Indian brooms and fly-brushes, and wooden bowls, and wove grape-vine and black-jack into high-backed, deep-seated, sick-room chairs. Where others saw only weeds or firewood, he found remedies for half our diseases; and when the surgeon’s physic gave out, Mr. Fowler’s laboratory was rich in simples.
We went out on parole that afternoon, Mr. Fowler carrying his basket, and I, an axe54. He called attention to the fact that these pecan nuts would be ripe by-and-by, and that those persimmons would be worth coming after when the frost should have sugared them, and he filled his basket as he walked and talked. Before long, we saw some clean black-jack vines hanging from the top-most branches of a tree. We tugged81 and strained 107a few minutes, and then a splendid vine came down, not thicker than a lady’s finger at the root, yet forty feet in length. It was flexible as a rope, and as I coiled it up, I said to Mr. Fowler, “I have got my blanket line.”
Having cut an ash stick for a broom, and a pecan log for an axe handle, we went back to camp, where, soon after, Mr. Fowler was busily engaged in pounding his ash stick to loosen the splints, and I, at work on the severest manual effort of my life, viz., whittling82 with a soft-bladed penknife, out of flinty pecan wood, an orthodox American axe-helve.
Some weeks passed, and then one of those events occurred which are doubly mortifying83 if you are then on the wrong side of the enemy’s lines. I was lying ill in my bunk29 when an excited individual rushed into the barracks and made me better by the announcement, that the train had brought up great news from Houston. Blunt was coming down through the Indian Territory with his rough borderers, and all the troops in Texas were to be hurried northward84 to repel85 the invasion. For several days and nights trains ran by our camp loaded with soldiers who howled horribly to our guards, who howled, horribly back to them. The Houston Telegraph came filled with orders of General Magruder, directing the movement of his forces, and naming twenty-seven different battalions86 that were to hurry forward immediately. The General did not publish such orders ordinarily, and this one looked like haste, excitement and alarm.
108One night, about ten o’clock, an engine was heard hurrying up the road. As usual it stopped at the water-tank near our camp. In ten minutes important news had leaped from the engine to head-quarters; from head-quarters to the guard-house, and from the guard-house straight through the line of sentries88 into our bunks. The news was this: twelve Yankee gun-boats, twenty-four large transports, and six thousand men lay off Sabine.
The next day the train confirmed the news. We learnt, too, that union men, in Houston, were bold and defiant89, and talked openly of a change of masters. Our guards were in a ferment90. They talked with us freely, and confessed that there were not three hundred troops between Houston and Sabine. “Your folks will seize the railroad and march straight on to Houston,” they said, “and then Galveston will have to go, and like as not you’ll be guarding us within a week.” “What splendid strategy,” said everybody. “Blunt has drawn91 all the forces in the State up to Bonham—there is nothing to prevent our coming in below; Magruder is completely out-generalled. We must forgive the two months of idleness since Vicksburg and Port Hudson fell.”
Another day came, and the excitement increased; another, and affairs seemed in suspense92; a third, and there was a rumor93 that two gun-boats had been sunk, their crews captured, and that the “Great Expedition” was “skedaddling” (such was the ignominious94 term applied) 109back to New Orleans. There came yet another day, when we sat waiting for the train.
“The cars are late,” said one. “It is past three o’clock, and they should have been here at two.”
“That’s a good sign,” said another; “it shows they have something to keep them. When they come you will see Magruder is sending off his ordnance95 stores.”
“Then you don’t feel any fear about that rumor?”
“That rumor, oh no! It is the best sign of all. They never fail to get up such rumors96 when they are being beaten. Don’t you remember how, just before Vicksburg surrendered, we used to hear that Breckenridge had taken Baton97 Rouge98, and Taylor was besieging99 New Orleans, and Lee had burnt Philadelphia?”
“Oh no,” said everybody, stoutly, “there is no danger. And how can there be? We know that there is nothing down there but a little mud fort, with fifty men in it, and six forty-two pounders. Our hundred-pound Parrots will knock it to pieces, and a couple of companies can carry it by assault. Oh no, all I am afraid of is, that we shall be run off, nobody knows where.”
The whistle sounded and we waited for the news. The track ran through a deep cutting, which at first hid the body of the cars from our sight, but a man stood on the roof of the foremost baggage car and waved his hat. Presently a howl was given by those of our guard who were waiting at the station.
