^0* 
 
 
 o J* 
 
 «**°^ 
 * ^ 
 
 •\ 
 
 ♦♦ v % .^%. • 
 
 < , 
 
 A 
 
 
 ■v 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 vv 
 
 \pv 
 
 > 
 
 
 
 ^' 
 
 «• o 
 
 r oV 
 
 V 
 
 
 
 " * v ^ • *c ■ • 
 
 
 **° 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 v 
 
 
 
 
 "'■■;. 
 
 
 ' > t' S A 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 

Price 65 Cents. 
 
 THE 
 
 Village Color-Bearer. 
 
 BY 
 
 RICHARD H. RYDER. 
 
CAFT.* RICHARD* H.*EYDEE. 
 
The Village Color- Bearer. 
 
 together with 
 
 A STOR^ 
 
 U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 
 
 BY 
 
 CAPT. RICHARD H. RYDER 
 
 ILLTJSTR 
 
 BROOKLYN, N. Y.: 
 
 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY GEORGE S. PA'l 
 86 Fulton Street. 
 1891. 
 

 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1890, by 
 RICHARD H. RYDER, 
 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 
 THE MEMORY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE BRAVE AND NOBLE SOLDIERS 
 
 ok 1861-65* 
 
 OF MY NATIVE VILLAGE, CANARSIE, 
 
 And my Brave, 
 
 ASSOCIATES OF THE LIFE-SAVING SERVICE. 
 
 January, 1890. RICHARD H. RYDER. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 I have headed my first little story "The Village 
 Color-Bearer," as in the capacity of Color-Bearer my 
 young heart bounded with patriotism to such an extent 
 that it is with pride I look back upon those dark days 
 ('61-'05). My second story I have dedicated to the 
 memory of my brave associates, as I cherish a fond 
 remembrance of their brave deeds still; and in pre- 
 senting these two little stories to my beloved family, 
 it is for the purpose that they may know the truth, 
 and not be burdened with exaggerations concerning 
 myself. 
 
 RICHARD H. RYDER. 
 
 N. B. — The mention made of others in these two 
 little stories, as well as those of myself, have been care- 
 fully considered and viewed; and it is with a firm 
 belief that I have truthfully stated all mention herein 
 made, and opinions rendered are from conviction, not 
 biased. 
 
IKE YILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 Oh! war, where is thy glory 
 Outside of thy story? 
 
 < AXARSIE HEROISM. 
 
 r. Mothers kissed their brave, noble sons, 
 Sisters their true-loved sires, 
 As they, with a patriot's heart, 
 Left to quench rebellion's fires. 
 
 2. With pride he looked upon his kin, 
 
 The soldier dressed in blue ; 
 With pride the kin looked upon him 
 Wearing that emblem so true. 
 
 3. But, oh! how little thought they then 
 
 Of the trials there were in store, 
 And that some, while upon this earth, 
 Were parting for evermore. 
 
 4. How hearts have ached for loving ones, 
 
 And how clouded yet each day, 
 Of those who shared that hearfelt loss 
 Caused by battling 'gainst the gray!* 
 
 5. Yet how brightly shines the brave deeds 
 
 Of those from our village fair! 
 Their heroism is yet untold, 
 And true manly deeds so rare! 
 
 6. To our brave fallen heroes all, 
 
 For you I have often prayed 
 Loving angels to waft you home, 
 Where'er upon earth you're laid! 
 
 *The Confederate army wore a gray uniform. 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 WAR FOR THE UNION— 1861-1805. 
 
 Years before the outbreak of the rebellion, time had 
 fully established the fact, how difficult it/was to form 
 a government here satisfactory to its people, notwith- 
 standing the solidity of its people for a government of 
 their own, and the patriotism and heroism of these 
 same people in gaining their independence (1783); for 
 we see, from the very first, where the very best of 
 talent and arguments were used, pro and con., in estab- 
 lishment of our Constitution, and yet how far that in- 
 strument was from accomplishing all that was desired; 
 still, as time passed on, it is surprising how rapidly 
 our country gained in strength and wealth. Although 
 meeting with many obstacles, there was a steady 
 growth of prosperity; but as the sunshine of our coun- 
 try developed in beauty, so did the clouds darken in 
 blackness, and finally threatened the destruction of 
 our grand Union, that had been heroically established 
 and handed down to our keeping. But after that dark- 
 ness had passed away, it was seen that our coiintry, as 
 glorious as it had seemed, had only been as the unre- 
 fined; its true beauty was only established with the 
 clearing away of that diversity between the two great 
 sections, North and South. Years and years might 
 profitably be given in the writing of our glorious 
 country and its noble and heroic people, but in my 
 humble way I only write in the interest of my dear 
 family and those whom it may please outside. 
 
 I was born at Rockaway, Long Island, N. Y., May 29, 
 1843; therefore, at the outbreak of the rebellion I was 
 not yet 18 years of age. But what signified a few days, 
 or even months? for the art (if such it was) was soon 
 learned by him that had made up his mind to go; there- 
 fore, when I enlisted in Co. "E," 13, State Militia (of 
 
THB VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. U 
 
 Brooklyn, N. Y.,) on the 23rd day of April, 1861, I was 
 1 9 years of ag'e (so I told the recruiting officer, who 
 proved to be my Captain, David B. Jones). Just pre- 
 vious to the outbreak of the rebellion, and at the time 
 of the outbreak, I was living with my dear mother and 
 stepfather at Canarsie, a small village in the Town of 
 Flatlands, and, as I might say, in the suburbs of the 
 City (Brooklyn). My stepfather keeping a grocery and 
 liquor store placed me in possession of all general 
 news, as either is headquarters for news in a country 
 village (no discredit, however); therefore, I was well 
 posted, so far as newspapers and country comment 
 went, and with others was fully aroused on getting the 
 news of Fort Sumter being fired upon, April 12, '01, 
 and evacuated April 14, '61. The liquor business hav- 
 ing no charms for me -which, by the way, seldom 
 benefits the young (or even the old) -I was ready, upon 
 the first occasion, to carry into execution my act of 
 April 23rd. This was brought about by a few of us ; 
 young men, meeting just before going to church, Sim- 
 day evening, April 22, '61. The result of this meeting 
 was the pledging of the following to go together the 
 next day and enlist, viz.: Thomas O'Neill, William 
 Biggs, Philip Lumberyea, and your humble servant. 
 After church services there was another outdoor meet- 
 ing, but I hardly know the decision of the girls; still I 
 know the next day we went (beg pardon) "all the 
 same." But here comes a solemn thought: the scenes 
 at my home and the homes of my associates, and the 
 prayers of our mothers! But as only a portion of our 
 regiment left for the seat of war the day after our en- 
 listment, and we not going with them, gave us a few 
 days at home, which had a tendency to somewhat allay 
 the fears of our parents; still, who can imagine the 
 anguish of parting under such circumstances? let me 
 say none but those who have undergone the sad ordeal. 
 
10 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 Finally, the day came for our departure, which we took 
 as nobly as the noblest, amid cheerings, blessings and 
 weeping's — for our hearts were young, and in jesting 
 words we tried to soothe the fears of our loving parents. 
 The day being warm, we found ourselves somewhat 
 fatigued after getting on board our transport, through 
 marching and other duties pertaining to our embarka- 
 tion; but as the afternoon was yet early, we had the 
 pleasure of going out of New York Bay b) T daylight, 
 and were even outside Sandy Hook lightship when 
 dusk set in. The evening being pleasant, we remained 
 on deck till a late hour before seeking our sleeping 
 apartments — which, by the way, were of no great in- 
 ducement to a man, unless he was "pretty sleepy," as 
 my "mate" said; as for bedding, I hardly know what 
 it did consist of, but the bare boards would have been 
 highly appreciated "many a time" afterwards by many 
 others as well as myself. Our second day out was a 
 lovely day, and I was out on deck and saw about the 
 beginning of it. The weither continuing good, we 
 had a quick and pleasant passage to Annapolis, Md., 
 which place is on the Severn River. Here we landed, 
 and joined the portion of our regiment that had pre- 
 ceded us. Now our camp and other duties commenced, 
 which, however, were mostly of a pleasant character. 
 This, in a measure, was quite a solace to us, as the 
 giving up of our previous associations and pretty girls 
 (of which Canarsie could usually boast) was no light 
 task — "especially the latter," as some of our boys said. 
 But our minds soon became too much occupied to dwell 
 long upon home and its inducements. Still, even though 
 a soldier's duty is arduous at times, there are always 
 thoughts and sights of inspiration coming to his mind. 
 This I found to be the case all through my army life. 
 After being landed at the Naval Academy, Annapolis, 
 Md., our pride for the Massachusetts troops was greatly 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 11 
 
 increased (this was after the heroic action of the fjth 
 Massachusetts, while passing through Baltimore, Md., 
 April 19, '61); for here we learned of their further 
 noble services. The sth Massachusetts being a part of 
 the brigade of which the 6th belonged to, was sent to 
 Washington, D. C, via Annapolis, and was accompanied 
 by its General, Benjamin F. Butler. On arriving at 
 Annapolis, where they remained a few days, it was 
 learned that there were many in the near neighbor- 
 hood of Confederate faith, and that they were plotting 
 to seize the noble and historic old frigate Constitution 
 (the Constitution was at the Academy as a school-ship) ; 
 but Gen. Butler ("the right man in the right place," as 
 he often was afterwards), could not allow the pride of 
 the sons of his little State (Massachusetts) to be thus 
 degraded; he therefore ordered the Sth to be formed 
 in line. After they were formed in line, he asked them 
 whether there were any of them that could sail a ship, 
 and if so, for them to step forward. Equal to the 
 emergency, about forty men stepped out, signifying 
 their marine qualifications, and it was said that among 
 them was a son of the Constitution's builder. This was 
 a glorious and inspiring sight, and the old ship was 
 soon manned and sent to New York, where she arrived 
 safe. While we were at Annapolis, our time was not 
 wholly given to camp duty, for some of our regiment 
 were constantly making raids in the surrounding coun- 
 try. The first expedition that I was with went to Bal- 
 timore, Md., by a small steamer. This was a pleasant 
 trip for us, but was not attended with much excite- 
 ment. My second voyage with an expedition, was up a 
 small river some distance, where we were landed. As 
 this was a hostile neighborhood, every precaution was 
 taken against our two companies being surprised and 
 overpowered. As we wished to go to a village (Cen- 
 treville, Md.,) about five miles, distant, an advance 
 
12 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 guard was sent forward, and we followed. The day 
 being" very warm, to some the march was somewhat 
 fatiguing, but to me there was a fascination about our 
 journey that carried me lightly and joyously over the 
 dusty roadways. Constantly we were meeting sights 
 new to our vision; there were the slaves and overseers 
 at work on the plantation, in their most rustic state, 
 and many other sights new to us but familiar to the 
 Southerner. We finally reached the village, which, 
 like all other Southern habitations, was, what there 
 was of it all together, or, as I might say, the small be- 
 ginning of a city, or again, it showed that the first in- 
 habitants had been imbued by our National motto, 
 "United, we stand; divided, we fall." But let all this 
 be as it might, the village was a pleasant little place, 
 and showed every sign of thrift. We were marched 
 and halted in a neatly-kept plot of ground, in the centre 
 of which was a stately church. On this occasion we 
 were not overrun by curiosity, such as was usually the 
 case ; therefore our minds were somewhat from our 
 real object (as the Rev. Pastor said it would) towards 
 a more holy purpose. But while our surroundings 
 gave every appearance of holiness, could it be sup- 
 posed that it was detrimental to our duty? for was it 
 not our duty, a duty of righteousness? Happy am I to 
 say, that while we were in the refreshing shadow of 
 that emblem of Deity, not an act of ours cast a reflec- 
 tion of unmanliness upon us. After being refreshed, 
 about half of our number was divided in small squads 
 and sent in different directions through the village in 
 search of fire-arms or other government property. 
 The squad (a small detachment of men) that I was as- 
 signed to was commanded by one of our Lieutenants 
 (Nicholas Schenck]. Our search being fruitless for 
 some time, we were about to give up in despair. Prob- 
 ably to meditate over his unsuccess, the Lieutenant 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 13 
 
 halted us by the shady side of a high board fence. 
 This fence enclosed a corner lot of ground, on the front 
 part of which was a two-story building. Not content, 
 I, with two or three others, managed to get on top of 
 this fence, from which place we could see the contents 
 of the yard — or a part of its contents — which was neat 
 and clean, and the greater part was planted with peas, 
 and their vines were large and bushy, and they had 
 been lately hoed up (the dirt hoed up to them); but in 
 the most distant corner stood a wood house or work- 
 shop. This attracted my attention, and as I was about 
 to descend on the inside, I was hailed from one of the 
 second-story windows thus: " I say dar, chile, whar am 
 you gowing?" This checked my movements for a mo- 
 ment, and I answered: "Only to look in the wood 
 house, aunty." Lieutenant Schenck then said to me 
 that it was not worth while going over the fence, as he 
 did not wish to search property that did not show signs 
 of containing hidden treasure. It being evident that 
 aunty, as she was termed, still remained at the window, 
 one of my comrades (on the fence) called out, saying: 
 "Aunty, have you got any of Uncle Sam's cannons in 
 the house?" About this time, I, while standing on a 
 narrow strip of board nailed to the inside of the fence, 
 slipped, and went down. This mishap of mine likely 
 hurried an answer to my comrade's jesting question, 
 for aunty answered: "Lore bress you, chile, dare am 
 no cannon here, and massa done gone and hoed dem 
 peas, and you kill dem shu." Lieutenant Schenck now 
 called for me to come back; but as I was over the 
 fence, and out of his sight, the temptation was too 
 great; so I started to get a peep in that wood house, 
 but in my haste, my feet — which, by the way, were not 
 larger than the ordinary size — caught in the vines of 
 the flourishing peas, and down I went. This brought 
 a hearty laugh from my comrades, and very likely 
 
14 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 indignation to aunty, and certainly humiliation to my- 
 self; but, in extricating my feet, Lo! and behold! what 
 did I see? — a musket in all its beauty (to me), but in 
 all its ugliness, probably, to aunty and her misses. In 
 drawing this one from the earth another was revealed, 
 and so on, till, with the aid of my comrades, I had un- 
 earthed sixty good muskets and demolished that pea 
 patch. Whatever aunty or her misses might have 
 thought I cannot say, but I know they very wisely of- 
 fered no further remonstrances. In good time we took 
 our prize to headquarters, and the sight of our muskets 
 greatly elated our Captain, as well as all concerned. 
 Other details had also been very successful, which made 
 the day's work a profitable one to our uncle (U.S.) The 
 day now getting well advanced, no time was lost in 
 getting a horse and cart, by which our treasure was 
 transported to the landing. While going to or while 
 being in the village, we had seen nothing of a hostile 
 nature outside of the muskets that we had captured; 
 but while leaving, and about one mile outside of the 
 village, we saw that we were pursued by something in 
 the shape of a man, who came staggering after us and 
 giving vent to language that would have been the de- 
 struction of the whole army, could it have been exe- 
 cuted; but this much credit is due him — his knowledge 
 of safety was perfect. On arriving at the landing, we 
 found the captain of the steamer anxiously awaiting 
 our return. 
 
 Although no enemy had openly showed himself as 
 yet, still it was feared they would, as it had been re- 
 ported that a company or more of home guards were in 
 the neighborhood. For some reason unknown to me, 
 after getting our treasure on board the steamer we did 
 not go down out of the river, but remained where we v 
 were, and put pickets out on both sides of the river. 
 Soon a dense fog settled over all, giving the young 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 15 
 
 saplings along the river the appearance of huge trees. 
 This only added to our discomfort, for we did not ap- 
 preciate our surroundings. el What could we do if an 
 attack was made upon us?" was the question asked by 
 all, and " How foolish our officers are for keeping us 
 here," was said by more than one; "where is there a 
 safe retreat for us?" Our situation appeared deplora- 
 ble enough to us all; and, if attacked, we could see, in 
 bold letters, the result : Two whole companies sacrificed in 
 defence of their country .' This was the most inspiring 
 thought that came to us, and of which we were only 
 relieved by a few hours' quietness; but this did not last 
 through all of the night, for at about midnight we were 
 again brought to a full realization of our position, 
 when bang — bang — bang went the rifles of our out- 
 post! I was with a small detachment that was acting 
 as a reserve to the pickets on the opposite side of the 
 river from our steamer, and upon hearing the firing 
 we all sprang for our rifles, which were stacked. 
 Usually we were all very particular in getting our own 
 guns, but, upon this occasion, such a trifling thing was 
 overlooked; suffice to say, each got a gun, and then 
 our officer got us in some kind of a line by the time our 
 outpickets got to us— some of which were gunless, 
 others hatless, and all almost breathless! Just as we 
 had expected — detained there to be massacred! Hardly know- 
 ing what to do, we bravely stood our ground; but as we 
 could not see or hear anything further of a warlike 
 nature, our officers ordered an advance, which we made 
 with the greatest of watchfulness. The mystery was 
 soon solved, and behold what was discovered! — a poor 
 cow, mortally wounded! But none were ever prouder 
 of a great victory achieved than we were when steam- 
 ing, by the light of a beautiful morning, out of that 
 one long night's dismal river. But our hardships and 
 victories for our country were not yet ended, for instead 
 
16 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER.' 
 
 of us going" back to Annapolis, we were taken to an- 
 other village, 
 
 QUEENSTOWN, Ml). 
 
 Upon disembarking at this place, we immediately 
 met with opposition. But what was opposition now to 
 us? for had we not been marched through an enemy's 
 country, and done picket duty in its most treacherous 
 region? Our opposition here was in the person of one 
 big Mike, as he was called, and, judging from his di- 
 mensions, &c, if he had been loaded from that village 
 alone, that village would be a temperance place until 
 it received a new supply. Our advance continued 
 steady — so did Mike's retreat — till we got in the village. 
 Here Mike made a bold stand in defiance of us bold 
 heroes; but our officers were not to be defeated with- 
 out a harder struggle; so a charging party was selected, 
 and while the rest of us acted as a reserve, a charge 
 was made, and the chargers— all honor to them! — 
 fearlessly made their way through a host of minors, 
 and, irrespective of color, swept them aside till they 
 reached their enemy, whom they seized and nobly con- 
 veyed to a lock-up; after which all was quiet. Being 
 unable to find such property as we were in search of in 
 this village, we soon took our departure, taking big 
 Mike with us to the landing, where, upon many humble 
 promises on his part, he was permitted to return to the 
 village, much soberer and wiser, with the color and 
 colorless young escort that had accompanied us. It 
 was with light hearts that we. once more boarded our 
 little transport, and made lighter by the knowledge 
 that we were now to return direct to Annapolis. 
 
 On returning, we received a hearty welcome, and 
 were greatly applauded for what we had accomplished. 
 But we soon learned that we were not to have the 
 much-needed night's rest in our comfortable quarters — 
 or even out of them — that we had expected, for our 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. \'t 
 
 Colonel, Abel Smith, had already received orders for 
 our regiment to be taken to Baltimore. Early in the 
 afternoon we boarded a train, and were soon being- 
 carried swiftly on our journey, meeting with but little 
 delay. Just before sunset we reached the end of our 
 destination, and took up our position near the city. 
 The calling of our regiment to Baltimore was through - " 
 the fear of a riot. After lying on our arms all night, 
 and finding all remained peaceful through the next 
 day, towards evening we returned to Annapolis. Al- 
 though my exploits had been pleasing to me, I soon 
 learned their result upon me, for, the next day after 
 returning from Baltimore, I was ordered in the hospi- 
 tal ; typhoid fever had taken hold of me. I remained 
 in the hospital nine days, and should have remained 
 longer, but my regiment had left Annapolis and was 
 then encamped on Federal Hill, just outside the City 
 of Baltimore. Wishing to be with my regiment, and 
 feeling able to walk around, I begged permission to 
 leave and join my regiment. On joining, I did not 
 wish to be carried on the sick roll, so I reported for 
 duty, and tried to make myself as well as others be- 
 lieve that I was able to endure all fatigue that was to 
 fall upon me; but soon I was again obliged to succumb 
 to that dreaded and destructive malady. It was im- 
 mediately after guard-mount and the reliefs being 
 counted off, that the officers of the guard noticed my 
 appearance, and I was, without hardly being consulted, 
 marched off to the hospital. This time my sickness 
 was much greater than it had been upon the first 
 attack. I had been in the hospital but a few days when 
 I overheard a conversation between my Captain and 
 the hospital surgeon, the sum and substance of which 
 was, that the surgeon did not think that I could live 
 twelve hours longer. I was hardly able to speak, but, 
 what is not usually the case with one suffering from 
 
18 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 typhoid fever, my thinking faculties appeared to be 
 all right. Happily, the discouraging news of my sur- 
 geon did not cause me any great uneasiness, and, thanks 
 to Him who governs all, that night my fever abated, 
 and I soon showed signs of recovery. Gen. Dix hav- 
 ing requested my regiment to remain nine or ten days 
 over their time, which they did, gave me time to so far 
 recover my health as to be able to march home with 
 my regiment. 
 
 It was thought by many who started out to serve 
 only three months, that they were only going on a 
 pleasure trip, and it is yet probably thought by many 
 who did not participate in that service that such was 
 the case; but let me say that such was not the case. 
 My company, and the other companies belonging to 
 my regiment, lost, I believe, five or six men each, 
 mostly through typhoid fever; and these men were 
 not, as they were termed, of the paper-collar frater- 
 nity — if there ever was such a fraternity; they were 
 mostly young men that had been employed at good 
 healthy outdoor work, and, after they had been accli- 
 mated, were the bod)* of our grand old army after- 
 wards. We lost also a few men by accidental shooting, 
 and a beloved and promising young drummer, Mc- 
 Kenzie. After the 13th returned home and were 
 mustered out (August, '01), our Colonel (Abel Smith) 
 immediately began the recruiting of a three years' 
 regiment; but just before its completion, through a 
 railroad accident, he was killed; thus our country lost 
 agood soldier, and we a good commander. Our Lieut. - 
 Colonel (Dodge) then took command of our regiment 
 (87). After I had got home from the three months' 
 service, I soon gained perfect health, and on the 5th 
 day of December, '61, I was as happy as the happiest 
 marching down Broadway en route to the seat of war. 
 Here let me interpose, 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 19 
 
 I CAN SEE THEM STILL, 
 
 1. While nobly marching down Broadway, 
 Their faces tinged with hope's bright ray, 
 Proudly bearing their trust so grand — 
 Emblem of our heroic land! 
 