“What can that mean?” said everybody. “Very strange! surely there can be no bad news for us.”
110The next moment, some one exclaimed, “Good heavens, what a sight! Look there!” I looked; the train was covered with the blue-jackets of our navy.
The officers of the “Clifton” and “Sachem” did not accompany their men. We heard that they were guilty of spiking100 their cannon101, flooding their magazines, secreting102 their money, and other like offences, for which they were kept at Houston; later, however, they unexpectedly came up. A new Captain, who then commanded Camp Groce, ushered103 them in, and we welcomed them. The youngest of us then had been prisoners more than three months, and felt ourselves to be “old prisoners.” The Captain of the “Clifton” supped with us, and as he surveyed our little shanty, replete104 with black-jack lines, hat-racks of curiously105 twisted branches, knives, and spoons, and salt-cellars, neatly106 carved from wood, and pipes fashioned out of incomparable corn-cob, he said that these little luxuries made him feel sorry for us, for they showed him what straits we had been reduced to. I felt sorry for him as he said it, for the speech reminded me of the lessons reserved for him to learn. Later than usual we retired107, excited with this unusual event. The barracks had just grown quiet, when the Captain in command suddenly re-appeared, his guard at his back. “The gentlemen who arrived to-day,” he said, in an agitated108 voice, “will please to rise immediately.” The new-comers rose, groped round for clothes and baggage in the dark; and as they dressed, asked what all this meant. The Captain vouchsafed109 no reply, but in a still 111more agitated voice, begged them to be as quick as possible. Whether they were going to be searched, or executed, or sent back to Houston, nobody could determine. They were marched off, and we, now wide awake, discussed the matter for some hours. The next morning disclosed our friends haplessly shivering around a small building, some three hundred yards distant. It appeared that strict orders had been sent up with the prisoners, directing that they should be confined separately, and hold no communication with us. The now unhappy Captain had not thought it worth while to read his orders until bed-time. Then he stumbled on the fiat110 of the stern Provost Marshal General, whose chief delight was to court-martial Confederate captains. Deeply dismayed, he had rushed to the guard-house for his guard, to the barracks for his prisoners, and executed the painful work of separation.
The Provost Marshal General had not enclosed subsistence in his order. In the absence of dodger-pots, the “old prisoners” had to take care of these new ones. We were not allowed to write or talk, to send messages or to receive them. The baskets, as they went and came, were searched, the dodgers111 broken open, and everything was done in a very military and terrible way. In a few days we received a present of pea-nuts from our friends. We were not fond of pea-nuts, and did not appreciate the gift. The basket travelled over as usual with their dinner, but carried no acknowledgment of the pea-nuts. In the afternoon Lieutenant Dane, of the signal corps112, 112was seen approaching our lines with a prize—a prize that had neither predecessor113 nor successor—a leg of mutton. The lieutenant delivered the mutton across the line to one of us, and the notability of the event warranted him in saying before the guard:
“This is a present from Major Barnes. Did you get the pea-nuts we sent you this morning?”
“Yes, yes,” responded Captain Dillingham, on behalf of our mess; “yes, they’re very nice. We are much obliged to you.”
“Eat them,” said the lieutenant, “eat them. They won’t hurt you—eat them all.”
The Captain carried the leg of mutton in, and hurriedly took down the pea-nuts. We looked sharply at them, but saw nothing unusual. Why eat them all? “If they want us to do so, it must be done!” We proceeded to break the shells. Presently there was a shell—a sound and healthy shell—within which had grown a long, narrow slip of paper, rolled up tightly. It contained a single message, viz., that the covered handle of Mr. Fowler’s basket was in fact a mail-bag. From that time on, the watchful114 patrols would lift out the plates, and inspect the beef, and scrutinize115 the dodger, and then carry the mail-bag backward and forward for us.
With the increased number of prisoners, there had been a change in the command of the camp. The company of volunteers were relieved by a battalion87 of militia116. To our surprise, the militia very far surpassed the volunteers, and did their business in a very soldierly 113way. The battalion was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel John Sayles, a lawyer of considerable distinction in Texas. The Lieutenant-Colonel was a man of few words, very quiet, very kind, and rarely gave an order that did not effect an improvement.