 2. Again, at Williamsburg, I spy 
 Their faces — but another eye, 
 The token of a fearless heart, 
 From honor never to depart. 
 
 2. At Fair Oaks' crimsoned battle-field, 
 With great loss they were forc'd to yield; 
 No dishonor, I'm proud to say, , 
 
 To them; they fought bravely on that day! 
 
 4. At Robinson's Field, they can boast 
 Of running their brave rebel host. 
 
 I can plainly see each one now 
 As he compels his foe to bow! 
 
 5. All through the battle — seven days — 
 Their manly deeds deserve great praise. 
 Although they numbered but a few, 
 They to their honored trust were true — 
 
 6. Bravely fighting against their foe, 
 To hold the stations of Bristow 
 And Manassas, and Catlett too; 
 But, ah! the end few ever knew! 
 
 7. While in the ranks of the Mozart, 
 
 With their tattered flag they had to part; 
 'Twas borne away by a loyal hand,* 
 Decked with heroic garlands grand. 
 
 8. The number on that flag so great 
 Was " 87," New York State. 
 
 I prize it still, although quite old, 
 As of yore, while beneath its fold. 
 
 * George Hudson, a Lieutenant of my Company (" I)"), having an 
 order from the War Department for the purpose, took our flag, while we 
 were encamped near White's Ford, Md., from us, and had it placed iu 
 the State Capitol, at Albany, N. Y. 
 
20 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 After I had enlisted in the 87th. N. Y. Volunteers, I 
 found that I had the following from my village with 
 me, viz.: Thomas O'Neill, James W. Nolan, Thomas 
 Dougherty, Lawrence Abrams, Hezekiah M. Storer, 
 and John H. Van Houten. Others had enlisted in 
 different regiments; so our little village was doing well. 
 From New York we were taken direct to Washington, 
 D. C, by rail, and encamped on Meridian Hill, just out 
 of the city. While here, we had plenty of guard duty 
 and drilling, but our Captain (Mclntyre) being inca- 
 pacitated, by his portly dimensions, from indulging in 
 one of our principal pastime duties, or that of the other 
 companies, "double quick," we were somewhat fortu- 
 nate. About the first part of March, '62, we struck 
 tents and waded through mud to Arlington Heights, Va. 
 Here our drilling was renewed, but the weight of our 
 duty did not weigh heavily upon us, for it was greats- 
 relieved by home (camp) amusements. But our duties 
 and amusements here were not to last long, for in the 
 latter part of March, '02, we, with that historic old 
 army, the Army of the Potomac, took our departure; 
 and what a sight! such as will never be forgotten by 
 those who witnessed it — 
 
 A mighty host, with bay 'nets bright, 
 Reaching as far as did the sight, 
 Filling the air with gleeful song, 
 As they towards " Dixey" marched along. 
 
 The heart of each, as he viewed that great army of 
 which he was a part, was rilled apparently to its utter- 
 most with pride. 
 
 How infusing the sight! 
 
 Their bay'nets glittering in the sun; 
 
 Their clear voices like music rung; 
 
 Their grand flags they bore through the breeze 
 
 With dignity and the greatest ease. 
 
 After embarking at Alexandria, Va., in transports, 
 we were taken to Fortress Monroe, Va. While passing 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. %\ 
 
 down the Potomac River, it was no usual scene to see 
 the transports conveying' our army; and much amuse- 
 ment was derived from their apparent racing. Our 
 voyage was wholly attended with pleasure and inspir- 
 ing scenes. After arriving at Fortress Monroe, we 
 were marched out near Hampton — (this was about 
 April 1, ISfil) — where we encamped. But who will, of 
 those who were there, ever forget our first night at 
 Fortress Monroe? Such a night! and if "curfew" was 
 not heeded by us, were we much at fault? for, as a 
 German said, " Sergeant, vot for you call me mock out 
 der light, ven I would die mit dis cold rain?" And it 
 was a cold rain, as the German said, and a heavy one 
 too, drenching our clothing and completely covering 
 the ground. Where was there a place for us to lie 
 down, unless we laid in the water? There was none, 
 and, to add to the discomfort, we had no rations. Ah! 
 how welcome would have been our coffee then! but 
 many a time after did we suffer for the want of that 
 army luxury, which was life itself to a soldier. Ra- 
 tions finally came, and so did the sun, and I assure you 
 that both were -welcomed by us, and ere the setting of 
 the sun we had forgiven all, if not quite forgotten ,and 
 were as joyous as ever. Our Captain — all honor to his 
 name — not being gifted with great foresightedness, 
 nobly led us till his sensibilities were awakened by un- 
 foreseen hardships; then he sensibly resigned his com- 
 mission and departed for a more genial land. Lieut. 
 Wm. H. Leaycraft was now commissioned Captain, and 
 placed in command of our (" D") company. Happily 
 for Capt. Leaycraft, his averdupois was not then as 
 great as now. Our officers had not forgotten that 
 drilling was customary, if not essential, and that every 
 post should be guarded. 
 
 On the morning of April .">, '62, the sun rose beauti- 
 fully, and greatly eased my duty, that of marching up 
 
£2 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 and down on guard at brigade headquarters. The 
 morning being calm, the air was rent by the music of 
 the bugle, drum and fife; and while I listened to the 
 melody of the sick-call, I wondered who could be sick 
 on such a morning! but, ah! even though there were 
 not many sick that morning, there were plenty ere the 
 final close of the day; for no sooner had I been relieved 
 that morning from guard, than I saw the whole army 
 on the march, and I, with my regiment, was soon with 
 them. If my store of wisdom was scanty in many re- 
 spects, it was not in this: of "trusting in Providence" 
 for what I needed when night came; therefore I always 
 began a march "in light marching order." Even 
 though the morning was a beautiful one, early in the 
 afternoon the sky became clouded, and just before we 
 reached Yorktown a light rain began to fall upon us. 
 It being a long march from Hampton to Yorktown, 
 the "boys," when we reached our destination, were 
 greatly fatigued — even though they had disposed of 
 the greater part of the contents of their knapsacks — 
 as we received the command to halt where we were to 
 encamp (or the greater part of our regiment) for the 
 night. How welcome was the order ! but almost im- 
 mediately another order came, which was not so wel- 
 come, for it was for a detail of men for picket duty; 
 and as the names were called there were many excuses 
 offered, but the only excuse accepted was the doctor's, 
 and a few who found the doctor a safe refuge that 
 night, clung to him till they found a safer one — their 
 discharge. When the roll was being called for picket 
 duty, I was standing by the side of James W. Nolan, 
 whose name was soon called, but, like the noble boy 
 that he always was, he offered no objections. Seeing 
 how difficult it was to get the required number, I of- 
 fered to go in some one's place; but my First Sergeant, 
 Thomas O'Neill, said, as it was not my turn, I could 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 23 
 
 not go (I had been on guard the night before). After 
 the detail had been made up, there was one among 
 them that I knew was hardly able to do the duty, hav- 
 ing been weakened down by late sickness; I therefore 
 offered to take his place; my offer was accepted, and it 
 was but a short time before I found myself in company 
 with friend Nolan, standing behind a large tree, doing 
 picket duty in a thick woods, on a dark, stormy and 
 dismal night, and with the "Johnnies" but a short dis- 
 tance from me. This was somewhat trying, but our 
 minds were greatly relieved by the (if not of the best 
 character) freely expressed opinions of our not over and 
 above desired near neighbors — the enemy — who freely 
 gave vent to their feelings in regard to our trespassing 
 upon their immediate vicinity. This conversation they 
 kept up about all night, and it was quite interesting 
 to us — in the absence of anything better — and greatly 
 helped to pass the night away. But when we were re- 
 lieved the next morning, it was a relief indeed, and we 
 soon sought our camp, and, happily for us, soon be- 
 came unconscious of the pangs of hunger, through 
 sleep. Again no rations. Through the day some of 
 our regiment found and confiscated a quantity of corn 
 and rye, in the hull. This was divided among us, giv- 
 ing each probably about a pint, corn and rye together; 
 this our good doctor gave us a recipe for its cooking. 
 Those of us who had been on picket passed the greater 
 part of the day in sleep, but near night, when our 
 rations came, had our coffee and "hard tack" (army 
 crackers), which made us feel much more comfortable, 
 so with darkness, which soon set in, we again laid 
 down upon a soldier's bed — the ground — rolled our- 
 selves in our blankets, placed our cartridge-boxes, &c, 
 under our heads, and sought and soon found sweet re- 
 pose. Our rations, after this, came regularly; so did 
 our guard and picket duty, also our labor with the pick 
 
^4 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 and shovel, which implements we used mostly nights, 
 as the enemy could not then see to shell us, as they 
 could during' the daytime. By magic, apparently, each 
 morning revealed new redoubts, &c, to such an extent 
 that it transformed our surrounding almost unrecog- 
 nizable. The enemy, seeing our progress, knew that 
 they could not stand its mighty power; so not waiting 
 further results, took up their retreat. I was on reserve 
 picket duty with my regiment the night they evacu- 
 ated, May 3, '02, and what a serenading they gave us! 
 
 They lit the sky with fuse and shell, 
 And filled the air with shrapnell, 
 And even more than this — for fun, 
 From our works they made us run. 
 
 The next day (May 4, '62), after going back to our 
 camp, we were soon in line and marching "on to Rich- 
 mond." While marching out towards the enemy's 
 main fort (Magruder), which was on the York River, 
 we passed by the little enclosure where Lord Cornwal- 
 lis, on the 19th day of October, 1781, surrendered his 
 sword to Gen. Lincoln, who had been designated by 
 Gen. Washington to receive it. The sight of this little 
 enclosure to us 
 
 Was an emblem bright, grand and clear, 
 Of all our hearts held proud and dear, 
 And added to our will for right 
 As we were marching on to fight. 
 
 On reaching the enemy's old fortifications, we learned 
 that torpedoes had been planted in all the main road- 
 ways — we learned, I say; yes, but not until a number 
 of our men had been killed by them, the 40th N. Y. 
 Volunteers having three or four of their brave men 
 blown to atoms. Our engineers then began the work 
 of discovery; and as the torpedoes were found, the 
 rebel prisoners — so I was informed — were compelled 
 to remove them; after which we again took up our line 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 25 
 
 of march. We did not go far, however, before night 
 set in. We now halted for the night, but the rest 
 which we sought, and much needed, we did not get, for 
 a cold rain soon began to fall, which caused us to stand 
 or run around most of the night. When morning came 
 (May 5, '62), we fell in line, and through a deep mud 
 made our way towards Williamsburg, Va. The rain 
 continuing, although not at all times heavy, kept our 
 clothing wet through, which, upon any little resting 
 spell, chilled us through. Fortunately, or unfortu- 
 nately, we had but a few of these restings. When 
 within about one mile of the fortifications near Wil- 
 liamsburg,' we were ordered to halt, and unslung knap- 
 sacks, &c, retaining nothing but our cartridge-boxes — 
 which were filled with ammunition — and our rifles. 
 With my canteen and knapsack I dreaded to part — 
 more especially their contents — but I did. In my 
 knapsack were a piece of tobacco and a daguerreotype 
 (which were almost the contents of my knapsack); 
 these I transferred to my pockets, and although I 
 afterwards lost the daguerreotype, I did not its original, 
 which I still retain, and not, like the substitute, I hope, 
 destined to fall in the hand of an enemy. After being 
 divested of all superfluities, we were ordered on the 
 "double quick;" but it was not at all times that we 
 could obey the order, still we did the best we could, 
 which was creditable under the circumstances. 
 
 Just before reaching the field of battle, we came 
 upon a band of musicians, who tried to cheer our 
 weary hearts and give elasticity to our almost worn- 
 out legs. By the way, these musicians had great re- 
 spect for their instruments — (no discredit, however)— 
 that is, judging from their act of getting behind large 
 trees with them! Just before dusk, we reached the 
 scene of action, and as we entered the edge of the open 
 field on the main road out to Fort Magruder, we came 
 
20 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 in contact with a shower of the " rebs' " leaden missiles, 
 Fortunately, we were filed in the edge of a woods, 
 where each sought protection behind trees. The enemy, 
 having been pretty well defeated during the day, con- 
 tented themselves by keeping up a pretty steady fire 
 from their cannons; and, as they did not advance, we 
 simply laid in the woods, and held our position. There 
 had been hard fighting here in the afternoon, and the 
 ground was well covered with dead and dying. As 
 the weather kept stormy, and we were obliged to lie 
 on the wet and cold ground, with the dying, moaning 
 and pleading all around, it was to us, as well as to many 
 others, a trying night, and not many of the wounded 
 survived it. 
 
 As daylight made its appearance, it was discovered 
 that the enemy had fallen back, for which we were 
 thankful. We were now taken back a short distance, 
 and halted. The sun now made its appearance, and 
 with it came a pleasant warmth. This soon created 
 quite a reaction ; a drowsiness now took possession of 
 us, and our shiverings wholly relaxed their sway. 
 Again if we had our coffee ! but we got it not, neither 
 did we have anything to eat; both, as it will be remem- 
 bered, were left about one mile to the rear the day 
 before. But this was not considered reason enough 
 for us not to continue our duty; so we were ordered to 
 "fall in," after which we were marched to the open 
 field, which brought us within less than a mile, and in 
 full view, of Williamsburg. Here we were deployed 
 as skirmishers, or all of our regiment, with the excep- 
 tion of one company, which acted as a reserve. A bat- 
 tery of light artillery was also deployed — they in the 
 rear of our skirmishes, and on a line with our reserve 
 company, and in the rear of all was, I believe, the re- 
 mainder of our division. Thus we advanced across 
 the open field, through the city, and about one mile 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. SJJ 
 
 beyond it, where we halted. The scene of our advance 
 was grand — even though it was not that of a large 
 army; but the scenes that we witnessed while making 
 that advance 
 
 Were most heartrending to behold! 
 For there had fought those soldiers bold 
 Who now lay dead upon the field, 
 Which was their choice rather than yield! 
 
 After being halted outside of Williamsburg, a detail 
 was called and sent back to bury the dead. Fortunately 
 our regiment had not lost many. Burying of the dead 
 is a hard duty to perform, especially if they have been 
 lying on the field long; but it is a duty not only of 
 Christianity, but of necessity After performing this 
 duty, and it being near sunset, we returned to our 
 camp, if such it could be called, and closed our eyes to 
 all worldly scenes, and were soon beyond its cares. At 
 the rising of the next morning's sun we awoke, and 
 with what relish did we partake of our coffee and 
 "hard tack," for we had not eaten anything but two 
 or three crackers, and these we received from haver- 
 sacks on the field, and had drank no coffee since we 
 left our haversacks outside of Williamsburg. What 
 would not have been palatable to us then! But in a 
 few days the past was almost forgotten, and I might 
 say the future hardly thought of. Having our rations, 
 and the weather being good, our camp again assumed 
 its old-time cheerfulness; and to add to our comforts, 
 during our little stay here, near our camp was, 
 
 * Down deep in a shaded ravine, 
 All clothed in foliage ever green, 
 Bright cool water, of silv'ry ray, 
 That sparkled on its downward way. 
 
 Good drinking water we always relished, and held in 
 high estimation, for it was quite a treac to us, as the 
 most of our drinking-water was very poor, often from 
 
28 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 
 
 stagnant ponds. After a few days' encampment out- 
 side of Williamsburg, we again took up our line of 
 march towards Richmond. Our roads now were con- 
 tinually either very muddy or dusty, which made our 
 progress slow, disagreeable and laborious, still cheer- 
 fulness appeared to keep possession of us, and the 
 greater our hardships the more material there was for 
 jesting thoughts. During the first part of the after- 
 noon of May 31, '62, I was with a fatigue party a 
 short distance from my camp when an order came to 
 my regiment for our Colonel to get us in line and be 
 ready to march at a moment's notice. Those of us 
 that were on fatigue duty were sent for, and we were 
 soon in the ranks of our companies, and had but a 
 little while to wait for fiirther orders; and when we 
 received them, we were ordered, from the start, on the 
 "double quick," which we kept up the greater part of 
 the distance from our camp to Fair Oaks, a distance of 
 about two miles. The day being very warm, and the 
 roads dusty, we were nearly choked with dust when we 
 reached Fair Oaks, and much exhausted, but there was 
 no time to rest. The enemy had routed our troops, 
 and their onslaught had not yet been checked. We 
 Were on the Williamsburg and Richmond road, and 
 where we entered the woods the road took a turn to 
 the right. Here we were ordered to unsling canteens, 
 haversacks and blankets; our knapsacks, which we left 
 before getting to Williamsburg, we never saw after, 
 or anything else which we left there; our blankets, 
 &c, which we now had, were those which we had 
 picked up on the field at Williamsburg. After obey- 
 ing the order of unslinging, we were ordered to load 
 Oitr rifles. Just in front, and a little to the right of us, 
 the battle was furious; but we were marched on the 
 road and turned with it to the right. After getting 
 around the bend, we came upon the 1st Long Island 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 29 
 
 Regiment — Beecher's Regiment, as it was called — who 
 gave us three hearty cheers ; but the echo of those 
 cheers had hardly died away when the report of rifles 
 took their place, and we were soon in the midst of all 
 that the word battle implies — the steady roar of rifles 
 and their leaden missiles, the loud words of command, 
 the voices in cheer, and the anguish of the wounded 
 and dying. The position of the 1st Long Island and 
 our regiment was such, that when we were fired upon 
 we soon became as one regiment, becoming so inter- 
 mixed; still that did not debar any of us from fight- 
 ing; but the odds were too much against us, and we 
 soon found ourselves slowly falling back. As a last 
 resort, Lieut. George Hudson, of my company, stepped 
 forward a few steps, and asked who would come and 
 stay with him? I, with a few others who were near, 
 jumped behind trees by him. The firing now was ter- 
 rible, and the enemy not more than fifteen yards from 
 us. I hardly noticed what was going on around me, 
 but loaded and fired as quickly as possible. I had fired 
 but a few shots, however, when one of Company " K," 
 of my regiment, said to me — he was just to my right — : 
 that we had better get to the rear ; after which he 
 made the attempt, but had no sooner got from behind 
 his tree than he was shot dead! Another man, I think, 
 of the 1st Long Island; stood behind a tree near me, 
 but on my left; he now tried to make his escape, but 
 met with no better success than did my comrade of 
 Company "K." As he fell, I was standing with my 
 back against a tree, loading my rifle. I then noticed 
 that I was alone, and I had hardly a minute to decide 
 my course of action? but in that time I did decide; 
 wheeling around, and facing the enemy, I sent the 
 contents of my riffe at, if not into, one of them; I then, 
 turned, bent low, and in a zigzag way ran for my life 
 to the rear, with a steady shower of bullets passing 
 
30 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 harmlessly by me. With the velocity that I then pos- 
 sessed I soon got out of their sight, if not out of the 
 reach of their rifles. After going a short distance, I 
 came upon four men who were carrying one of their 
 wounded (of the 1st L. I.); they asked me to help them, 
 which I did, but only for a moment, as two who were 
 helping the wounded man off, fell. Seeing the "rebs" 
 so close upon us, we left all and tried to save ourselves. 
 At the time my regiment was first fired upon, and after 
 I had fired my first shot, I found it very inconvenient 
 to get my cartridges out of my cartridge-box ; so, 
 taking a number of cartridges, I placed them inside of 
 my clothing and about my waist, my blouse and shirt 
 being open at the bosom, and my clothing tight about 
 my waist; using a belt instead of suspenders made the 
 inside a very accessible receptacle, and convenient for 
 the occasion. As I would take a cartridge from my 
 bosom — the powder and ball both being in a piece of 
 paper together — I would tear the end off with my 
 teeth and empty the powder in my rifle, and then 
 squeeze the ball from the remaining paper down upon 
 the powder. In tearing the paper from the end of the 
 cartridge, there was more or less of the powder con- 
 stantly getting into my mouth; so the condition of my 
 throat, after I had fallen back a short distance, from 
 dust, powder and thirst, can easily be imagined; and 
 I, throwing myself upon the ground when I came to a 
 small stream of dirty water, and drinking from it, ani- 
 mal fashion, is easily accounted for; but how refresh- 
 ing was that drink! Soon coming to an open field, 
 and the enemy close behind me, I started again on a 
 run, not going far, however, before I came to a large 
 tent, which was about half-way across the field; here 
 I stopped, and sent back two or three shots at the ad- 
 vancing "Johnnies;" but I soon learned that my forti- 
 fication — the tent — was not bullet-proof, so I very 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 31 
 
 wisely again took Up my retreat— and not by a walk 
 either! After crossing the open field, I came to a piece 
 of woods of heavy timber; here I saw a few men un- 
 known to me standing behind trees, so I stopped and 
 took a position behind a large tree myself, and imme- 
 diately opened fire upon my advancing foe. I had not 
 fired but a few shots, however, from my new position, 
 when I heard a voice calling me; looking back, I saw 
 that it was Lieut. Hudson. I now left my tree and 
 went back to him. There I found also two or three of 
 my company. I was told by Lieut. Hudson that I had 
 done fighting enough for one day, and that we had 
 better all go back to our regiment. I found they were 
 stationed at a redoubt. I was certainly greatly fa- 
 tigued, but the sight of a good cup of coffee greatly 
 relieved that feeling. A companion of mine had been 
 fortunate enough to find both coffee and crackers, so 
 we relished a good supper before lying down for the 
 night. Darkness now extending its protective hand 
 over us, we were not slow in taking advantage of it 
 and resting peacefully till the rising of the sun the 
 next morning, 
 
 When again mad rebellion's roar 
 Told how fierce was our civil war, 
 And how tinged would our great land be 
 By the blood of the noble free! 
 
 The report of musketry soon became one continuous 
 roar, and black clouds of smoke rose far above the tall 
 tree-tops. To a person who would listen and think 
 calmly for a moment, it would not appear possible 
 that even one person could escape. Fortunately, the 
 enemy was soon routed, the Excelsior Brigade (a Jer- 
 sey brigade), making a charge in our immediate front, 
 with such a determination, was the first to check 
 them, and this led to a general rout ; and soon the 
 bright Sabbath Day, that had so early witnessed such 
 
32 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 anguish and strife, was allowed to pass on without 
 further molestation ; and happy were all that such 
 was the case, for the greater part of our army had 
 been obliged to march hurriedly some distance before 
 reaching the battle-ground. My regiment had lost 
 nearly one hundred men in killed and wounded. Our 
 Colonel was among the wounded, and was taken pri- 
 soner. We lost four killed from my company; Alfred 
 Gosline. from my village, was among them. Gosline 
 did not die on the field, but died, in about a week's 
 time, in a hospital, at Portsmouth, Va.; but the three 
 Others died on the field. Nicholas S. Ford, from my 
 village, was also killed here on the field; he was serv- 
 ing in the 1st Long Island. The Color-Corporal of my 
 company, Leavy Duval — a brave little fellow — was also 
 one of the killed on the field; I am sorry to say that I 
 have forgotten the names of the other two. With two 
 others, I went, on the second day after the battle, and 
 buried the dead of my company. At this battle the 
 Est of our mortality is commenced, for 
 
 This, the first of our village life, 
 To be given in their great strife 
 Of laying low that traitor's hand 
 Which had been raised to smite our land. 
 
 The battle being over, my regiment was marched to 
 the right of the Richmond and York River Railroad 
 (near Savage Station), where we were encamped. While 
 here I was appointed Color-Corporal, to fill the vacancy 
 caused by the death of Corporal Duval. After remain- 
 ing near Savage Station a few days, we were marched 
 about one mile to the left, where we encamped. While 
 in this camp, my regiment, going on picket duty one 
 day, and the colors not taken out with them, the color 
 guard remained in camp. But I soon found it too 
 monotonous there, so I went in search of my regiment. 
 After finding regimental headquarters, I soon learned 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 33 
 
 the whereabouts of my company, whom I joined just 
 in time to go, with three others, to establish a new 
 outpost. I was informed that many of those who had 
 been doing picket duty here, on this line, had been 
 surprised and captured. This outpost was to be estab- 
 lished to prevent, if possible, any further such freaks 
 of the enemy. The new outpost was established in a 
 little house out in an open field. There were two or 
 three large apple-trees just in front of our little house, 
 one of which made a good position for our picket. 
 Night was drawing nigh as I went out to take my turn. 
 The tree which I was behind was very large at the 
 bottom, but branched off at the distance of about four 
 feet from the ground, thus making a very good port- 
 hole, and from which place I could see well around me 
 and not easily be seen. I had not been in this position 
 long, however, before I saw one of the enemy's boys 
 venturing out of the woods; he looked all around cau- 
 tiously, and then started for our little house. I waited 
 patiently till he got within about ten yards of me, 
 when I ordered him to ground arms and surrender! 
 How aback poor "Johnnie" was taken! for even yet he 
 did not see me, but he had heard my voice clear 
 enough to obey it. After I had given him up to my 
 associates, who were much pleased with my good luck, 
 he said that he had left his company with the inten- 
 tion of deserting; but this we could not credit; he was 
 evidently on picket, and through curiosity came over 
 to the little house. After we had asked him all sorts 
 of questions, we sent him back to company headquar- 
 ters, from which place he was disposed of in the 
 regular red-tape routine. The night then passed over 
 without further incident. 
 
 The Seven Days' Battle was now drawing nigh, but 
 of which we were ignorant until the morning of June 
 25, '62, when, 
 
34 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 With a sun so bright and clear, 
 And a cool breeze that did us cheer, 
 Over the fallen trees we sped 
 To a field soon by battle red. 
 
 As we left our camp, we were marched over fallen 
 trees to a woods, where we were deployed as skir- 
 mishers ; and after advancing a short distance in the 
 woods we came upon the enemy, but only a few shots 
 were exchanged when they fell back. We were now 
 formed in line of battle, and took a position near a 
 little peach orchard ; but here we remained only a 
 short time when a company of "rebs" came on the 
 double-quick to within about fifteen yards of us. They, 
 as it was evident, did not know of our whereabouts 
 until we fired upon them ; which reception they did 
 not appear to appeciate, for they left our presence 
 very unceremoniously, but not, however, without firing 
 a few shots and wounding a young man who was near 
 me. Shortly after this I had a narrow escape. While 
 leaning my breast against a rail of the fence that partly 
 enclosed the little peach orchard, a bullet struck the 
 rail, and should it have had force enough, it would 
 have penetrated my heart ; but, thanks to a kind Pro- 
 vidence, and the soundness of that rail, it did me no 
 harm. Shortly after this, my regiment was marched 
 across the peach orchard and placed behind a hedge, 
 in front of which was a large open field. But here we 
 did not remain long, for a "rebel" battery had an ex- 
 cellent range of our position. By stooping low and 
 running along the hedge, we soon gained the w.oods, 
 where we lay down and watched, with amused interest, 
 the demolition of that hedge by that "rebel" battery; 
 and I have often thought since whether those artillery- 
 men did not think that they had annihilated us. After 
 this, all remained quiet for some time, and our cooks — 
 all honor to them — came out to us with two camp- 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. O.) 
 
 kettles— one full of coffee, the other bean-soup; but 
 ah! there is a mystery that I have never fathomed, 
 and that is — who got them! we did not; that is certain, 
 although we fought hard, and handsomely whipped a 
 regiment that greatly outnumbered ours. This regi- 
 ment came marching along the edge of a woods which 
 we were in. They were in column, by companies, and 
 being in the open field, made a good show. Our 
 pickets, who were a short distance in front of us, saw 
 them, and reported it to our Colonel (Bachia, who had 
 been our Lieut. -Colonel), who immediately placed us 
 in position for the attack. I might say here, before 
 proceeding further, that, when we left our camp that 
 morning, our Color-Sergeant, who had not been well 
 for a few days, staid in camp, and one of our color- 
 corporals, a brave young man by the name of Wilson, 
 carried the colors out of camp; but when we got in the 
 field of fallen timber, he said that he would rather 
 carry a rifle than the colors, so that if he got in a fight 
 he could do something more than look on. At first I 
 hesitated to exchange with him, as he wished to do, 
 but finally consented, and gave him my rifle and ac- 
 coutrements, and I took the colors. I now carried 
 them till, just before advancing out to the hedge above- 
 mentioned, our Color-Sergeant (Dugan), coming out to 
 us, I gave them up to him. After leaving the hedge 
 and getting in the woods, one of my officers asked me 
 where the colors were. I said that Dugan had them. 
 "Why, he went back to camp," answered the officer; 
 and there our colors had been left lying in the edge of 
 that fast-decaying hedge, but I was not long in going 
 back and getting them. I was then told not to give 
 them up to any one without orders from my Colonel. 
 After being placed in line for the attack, we had not 
 long to wait. The enemy getting near enough for us 
 to open fire upon them, I with pride held aloft our 
 
36 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 nation's emblem. The enemy being in column, and in 
 the open field when we fired upon them, immediately 
 wheeled in line of battle, and tried to get in the woods 
 with us; but we, seeing their intention, and wishing 
 to retain the advantage we had over them, advanced 
 nearer the field. I being somewhat in advance of the 
 most of our regiment, was ordered back by one of the 
 Color Company's officers, who said that my place was 
 on a line with the main part of the regiment, and not 
 in advance of them. Reluctantly I went back about 
 five yards. An officer of my own company seeing my 
 action, asked me why I came back. When I told him, 
 he said to me, "Go and do as you please, and I will be 
 responsible." This was Lieut. George Hudson who 
 gave me these orders, and I did do as I pleased. 
 
 The battle now getting "pretty hot," as the boys 
 said, and I, seeing the enemy getting through the fence 
 which was along the edge of the woods, without any 
 thought, except that of taking advantage of the enemy's 
 position, called out to our boys to "charge;" they did, 
 and to within about five yards of the fence, where I 
 think I am safe in saying that we "laid low" about 
 fifty of the enemy by one volley. They were, or many 
 of them, on the fence, between the rails, or in the act 
 of crawling under, and they fell in all positions. This 
 greatly demoralized them, and they fell back aboiit ten 
 yards, where their officers gallantly tried to rally them. 
 But while in their bewildered state, we again greatly 
 reduced their ranks. Seeing how rapidly they were 
 being cmt down, they turned and fled. Seeing their 
 colors fall, I with a bound went over the fence, and 
 was just in the act of raising my flagstaff to strike the 
 " rebel" who had picked up their colors, and was drag- 
 ging them after him, when I was hit in the shoulder, 
 and almost at the same time a bullet went into the heel 
 of my shoe. This brought me to a halt, and for a 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 6i 
 
 moment I thought that the bullet which had hit me in 
 the shoulder had gone through me; but fortunately it 
 was too far spent to penetrate my clothing; still it left 
 me with a lame shoulder for some time. These bullets 
 by which I was hit came from the enemy, who was 
 some distance off to the left of us, in a piece of woods. 
 This halt without doubt saved to the "Johnnies" their 
 colors and one of their men, as I had every advantage 
 over them before I was hit. On coming to myself, as 
 I might say, I could give no further thought to that 
 rebel flag, for the enemy had made an attack upon our 
 troops on our right, and were driving them down on 
 us. My officers calling upon me to come back, caused 
 me to look around, and as I did, how quick my spirits 
 fell! for there, just in the woods where we had been 
 fighting, were all of our troops on a full retreat, and 
 the enemy not more than fifty yards from and in pur- 
 suit of them. For me to have gone back in the woods 
 where I jumped the fence, would have been almost for 
 me to have gone direct in the rebels' line; so I started 
 for the hedge, or what little there was left of it, from 
 which we had been driven; but while gaining the 
 woods at the end of that hedge, how the bullets did 
 whistle by me! for I was going towards those who 
 were off to the left of us; therefore the bullets were 
 passing both ways by me. After entering the woods, 
 I was soon among a dense mob, as it appeared, for at 
 this place about two hundred' men had got together 
 while retreating. This gave the enemy an opportu- 
 nity to create great havoc among them, which they 
 took advantage of. Fortunately we soon came to a 
 line of battle that had been formed, and after we 
 passed over .them they checked the enemy. 
 
 This battle I have heard called "Seven Pines," but 
 it was called "Robinson's Field" by us, giving it the 
 name of our Brigade Commander. The object of this 
 
38 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 battle, as I understood, was simply to present the enemy 
 from sending troops from our left against the right of 
 our army, where the enemy had made a fierce attack. 
 Night setting in after the enemy had been checked, 
 we were marched back to our camp, where we remain- 
 ed in readiness all night. The next day Gen. Phillip 
 Kearney, our Division Commander, came to where we 
 were lying, just outside of our camp, he having heard 
 that our regiment had acted somewhat cowardly the 
 day before. I was sent to our Colonel's tent for our 
 colors, and on bringing them out was ordered to unfurl 
 them for the General's inspection. After he had count- 
 ed the twenty-six bullet-holes which had been shot 
 through our colors the day before, while I was carry- 
 ing them, he asked me whether I was afraid while 
 carrying the colors. I answered, "No, sir." He then 
 said that my colors did not look as though I had been. 
 The General then took his departure, saying that he 
 was well satisfied with the conduct of our regiment in 
 the previous day's battle; and well he might say so, 
 for our boys fought as bravely as ever did any. The 
 loss of our regiment was, I believe, seventy odd (killed 
 and wounded) men; and there were but two out of my 
 eight Color-Corporals to come out of the battle. 
 
 This, ah! how sad it was to all, 
 To see these noble heroes fall; 
 But beneath the shadow they fell 
 Of the flag they loved so well. 
 
 Unconsciously I had greatly elevated myself in not 
 only the estimation of my officers, but rank and file of 
 my regiment, and was highly congratulated upon my 
 success, and was told that the colors which I had so 
 nobly carried should not be taken from me until I 
 would be given something better. I was immediately 
 made Color-Bearer, and carried the colors until they 
 were taken from me by an order from the War Depart- 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 39 
 
 ment, which will be explained hereafter in this story. 
 Sergeant Dugan, I believe, was given a commission, 
 and shortly after, through sickness, resigned. 
 
 And now the battle seven days, 
 With all its varied warlike rays, 
 Loomed up before us like a cloud, 
 But they bore it, that army proud. 
 
 But how unexpectedly that retreat to us, for we had 
 not once thought of giving up the ground that we had 
 so dearly gained; but such was fate, and that grand 
 old army accepted it with that cheerful obedience 
 which they always displayed. During the first even- 
 ing of our retreat we came upon the enemy, who had 
 formed a line to cut off our retreat. Here we were in 
 a dilemma, with the enemy close in our rear (Kearney's 
 Division having the rear), and a line of battle in 
 our front. Gen. Kearney coming up to us where we 
 had been halted, ordered us to fix bayonets, saying 
 that we must cut our way through. Fortunately an 
 aid-de-camp came to us with his horse upon a full 
 run, and after speaking a moment to Gen. Kearney, we 
 were ordered to "about face." This order we obeyed 
 readily, and among ourselves thanked the aid for being 
 in time to save us from making a desperate charge. 
 After being "about faced," we were marched a short 
 distance to the rear, where we took another road, by 
 which, happily, we cleared the "Johnnies." We now 
 continued our retreat till a late hour that night, when 
 we encamped. During the next day, after we had 
 continued our retreat some distance, my regiment was 
 ordered back to destroy two fords, which we did; but 
 having done so, we found that we were cut off from 
 the rest of our army. Here we were in a pretty fix, 
 with the enemy all around us. Our Colonel marched 
 us into a piece of woods, gathered us around him, and 
 told us of our situation, and said that should the enemy 
 
-t) THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 
 
 make their appearance in a large number, he would 
 surrender the regiment, but if only a small number 
 showed themselves he would give fight. After remain- 
 ing here about one hour, and the enemy not advancing 
 on us, we were marched back a short distance across a 
 small open field and took a position on the edge of a 
 hill which overlooked the open field. Our new posi- 
 tion being also in the woods made a good hiding-place 
 for us, as well as giving us a good view about us. But 
 here we did not lie long before the enemy showed 
 himself and began the rebuilding of the fords that we 
 had -destroyed. This was too much for our Colonel; 
 so, at the risk of being instantly captured and marched 
 off to Richmond, he ordered us "up and advance." 
 Before hardly entering the open field the enemy open- 
 ed fire upon us, but we — I say "we," meaning our 
 regiment — returned that fire with the boldness of a 
 division, and steadily advanced till we drove them 
 just beyond the fords. Being content with driving 
 the enemy thus far, our Colonel halted us. After 
 lying here a short time our Colonel became impatient. 
 As the enemy did not show themselves or fire upon 
 us, he did not know what had become of them; " Prob- 
 ably they were working around to attack us in the 
 rear," he said. So, turning to a lieutenant who stood 
 near him, he asked whether two or three volunteers 
 could be got to go out scouting. "Yes," answered the 
 lieutenant, "here's Sergeant Ryder, who will take 
 charge of a scouting party for you, Colonel." The 
 Colonel looked around towards me, and appeared to 
 hesitate, but I jumped up and said that I would go 
 willingly if he would let me pick two men to go with 
 me. "Very well; pick your men," answered the Colo- 
 nel. By the way, Colonel Bachia w r as as brave an 
 officer as could be found, but his manner was not that 
 of a "high-toned" officer; he was a perfect gentleman 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 41 
 
 in every respect, and had the appearance of a thorough 
 business man, which he was. First of all, I gave the 
 staff of our colors to my Colonel, he having taken the 
 colors and put them in his bosom when we first found 
 that we were surrounded. I then got a rifle and ac- 
 coutrements from one of my company; the two volun- 
 teers I had no trouble in getting to go with me, for 
 Jennings and Lamb were, like myself, always ready for 
 an adventure. With orders to proceed as cautiously 
 as possible, and ascertain the whereabouts of the 
 enemy, we started. After going a short distance on 
 the road, we were about to deploy about ten yards apart, 
 but, to our great surprise, about three bullets went 
 buzzing right by our heads. Lamb instantly caught 
 sight of the "rebs" and ran back. I jumped behind a 
 tree, but Jennings stood still till he was fired at again; 
 then he turned and ran. As the second shots were 
 fired, I caught sight of the rebels. The woods here 
 was very thick, but just to the right of us was a large 
 cluster of briers and small trees; in this cluster were 
 probably five or six "Johnnies," and beyond them was 
 their whole line, who had evidently been lying there 
 all the time. Those who fired upon us at first, I dare 
 say, were not more than ten yards from us at the time. 
 As I caught sight of one of those in the cluster I took 
 aim at him and fired, and then ran. The whole line 
 now opened upon us, and how it was that all, or even 
 one, of us escaped, was a wonder; but we all did escape 
 unharmed. After I had got back to our line, and the 
 enemy had ceased firing, Colonel Bachia asked me 
 whether I had found the enemy. I answered "Yes, 
 but not till they had found me!" "And they came 
 near getting you, too, didn't they?" "Yes, but they 
 didn't, Colonel," I again answered. All remaining 
 quiet again, we stayed here till it was getting dusk 
 when we fell back a short distance. 
 
At THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 
 
 We now soon learned that the roadway to our divi- 
 sion was clear, which we were not long in taking advan- 
 tage of. The next morning early (July 1, '62), we 
 found ourselves at Malvern Hill, after a tedious night's 
 march. Here we were drawn in line of battle, and 
 reviewed by Gen. Geo. B. McClellan, 
 
 Upon whom we all did look with pride, 
 As he once more did by us ride; 
 For well we knew how brave and true 
 Was he that nobly led us through. 
 
 And with what pride did I dip my riddled flag to him! 
 He not passing more than five yards from me, I could 
 plainly see that calm and determined intellect in his 
 features which he always displayed. But could he 
 have caught a good look at me, I think his features 
 would have been changed and his mind diverted, for 
 I must have been the picture of distress! 
 
 My pants tattered, dirty and old; 
 My blouse, cap and shoes just as bold! 
 And being neither short nor fat, 
 I was an object to look at! 
 
 After being reviewed, 'our brigade marched out to 
 the front, where a line was formed, and we lay in the 
 rear of and supported a battery. We had not long to 
 lie in peace, for a rebel battery soon opened on us. 
 Here our artillerymen did good work; but we. while 
 supporting them, suffered quite heavily, mostly from 
 rebel shell. Our loss here, and that of the day before, 
 began to tell on our regiment; and it began to look 
 pretty small. 
 
 Among our loss here was a brave little drummer- 
 boy, "Foxey." He had taken a rifle and remained 
 with his company, determined to go in the battle if 
 they were engaged; but while here he was struck by a 
 shell and instantly killed: 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 43 
 
 Tenderly he was laid beneath 
 
 The soil where he nobly died, 
 And with manly tears for a wreath, 
 
 Which brave soldiers could not hide! 
 
 Here all day long we lay, supporting' batteries, and 
 constantly aroused from a slumber that nature could 
 not resist, to behold some new freak of the enemy's 
 shell. I will relate one incident — that of a lieutenant 
 and sergeant. They lay conversing together, with 
 their elbows on the ground, their hands upright, sup- 
 porting their heads. A shell came along, and took all 
 of the face part from one and the back part of the head 
 from the other, killing each instantly. Just to the 
 left of us, the infantry as well as the artillery were 
 engaged, and it was with great determination that the 
 enemy tried to rout our troops. They not only failed, 
 but lost heavily in their attempt. When darkness set 
 in, our regiment was marched out a short distance to 
 the front, where we were established as a sort of a 
 picket line. Here, as we were not disturbed all night, 
 we enjoyed a good rest, which we were sorely in need 
 of; but on looking around, as daylight appeared the 
 next morning, we were surprised to find that we were 
 alone, our army having taken up their backward march 
 during the night. Our Colonel, as he saw our position, 
 was probably about to act, when he saw an aid beck- 
 oning him to fall back. And now our march, through 
 mud and rain, to Harrison's Landing, commenced. 
 After falling back to the back part of Malvern Hill, 
 many of our men were privileged to take mules and 
 drive them to the rear. Many of these mules were 
 mounted, some by two and even three of our regiment. 
 
 But these were the real army mules, 
 Who all knew were no great fools; 
 So when the order "go" was given, 
 Into the mud their loads were driven. 
 
44 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 Our boys had a hard — or I should say soft — time (as 
 the mud was of such a deep and thin mixture) of it in 
 riding those mules, and but a few succeeded in reach- 
 ing Harrison's Landing with them. When we reached 
 Harrison's Landing, it was late in the afternoon, and 
 we had to get brushwood to lay in the mud that we 
 might have a dry place to sleep upon. Early the next 
 morning we were called up by a rebel battery of artillery. 
 Our unfriendly neighbors, I think, must have been 
 awake all night, otherwise they would not have spied 
 us out so early. Not being able to resent their action, 
 nor wishing to endure it, we removed ourselves and 
 equipage to a more genial and often-sought habitation, 
 the woods. Here we remained till about noon, when 
 we were marched to the front, and on a line with our 
 army front. Here we all built breastworks, mostly 
 from old fallen trees. During the morning a division 
 of our troops had driven the enemy back a short dis- 
 tance, after which they halted where the general line 
 of defence was established (July 4, '62). After our 
 line had been established, a light firing was heard just 
 to the right of us. This led us to believe that a general 
 engagement was about to take place, and that we were 
 among the first to participate in it; so we made every 
 preparation necessary. On my color-guard was the 
 young man heretofore mentioned, Wilson (from Brook- 
 lyn, I believe), who said to me, when we thought we 
 were about to be attacked, " Sergeant, to-day is the 
 fourth of July, and, if attacked, hold forth our 
 
 " Emblem, more precious than gold, 
 With that loved spirit of the old; 
 And we will stay beneath its stars, 
 Or die the death of brave martyrs!" 
 