On the Sunday after he assumed command, Colonel Sayles informed me in his quiet way, that there would be Divine service in the grove117, and invited me and all the prisoners to accompany him. There had been a reverend gentleman preaching at Camp Groce the Sunday before I arrived, who had been seeking a chaplaincy, and had assumed what he supposed was a popular train of argument; as for instance, warning his beloved brethren that the chief horror of eternal punishment would be meeting the President of the United States there. I do not care to hear irreverent things said in the pulpit, nor do I think it the part of an officer to listen voluntarily to denunciations of his government, yet I felt assured that Colonel Sayles would not invite me to anything of that kind, and I thought I could best acknowledge his civility by accepting.
When the clergyman who officiated first caught sight of the prisoners, forming one-half of his audience, he evinced a little embarrassment118. He alluded119 to this as he began his sermon, and spoke120 happily of the breadth of the Christian121 faith, extending to all conditions of men, and enabling enemies to stand together and worship at one altar. His prayer was chiefly an affecting and beautiful petition on our behalf. He spoke of the tender 114ties that were severed122, and besought123 consolation124 for our distant dear ones, who must be now in anxiety watching our fate. He prayed, too, that “we their captors and keepers, may have grace to treat them as becomes Christian soldiers, resisting the evil passions of our hearts and the evil counsels of wicked and cruel men.”
After the services were concluded, we were introduced to the clergyman, Mr. McGown, of Huntsville. He visited us in our quarters, ministered to our sick, and was always one of our most welcome visitors. He had been with Houston in the war of Texan independence, and was one of the heroes of San Jacinto. His acquaintance with the General had been intimate, and he entertained us with many interesting anecdotes125 of him and tales of the former war.
These anecdotes of General Houston then possessed126 for us unusual interest. When some of the older prisoners had been sent to the State Prison at Huntsville, they were halted a few minutes on the outskirts127 of the town. As they waited there, a tall, imposing128 old man approached and asked, who was the United States officer highest in rank. Captain Dillingham was pointed out to him as the senior naval129 officer. Walking up to him and extending his hand, he said, in a deep, emphatic130 voice, “My name is Houston, sir. I have come to say to you, gentlemen, that I do not approve of such treatment for prisoners of war. No prisoner of war shall ever be put in a jail with my consent.”
The death of General Houston occurred just before I 115reached Texas. Many stories were told of his great personal power, and strange incidents of his wondrously131 romantic life. The forebodings of his celebrated132 letter were all realized before he died, for his oldest son was in the ranks—his warmest friends and supporters were scattered133 and slain134, and ruin and desolation brooded over the State which he had established and so long directed and controlled. He was guarded in the expression of his political sentiments, but occasionally addressed the troops, speaking from the Texan point of view. He never took the oath of allegiance to the Confederate Government. A short time before his death travellers were required to have a Provost Marshal’s pass, and to procure135 a pass they must take the oath. The General had neither taken the oath nor procured136 a pass. He set out, however, on a journey and proceeded till one of the provost guard halted him and demanded his pass.
“My pass through Texas,” said the old man, in his sternest tone, “is San Jacinto.”
The Texan soldier looked at him for a moment. “I reckon,” he said, “that pass will go as far in Texas as any a Provost Marshal ever wrote. Pass an old San Jacinto.”
Colonel Sayles was soon succeeded by Major James S. Barnes of the same battalion. The Major was a Georgian by birth, an old Texan by residence, and a man of great general information, and so far as we were concerned, in every thought and word and deed a perfect Christian gentleman. He told stories with a graphic137 116simplicity I have never heard excelled, and was so pleasantly reasonable and so enticingly138 good-natured that even our wayward sailors consented to be led by a landsman, and allowed that he was as good a man as a rebel could be. One day as the Major passed through the barracks chatting with the well and cheering up the sick, he hinted at the uncertainty139 of exchange and at coming “northers,” and advised us to prepare for the worst by building ourselves chimneys and fire-places. He promised to provide an old negro chimney-builder to engineer the work and teams to haul the material. The dwellers140 in the shanty quickly availed themselves of the offer. But nothing could induce those in the barracks to go and do likewise. So weak and dispirited were all that the difficulties appeared insurmountable. When the frost came and found them still prisoners, they piled sand on the floor, and making fire upon it sat there and shivered, while the smoke floated over them and found its way out through the holes in the roof.