 If his words were not of the above, their sentiments 
 were, and they did not bring forth that mirthful criti- 
 cism which usually attends such remarks, but instead 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARF.R. 45 
 
 created such a determination among its hearers, that, 
 should the enemy have attacked us, which we surely 
 expected, they would have met with a stubborn resist- 
 ance; but the attack was not made, and for a short time 
 we were given a much-needed rest; and we were not 
 forgotten in respect to clothing, for new ones were 
 soon given us, which gift, as well as the rest, we greatly 
 appreciated. 
 
 While here at Harrison's Landing, some of our boys 
 took quite a dislike to Gen. Kearney for his persistence 
 in having us to drill; but they soon learned the wisdom 
 of his order, as we (our division) did not lose near as 
 many men through sickness as did those who had no 
 drilling. 
 
 On or about the 19th day of August, '62, we took our 
 departure from Harrison's Landing for parts unknown 
 (to us), but that brave army, always ready to obey 
 duty's call, took up their line of march with cheer and 
 song. One morning, after leaving Harrison's Landing, 
 and coming off picket, where we had been all night, 
 we started with the line of march without getting our 
 coffee. This the boys did not like; so, when at about 
 eight o'clock, a. m., Gen. Kearney, coming along our 
 line, our regiment (and, I believe, the whole brigade), 
 began to call out "coffee!" 
 
 And their just call was not in vain, 
 For the noble knight did soon rein 
 His gallant steed to one near, 
 When "Get coffee.'" came with a cheer. 
 
 Gen. Kearney, who had formerly commanded a Jer- 
 sey brigade (the Excelsiors), now commanded our di- 
 vision; Hooker commanding the other division, which 
 composed our corps (-3d), of which Gen. Heinsclman 
 was commander. Gen. Kearney, after entering upon 
 the peninsular campaign, soon gained the title of 
 "Fighting Phill," but he was as quickly given credit 
 
46 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 for his forethought and humanity towards his soldiers, 
 for all of which he was greatly beloved. We finally 
 reached Yorktown, after passing through Williams- 
 burg, and over its late gory battlefield. At Yorktown 
 we embarked on a large transport called the Merrimac, 
 and were soon headed out of the York River and up 
 the Potomac, reaching Alexandria, Va., about August 
 24, '02. The next day we were taken by the Alexan- 
 dria and Orange Railroad to Warrenton Junction. 
 After remaining here all night, we (our regiment) 
 guarded a provision train to Warrenton, and remained 
 there all night. The next morning we marched across 
 to Bealston Station, on the Orange and Alexandria 
 Railroad; from here (I believe) the next day, we were 
 taken and stationed as follows: — Two companies at 
 Catlett Station, two companies at Bristow Station, and 
 three companies of us boarded a train to go to Manas- 
 sas Junction — these stations were all on the Orange 
 and Alexandria Railroad. This, if I mistake not, was 
 on the 28th day of August, '02. After leaving our two 
 companies at Bristow Station and boarding a train, as 
 the day had been very warm and we had done consid- 
 erable marching, instead of going inside of the cars 
 we went on top of them, and there, as the train was 
 put in motion, we were delighted to find a cooling 
 breeze; and it being after sunset, the evening to us was 
 delightful. How proud we were of this opportunity 
 of getting to our destination without marching the 
 most of the night! But we had not gone far, however, 
 before, to our great surprise, the sound of rifles was 
 heard, and soon their leaden missiles. Bushwhackers! 
 was our first soliloquy ; but on seeing a brigade of 
 cavalry charging down, and firing as they came upon 
 us, we were awakened from our peaceful meditations 
 as to our future, and brought to fully realize our pre- 
 sent, situation. 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 47 
 
 "SINTlMENTS" of one of our company. 
 
 Bad cess to the gray ragged whelps 
 And their owld daiffening yelps! 
 And less power to their mane sowls 
 For prowling about loike owls! 
 
 Fortunately the enemy did not rein-up until they got 
 as near the train as they could ride, and then, when 
 they discharged the greater part of their rifles, the 
 contents were sent through the cars and under us. 
 Our rifles not being loaded, and as we hardly had time 
 to load them, all that we could do was to lay as close 
 as possible to the top of the cars — which most assuredly 
 we did — and try to save ourselves from being hit. 
 After getting by the enemy, we found but few of our 
 men had been wounded; but the cars were given such 
 extra ventilation that thereafter there would have been 
 no need of going on their tops for free air. There was 
 another train just behind us, following; this train did 
 not fare even as well as we did, for it was thrown from 
 the track and destroyed. After we had passed by the 
 enemy's cavalry, we continued our journey without 
 further mishaps. On reaching Manassas Junction, our 
 three companies were stationed behind log-houses, so 
 as to resist an attack, should one be made; but we 
 hardly looked for it before the next morning; still we 
 took advantage of all available means of resisting an 
 immediate attack. When we arrived at the Junction, 
 we found one company of cavalry there, and two 
 pieces of artillery. The cavalry, after our arrival, 
 were posted as out-pickets, and the artillery placed in 
 position for action. There was also a picket-line es- 
 tablished from our own men, who were a short dis- 
 tance out from where we were posted. My Colonel, 
 fearing we might be overpowered, came to me, and we 
 together hid our colors under an old platform, which 
 was low on the ground and extended out from the log- 
 
48 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 house, where my Captain (Leaycraftl, myself, and a 
 few of my company were stationed. I now, not wish- 
 ing - to be idle should an attack be made, searched for 
 and found a rifle, and after trying to draw the two or 
 three charges in it and failed, I cleared the tube the 
 best I could, and then filled it with powder. I now 
 placed it where it would be convenient for immediate 
 use. Some of my associates cautioned me against 
 using it, if I did have an occasion, and said the great- 
 est danger of its use would be in its rear. 
 
 All remaining quiet, the night soon passed along, 
 and when midnight arrived we were about to take ad- 
 vantage of the peaceftilness and get what sleep we 
 could. But peace soon ceased to reign, for twelve 
 o'clock had but just been announced when our cavalry 
 came on a full run and reported the advancing of the 
 enemy. Every man now jumped to his post, and we 
 had not long to await the attack; and when it was 
 made, the enemy being so powerful, they were soon 
 among us; and I think, could they have seen the few 
 there was of us, they would have felt abashed over the 
 fuss they made. The whole surroundings were illu- 
 minated by the flashes of their rifles, and the air was 
 filled with their yells. When the attack was first 
 made, I grasped my rifle, and, regardless of the admo- 
 nition of my associates, took aim and fired! Two, I 
 know, went down by that discharge — my rifle and 
 myself! But neither was injured so badly but what 
 they renewed and continued their action. I soon saw 
 that the enemy would capture us all, unless a few 
 could very soon make their escape. Not wishing to 
 be taken prisoner, or run the risk of my colors remain- 
 ing safe where they were, and recovered afterward, I 
 threw myself on the ground, after firing a shot, reach- 
 ed and drew my colors from their hiding-place. This 
 was not easily done, for the staff had been put under 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 4!) 
 
 from the other side, and I could at first only reach the 
 end of the spear, and the shot that I had fired drew 
 upon me many in return, but they passed harmlessly 
 oyer me. Having- got my colors, I jumped behind the 
 house where my Captain and others were. As I did 
 so, my Captain asked me what I was going to do. I 
 said, "Make my escape, if possible." He began to 
 remonstrate by saying it was impossible for any of us 
 to get away. But I did not await his reasoning; seeing 
 a small place where there was no firing, I took advan- 
 tage of this outlet, and although I heard many com- 
 mands of "Surrender" and "Halt," while the bullets 
 were making great music around my head, still I did 
 not slacken my speed until I, with my flag, had made 
 good my escape. Having ran some distance, I began to 
 think of future action. I was now where I had never 
 been before, and knew nothing of my surroundings. 
 Finally, a large white house loomed up before me; this 
 I did not wish to get any nearer to than I was, for I 
 did not know who its inmates might be, so I made my 
 way into a swampy piece of woods, where most of the 
 trees were low and bushy; here I hid my flag, marked 
 the place, and then went off a short distance and laid 
 down, thinking to wait until daylight, when I would 
 try to get out of my dilemma. While lying, the fol- 
 lowing was prominent in my thoughts: 
 
 What great buoyancy there is in 
 The battle, when you nobly win; 
 But quite the reverse, when you go 
 Beaten and routed by the foe. 
 
 This I now fully realized, but I did not dwell long 
 upon its truth, for in a few minutes I heard the reports 
 of rifles near me and their bullets passing by. Again 
 my flag and myself started for a more genial land. 
 Dimly seeing through the darkness a woods of tall 
 heavy timber, I made my way towards it, and as I 
 
."iO THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 reached its edge I came to a deep ditch. I had heard 
 of such a ditch or creek in the neighborhood of the 
 Bull Run battle-grounds, and believing this to be it I 
 thought it would lead me to the railroad (Orange and 
 Alexandria), so I started along its edge. After making 
 my way for some distance through its not altogether 
 free and pleasant path, I heard voices ahead of me, 
 but not, however, until I had been heard, for almost 
 the first words I heard from them were, "Who comes 
 there?" Thinking it as well to answer truthfully as 
 otherwise, I said, "One of the 87th New York," and 
 at the same time my mind was made up to jump to one 
 side if I was ordered to surrender, and if possible make 
 my escape; but my challengers proved to be one of my 
 own regiment and two of the cavalry company that had 
 been with us. The one (Simpson) of my regiment 
 partly recognizing my voice, said, " Is that you, Ryder?" 
 I, on answering in the affirmative, was told to hurry, 
 as the enemy was not far behind. They having been 
 on the left of the picket-line had, in falling back, got 
 on the railroad, by which they were now escaping. 
 After joing them, we remained on the railroad till we 
 came to a camp of one of the cavalry companies, where 
 we remained until just after sunrise. After I had 
 joined Simpson and the two cavalrymen, we came, 
 while upon our way back, upon two trains which had 
 left Manassas Junction some time before we were at- 
 tacked. The first that left, on reaching a water-tank, 
 stopped for water, and, while there, was run into by 
 the second. Both locomotives were totally wrecked 
 by this accident, also their cars. As we looked through 
 the cars, we saw probably ten or twelve men killed by 
 the accident; at first we thought it had been the work 
 of the enemy, but, upon examination, we saw how it 
 had happened. The little time that Simpson and my- 
 self were at the cavalry camp afforded us but little 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 51 
 
 rest, and scarcely any sleep. Exerting myself to my 
 utmost ability, when I first started to make my escape, 
 I found my haversack and canteen were more excited 
 than I was; they were jumping about me in a great 
 fashion; so, not wishing to have my progress impeded 
 in any way, I quickly threw them from my shoulders, 
 and left them to look out for themselves. But the 
 next morning, how I would like to have had the con- 
 tents of my haversack! Fortunately, the cavalrymen 
 gave Simpson and me two " hard tack" each and a 
 small portion of their coffee; this, though a "light" 
 breakfast, greatly revived us. In justice to the cavalry- 
 men, I will say that their meal was about as "light" as 
 ours. When Simpson and I had finished our " hard 
 tack," we were about to decide upon some plan of pro- 
 cedure, but the question was decided by a Jersey bri- 
 gade coming from Alexandria by train. As they passed 
 us, all sorts of abuse was heaped upon us by them. We 
 tried to board the train, so as to go out to the front 
 with them, but the train was under too great headway, 
 so we followed as quickly as we could, intending, if we 
 reached them before they went into battle, to join their 
 ranks, and show them that we were not the " stragglers" 
 or "beats" that they had termed us. As the train 
 neared the open field from which, about three-fourths 
 of a mile out, was Manassas Junction, it stopped, and 
 the troops were soon off and formed in line. Gen. 
 Taylor, who was in command, with his staff, imme- 
 diately rode out in the open field. This brought them 
 in full view of the enemy, who did not lose a moment 
 in opening a fire upon them, and their fire was so 
 successful that Gen. Taylor was instantly mortally 
 wounded, and one or two of his staff wounded quite 
 badly. Gen. Taylor died in about two days after being 
 wounded. The result of the enemy's battery (for such 
 it was that had wounded Gen. Taylor and two of his 
 
r>2 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 officers) appeared to instantly demoralize the whole 
 brigade; and Simpson and myself were completely 
 taken aback when we saw the "every-man-for-himself" 
 retreat they were on. "Now it is our turn to laugh," 
 said Simpson to me, and we did not hesitate in doing 
 it; still we regretted the sad fate of the General and 
 his staff officers as much as did any. As soon as the 
 brigade had passed to the rear of us, we leisurely took 
 up our retreat, for we knew there was no cause for 
 great exertion, as the enemy would have all they could 
 attend to in the opposite direction, where o;ir whole 
 army was. After going back some distance, we came 
 upon some of the Jersey brigade, who said they were 
 going to stay there, and had orders to keep all who 
 came to them. This Simpson and I did not object to, 
 as we were only too anxious to get in with some party 
 that had rations and would be likely to go out to the 
 front as soon as an opportunity offered itself. But, to 
 our great surprise, we soon found this party falling 
 back — for what reason we did not know; so there was 
 nothing for us to do but follow, which we did till we 
 came to another halt, when we were led to believe that 
 all were to remain until the next morning, when an 
 advance would be made; but again, to our great sur- 
 prise, a locomotive with four or five cars came out to 
 us at about eight o'clock, p. m., and, returning imme- 
 diately, conveyed all of our associates to Alexandria. 
 Simpson and I, not supposing they were going to board 
 the train, were left a short distance out one side, where 
 we had been lying down resting ourselves, and had 
 occasionally caught a moment's sleep; still we were 
 lying where there were many others, and when we 
 were aroused, probably by the locomotive, we instantly 
 realized our situation. The train was just leaving, 
 and we were left alone. It was now getting quite dark, 
 the woods making it more so. This was sad for us, 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. ~)3 
 
 but we were obliged to make the best of it ; so we 
 started off boldly to walk to Alexandria. Just after 
 midnight we reached (I believe) Burk's Station, where 
 we found ten or twelve of the brigade, who wanted us 
 to remain there with them until morning; but as we 
 could see there would be nothing gained by doing so, 
 we continued on our journey. About daybreak we 
 reached the open field, which was yet some distance 
 from Alexandria. Here we lay down to have a rest; 
 but there was no rest for. us there, as the mosquitoes 
 appeared to seriously object to it, so we were again 
 to " tramp" on. We were now feeling greatly fatigued 
 and in want of something to eat, as we had eaten 
 nothing since the morning before, when we got the 
 two crackers each from the cavalrymen. Finally, we 
 saw, a short distance ahead of us, a commissary de- 
 partment. This gave us new courage, and our steps 
 became quicker; but this, however, was not to last long, 
 for on reaching the commissary department, and ask- 
 ing a man, probably about fifty years of age, for a few 
 crackers (of which there were plenty even lying on 
 the ground, which we would have been thankful for), 
 he turned and stared at us for a moment, and then said: 
 " If you want something to eat, you should go and join 
 your regiment, and not come around here begging." 
 This greatly aroused our ire, and we in very plain 
 words told him what we thought of him, and then con- 
 tinued our journey. 
 
 On reaching Alexandria, we met an old colored man, 
 of whom we inquired as to where we could get some- 
 thing to eat. He informed us that there was a place 
 near-by where crackers and soup were given out at 
 noon each day. It now being near noon, we soon sought 
 and found this place, where we greatly relished a bowl 
 of soup and two crackers which were unhesitatingly 
 given us. We now went in search of Co. F, of our 
 
54 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 regiment, which had been left to do duty in Alexandria. 
 After finding them, it was a great relief to both Simp- 
 son and myself. As we were well tired out that night, 
 I assure you we slept well. But the next night we 
 were carrying wounded from the cars till a late hour, 
 and the only one that I knew personally was William 
 Willett, of my village, who was wounded in the head. 
 He belonged to the 12th New York. 
 
 After remaining in Alexandria a few days, we re- 
 ceived orders to march out to Arlington Heights, and 
 were informed that a portion of our regiment was en- 
 camped there; after being captured by the enemy they 
 were paroled. While marching out, I had my colors 
 unfurled while carrying them; still they attracted but 
 little attention until we reached our own boys, 
 
 When, hark! what hearty cheers were those! 
 And look! and see from whence they rose! 
 It was the glad and thankful cheer 
 Of those who loved their colors dear! 
 
 On entering the camp of my late associates, I could 
 not answer half the questions asked me by them con- 
 cerning my escape. They had not thought it possible. 
 My Colonel said to me, that, after he had heard that I 
 had taken the colors from their hiding-place, he had 
 regretted my act. as he felt positive that I had been 
 killed or wounded, and that the colors had fallen into 
 the hands of the enemy; if they had been left in their 
 hiding-place, he said, they would have been burnt up, 
 as were all the buildings at the Station — which he 
 would rather have seen than to have had the enemy 
 get them; but as he now saw that both (the colors and 
 myself) were safe, his misfortune was greatly lightened. 
 These were the sentiments of all who were captured; 
 and all of those three companies who were at the Junc- 
 tion were captured, with the exception of, I believe, 
 three or four of us. After I had joined this portion of 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 00 
 
 my regiment, I learned the fate of the other companies 
 when we were attacked at midnight. The other com- 
 panies were also attacked, and many of them were 
 either killed, wounded, or taken prisoners. The Cap- 
 tain of "H" Company (Sullivan), who would not sur- 
 render when ordered to do so, was shot through the 
 head, and killed instantly, while trying to make his 
 escape. As there were but a few of our regiment left 
 for duty (those who had been paroled being debarred), 
 an order was issued from the War Department con- 
 solidating us (the rank and file) into the 40th New 
 York Volunteers. 
 
 Here a scene of great tumult rose, 
 Nearly ending in blood of those 
 Who were clothed in bright valor grand 
 By heroic deeds for our land. 
 
 The act of consolidation created a great deal of dissa- 
 tisfaction in our regiment, and when we were marched 
 to the camp of the 40th, and halted in line of battle in 
 front of them, who were also in line, we still felt a 
 greater aversion to the consolidation. After the order 
 had been read to us by Col. Ward (afterwards General), 
 of the 28th New York Volunteers, we were asked by 
 him whether we were willing to submit to the order? 
 In answer nearly every man said "No!" and the "No" 
 rang out so clear that there was no mistaking it. Col. 
 Ward then said, if we would not come in willingly, he 
 would force us in, or shoot us down, or words to that 
 effect; so he gave the 4()th the order to load. This 
 order the 87th obeyed, as well as did the 40th; also the 
 command " Ready!" Our two regiments were not more 
 than fifty yards apart, and facing each other. Col. Ward, 
 seeing what the result of proceeding in that course 
 would be, wisely changed his tactics, and gave the 
 command, "Shoulder arms!" Each man was now 
 taken, as he was told, a prisoner, and placed in the 
 
56 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 
 
 ranks of the respective companies; after which we 
 were all marched into the 40th camp with both of our 
 colors flying. After this we heard nothing more of 
 being prisoners ; we did our duty together, and were 
 all treated alike. Upon all occasions, when the regi- 
 ment was out, our two colors were carried together, I 
 carrying the 87th's, and the 40th's color-bearer carrying 
 theirs. I continued to carry the 87th's colors until 
 taken from me by an order from the War Department, 
 as heretofore mentioned. 
 
 Shortly after being consolidated, we were marched 
 across the Potomac, and up through Maryland, to or 
 near White's Ford. While here, Lieut. George Hudson 
 came and got our colors (first part of Oct., '(!2). Al- 
 though it was very hard for me to part with them, and 
 it appeared unjust, still the order had to be obeyed, 
 every man (those of the late 87th) feeling their loss, I 
 believe, nearly, if not quite, as keenly as I did. But 
 there was one thing that we all felt proud of, and that 
 was, that not only ourselves felt that we had fulfilled 
 our obligations in respect to our old flag, but that it 
 was freely acknowledged by our officers. Lieut. Hudson 
 bringing a letter of high praise of my past conduct to 
 the Colonel of the 40th, caused that gentleman and 
 soldier to say to me that I, having been recommended 
 so highly, he could not put me back in my company, 
 neither could he give me the 40th's National flag, as 
 the one who was then carrying it was the fourth to 
 carry it in the late battle (Bull Run), but what he could 
 and would do was to give me their State flag, which 
 he did ; so I still remained a Sergeant and Color- 
 Bearer. I might say here, that when we were attacked 
 at Manassas Junction, it was, as I might say, the com- 
 mencement of the second Bull Run, and that Chantilly 
 was a continuation of the battle. Our march up 
 through Maryland was so hurriedly that we could not 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-HEARER. 57 
 
 at first account for it, only in this way, that of having 
 a cavalry General, Stoneman, in command of us, in- 
 stead of our own (Kearney), 
 
 Noble and beloved one; armed knight, 
 Who met death in Chantilly fight; 
 But contageous was his spirit, 
 And we all had well inhaled it. 
 
 So, even though our march was hurriedly, and of long 
 hours, we did not murmur, but cheerfully did our duty. 
 But on reaching our destination we learned the cause 
 of our hurried "march. Confederate Gen. Stuart had, 
 on the lfith of October, '62, crossed the Potomac, and 
 had rode through a part of Maryland, and even in 
 Pennsylvania, doing considerable damage. We, on the 
 12th of October, '62, having just arrived, we (40th) 
 were marching along the Potomac towards and near 
 White's Ford, when we saw the enemy on the opposite 
 side of the Potomac, they having just crossed. We now 
 used greater exertions, in order to reach White's Ford, 
 and, if possible, prevent any more of them from cross- 
 ing; but as we arrived at the Ford we found it well 
 guarded by a battery of artillery, and as the road which 
 we were on was very narrow — made so by the Potomac 
 on one side and a high cliff on the other — we were un- 
 able to form a line of battle, and charge it; so Colonel 
 Egan marched us a short distance to the rear, and then 
 entered the woods, thinking to find a place where we 
 could charge down upon them; but while we were 
 marching through the woods the battery crossed, and 
 thus the last of Stuart's men made their escape, and 
 were again safe on Virginia soil. It was believed at 
 this time that Stuart, with all of his command, could 
 and would have been captured, only for some misun- 
 derstanding between some of our corps' commanders. 
 We were now encamped at White's Ford, and hav- 
 ing lately got new clothing, and getting oiir rations 
 
58 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 
 
 regularly, we greatly enjoyed our camp life. Our duty, 
 while encamped here, was light. Occasioeally we 
 would ford the river and go on a reconnoitreing expe- 
 dition in Virginia. These expeditions always proved 
 to be of a pleasant character. 
 
 On October 20, '62, we again crossed the Potomac, 
 and with the Army of the Potomac advanced towards 
 Warrenton, commanded by our long-trusted General, 
 McClellan, which well pleased us; but this pleasure 
 we were not long allowed to retain, for on our arrival 
 at Warrenton, McClellan was relieved of command 
 (November 7, '62), and Gen. Burnside assumed com- 
 mand three days later (10th). The relieving of Mc- 
 Clellan from his command of the Army of the Potomac 
 was believed by many of his old command to be through 
 prejudice; and as they always had great confidence in 
 him, it was with regret that they saw him go 
 
 From those he loved with that high pride 
 Which is infused when by the side 
 Of valiant freemen of one's land 
 United in an army grand. 
 
 McClellan's presence always brought forth great cheer- 
 ing from his army, but on taking his leave he was 
 cheered as no other officer ever was; 
 
 Its echo rang o'er hill and dell, 
 And told our nation all too well 
 How dear they loved their "little Mac," 
 And how they longed to have him back! 
 
 After Gen. Burnside took command, we were marched 
 towards Fredericksburg, a portion of our army reach- 
 ing Falmouth (which is on the Rappahannock River, 
 and nearly opposite Fredericksburg), Nov. IT, '62, and 
 it was but a few days before our whole army was en- 
 camped, facing the enemy, with only the narrow river 
 between us. Here we remained until December 10, '62, 
 when preparations were made for an attack. The work 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-HEARER. 59 
 
 of getting our army across the river was hardly accom- 
 plished till the 12th, they being obliged to cross on 
 pontoon bridges, which made their progress very slow. 
 When the 40th started for the scene of action, it was 
 with some pride that I unfurled and carried aloft that 
 well-deserved historic regiment's flag. I was now the 
 Color-Bearer of the 40th, having been given that posi- 
 tion about the time our army arrived at Warrenton 
 (Nov. 7), through sickness of the former color-sergeant, 
 who had been obliged to go to a hospital. The National 
 flag I now carried was a new one, and we had only had 
 it about two weeks. The first day that I carried it was 
 on a grand review of the army by President Lincoln; 
 and the second, 
 
 Not a review of grandeur bright, 
 But of great courage and its might, 
 And the carnage of that affray, 
 Which causes sorrow till this day. 
 
 When we left our camp, we marched to the pontoon 
 bridges opposite Fredericksburg, and there we expect- 
 ed to cross the river; but we did not; we were halted 
 and kept together until about 9 o'clock, p. m., when we 
 were ordered in line, and marched hurriedly, until 
 about midnight, towards the left, where Gen. Franklin 
 crossed. Here we halted, and remained until the next 
 morning, Dec. 13, '62, when we were called up early 
 and told to get coffee. Little time was given us, how- 
 ever, to get that morning's meal, for hardly had we 
 drank our coffee, when we were ordered to "fall in," 
 and again we took up our line of march, and did not 
 halt until we reached the edge of the river, and then 
 only for a few moments, when we (all of our brigade) 
 crossed the river — near where Gen. George Washington 
 passed his childhood days — and were ordered on the 
 double quick; the horses drawing our artillery were 
 whipped to their utmost speed; and thus we went out 
 
60 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 about one mile, where we formed a line of battle, and 
 none too soon either, for the enemy had Gen. Franklin's 
 troops completely routed, who had- at first driven the 
 enemy. On forming our line on a long ridge, our ar- 
 tillery, with their horses on the run, came in position, 
 unlimbered, and ran their caissons a short distance to 
 the rear, and immediately opened fire. The infantry 
 came in on the run and formed a line in their rear. 
 Here our artillery exhibited the coolest of bravery, 
 and I doubt whether their heroism was ever excelled. 
 After fully establishing our line, our artillery, although 
 well tested, finally checked and caused the enemy to 
 fall back under cover of the woods. 
 
 For a few hours now all remained quiet, with the 
 exception of the "rebel" sharpshooters, who kept up a 
 steady fire upon us with considerable effect, till we got 
 a small rifle-pit, which protected our heads. Previous 
 to getting this rifle-pit, we used our blankets, rolled 
 tight, for head-protectors, which rendered good service. 
 As we were lying down, nearly every man that was hit 
 was hit in the head. During the afternoon the fighting 
 was very severe at Fredericksburg, and in fact along our 
 whole line to the right of us; and it was probably to 
 see whether the enemy had withdrawn from our front 
 that my regiment and the 38th New York were sent 
 into a piece of woods in our front, which was not more 
 than three hundred yards from our main line. But 
 just before coming to the woods, we came upon a deep 
 ditch; this a few jumped, but the most of our men were 
 obliged to jump into it and then crawl out. The two 
 regiments of us were in one line as we advanced, and 
 the rebel pickets kept up a steady fire upon us; still 
 we continued till near the woods, when the most, if not 
 all, of the rebel pickets surrendered to us. They were 
 sent to the rear without escort. We now opened fire, 
 and were soon a short distance in the woods, where we 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. M 
 
 met an overwhelming' force. So great was this force, 
 and so near were we to them, that by the determined 
 stand our two regiments took, few survived it. Just 
 in the point of the woods where we entered the Fred- 
 ericksburg and Potomac Railroad ran through, and as 
 I was crossing this railroad a bullet passed through 
 one side of my flagstaff, cutting one-half away, about 
 three inches above my right hand, with which I was 
 carrying my colors. This caused my flag to fall, and 
 some who had seen it circulated the report that I had 
 been killed. After my colors fell, I immediately picked 
 them up and continued my advance, but went only a 
 short distance beyond the railroad. The enemy were 
 now not more than from ten to fifteen yards in front 
 of us, and they were crossing the railroad and getting 
 in the rear of us about twenty yards to my right. On 
 observing this I also noticed that I was there alone — 
 with the exception of dead and wounded. What few 
 of our two regiments as had been yet spared were try- 
 ing to make their escape, and the nearest of them to 
 me was some ten yards in my rear, and on the retreat. 
 So great was the enemy's firing now, that it did not 
 appear possible that I could get clear, but to stay where 
 I was my colors would be in the enemy's hands in a 
 moment's time. The thought of this fairly maddened 
 me, yet it looked to me sure death to make the attempt 
 of escape; still realizing my position, I lost no time; 
 so, gathering my colors about their staff, I started, 
 and bounding with such swiftness that it appeared but 
 like a flash, my colors were transferred from their 
 perilous position to one of safety. How thankful I was 
 when I reached the few that were spared to retreat! 
 for, while with them, if I fell, my colors would be picked 
 up and saved. On reaching the ditch, I easily sprang 
 over it; but some, who were unable to do so, jumped 
 into it, and there remained. After I had crossed the 
 
62 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 ditch, a lieutenant of the 38th held their flag, and called 
 out for the 38th to stand, and added, " Let the 40th run, 
 if they wish." This was too much for me, so I instantly 
 drove the end of my flag-staff in the ground, and called 
 for the 40th to rally, adding, that the 40th would stand 
 as long as the 38th or any other regiment. But how 
 sad, on looking' around me, to see how few there were 
 left of us; still what few there were rallied with a 
 braveness that never was excelled. In a moment after- 
 wards I chanced to look around, but did not see that 
 lieutenant or his flag! The artillerymen now calling" 
 for us to fall back to the right, we did so, and then they 
 opened on the advancing line of about two full bri- 
 gades, who were closely following us. On reaching 
 our line, I entered where Gen. Ward, who commanded 
 our brigade, was standing with his staff officers (they 
 were on horseback). When I came up to Gen. Ward, 
 with his sword uplifted, he asked me whose colors I 
 had. I answered, "The 40th New York's." "Where 
 are you going with them?" he then said. I answering" 
 again, said "In behind the artillery." "Go on, then," 
 said the General; and as I went, so did he, but he went 
 to the rear. On reaching a few of my regiment, I laid 
 down with them in the rear of our artillery. I say "in 
 the rear;" but what few there were in the rear of the 
 guns were only a short distance — the most of us were 
 on a line, in between the guns. The enemy continuing 
 their charge, they were but a short distance from us 
 when I laid down. On this line we had, I believe, sixty 
 pieces of artillery, and they were but five yards apart, 
 and all raking grape and canister into the advancing 
 line; still on they came, with such determined steadi- 
 ness that it did not appear possible to check them; yet 
 our artillerymen, with their grape and canister, were 
 creating great havoc in their ranks; but on they came, 
 cheering and yelling, and their officers urging them on 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 63 
 
 in the charge. They came, some of them, to within 
 five yards of our guns; but their ranks having been 
 greatly thinned, and our artillery continuing their 
 steady destruction, and the sight of the infantry who 
 were waiting their part, were too much for their (as it 
 must be admitted) great courage, so they broke and 
 fled, many of whom took refuge in the ditch, and re- 
 mained there, with a few of our men, until a company 
 of a Pennsylvania regiment belonging to our brigade 
 charged down and captured all. 
 
 The enemy lost heavily in this charge, their killed 
 and wounded commencing five yards from our guns 
 and continuing all the way to the woods. The distance 
 from where I was lying to one of the enemy's dead was 
 six paces, as I paced it myself. 
 
 After the enemy had fallen back, all of my regiment 
 were got together, and we found that out of 96 men 
 who had gone into the battle there were but 16 left for 
 duty! We had, before going into the battle, 125 men, 
 25 of whom were detailed to help one of our batteries, 
 and -4 men were left behind when we crossed the river. 
 Colonel Egan being absent on leave, our Lieutenant- 
 Colonel commanded the regiment. He was wounded 
 while in the battle, and twice while being taken to the 
 rear; the two latter wounds were from pieces of shells. 
 When our regiment was formed together, it was but a 
 small company, and we had only, I believe, three 
 officers. If I regretted the loss of one man more than 
 another, it was the loss of my long associate, Wilson, 
 of whom I have heretofore made mention. On the 
 4th of July, while at Harrison's Landing, Wilson, I 
 believe, was killed, as I never heard of him after. 
 
 The next day (the 14th,) a flag of truce went in from 
 our line to the enemy's, and after a little delay ar- 
 rangements were made for burying the dead. - 
 
»>4 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 This, I think, was the greatest sight 
 Ever witnessed after a fight, 
 There mingling together those foes — 
 Some in greatest mirth; others, woes. 
 
 It was a sight rarely, if ever, seen, such as we wit- 
 nessed when the Federal and Confederate details went 
 upon that open field and began that sad and laborious 
 duty. This was taken advantage of by both main 
 lines, and in a short time there were those two great 
 hostile bodies mingling together with the greatest of 
 friendship. 
 
 The sight revere, of blue and gray, 
 As they their dead lay away; 
 Again, the blue and gray in mirth 
 Upon that deep-crimsoned earth. 
 
 The picture of which, to one who would think calmly, 
 was of great depth. After the burying of the. dead, 
 those two great bodies of unrestrained men were again 
 quickly converted into two great hostile armies, and 
 assumed their former positions and attitudes, that of 
 being ready, upon provocation, to deluge that already 
 blood-stained field. But war often has a bright side. 
 While these men were together on the field (while the 
 burying was being performed), they agreed among 
 each other to have no firing, unless one or the other 
 advanced to make an attack. This gave all, during 
 the remainder of our stay, the privilege of standing or 
 walking about, which was a great relief. On the L5th 
 we recrossed the river, under cover of the darkness. 
 As we had been lying very near the enemy, it required 
 great stealth on our part to make our escape unsus- 
 pected; but this we accomplished. Thus ended the 
 battle of Fredericksburg, a sad defeat to the Union 
 armies. After I had fallen back in the rear of our 
 artillery, and all had become quiet, my colors were 
 examined by all who were near. In that battle there 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 65 
 
 had been 22 bullets shot through my flag, one through 
 the staff, about three inches above my hand, and 
 another through the staff, in about the middle of the 
 blue ground, tearing a large three-cornered hole. 
 While here, my name was taken in full by one of the 
 officers, but I did not suspect the reason thereof. Shortly 
 after we had returned to our old camp, an order was 
 read, while we were on dress parade, announcing my 
 promotion with others. I was placed in command of 
 Company B, whose Captain (Foster) had been wounded 
 so badly that he never was able for duty again, and its 
 other officers, I believe, were killed. I had not been 
 in command of my company long when I was sent for 
 by my Colonel, and on entering his tent I found all of 
 our officers and some of our brigade staff officers 
 there, and to my great surprise I was called up and 
 presented with a handsome gold medal. This medal, 
 I was informed afterwards, cost fifty dollars, and was 
 got up by a firm in Boston, Mass. (Bigelow Bros. & 
 Kennard.) On one side are engraved my initials, 
 " R. H. R." and the American Eagle; on the other is: 
 
 "PRESENTED BY THE 
 
 Officers of the 40th Regt. N. Y. Volunteers 
 
 TO 
 
 COLOR-BEARER RICHARD H. RYDER, 
 
 FOR 
 
 His Bravery at the Battle of Fredericksburg, Va., 
 Dec. 13, 1862." 
 
 Both of these acts— that of my commission and the 
 medal — were a great surprise to me, for I had not 
 thought that I had merited so much consideration, and 
 knew that I had only done my duty as all of my asso- 
 ciates did. The position that I held — Color-Bearer — 
 had come to be looked upon with great distrust, as in 
 every other battle the 40th had been in they had lost 
 their color-bearer, and in some eases two or three: 
 
66 THE VILLAGE COLOR-LEARER. 
 
 with me, I had been forttinat© while carrying the 
 colors, but my color-corporals had been unfortunate, 
 as I had lost nearly all of them in every battle I had 
 been in. 
 
 TO THE OFFICERS OF THE 40th N. V. VOLS. 
 In decking me with this bright gem, 
 You were decked with a diadem 
 More precious than your golden gift, 
 Which ever will your names uplift. 
 
 After returning to our camp, all remained quiet until 
 the 26th day of January, L863, when the "Burnside 
 stick in the mud," as it was called, took place. There 
 was no doubting Gen. Burnside's loyalty or sincerity 
 of purpose, but there was great doubt as to his ability 
 in coping with Gen. Lee; still fortune appeared to be 
 against him, and it would be unjust to censure him 
 for his mishaps while in command. After we had, on 
 the 26th, again started to cross the Rappahannock and 
 attack the enemy, a rain set in, and it was surprising 
 how muddy the roads became, and in such a short 
 time. The crossing was to have been just above Fred- 
 ericksburg. Our brigade was on the advance, and, as 
 I understood, our regiment (40th j was to have been 
 the first to cross the river. As night set in we halted 
 near the river, and remained there all night; but what 
 a night it was! — a cold rain falling upon us all night; 
 and it was with thankful hearts that we saw that it 
 was impossible for our artillery to be got up the next 
 morning. Still Gen. Burnside showed a determination 
 to cross, and when mules and horses could not draw 
 the artillery, whole regiments were used; but when it 
 was found that all failed, the crossing was abandoned, 
 and the army took up their return march, feeling sad 
 because they had met with such poor success of late, 
 but thankful that this affair was not another Frede- 
 ricksburg. Shortly after this, Gen. Biirnside resigned, 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. R"i 
 
 and Gen. Hooker was placed in command. " Fighting 
 Joe," as he was called, was well liked by all of his 
 army, for his association with them had proved his 
 character and worth; but it was feared by many of the 
 army that he would meet with no better success than 
 did Gen. Burnside. 
 
 When Spring" had fully set in, the grand old array 
 was again called upon to do battle, and nobly they re- 
 sponded; and when they, on the 1st day of May, 1863, 
 began the Chancellorsville battle, it was with a cheer- 
 ful determination that they fought to win, if possible. 
 When we (I believe our whole corps) left our camp, we 
 were marched about two miles above Fredericksburg, 
 and then, by a forced march till midnight, to where 
 our main army crossed the Rapidan River. Here we 
 remained until daylight, when we again "fell in" and 
 marched across the river, and just before sunset that 
 day we were within about two hundred yards of and 
 facing the enemy, who were in rifle-pits in a piece of 
 woods. Our line here was on an old plank or turnpike 
 road, and joined on Gen. Howard's (11th Army Corps) 
 left, Gen. Howard's corps having the extreme right of 
 our army's line. The next day (2nd), Gen. Sickels, who 
 was now commanding our (3rd) corps — at first com- 
 manded by Gen. Heintzelman — saw that an opportu- 
 nity had presented itself for him to make an attack, 
 so he sought and obtained permission to do so. Our 
 corps was now soon put in motion, and we began our 
 advance, and as we did the enemy began their retreat, 
 and before sunset we had them completely routed, and 
 we were hilarious over our triumph and their promis- 
 cuous retreat. As an attack had also been made at 
 Fredericksburg, we believed they as well as us had 
 been victorious, and that now we had gained a complete 
 victory; but how sad "it was for us when we learned 
 that when wc had gut the enemy completely routed, 
 
68 THE VILLAGE COLOR-HEARER. 
 
 they had completely routed the 11th Corps, and that 
 we now were obliged to retrace our steps, which we 
 did, and at midnight made a charge upon the enemy, 
 who were lying on the very ground that we held that 
 morning, and we charging from the position that they 
 held. As our division entered upon this charge, our 
 orders were to use only the bayonet, and no rifles were 
 to be loaded. The order for my regiment was to march 
 up a road in column, by companies, till opposite the 
 enemy's right flank, then wheel in line of battle and 
 charge upon their flank. Having marched a short dis- 
 tance up this road, we came upon the enemy in great 
 force on both sides of the road, who opened upon us 
 with such a tremendous fire that we were obliged to fall 
 back; we even made the third attempt to break them, 
 but with no better success. Shortly after our third 
 charge, my Colonel said that he believed the enemy 
 had fallen back, and ordered me to take a detail and 
 go up the road, and if I met with no opposition to con- 
 tinue till I reached the plank road (where our line was 
 that morning), and then send word back to him and 
 he would bring the regiment out. I got a detail of ten 
 men and one sergeant, and then started. I did not 
 believe for one moment that the enemy had fallen back; 
 so after leaving my regiment, I sent the sergeant on 
 the opposite side of the road, and ordered him to deploy 
 his men and advance cautiously, telling him also that 
 I would do the same on my side, and that I would keep 
 near the road, and if he heard any signs of me coming 
 upon the enemy to halt his men, and then act as his 
 judgment taught him ; also to use his own judgment 
 should he come upon the enemy — which I did not think 
 likely, as I felt sure that I would come upon them first. 
 This midnight charge was called the "moonlight 
 charge;" but when I began my advance with my detail 
 we were obliged to grope our way through the woods, 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 69 
 
 and when I reached the place where my regiment had 
 been fired upon, I was in the act of making" my way 
 through a thick cluster of low bushes, when one of my 
 men, who was with men, pulled me back and pointed 
 through the bushes. On looking I there could see, not 
 more than five yards ahead of me, the rebel line lying 
 down. I was about to try and get back, but just then 
 Col. Egan came riding up the road and calling me. 
 Knowing that unless I answered him, he would ride 
 into the enemy's line and be taken prisoner; so I an- 
 swered. I was then ordered by my Colonel to send 
 one of my men for a wounded man who was calling for 
 some one to come and get him; but no sooner had my 
 Colonel given me the order than I was ordered to come 
 in and give myself up, and Col. Egan was ordered to 
 dismount and surrender. When he was ordered to 
 surrender, he asked who it was that dared to order him 
 to surrender. "It makes no difference who I am; you 
 dismount and surrender this instant, or I will bring 
 you down from that horse," was the answer. Col. Egan 
 then immediately wheeled his horse about, and mid a 
 shower of bullets made good his escape. When I was 
 ordered to surrender, the man who was by my side said 
 to me, "Well, I suppose we have got to surrender." I 
 answered, saying "I suppose we have;" whereupon he 
 walked in and gave himself up. I standing still for a 
 moment listening to the parley between the rebel 
 officer and my Colonel made me think that I might yet 
 get away; so, when my Colonel was fired upon, I took 
 a few steps back. This gave me courage to " make a 
 break for freedom;" so I turned and ran; but before 
 getting back to my regiment, I came upon my whole 
 detail, with the exception of the one who had given 
 himself up. I then placed them in position, and gave 
 the order, if the enemy advanced, to fire and fall back 
 slow. I then went back to report, but just as I reached 
 
70 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 my regiment my detail began to fire, so I instantly re- 
 turned to them and found that the enemy were advanc- 
 ing. We all then fell back to our regiment, which was 
 still lying in the woods alone, and about fifty yards in 
 front of our main line. The enemy continuing to ad- 
 vance, and keeping up their firing, caused those of our 
 main line in our rear to open fire. This placed us not 
 only in a queer but dangerous position; we all instantly 
 lay flat upon the ground, but the firing being so great we 
 lay but a second, when we began to crawl out towards 
 the right. Fortunately we soon got out from under 
 the fire ; but now to get back in our line caused a 
 serious thought, for there was none but the enemy 
 supposed to be in front of the line where we wished to 
 enter. After a moment's consultation, Capt. Stevens 
 and myself were chosen to go in, so we started boldly, 
 and conversing' as we went. Just before getting to our 
 line, the welcome words. "Who comes there?" greeted 
 our ears. We answered, "Friends," and then told our 
 story. An officer being called, one of us was ordered 
 to advance, and soon the other, after which arrange- 
 ments were soon made for bringing in our regiment. 
 I might say here that great credit is due the picket 
 (who was not more than five yards in front of the main 
 line), who challenged us, for many, under the circum- 
 stances, it being very dark, and believing that none 
 but the enemy were in their front, would have fired 
 upon us instead of challenging, which in all probability 
 would have been the cause of annihilating the few 
 that were now left of us. I might say here, also, that 
 our regiment had been somewhat recruited since the 
 battle of Fredericksburg, Dec. 13, so that on entering 
 this battle we numbered about 150 men. After getting 
 in the rear of the main line, we were allowed a rest; but 
 the rest did not last long, for about sunrise, or just 
 after, the enemy made a grand attack. Through all of 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 71 
 
 this day we supported batteries. The battle being so 
 fierce, the enemy fighting with such determination, 
 our troops were obliged to keep constantly falling back 
 till we came to where we could throw up breastworks. 
 Here we checked the enemy, and we continued to hold 
 them in check until the (5th instant, when we evacuated 
 and fell back across the Rapidan River, and again re- 
 turned to our old camping ground. Thus with great 
 loss we suffered another defeat. 
 
 After this battle — our regiment having been again 
 greatly reduced — another order of consolidation was 
 issued. This order consolidated some of our companies 
 into others, and dispensed with some of our officers. 
 We now had the three-year men of the 37th and 38th 
 New York Regiments (they were two-year regiments) 
 placed in ours; also the 55th and some other regiment 
 of New York State. When my company was consoli- 
 dated I was placed in command of " E" Company, 
 which was composed principally of the 55th men. This 
 company numbered about fifty, and I even yet feel 
 the pride of commanding that company of such noble 
 heroes; they were disciplined and their drilling was 
 perfect, and they were all "battle-proven soldiers;" 
 but my pleasant connection with them was not to last 
 long, for a number of our officers had to be mustered 
 out so as to admit a portion of the 55th's officers. Col. 
 Egan, not wishing to decide who should be mustered 
 out, sent a circular around among the officers, asking 
 who of them wished to resign, also stating the cause 
 and particulars of the circular. Our officers, having 
 previously gained some information as to what the 
 result of the consolidation would be, now held a con- 
 sultation among themselves, which resulted, I am proud 
 to say, in proving their yet steadfast patriotism and 
 willingness to continue the battle for the Union, but 
 they wished to continue it in their old regiment. After 
 
72 THE VILLAGE COLOR-REARER 
 
 the consolidation I tried to view the question fairly; 
 my thoughts were as to who had the best right to re- 
 main in the regiment. It was true the consolidated 
 men had the same right as the original members had, 
 and they were treated with the same respect; still, as 
 I had been treated as fairly by them, could I consist- 
 ently provoke an ill-feeling by insisting upon staying 
 and obliging some one of them to leave? Although it 
 was with regret that I would leave the regiment, 
 
 Still, could I be such an ingrate, 
 To turn their brave love into hate? 
 No! I am justly proud to say 
 My honor held me in its sway. 
 
 I went to Col. Eg~an's quarters and handed in my 
 resignation, and stated to him my reasons for so 
 doing. At first my request to resign would not be lis- 
 tened to, but I saying that I would not think of being 
 so ungrateful as to be the means of causing any one 
 of the old members to leave, and as each one of them 
 had been promoted through their bravery, I was 
 finally told by my Colonel that he would consider my 
 act; but the number of names which had been called 
 for had to be sent to General Headquarters that day; 
 so I not giving way from the stand I had taken, my 
 resignation was handed in with others, and in a few 
 days our discharges came. It was on a Saturday, and 
 I expected to have got mine that day, but it was held 
 back from me; so not being relieved, I was obliged to 
 remain, and was out with my company the next (Sun- 
 day ; morning on inspection. This, however, was not 
 a loathsome duty to me, for to command that company 
 out, or under any circumstances, was a pleasure to me. 
 The next day (Monday), early in the morning, Col. 
 Egan sent for me, and after I had entered his tent he 
 very proudly informed me that he had gained the pri- 
 vilege of retaining me. I soon learned how he had 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 73 
 
 accomplished his object, and as I saw that it would 
 eventually cause the discharge of another, I would not 
 concede to the measure, although the following induce- 
 ments were advanced: — First, I was to remain in com- 
 mand of my ("E") company; second, that a first lieu- 
 tenant's commission would be procured for me imme- 
 diately; and third, that I was to receive a captain's 
 commission within a month's time. But all of this 
 would not cause me to consent to an act which I feared 
 would catise an ill-feeling between my late associates 
 and myself. I assured Col. Egan that I would be but 
 a short time out of the service. The Colonel, seeing 
 that I was justified in my action, reluctantly and sor- 
 rowfully handed me my discharge, and, as I liad but 
 little time to spare, my departure was hurriedly. 
 
 But as melancholy were we all 
 As though returning from the toll 
 Which had separated in this life 
 Tried friends of a great worldly strife. 
 
 And can it be said that we were not parting under 
 such sad circumstances? for how soon many were taken 
 from this world to "that from which none ever return!" 
 There was a young lieutenant of the 40th who had 
 always, after I had got my sword, greatly admired it, 
 and often wanted me to exchange with him for his; but 
 I could not be induced to make the exchange until 
 leaving the regiment, and then, out of friendship, I 
 traded with him; but the poor fellow was killed shortly 
 after, while in a battle, and in all probability my sword 
 (as it had been) went into the hands of the enemy, but 
 I still retain his. 
 
 On leaving the 40th 's camp I had but a short distance 
 to go to where I boarded a train, which in a short time 
 took me to Acquia Creek, where I arrived just in time 
 to board a steamer for Washington, via the Potomac 
 River. I arrived in Washington, D. C, early that 
 
74 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 
 
 evening-, and intended to have gone the next day over 
 to Alexandria and looked for the Kith Virginia Regi- 
 ment, where my friend Thomas O'Neill was, he having, 
 through sickness, left the 87th New York, and after- 
 wards accepted a first lieutenant's commission in the 
 16th (Union) Regiment. On my way to a hotel I met 
 one of the 16th's drummers, who informed me that the 
 10th was about to be mustered out of the service, and 
 that my friend O'Neill was stopping at the Franklin 
 House, corner of D and 8th streets. I then went to the 
 Franklin House, and stayed there until I received my 
 pay, which was nine days after I had arrived in the city. 
 The Army of the Potomac moving, a day or two after 
 I had left, caused a delay in the copy of my discharge 
 reaching the Paymaster-General's Office. After getting 
 my pav I immediately returned home, 
 
 To friends and village ever fair, 
 For there was centred all my care. 
 The charms and beauties new to see 
 Allured me not from "Canarsie." 
 
 I had not been home long, however, when I learned 
 of a regiment that was— so I was informed — soon to go 
 on gunboats and do duty on the York and James Rivers. 
 This suited me; for, while I was in the "monlight" 
 charge (May 3, 'Go) at Chancellorsville,Va., I had my left 
 leg injured at the knee, and was still feeling its effects, 
 and fearing that I could not endure too much marching 
 in the future, I was pleased to have the opportunity of 
 doing duty near my old army associates, and at the 
 same time not be subjected to its long and fatiguing 
 marches. Therefore, on July 4, 1863, I enlisted in 
 Battery B, 13th New York Heavy Artillery, commanded 
 by William Hoffman. After I had enlisted I was pri- 
 vileged to remain at home as I pleased, having so 
 recently received my discharge. During the forenoon 
 of July 12th, 18G3, I was standing near my battery's 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. , 
 
 recruiting office, which was at the junction of Walker 
 and opposite Baxter street, New York City, and while 
 standing" there I was asked by a loiterer whether I was 
 not a soldier? (I was then in civilian dress). I answered 
 that I was. "Well, if you can, you had better get out 
 of the city; for I tell you, for your own good, that sol- 
 diers will fare hard here in a day or two." Upon re- 
 ceiving this informaton I naturally asked for proof of 
 it, but he would only say that I had better act upon his 
 advice. There was a fear already existing in the city 
 that a riot would take place, and that soon. I remained 
 at our recruiting office until the afternoon, when I re- 
 ported to my Captain what I had heard. Towards 
 evening there was enough of our battery placed in 
 White Street Arsenal to man a battery of light artil- 
 lery which was there. I was one of the number to go 
 in the arsenal, and I remained there during all of the 
 riot, which immediately began to rage throughout the 
 city, and which resulted in the loss of many lives and 
 a vast amount of property. At the arsenal we were 
 not attacked, the rioters probably having too great a 
 fear of our guns, which were well manned and always 
 ready for action. A part of our battery, which were 
 used in the streets, and as infantry, lost four men. 
 
 After the riot was over we were taken to Staten Island , 
 and from there to Fort Hamilton, which is on the Long 
 Island side of New York Bay; from Fort Hamilton we 
 embarked on board of the transport steamer " Reno," 
 and were conveyed by her to Norfolk, Ya., at which 
 place we arrived, I believe, in the first part of October, 
 1803. After reaching Norfolk, we were taken out about 
 five miles beyond Portsmouth, Va. (Portsmouth is just 
 across the Elizabeth River from Norfolk); here we en- 
 camped, and as the weather was good, we had ample 
 time to prepare for the winter; so when cold weather 
 set in we were snugly housed in Fort Cushing, and not 
 
76 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 until then did we know that only a part of our regiment 
 were to go on gunboats, and the rest of us were to act 
 as heavy artillery. Our duty now was to drill as heavy 
 artillery, and infantry as well. Of building forts, doing 
 guard and picket duty, and out on reconnoitreing ex- 
 peditions we had plenty. The first reconnoitreing 
 expedition that I was with, left Suffolk, Va., at five 
 o'clock one morning, and through mud and rain march- 
 ed all that day, reaching the Black Water (distance, 20 
 miles,) near sunset. After driving the enemy from the 
 opposite side of the river, we crossed, by being ferried 
 across in a large scow that had been heroically got from 
 the enemy's side by a young man from one of the gun 
 boats who was with us (our expedition being made up 
 from some of our regiment's gunboatmen), and who 
 swam the river. When we had crossed we continued our 
 march until we reached Murfries Station — distance 
 about eight miles from the river — arriving at the Sta- 
 tion at midnight. Just before reaching the Station we 
 had a little skirmish with the enemy, and then, after 
 driving them, went to work destroying property. We 
 burnt 150 bales of cotton and three Station buildings, 
 and then destroyed the railroad around the Station. 
 Having completed our work of destruction, we took up 
 our return march, and reached the Black Water about 
 sunrise. Here we had but a short rest, when we con- 
 tinued our return march, and reached Suffolk the next 
 morning at five o'clock, greatly fatigued, having been 
 forty-eight hours without sleep and hardly any>rest. 
 As our clothing had got wet through early in our first 
 day's march, and the roads continually very muddy, 
 the march had been very trying on us. The enemy 
 followed us very close while returning, but they did 
 not attack us; but after we had got back in Suffolk they 
 attacked and killed all but one man of a reserve picket 
 post. I say they " killed all but one man;" if that man 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 77 
 
 did live, I cannot imagine how he ever lived, for he 
 had fourteen bullet-wounds, and was left for dead by 
 the enemy, but was still living two or three days after. 
 This reserve picket belonged to a cavalry regiment; 
 the one who was out on post escaped by hiding in the 
 woods. The cavalry regiment who were encamped at 
 Suffolk, hearing the firing, went out, and the sight that 
 met their eyes (their dead comrades) fairly maddened 
 them; so they started for the Black Water, and I was 
 told that they burnt every house on their way, but 
 they did not "catch" the enemy. 
 
 Afterwards I was out on another expedition towards 
 the Black Water, our Lieut. -Colonel commanding, and 
 I, after putting all the details together, forming them 
 in one company, acted as First Sergeant. The follow- 
 ing is a letter showing the Lieut. -Colonel's appreciation 
 of my service while under him: 
 
 Fort Cushing, near Portsmouth, Va., 
 April 19th, 1865. 
 Sergt. R. H. Ryder, 
 
 Co. B, 13th N. Y. Artillery: 
 I am requested by Lieut. -Col. J. J. Walsh, of this Regiment, to present 
 you this as a mark of appreciation in which he holds you for the valuable 
 services rendered, and soldierly deportment displayed, while under his 
 command lately at Suffolk, Va. 
 
 Respectfully, 
 
 WM. HOFFMAN, 
 Captain Battery B, 13th N. Y. Artillery. 
 
 Our batteries being stationed in separate forts, and 
 situated some distance apart, we would only be visited 
 occasionally by our field officers, so we knew but very 
 little of them ; still I had been told that Lieut. -Col. Walsh 
 was a very strict officer, and there were but few who 
 could get along with him. So when I was appointed by 
 him to act as First Sergeant, I hardly knew what the 
 result would be. For the first clay or two while at 
 
78 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 Suffolk, the Colonel would come to me in a great huny 
 and tell me to get my company ready to march. I 
 would call the company out and form them in line, and 
 even at the first time I was particular to have my com- 
 pany divided into platoons and sections, and properly 
 counted off. About the time I would have my com- 
 pany formed the Colonel would return; he, after giv- 
 ing me the order, would go back to his quarters. I 
 would then turn the company over to him, and report 
 all present, as such I would find to be the case after 
 calling the roll. The Colonel, after taking command, 
 would be sure to see that the company was properly 
 formed, by facing and wheeling them. After satisfy- 
 ing himself that all was right, he would order me to 
 dismiss the company, but hold them ready to march at 
 a moment's notice. We soon learned that he was a 
 strict officer; but when we returned from our expedi- 
 tion, we all thought more of him than we ever did 
 before. One pleasant trip I was on, and that was : I 
 was sent with and in charge of a detail of men to For- 
 tress Monroe, and there took charge of one hundred 
 men whom I had to deliver to Gen. Graham's Head- 
 quarters. We went up the James River to Bermuda 
 Hundreds. It being night when we reached that place, 
 we encamped for the night, and the next morning 
 marched the rest of the way, which was probably about 
 five miles. On reaching Gen. Graham's Headquarters, 
 I turned the men over ; and after resting a short, 
 time, returned with my detail. To and from Ber- 
 muda Hundreds, we went by steamer, and it was a 
 pleasant trip for us, especially the return, when we had 
 no care upon us. I might say here, that it was before 
 the surrender of Gen. Lcc that I was out with Col. 
 Walsh, although I did not get the within letter from 
 him till after, and that a great part of my duty was 
 building redoubts or bridges; and it was for the latter 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BKARER. 79 
 
 purpose that I had a detail out in a woods felling tim- 
 ber when I was sent for by my Captain to come in 
 with my detail and fire a salute. At first we could 
 hardly believe the messenger who came out to us, 
 saying that Lee had surrendered (April !», 1865); but 
 when he had convinced us, I assure you it was with 
 light hearts that we returned. On reaching our fort, 
 it was but a moment's work for me to get my three 
 20-pounder steel pieces ready, and with my Captain 
 standing, with his watch in his hand, I gave the com- 
 mand, "No. 1, Ready!" and by a signal from him, 
 "Fire!" "Load, No. 2, Ready!" and so continued till 
 the National Salute was fired. Ah! who can imagine 
 with what pride we fired that salute! Great were the 
 hardships we had endured to accomplish it, but still it 
 was accomplished, though many of us were sadly feel- 
 ing the effects of what we had endured. Why I was 
 chosen to fire the salute I hardly know, for there were 
 other sergeants in the battery fully as competent as I; 
 but the honor conferred upon me at that time is still 
 fresh in my memory and among my proudest thoughts 
 of my war reminiscences. 
 
 Shortly after the surrender of Gen. Lee, we were 
 sent to Norfolk, Va., and there performed police duty, 
 my Captain being chief of police most of the time, and 
 I, all of the time while there, was in the old jail on 
 Main street. The city being divided in three districts, 
 all prisoners were sent to me. I had a lieutenant over 
 me, but he would only call once a day, and then only 
 for a short time; so about all of the duty was involved 
 upon me. Our men did duty the same as all police 
 do, they having their regular " beats" or patrol. Our 
 company's quarters were near our regimental head- 
 quarters, which were on Freemason street, a very plea- 
 sant locality. 
 
 After doing police duty for about two months, we 
 
80 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 were consolidated into the 6th New York Heavy Artil- 
 lery, and taken just outside of Washington, D. C, my 
 battery going into Fort Reno. We were not here long 
 when a lieutenant and sergeant from one of our bat- 
 teries, and myself from my battery, were placed on 
 detached service and sent to Fort Sumner., to superin- 
 tend the rebuilding of the fort, which was near the 
 Potomac River. We had not been long on duty before 
 the lieutenant and sergeant were both taken sick, and 
 were obliged to leave. This left me alone; but my 
 task was light; all I had to do was to run lines show- 
 ing the height and angles of the work, and give in- 
 structions to the officer in charge of details. At about 
 ten o'clock, a.m., each day, I would generally be all 
 through with my work, this being the first time that I 
 was ever on detached service, or even away from my 
 company, with the exception of being with some ex- 
 pedition. Fortunately, I never lost a day's duty 
 through sickness or any other cause, after my three 
 months' service. 
 
 On the 23rd day of August, 1865, we were mustered 
 out of the service, while at Washington, D. C, but we 
 did not reach our homes till the first part of Septem- 
 ber, 1865, 
 
 Having served from the first of night, 
 Which tried our nation's will and might, 
 And through its darkest midnight hours, 
 Till that bright morn when all was ours; 
 
 And now returned 
 
 To home and all to me so dear, 
 Proud and thankful of my career, 
 Yet sad to see what war had wrought 
 Among my friends who with me fought. 
 
 Here I might add that I was mustered in as Second 
 Sergeant of Battery B, 13th Heavy Artillery, and re- 
 mained and was disehanred as such. 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 81 
 
 The following- are the names of those who enlisted 
 from "Canarsie," with the exception of eight who en- 
 listed from another part of our town (Flatlands), and 
 I am proud to say that I doubt whether the same 
 number from any other part of our Union served with 
 greater credit ; and, I will add, the number fully 
 equalled the voting population of our village (Canarsie) 
 at the outbreak of the Rebellion (1861): 
 
 ROLL OF HONOR. 
 
 Abrahams, Lawrence, 87th N. Y., served also in the 
 
 Regular Army. 
 Abrams, Maurice, 10th N. Y. Heavy Artillery, died 
 
 at Point of Rocks, Va. 
 Anderson, William, 20th N. Y., colored. 
 Anderson, Cornelius, 20th N. Y., colored. 
 
 Bennett, David, 90th N. Y. 
 
 Bennett, Benjamin, 127th N. Y. 
 
 Bogart, Charles W., 127th N. Y. 
 
 Bogart, John H., 1st L. I., received three wounds at 
 
 the battle of Fair Oaks, Va. 
 Bogart, Janeway V., 127th N. Y. 
 Bogart, John G., Navy, served on the "J. Hagar." 
 Baldwin, George A., 127th N. Y. 
 Baldwin, Nathaniel E., 127th N. Y., wounded near 
 
 Beaufort, N. C. 
 Bush, Peter, 56th N. Y. 
 Banks, James H., 127th N. Y. 
 Baisley, David, 56th N. Y. 
 Beadle, Anthony P., a Captain in the 28th Brooklyn 
 
 Militia. 
 Biggs, William, 13th Brooklyn Militia. Leg broken 
 
 by accident at Baltimore, Md. 
 Biggs, John, 90th N. Y. 
 Biggs, David, 127th N. Y. 
 Berry, Jonathan G, 5th N. Y. 
 Berry, William, 132d N. Y. 
 
82 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 Cooper, James T., 90th N. Y. 
 
 Croley, Christopher, Navy, served on the "Lafayette." 
 
 Coleman, Ferdinand F., Navy, served on the " Mound 
 
 City." 
 Coleman, James M. 
 
 Coleman, Silas B., Navy, served on the "Tyler." 
 Conk, John H., 127th N. Y. 
 
 Denton, Daniel, 127th N. Y. 
 
 Durland, William H., Scotch 900, died from disability. 
 
 De Groot, George G., 127th N. Y., died from wound 
 
 received at Devoe's Neck, S. C. 
 Davis, Henry W., 90th N. Y., died from disabilitv, at 
 
 Hilton Head, S. C. 
 Denham, Hamilton W., 56th N. Y. 
 Duly, Daniel, 158th N. Y. 
 Duly, Nicholas, 127th N Y.,' drummer. 
 Dougherty, Thomas, 87th N. Y. 
 Davis, John, 5th N. Y. Heavy Artillery. 
 
 Evans, George. 
 Evans, John D. 
 Evans, Charles W., 1st L. I. 
 
 Ford, Andrew J., 127th N. Y. 
 
 Ford, John, 17th N. Y. 
 
 Ford, Nicholas, 1st L. I., killed at Fair Oaks, Va. The 
 
 letter S, which members of Ford Post added, is 
 
 incorrect. 
 Ford, William S., 5Gth N. Y. 
 Ferguson, Henry, 26th N. Y., colored. 
 Ferguson, John, 20th N. Y., colored. 
 Ferguson, Cornelius, 26th N. Y., colored. 
 Fisher, Alex. J., 127th N. Y. 
 Fisher, Edward S., 87th and 40th N. Y., died from 
 
 wound received at the Wilderness, Va. 
 Furman, James, 127th N. Y., died from disabilitv. 
 
 Gallagher, John, 90th N. Y., wounded at Port Hudson, 
 La. 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 83 
 
 Gallagher, James E., 48th N. Y. 
 
 Godfrey, Thomas, 90th N. Y. 
 
 Gosline, Alfred, 87th N. Y., died from wound received 
 
 at Fair Oaks, Ya. 
 Gosline, Alfred C, 173rd N. Y. 
 Gosline, Henry, 173rd N. Y. 
 Genude, Patrick, 51st N. Y. 
 
 Holmes, Cornelius, 26th N. Y., colored. 
 
 Holmes, Daniel, 20th N. Y., colored. 
 
 Holmes, Emanuel, 26th N. Y., colored, wounded. 
 
 Jones, Owen L., 84th N. Y. 
 Jepson, Charles A., 127th N. Y. 
 Johnson, Anthony, 26th N. Y. colored. 
 Johnson, Edward, 20th N. Y., colored. 
 Johnson, George, Navy, served on the "Tallapoosa." 
 Johnson, William, 127th N. Y. 
 
 Johnson, Richard, 90th N. Y., wounded at Port Hud- 
 son, La. 
 Johnson, Isaac, 127th N. Y. 
 Johnson, Cumney, 20th N. Y., colored. 
 
 Kanaught, Patrick, 127th N. Y. 
 Kowenhoven, Garrett. 
 
 Lott, John B., 50th N. Y. 
 
 Lumberyea, Philip, 13th Regiment and 90th N. Y. 
 
 Morrison, Benjamin B., 127th N. Y. 
 
 Morrison, William H., 90th N. Y., wounded at Port 
 
 Hudson, La. 
 Morrison, John A., served in the Regular Army. 
 Mack, John, 90th N. Y. 
 Mathews, Joseph, 1st Berdan's Sharpshooters and 
 
 119th N. Y. Regiments. 
 Mathews, Jacob, 90th and 127th N. Y. 
 Mathews, William, 127th N. Y., wounded at Devoe's 
 
 Neck. S. C. 
 
84 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 Mathews, Abraham S., 90th N. Y. 
 
 Marsh, George G., 127th N. Y., Fife Major. 
 
 Marsh, Isaac N., 127th N. Y., died from disability. 
 
 Morrell, Joseph G., 28th Brooklyn, served in other 
 
 regiments. 
 Morrell, David S., served in the Regular Army. 
 Murphy, William, 127th N. Y., wounded aceidently. 
 McCrodden, Matthew, 48th N. Y. 
 Monroe, John H., 127th N. Y. 
 Miller, John, 90th N. Y. 
 
 Nolan, John H., 90th N.Y., wounded at Port Hudson, La. 
 Nolan, James, 87th and 40th N. Y. 
 Newberry, William H., 127th N. Y. 
 Norton, John, 7th N. H. 
 
 O'Neill, Thomas, 13th Brooklyn, and First Lieutenant 
 in the 16th Virginia (Union); wounded at Malvern 
 Hill, Va., afterwards missing. 
 
 Phillips, Charles, 47th N. Y. 
 Potter, William, 20th N. Y., colored. 
 Powell, Thomas, 20th N. Y., colored. 
 
 Redgate, William, 139th N. Y. 
 Raemer, John H., 8th Minn. 
 
 Ryder, Richard H., 13th Brooklyn, 87th and 40th N.Y. 
 Infantry; 13th and Gth N. Y. Heavy Artillery. 
 
 Smith, George H., 20th N. Y., colored. 
 
 Smith, Samuel, 20th N.Y., colored, died from disability. 
 
 Skidmore, William H., 127th N. Y. 
 
 Sharrot, Andrew J., 90th N. Y. 
 
 Schenck, Stephen R., 13th Brooklyn. 
 
 Schenck, Nicholas R., 13th Brooklyn, First Lieutenant, 
 
 and afterwards First Lieutenant in the Navy. 
 Storer, Hezekiah M., 87th N. Y. 
 
 Smalley, Albert, 90th N. Y. 
 Skidmore, Abraham W., 56th N. Y. 
 Smart, William. 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. <S."> 
 
 Stancliff, Henry, 119th N. Y. 
 Serene, James, 127th N. Y., drummer. 
 Stillwell, George, 14th Brooklyn. 
 Schmeelk, Peter, 127th N. Y. 
 
 Van Houten, Rulif, 90th N.Y., killed at Port Hudson.La. 
 
 Van Houten, George W., 127th N. Y. 
 
 Van Houten, Philip, 127th N. Y. 
 
 Van Houten, John, 87th N. Y. 
 
 Van Houten, John, 127th N. Y. 
 
 Van Houten, Ralph, 90th N. Y. 
 
 Van Houten, William B., 91st Penn. 
 
 Van Houten, John H., 119th N. Y. 
 
 Voris, Abraham, 48th N. Y. 
 
 Ver Plank, Cornelius, 87th N. Y. ; served in other 
 
 regiments. 
 Varian, George, 127th N. Y. 
 
 Warren, Edward, 127th N. Y. 
 
 Wilson, James, 127th N. Y. 
 
 Wilson, John, 17th N. Y., afterwards in Regular Army. 
 
 Whittaker, James, 127th N. Y 
 
 Willett, William, 12th N. Y. 
 
 Warren, John, Navy, served on the "Clyde." 
 
 Youngs, William H., 127th N. Y. 
 
 N. B. — The Town of Flatlands is composed mostly 
 of farmers, with the exception of the Village of Ca- 
 narsie ; and in looking over the farmers, there were 
 but a few that could be expected to battle for their 
 country. Therefore, the few, about eight, who did 
 enlist, are almost as many as could be expected; but 
 the Village of Canarsie, I think, surpassed any in our 
 Union ; its enlistment fully or more than equalled its 
 voting population, and their rate of service was nearly 
 or about three years. I will here make the following 
 statement : Ford was buried on the field where he 
 
86 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 was killed ; also Van Houten ; Gosline, buried at 
 Portsmouth, Va.; Marsh at Washington, D. C; Fisher 
 at Arlington Cemetery, Va.; Abrams at Point of Rocks, 
 Va. ; De Groot's remains were brought home; Davis 
 was buried at Hiltonhead, S. C; Smith died in South 
 Carolina, and was buried' there. 
 
 If there is anyone more than another deserving of 
 credit for his sympathy and liberality towards the 
 soldiers of our town, it was our town's Supervisor, 
 John L. Ryder. 
 
 LIST OF BATTLES, Etc., FOR THE UNION. 
 
 Battles marked thus * show that some one or more of my town par- 
 ticipated therein. 
 
 1861. 
 
 ■ 1. April 12 — Fort Sumter, in Charleston Harbor, 
 fired upon by the Confederate General P. G. T. Beau- 
 regard, who was in command of the Confederate forces 
 there. 
 
 2. April 14 — Fort Sumter evacuated by Major Robert 
 Anderson, who commanded Federal forces. 
 
 3. April 15 — President Abraham Lincoln called for 
 Zo, 000 men. The State Militia responded immediately 
 (three months' troops). 
 
 4. April 18 — The burning and evacuation of Harper's 
 Ferry, Va., by Lieutenant Jones (Federal). 
 
 5. April 19 — 6th Mass. Regiment fired upon by a 
 mob in Baltimore, Md., while on their way to Wash- 
 ington, D. C, and lost, I believe, three killed and five 
 wounded, but they were not prevented from continu- 
 ing their journey. 
 
 6. April 20 — About GOO Massachusetts troops were 
 sent to Norfolk, Va., where they destroyed, at Gosport 
 Navy Yard, a large quantity of government property, 
 and then returned to Fortress Monroe, from whence 
 they had been sent. 
 
 7. April 26 — Governor Hicks was about to hold a 
 special meeting of the State Legislature at Annapolis, 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 87 
 
 Md., but as General Benjamin F. Butler threatened to 
 arrest the whole body should they pass an ordinance 
 of secession the meeting was held in Frederick, Md. 
 
 8. May 3 — President Abraham Lincoln called for 
 42,000 three years' men ; also ordered that the Regular 
 Army be increased 22,000, and the Navy 18,000. 
 
 !). May 10— Governor Proctor of Arkansas made an 
 attack on the Federal Regulars at St. Louis, and was 
 defeated, with a loss of about twenty men. 
 
 10. May 14 — England issued a proclamation of neu- 
 trality between the States in the L T nited States of 
 America. 
 
 11. May 24 — Colonel Ephraim Elmore Ellsworth, 
 after taking down a rebel flag from the flagstaff of the 
 Marshall house, in Alexandria, Va., was shot and 
 killed, while descending the stairs, by the proprietor, 
 James T. Jackson, who in turn was immediately shot 
 and killed by one of Ellsworth's men (Brownell). 
 
 12. May 26— General George B. McClellan, with his 
 headquarters at Cincinnati, issued a proclamation 
 calling upon all good and patriotic citizens to aid the 
 Federal Government. 
 
 13. June 1 — A company of cavalry lost two men at 
 Fairfax Court House, Va. 
 
 14. June 3 — Battle of Phillipi, Va. Federals lost but 
 four, Confederates about one hundred. 
 
 15. June 10— Battle of Big and Little Bethel, Va. 
 A sad defeat of the Federals, with a loss of about fifty 
 men and two good officers, viz. : Major Theodore 
 Winthrop and Lieutenant John T. Greble, a young 
 officer of the 2nd U. S. Artillery, and was the first of 
 the Regular Army to fall. 
 
 16. June 17 — A Union Regiment met the enemy in 
 ambush at Vienna, Va., and were defeated with a loss 
 of about twenty men. 
 
 17. June 17 — Battle of Boonville, Mo. Federals vic- 
 torious, with but little loss ; General Nathaniel Lyon 
 commanding Department of Missouri. 
 
 18. June 18 — Captain Cook (Federal) was surprised 
 at Camp Cole, Mo., and routed with somewhat of a loss. 
 
 19. July 4 — Battle of Carthage, Mo., Colonel Franz 
 
88 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 
 
 Zigel (afterward General) commanding Federal troops, 
 lost but few; Confederates lost about four hundred. 
 
 20. July 10.— Battle of Monroe, Mo. Federals lost 
 six, Confederates about one hundred. 
 
 21. July 10 — Battle of Scarytown, Va. Confederates 
 victorious ; loss slight on both sides. 
 
 22. July 12— Battle of Rich Mountain, Va. A decided 
 victory for the Federals, and after the battle Colonel 
 Pegram surrendered to General McClellan, with about 
 six hundred and fifty men. 
 
 23. July 13— Battle of Garrick Ford, Va. Here the 
 Confederate General Garnett was killed; the Federals 
 gained a great victory, with little loss. 
 
 21. July 11 — General McClellan, being in command 
 of the Western Virginia battles, and having been so 
 decidedly victorious, said: "I sincerely believe the 
 war is now over in this part of our Union." 
 
 *25. July 21— First battle of Bull Run, Va. A sad 
 defeat to the Federals, who lost in all about 2,700 men; 
 enemies' loss about 1,600 men. 
 
 26. July 22 — General McClellan given command of 
 Federal forces, and then organized and commanded 
 the Army of the Potomac. 
 
 27. July 23 — The Confederates destroyed about three- 
 fourths of a million dollars worth of property belong- 
 ing to the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. 
 
 28. August 2— Dry Spring, Mo. The Confederates 
 completely routed, with a loss of about 150 men; Fed- 
 eral loss ten men. 
 
 29. August 5 — Athens, Mo. Federal loss, twenty- 
 five men ; Confederate loss, one hundred men. 
 
 30. August 10— Battle of Wilson's Creek, Mo.' Gen. 
 Lyon killed. This battle was fought with great de- 
 termination by Generals Lyon and Siegel, but after 
 General Lyon was killed General Siegel was obliged 
 to fall back. Federal loss in all about 1,300; Confed- 
 erates about 3,000. 
 
 31. August 14 — Marshal law proclaimed by General 
 Fremont (Federal) in St. Louis. 
 
 32. August 30 — General Fremont, in a proclamation, 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 89 
 
 among other things, declared the slaves of disloyal 
 citizens of the State of Missouri free. 
 
 33. September 1 — About this time the Confederates 
 added to their ranks about 3,000 Indians, but they 
 proved of little use. 
 
 .34-. September 11 — President Lincoln had the proc- 
 lamation of General Fremont (August 30) in reference 
 to the slaves so changed as to leave the question with 
 the Courts or future legislatures. 
 
 ::: :5.->. October 21— Balls Bluff, Va., on the Potomac 
 River. Among the noble dead was Colonel E. D. 
 Baker (Federal). This battle was a sad defeat to the 
 Federals, of which many were drowned while trying 
 to swim the river or cross otherwise to Harrison's 
 Island (an island in the Potomac). Federal loss, about 
 one thousand in all; Confederates about three hundred 
 in all. 
 
 :3(i. October 21— Battle of Camp Wildcat, Ky. Fed- 
 eral troops victorious. 
 
 37. October 21 — Battle of Frederickton, Mo. Fed- 
 eral troops victorious. 
 
 38. October, 20— Battle of Springfield, Mo. Federal 
 troops victorious. 
 
 39. October 20 — Battle of Romney, Va. Federal 
 troops victorious. 
 
 4'!. December 3 — General J. W. Phelps reached and 
 took command of Ship Island, in the Mississippi Sound, 
 and immediately issued a proclamation. Among its 
 contents was: That every slave State that had been 
 admitted in the Union since the adoption of the Con- 
 stitution was in disobedience to that instrument; 
 therefore slavery was unlawful. 
 
 41. December 13 — Battle of Camp Alleghaney, W.Va. 
 Federals driven; loss light. 
 
 42. December 1 J — Battle of Munfordsville, Ky. 
 Among the killed was Lieutenant Sochs (Federal) and 
 Colonel Terry (Confederate), otherwise loss light. 
 
 43. December 20 — Federals sunk a number of old 
 war vessels in Charleston Harbor, S. C. 
 
 44. December 20 — Battle of Drainsville, Va. Federal 
 
90 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 
 
 loss about seventy-five men; that of the Confederates 
 about three hundred. 
 
 45. December 28 — Battle of Mount Zion. Union vic- 
 tory; loss light. 
 
 1862. 
 
 40. January 1 — Bombardment of Fort Pickens, Fla., 
 by Federals, but accomplished nothing. 
 
 47. January 7 — General James A. Garfield routed 
 the Confederates from Pointsville, Ky., loss light. 
 General Garfield afterwards President of the United 
 States. 
 
 48. January 8 — Battle of Silver Creek, Mo., Major 
 W. M. G. Torrence commanding Federal troops, which 
 were victorious; loss light. 
 
 49. January 10 — Battle of Middle Creek, Ky. Gen. 
 Garfield (Federal) victorious. 
 
 50. January 19 — Battle of Mill Spring, Ky., General 
 Thomas (Federal) commanding. Confederates routed 
 with a loss of about four hundred; Federal loss very 
 light. 
 
 51. February (j — Fort Henry, on the Tennessee River, 
 captured, mainly by Federal Navy forces. 
 
 *52. February 8— Capture of Roanoke Island, N. C, 
 by General Burnside's (Federal) expedition. 
 
 53. February 13 to 1(3 — Capture of Fort Donelson, 
 situated on the Cumberland River, by Commodore 
 Foote (Federal). 
 
 54. February 14 — Battle of Blooming Gap, Va. A 
 victory for the Union, but saddened by the death of 
 the poet Fitz James O'Brien (Federal), killed in the 
 battle. 
 
 55. February 21 — Battle of Valivende, New Mexico. 
 Loss about two hundred each; Captain McRae (Fed- 
 eral) killed. 
 
 56. February 25 — Nashville, Tenn., occupied by Fed- 
 erals, the Confederates having evacuated. 
 
 57. March 3— Columbus, Ky., occupied by Federal 
 troops without opposition. 
 
 58. March to 8 — Battle of Pea Ridge, Ark. Union 
 troops victorious, but their loss was about 1,370 men; 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 91 
 
 Confederate's loss about 2,000, and anions their killed 
 were Generals Mcintosh and MeCullock. 
 
 59. March 9 — Battle in Hampton Roads between the 
 Confederate ironclad ram Merrimac and the Union 
 " Monitor," the Monitor being' victorious, John S. 
 Warden commanding' her. This was a great victory 
 for the Union, and it was only by the timely arrival 
 of the Monitor that the Union was saved from great 
 loss, the Merrimac having destroyed two of our best 
 vessels the day before, with many brave lives, and we 
 (Federals) had nothing to check her destructive power 
 till the Monitor came. 
 
 60. March 12 — Jacksonville, Fla., occupied by Fed- 
 eral troops without opposition. 
 
 •61. March 14 — Battle of Newbern, N. C. Union 
 troops victorious; still their loss was the greatest. 
 
 62. March 14 — Capture of New Madrid, Mo., with 
 little loss to Federals. The Confederates evacuated at 
 midnight, during a heavy thunder storm, with consid- 
 erable loss. 
 
 63. March 22, -^i— Battle of Winchester, Va. The 
 Confederates routed, with a loss of about six hundred 
 killed and wounded and three hundred prisoners; 
 Union loss about five hundred in all. General Shields 
 being absent, sick, General Tyler commanded Federal 
 troops. 
 
 01. March 28 — Battle of Apache Canon, New Mexico. 
 Union troops victorious. 
 
 65. April 6, 7 — Battle of Pittsburg Landing, Tenn. 
 The Confederates eventually driven, but the Federal 
 loss was heavy, being in all about 11,360; that of the 
 Confederates about 13,519. Among the Union killed 
 was General Wallace. 
 
 66. April 8 — Capture of Island No. lo, with consid- 
 erable property and many prisoners, which were sur- 
 rendered to Commodore Foote, who commanded Fed- 
 eral forces. 
 
 67. April 11 — Capture of Fort Pulaski, (la., by the 
 Federals, who took many prisoners; loss on both sides 
 otherwise light. 
 
 US. April 16— Battle of Lee's Mills, Va. This battle 
 was to ascertain the Confederates' strength, and to 
 
92 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 prevent them from building any more earthworks. 
 The object was accomplished, although the Union 
 troops lost quite heavily in doing so; Confederate loss 
 also heavv. 
 
 *69. April 18 to %6 — Capture of New Orleans, Com- 
 modore D. G. Farragut commanding Federals. This 
 was one of the greatest naval battles ever recorded. 
 The details are lengthy and full- of science and hero- 
 ism. The city was not reached and occupied till April 
 29, when General Butler took command in the City 
 and declared marshal law. 
 
 70. April 20— Battle of South Mills, S. C, General 
 Reno commanding Federal troops. Confederates 
 routed; loss light. 
 
 71. April 26— Capture of Fort Macon, N. C, by Fed- 
 erals. There was great cheering when the Confed- 
 erate flag was hauled down and the stars and stripes 
 hoisted by the Union boys. Loss light, with the ex- 
 ception of the Confederates, from whom the Federals 
 took many prisoners. 
 
 72. May 3 — Evacuation of Yorktown, Va., by the 
 Confederate General Magruder. General McClellan 
 had so far completed his fortifications of attack that 
 he (Magruder) was fearful of its consequences. 
 
 *73. May 5 — Battle of Williamsburg, Va., a Union 
 victory. Loss in killed and wounded about equal, 
 being in all about 5,600. Federals took a number of 
 prisoners. Under cover of the night the Confederates 
 fell back. 
 
 74. May 7 — Battle of West Point, Va. Confederates 
 routed after some sharp fighting, 
 
 75. May 9 — Pensacola, Fla., evacuated by the Con- 
 federates and occupied by General Arnold (Federal). 
 
 7'!. May 10— Norfolk, Va., occupied by Federals, with 
 but little opposition. 
 
 77. May 11 — The ironclad Virginia (Merrimac) blown 
 up and destroyed by the Confederates at Craney 
 Island, Va., they fearing she would fall into the hands 
 of the Federals. Thus ended the destroyer of our ship 
 Cumberland (March 8, 1802) and many of her brave 
 crew. 
 
 *78. May 15— Drury's Bluff, Va. This battle was on 
 
THF. VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 93 
 
 the James River, and between our gunboats and the 
 Confederate land batteries. The river was so ob- 
 structed that our gunboats could not properly work, 
 so they were obliged to withdraw with somewhat of 
 a loss. 
 
 !'.». May 23 — Raid of Thomas Jonathan Jackson 
 (Stonewall Jackson); the prefix "Stonewall" gained 
 while at Bull Run, July 21, 1861. While standing on a 
 hill where shot and shell were the thickest, some of 
 his officers said: "Look, there stands Jackson like a 
 stone wall," and it was believed that by Jackson's skill 
 the battle was gained. This raid frustrated the plans 
 of President Lincoln so that General McDowell, who 
 was well up and on the north side of the York Rn r er, 
 Va., was unable to assist McClellan. 
 
 *80. May 28 — Battle of Hanover Court House, Va. 
 A Union victory, and proved the ability of that grand 
 old Army of the Potomac. 
 
 81. May 31 — Occupation of Corinth by Union troops 
 after a number of battles, which were attended with 
 more or less loss of life and property on both sides. 
 
 *82. May 31— Battle of Fair Oaks, Va. The Confed- 
 erates made the attack, and had greatly the advantage; 
 but were finally repulsed and driven back beyond the 
 attacking point, which was about six and a half miles 
 from Richmond, Va. Federal loss, in all, about 5,730; 
 Confederate loss, in all, about 7,990. 
 
 83. June -1 to — The occupation of, and hoisting of 
 the stars and stripes in, the City of Memphis, Tenn. 
 Here our naval forces gained a great victory over those 
 of the Confederates, which took place the day before 
 the occupation of the city. 
 
 84. June 8 — Battle of Cross Keys, Va. The enemy 
 routed; and it was only by the great skill of their com- 
 mander, "Stonewall" Jackson, that any of them made 
 their escape. Loss light on both sides. 
 
 *85. June 25 — Commencement of the seven days' 
 battle, from in front of Richmond, Va., to Harrison's 
 Landing, Va., Oak Grove, Gains Mill, Allen Farm, 
 Savage Station, Nelson Farm and Malvern Hill, arc 
 all included. Federal loss: killed, 1,580-; wounded, 1,111; 
 missing, 5,958; total, 15,241. Confederates killed, 2,820; 
 
94 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 wounded, 14,018; missing, 750; total. 17,588 (mortality 
 from good authority). 
 
 86. July 23 — General Halleck assumed command of 
 all the Federal forces, with his headquarters at Wash- 
 ington, D. C. 
 
 87. August 4, 5 — Battle of Baton Rouge, La. The 
 Confederates made the attack, and their commander, 
 General Williams, with many others, were killed. The 
 Federals repulsed them, with little loss; but on August 
 16, by order of Gen. Butler, they evacuated the city. 
 
 *88. August 7 — Battle of Cedar Mountain, Va. Union 
 troops suffered defeat and great loss, General Pope 
 commanding Federal troops. 
 
 89. August 14 — By order of General Halleck, the 
 Army of the Potomac left Harrison's Landing and fell 
 back to the defences of Washington, after participating 
 in the battle of Bull Run (second Bull Run). 
 
 *90. August 29 to Sept. 1— Second battle of Bull Run 
 and Chantilly, Va. General Pope, commanding Federal 
 troops, was obliged to fall back to the defences of 
 Arlington Heights, Va. August 30 was properly Bull 
 Run battle; September 1, Chantilly. Still, from Au- 
 gust 29th was commonly called second battle of Bull 
 Run. Federals' total loss was about 7,800, and among 
 its brave dead was General Phillip Kearney, killed at 
 Chantilly, September 1st. Confederate loss much less 
 than that of the Federals. 
 
 91. August 30— Battle of Richmond, Ky. Union 
 troops fell back, with little loss. 
 
 92. September 1 — General McClellan placed in com- 
 mand of the defences of Washington, D. C. 
 
 93. September 6— Confederates surprised the garri- 
 son at Washington, N. C, but were repulsed and driven 
 back. 
 
 1)4. September 14 — Battle of Munfordsville, Ky. 
 Union troops fought bravely, but were obliged to fall 
 back, and on the 16th surrendered to the Confeder- 
 ates about 4,000 in all. 
 
 *95. September 14: — Battle of South Mountain, Md., 
 General McClellan commanding, General Pope having 
 been relieved on September 7. The Confederates 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 95 
 
 were steadily driven. The Federals lost about 1,500 
 men, and among their killed was General Reno. The 
 Confederates lost about 3,000, many of which were 
 prisoners ; among their killed was General Garland. 
 
 96. September 15 — Harpers Ferry, Va., surrendered 
 to the Confederates, with about 11,500 men, by Col. D. 
 T. Miles, who was killed just as he raised the white 
 flag in token of his surrender. 
 
 *97. September IT— Battle of Antictam, Md. From 
 South Mountain (Sept. 14) the battle was almost con- 
 tinuous, but here at Antietam was its greatest struggle, 
 and ended in a decided victory for the Union arms, 
 Generals McClellan and Lee the army commanders. 
 Lee, with his (Confederate) army, was completely 
 routed, with a loss of about, in all, 25,890; Federal loss, 
 in all, about 12,400. Among the Federals' dead was 
 General J. K. F. Mansfield, U. S. Army. 
 
 98. September 19— Battle of Iuka, Miss., William S. 
 Rosecrans commanding Federal troops, General Price 
 the Confedrate troops. Each lost about Too men. Price, 
 during the night, retreated. 
 
 99. October 3 — Battle of Corinth, Miss. General 
 Rosecrans gained a great victory ; his (Federal) loss, 
 in all, about 2,350; Confederates, in all about 14,220. 
 General P. A. Hackleman, U. S. Army, was killed. 
 
 100. October 8 — Battle of Perry ville, Ky. General 
 Buell, commanding Union troops, met with defeat; 
 General Rosecrans then superseded him. 
 
 101. October 10 — Confederate General Stuart's raid 
 into Maryland and Pennsylvania, and after doing con- 
 siderable damage to property, made good his escape 
 on the 12th. 
 
 102. October 22 — Battle of Pacatalico Bridge, S. C. 
 Union troops failed in their attempt to destroy certain 
 bridges, &c, and were obliged to fall back. Loss light. 
 
 103. October 20 — General McClellan advanced his 
 Army (of the Potomac) in Virginia, by order of Presi- 
 dent Lincoln. 
 
 104. November 7 — While at Warrenton, Va., General 
 McClellan was relieved and General Burnside took 
 command of the Army of the Potomac three days 
 later (the 10th). 
 
9G THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 L05. November 1") — Army of the Potomac leaving; 
 Warrenton, Va., General Bumside in command. 
 
 100. November IT — A portion of the Army of the 
 Potomac reached Falmouth, Va., near Fredericksburg, 
 Va., the remainder of the army soon coming- up. 
 
 *107. December 13 — Battle of Fredericksburg", Va. 
 A sad defeat to the Union army. Federal loss in all 
 about 12,300; Confederate loss about 5,200. General 
 Burnside was obliged to return to the opposile side of 
 the Rappahannock River. 
 
 108. December 31 — Battle of Murfreesboro, Tenn. 
 A victory for the Federals at the end, but Gen. Bragg, 
 commanding the Confederate troops, came near de- 
 stroying the whole of General Rosecrans' army at first. 
 Federal loss, in all, about 14,000; that of the Confeder- 
 ates about 11,000. 
 
 1863. 
 
 109. Jan. 4 — The campaign that had been planned 
 and attempted against Vicksburg proved a failure, and 
 was abandoned by the Federals. 
 
 110. January 10 — Capture of Fort Hindman, Ark., 
 which is situated on the Arkansas River, and which 
 was a great loss to the Confederates. • 
 
 111. January 26 — General Burnside again attempted 
 to give battle at and near Fredericksburg, Va., but 
 through heavy rains was, before crossing the Rappa- 
 hannock River, obliged to abandon his project. 
 
 112. February 3 — Battle of Fort Donelson, Tenn. 
 The Confederates twice demanded the surrender of 
 the fort; but Colonel A. C. Harding, although having 
 but a few men, refused to comply with the demand. 
 The gunboats coming to his (Harding's) rescue, the 
 Confederates retreated. 
 
 113. March 5 — Battle near Franklin, Tenn. Union 
 troops defeated, with a loss of about five hundred men; 
 Confederate loss light. 
 
 114. March 10 — Near Covington, Tenn. Col. Grier- 
 son routed Col. Richardson and his Confederate band. 
 
 115. April 13— Battle of Irish Bend, La. The fight- 
 ing was hard, but ended in a Union victory. 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 9T 
 
 11G. May 1— General Stoneman's Cavalry raid starl- 
 ing from Frederick&burg, Va., and taking a circuit of 
 two hundred miles, destroying a large amount of 
 property, they went very close to the City of Rich- 
 mond, Va., but were finally obliged to return, a portion 
 of the expedition was obliged to go down the penin- 
 sula way. 
 
 *117. May 1 to 5— Battle of Chancellorsville, Va., and 
 Frederickburg, Va., General Hooker commanding the 
 Army of the Potomac, General Burnside having re- 
 signed. The Union army was defeated and obliged 
 to return again back across the Rappahannock River. 
 Federal loss at Chancellorsville, in all about 10,020 men; 
 Confederate loss, in all about 12,280. Generals H. G. 
 Berry and A. M. Whipple, U. S. Army, were among the 
 killed; Confederate General "Stonewall" Jackson re- 
 ceived wounds from which he died in a few days. 
 
 118. Ended May 2 — Colonel B. H. Grierson's cavalry 
 raid in Mississippi, of about six hundred miles through 
 the enemy's country, and after destroying a large 
 amount of Confederate property, went to Baton Rouge, 
 La., May 2, having had an exciting raid for sixteen 
 days, leaving La Grange, Tenn., April 1?. 
 
 119. May 3— Capture of Grand Gulf, Miss., by Fed- 
 eral naval fleet. A great victory for the Union. 
 
 *120. May 3— Siege of Suffolk, Va., by Confederate 
 General Longstreet. After loosing many men he fell 
 back, and left the Union troops still in possession. 
 
 121. May G — Admiral Porter took command of Alex- 
 andria, and General Banks established his headquar- 
 ters there. This city is situated on the Red River. 
 On reaching this point the two forces accomplished 
 much for the Union. 
 
 122. May 12— Battle at Raymond, Miss. The Con- 
 federates routed, with a loss of about five hundred 
 men; Federal loss about three hundred men. 
 
 123. May 14 — Capture of Jackson, Miss., by Federal 
 troops; the city was, however, immediately evacuated. 
 There was but little opposition to the capture, and our 
 troops did not care to hold it. 
 
 124. May 10— Battle of Baker's Creek, Miss. This 
 battle was severe, but the Confederates were finally 
 
98 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 routed with a loss of about 5,600 men. It was here 
 that General Lloyd Tilghman, an aged officer in the 
 Confederate service, was killed while sighting a gun 
 by a shell from one of the Union guns. Federal loss 
 about 3,000. 
 
 125. May 17— Battle of Big Black Bridge, Miss. The 
 battle was short, and the Confederates were routed; 
 loss light. 
 
 126. May 18 — Capture of Hains Bluff, Miss., by D. D. 
 Porter's fleet. This was a strong position, but was 
 easily taken, as General Grant was getting near with 
 his land forces. 
 
 127. May 22 — Germ Swamp. Here the Confederates 
 were beaten, but the Federals met with a sad loss in 
 the death of Colonel Jones. 
 
 *128. May 27 — Attack upon Port Hudson, La., by the 
 Federals, but they were unsuccessful. 
 
 129. June 14 — General Hooker, finding that General 
 Lee (Confederate) was moving his army, started to 
 intercept him, and, by forced marches, was soon back 
 to the Potomac, where he had hoped to have prevented 
 the Confederates from getting into Maryland, but was 
 too late. 
 
 *130. June 14 — Battle at Winchester, Va., a sad de- 
 feat to the Federals. 
 
 131. June 14 — Battle and evacuation of Martinsburg, 
 Va. General Tyler, after repulsing tne Confederates, 
 seeing that he could not hold out, retreated across the 
 Potomac. 
 
 *132. June 14 — Union troops again unsuccessful in 
 an attack upon Port Hudson, La. 
 
 133. July 1— Battle of Carlisle, Penn. Fitz Hugh 
 Lee (son of the commanding General, Robert E. Lee) 
 commanding, was unable to drive General Smith 
 (Federal) from his position. General Lee then fell 
 back; loss light. 
 
 •134 July 1 to 3— Battle of Gettysburg, Penn. This 
 was a hard fought battle, General Mead commanding 
 Federal troops, General Hooker having been relieved. 
 Federal loss, in all, about 23,180; Confederate loss, in 
 all, about 31,020. Generals John F. Reynolds, S. H. 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 99 
 
 Wood, Rook and E. F. Farnsworth, U. S. Army, were 
 killed, and Generals Hancock, Sickles, Barlow, Graham 
 and Warren were wounded. The Confederates were 
 finally routed and driven into Virginia. 
 
 135. July 3 — Siege of Charleston, S. C, commenced. 
 Admiral Foote dying (disability), Admiral Dahlgren 
 took command of the Federal fleet July 6. 
 
 *136. July 4 — Vicksburg, Miss., surrendered to Gen. 
 Grant I Federal), after a hard-fought battle. Federal 
 loss, in all, about 4,530; Confederates' loss (many sur- 
 rendering), in all, 31,270. About this time Commodore 
 Porter (Federal) destroyed a large amount of Confed- 
 erate property on the Yazoo River. 
 
 137. July 4 — Battle of Helena, Ark. Here the Con- 
 federates fought like demons, but were defeated and 
 routed, with considerable loss. 
 
 138. July 9 — Port Hudson, La., surrendered by Gen. 
 Andrews (Confederate) to General Banks (Federal). 
 A large number of Confederates were surrendered with 
 the garrison. 
 
 *139. July 13 — Great riot in New York City, caused 
 by the drafting of men for the Union Army. There 
 was a large amount of property destroyed and a num- 
 ber of lives lost, but the rioters were subdued after a 
 few days. 
 
 140. July 20 — General John Morgan (Confederate), 
 after breaking jail and making his escape from Ohio, 
 and after raiding through Indiana, Kentucky and Ohio, 
 was, with a number of his men, shot and killed while 
 at Greenville, East Tennessee. 
 
 *141. September 19 to 23 — Battle of Chickamauga, 
 Ga., a hard-fought battle. Gen. Thomas was obliged 
 to fall back with his (Federal) forces. Union loss, in 
 all, 15,850; Confederate loss, 17,800. General W. H. 
 Lyttle, U. S. Army, killed. 
 
 *142. November 24 — Battle of Lookout Mountain, 
 Tenn. Federals victorious; their loss, in all, about 
 six thousand ; Confederates' loss, in all, about ten 
 thousand. Hooker (Federal) and Bragg (Confederate) 
 commanding Generals. 
 
100 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 143. November 25— Battle of Mission Ridge, Tenn. 
 Not much of a Union victory, but gave General Grant 
 great advantages. * 
 
 144. November 28 — Battle of Ringgold, Ga. Here 
 both lost heavily; the Confederates were finally driven. 
 
 145. December 6 — General Longstreet (Confederate) 
 abandoned the siege of Knoxville, Tenn., after an un- 
 successful attempt to carry the works, with consider- 
 able loss. Federal loss light. 
 
 1864 
 
 140. January 22 — Capture of Fort Fisher and Wil- 
 mington, N. C, by Porter, commanding Federal naval 
 forces, and Terry commanding the land forces. It 
 was a hard-fought battle, with considerable loss, but 
 ended in a Union victory. 
 
 147. February 20 — Battle of Olustee, Fla. General 
 Truman Seymour defeated by Confederate General 
 Finnegan, who was in ambush. Federal loss about 
 1,500 ; Confederates, about TOO. vSeymour then fell 
 back to Jacksonville. 
 
 148. February 22 — Tunnel Hill, Ga., captured and 
 the Confederates routed. Loss light. 
 
 14!). February 25 — Rockyface Ridge, Ga. Union 
 troops, finding the force too great, fell back. Loss light. 
 
 150. March 5 — General Kilpatrick's daring raid, end- 
 ing March 5, through Virginia, was somewhat success- 
 ful, but among its loss in killed was Col. Dahlgren. 
 
 151. March 13 — Gen. U. S. Grant made Commander- 
 in-Chief of the Federal forces, and made his head- 
 quarters with the Army of the Potomac in Virginia. 
 
 152. March 25 — Union City captured by the Confed- 
 erates, Federals offering but little resistence. 
 
 L53. March 20— Paducah, Ky. Here the Confed- 
 erates made a desperate assault under command of 
 General Forrest, who ordered Colonel Hicks to sur- 
 render the Fort "immediately," or he would show no 
 quarter. Colonel Hicks, with but a small force to 
 resist an attack, replied: " I will not surrender." Gen. 
 A. P. Thompson (Confederate), while leading the 
 charge against the fort, was killed. The Federal gun- 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 101 
 
 boats coming- to Colonel Hicks' rescue, the Confeder- 
 ates fled, with considerable loss. 
 
 154. April 8 — Battle of Sabine Crossroads, Miss. 
 General Banks met with somewhat of a defeat. Loss 
 light. 
 
 155. April 9 — Battle of Pleasant Hill, La., a hard- 
 contested battle, but ending in the defeat of the Con- 
 federates. Still, General Banks continued his retreat 
 the next day, leaving his dead and wounded on the 
 field. 
 
 156. April 12 — Capture of Fort Pillow, Tenn. Con- 
 federate General Forrest demanded the surrender of 
 the fort, and, on being refused, made such a deter- 
 mined charge that he carried everything before him; 
 and it was said that Major Bradford (Federal) and 
 many of his men were shot in cold blood; also, that 
 the sick in the place were treated brutally by the Con- 
 federates. 
 
 157. April 19 — Capture of Plymouth N. C, by the 
 Confederates. The Federal loss was severe, both in 
 naval armament and men. 
 
 *158. May 5 to 7— Battle of Wilderness, Va., Grant 
 commanding the Federal Army, Lee the Confederates. 
 This was a severe battle, and can be called a "draw." 
 Federal loss: killed, 5,590; wounded, 21,470; missing, 
 10,(170; total, 37,730. Confederates killed, 2,000; wound- 
 ed, 6,005; missing, 3,395; total, 11,400. Generals James 
 S. Wadsworth, A. Hays and A. S. Webb, U. S. Army, 
 were killed. 
 
 *159. May 8 to 21 — Battle of Spottsylvania, Va., 
 Grant and Lee commanders. Again a " draw." Fed- 
 eral loss: killed, 4,170; wounded, 19,688; missing, 2,577; 
 total, 20,441. Confederates killed, 1,000 ; wounded, 
 5,010; missing, 2,990; total, 9,000. Generals J. Sedg- 
 wick, J. C. Rice, J. J. Owens and T. G. Stevenson, U. S, 
 Army, were killed.. 
 
 160. May 8. — General Mead issued a praiseworthy 
 address to his (Federal) command. 
 
 161. May 11 — General Sheridan got in the rear of 
 General Stuart (Confederate), at Yellow Tavern, Va., 
 
102 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 and gave battle. The Confederates lost heavily, and 
 General Stuart soon died from a wound received here. 
 
 162. May 12 — Battle of Fort Darling, Va. This 
 battle, or series of battles, continued till May 16th, and 
 ended by the Union troops falling back to Burmuda 
 Hundreds; Gen. Butler commanding Federal troops. 
 
 163. May 13 — Alexandria, on the Red River, evacu- 
 ated by the Federals, and their fleet taken to the mouth 
 of the Red River. 
 
 164. May 15 — New Market, in the Shenandoah Val- 
 ley, Va. General Sigel met with a sad defeat and 
 much loss. He was immediately superseded. The 
 Confederate loss light. 
 
 165. May 19 — Capture of Rome, Ga., by Jefferson 
 C. Davis (Federal), with considerable Confederate 
 property. 
 
 *166. June 1— Battle of Cold Harbor (Cool Arbor), 
 Va. General Lee appeared to divine General Grant's 
 plans, and at every point met him with strong fortifi- 
 cations, which were greatly thinning Grant's ranks. 
 This battle, like those of the Wilderness and Spottsyl- 
 vania, was fought with great loss to the brave Union 
 soldiers. General Grant's loss now was (during the 
 last few battles) all of 60,000 men; but fortunately for 
 the Union there were men enough in the North to 
 replenish Grant's fast falling army, while the South 
 had no reserve to draw from, which was also fortunate 
 for us; but the enemy (Confederates), always acting 
 on the defensive lost but few men, compared with that 
 of the Federals. General Grant again withdrew and 
 took another route. 
 
 167. June 5 — Battle of Piedmont, Va., Gen. Hunter 
 commanding. Sigel's old army gained a victory over 
 the Confederates. 
 
 168. June 8 — Siege of Petersburg, Va., commenced; 
 Generals Grant and Lee army commanders. 
 
 169. June 14 — Battle of Kenesaw Mountain, Ga. The 
 Confederates, after being driven from one position to 
 another by General Sherman, made a stand here. 
 General Sherman, seeing a cluster of the Confederates 
 standing together on a hill, ordered them to be fired 
 upon. General Polk, being among them, was killed 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 103 
 
 instantly; the next day, without giving much of a 
 fight, the Confederates fell back. 
 
 170. June 15— At this date, it has been said by some, 
 the siege of Petersburg, Va., properly began, and did 
 not end till its evacuation by the Confederates, April 3, 
 1865. Richmond, Va., was evacuated about the same 
 time by the Confederates. 
 
 171. June 19 — Sinking of the Confederate steamship 
 Alabama by the U. S. sloop-of-war Kearsarge. The 
 Alabama was in reality an English vessel, having been 
 built and manned in England, with the exception of 
 her commander and probably some of her other offi- 
 cers. Semmes, her commander, was a southerner, and 
 had been one of our naval officers; but at the outbreak 
 of the rebellion, or shortly after, took to destroying 
 the Union merchant vessels. After doing a vast 
 amount of damage, he was so hemmed in that he was 
 obliged to leave his vessel in a harbor. The Alabama 
 then was built, and he continued his work of destruc- 
 tion with greater success and energy. Finally he was 
 obliged to give battle, which hitherto he had kept clear 
 of. The Alabama was sunk, after a short battle, in 
 the Harbor of Cherbourg, France. After she was sunk 
 many of her crew, including her commander, were 
 picked up by the private yacht Deerhound, which was 
 owned and sailed by John Lancaster, an Englishman, 
 and who took those that he picked up to Cowes, Captain 
 Winslow, commander of the Kearsarge, thinking that 
 the private yacht was only lending friendly aid, and 
 not saving the "notorious Semmes" from punishment 
 which he so justly deserved. 
 
 *1?2. June 22 — Weldon Railroad, near Petersburg, 
 Va. Union troops defeated, and obliged to fall back. 
 
 173. June 22 to 29 — An expedition to destroy rail- 
 roads, &c, in the vicinity of Petersburg, Va„ was very 
 successful until General Kouts met the Confederates, 
 at Reams Station, where he supposed the Federals had 
 possession; he was routed, with considerable loss, the 
 enemy losing but few. 
 
 174. June 24 — Battle of Little Kenesaw, Ga.. Gen. 
 Sherman held his position; still, his loss was much 
 greater than that of the Confederates. 
 
104 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 
 
 *175. June 30 — Petersburg mine explosion. This 
 mine ran from the Federal line to a point under a 
 principal fort of the Confederates, and was accom- 
 plished, with great secrecy, by General Burnside's men. 
 There were used four tons of powder, which was 
 placed in sections under the fort and lit by fuse. 
 The mine accomplished, so far as blowing up the fort, 
 all that was expected of it, but the Confederates, soon 
 recovering from the consternation caused by the ex- 
 plosion, met a division of General Burnside's men and 
 a division of colored troops, who charged to capture 
 Cemetery Hill, which commanded the City of Peters- 
 burg, and defeated them with a loss of about 4,000 
 men. General Burnside, being somewhat blamed for 
 not acting with more promptness after the explosion, 
 was relieved by his own request, and General J. D. 
 Parke was given his (Burnside's) corps (9th). It has 
 been stated that about 40!) men who garrisoned the 
 Confederate fort were blown to atoms when the fort 
 was blown up. Lieutenant-Colonel Pleasant, of the 
 48th Pennsylvania Regiment, did the engineering of 
 the mine. 
 
 17f). July 3 — Kenesaw taken, having been evacuated 
 by the Confederates, who suffered great loss on being 
 pursued by General Sherman. 
 
 177. July 9 — General Wallace met the Confederates 
 on the Monocacy, Md., near the railroad crossing, and 
 was defeated with a loss of about 2,000 men, but it 
 checked the Confederates' onward march, which was 
 fortunate for the Federals. 
 
 178. July 9 to 13— General Jubal Early (Confederate), 
 following General Wallace through Maryland towards 
 Baltimore, Md., destroyed a great deal of property and 
 captured General Franklin, who was on a railroad 
 train in citizen's dress, but he (Franklin) made his 
 escape afterwards through the weariness