We, who were wise betimes, cut our logs in the woods, dug up our clay on the neighboring hill-side, and waited the arrival of “Uncle George.” This uncle came in time, and led the work. A hole was cut in Mr. Stratford’s room—the logs were notched141 and crossed, the chimney splints were split and laid up, and the whole was properly cemented together, and daubed over with rich clay mortar142.
Hardly was the chimney complete, when one of the guard announced that he reckoned there’d be a norther; 117the beeves, he said, were making for the timber. In Texas it is an established fact that nobody can tell anything about the weather, so we gave little heed to the prediction. Early in the afternoon, however, some one said that the norther was in sight. The day was warm; the sun was bright; birds were singing, and the leaves still were green. There was nothing to indicate a change save a black cloud rapidly rising in the north. Our men were sitting round in their shirt-sleeves, whittling and working as usual, and every thing continued pleasant. The black cloud, however, bore swiftly down upon us. As it drew near, we saw an immense flock of turkey-buzzards driven before it, whirling in the air and screaming wildly. A moment later the breeze struck us. It felt not unlike the gust69 that precedes a thunder-shower, but as I watched the cloud I found that I had suddenly grown cold. I had heard fearful stories of these northers, and read of a hardy143 Vermonter, who, scorning a cold that merely skimmed the ponds with ice, had ventured out in one; and how his blood congealed144, and he was carried back by his horse insensible. I saw that all the men had gone in, and that the sentries had wrapped themselves in their blankets. Within the shanty I found our little fire-place bright and its owners sitting in a close circle around it. But the cold seemed to beat directly through the walls, and the wind blew a steady blast. We passed all the long evening closely crouched145 around the fire, warming first one side and then the other, talking of home and pitying the poor wretches146 in 118the barracks. When bed-time came we carried hot stones with us into our bunks and hurried to bed before we should be chilled. I wrapped myself in my double army blanket with which I had braved ice and snow and then rolled myself in my buffalo147. I thought it sufficient for an Arctic winter, but ere morning the horrible cold crept in and penetrated148 to the very bones. As I moved about to try and make my blood circulate, Colonel Burrill spoke and said that he was so cold that he feared he was dying. The Colonel had been quite ill, and this startled me; so I rose, threw a coat or two upon him, and then drawing the blankets over his head, tucked them tightly in and left him to take the chances of suffocation149 or freezing. I went back to my own couch and shivered away till morning. The cold drove us all out early, and we met again around our fire-place. A sailor boy brought up a hot breakfast, for cooking over a hot stove that morning was a high privilege which no one threw away. He told us that one of his shipmates lay frozen in his bunk, and that they had just found him there dead. During the morning we suspended our blankets from the rafters so as to form a little tent immediately around the fire, and there in darkness we sat the live-long day. Another dismal150 evening followed and another bitter night. Then, after thirty-six hours of fury, the norther went down and we ventured to crawl out and resume our work.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
heed
|
|
| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
rations
|
|
| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
ration
|
|
| n.定量(pl.)给养，口粮；vt.定量供应 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
importunate
|
|
| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
creditors
|
|
| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
equity
|
|
| n.公正，公平，（无固定利息的）股票 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
harassed
|
|
| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
bankruptcy
|
|
| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
blessing
|
|
| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
dependence
|
|
| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
constraint
|
|
| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
imprisonment
|
|
| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
buoyed
|
|
| v.使浮起( buoy的过去式和过去分词 )；支持；为…设浮标；振奋…的精神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
inert
|
|
| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
peevish
|
|
| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
despondent
|
|
| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
labors
|
|
| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
blessings
|
|
| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
chafe
|
|
| v.擦伤；冲洗；惹怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
growled
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
lieutenant
|
|
| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
hoard
|
|
| n./v.窖藏，贮存，囤积 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
impudence
|
|
| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
galley
|
|
| n.（飞机或船上的）厨房单层甲板大帆船；军舰舰长用的大划艇； | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
kindled
|
|
| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
sleepers
|
|
| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
bunks
|
|
| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
bunk
|
|
| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
sipped
|
|
| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
maker
|
|
| n.制造者，制造商 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
dispelled
|
|
| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
aroma
|
|
| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
rinsing
|
|
| n.清水，残渣v.漂洗( rinse的现在分词 )；冲洗；用清水漂洗掉（肥皂泡等）；（用清水）冲掉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
pegs
|
|
| n.衣夹( peg的名词复数 )；挂钉；系帐篷的桩；弦钮v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的第三人称单数 )；使固定在某水平 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
stump
|
|
| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
stumps
|
|
| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
sentry
|
|
| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
concession
|
|
| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
leisurely
|
|
| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
broil
|
|
| v.烤，烧，争吵，怒骂；n.烤，烧，争吵，怒骂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
dodger
|
|
| n.躲避者；躲闪者；广告单 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
beheld
|
|
| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
insolvent
|
|
| adj.破产的，无偿还能力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
nautical
|
|
| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
stoutly
|
|
| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
tardily
|
|
| adv.缓慢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
axe
|
|
| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
arbor
|
|
| n.凉亭；树木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
hitch
|
|
| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
mules
|
|
| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
circumscribed
|
|
| adj.[医]局限的：受限制或限于有限空间的v.在…周围划线( circumscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；划定…范围；限制；限定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
coaxingly
|
|
| adv. 以巧言诱哄，以甘言哄骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
61
wagon
|
|
| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
annoyance
|
|
| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
steward
|
|
| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
prescriptions
|
|
| 药( prescription的名词复数 )； 处方； 开处方； 计划 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
drollery
|
|
| n.开玩笑，说笑话；滑稽可笑的图画（或故事、小戏等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
attenuated
|
|
| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
hectic
|
|
| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
gust
|
|
| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
moss
|
|
| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
gracefully
|
|
| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
betokened
|
|
| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
frail
|
|
| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
shanty
|
|
| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
plank
|
|
| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
discord
|
|
| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
retirement
|
|
| n.退休，退职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
tugged
|
|
| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
whittling
|
|
| v.切，削（木头），使逐渐变小( whittle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
mortifying
|
|
| adj.抑制的，苦修的v.使受辱( mortify的现在分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
northward
|
|
| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
repel
|
|
| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
battalions
|
|
| n.（陆军的）一营（大约有一千兵士）( battalion的名词复数 )；协同作战的部队；军队；（组织在一起工作的）队伍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
battalion
|
|
| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
sentries
|
|
| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
defiant
|
|
| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
ferment
|
|
| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
suspense
|
|
| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
rumor
|
|
| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
ignominious
|
|
| adj.可鄙的，不光彩的，耻辱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
ordnance
|
|
| n.大炮，军械 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
rumors
|
|
| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
baton
|
|
| n.乐队用指挥杖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
rouge
|
|
| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
besieging
|
|
| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
spiking
|
|
| n.尖峰形成v.加烈酒于( spike的现在分词 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
cannon
|
|
| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
secreting
|
|
| v.（尤指动物或植物器官）分泌( secrete的现在分词 )；隐匿，隐藏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
ushered
|
|
| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
replete
|
|
| adj.饱满的，塞满的；n.贮蜜蚁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
vouchsafed
|
|
| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
fiat
|
|
| n.命令，法令，批准；vt.批准，颁布 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
dodgers
|
|
| n.躲闪者，欺瞒者( dodger的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
corps
|
|
| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
predecessor
|
|
| n.前辈，前任 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
watchful
|
|
| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
scrutinize
|
|
| n.详细检查，细读 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
militia
|
|
| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
grove
|
|
| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
embarrassment
|
|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
alluded
|
|
| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
severed
|
|
| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
besought
|
|
| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
anecdotes
|
|
| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
outskirts
|
|
| n.郊外，郊区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
imposing
|
|
| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
naval
|
|
| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
emphatic
|
|
| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
wondrously
|
|
| adv.惊奇地，非常，极其 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
slain
|
|
| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
procure
|
|
| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
graphic
|
|
| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
enticingly
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
139
uncertainty
|
|
| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
dwellers
|
|
| n.居民，居住者( dweller的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
notched
|
|
| a.有凹口的，有缺口的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
mortar
|
|
| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
hardy
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
congealed
|
|
| v.使凝结，冻结( congeal的过去式和过去分词 )；（指血）凝结 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
crouched
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
wretches
|
|
| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
buffalo
|
|
| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
penetrated
|
|
| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
suffocation
|
|
| n.窒息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |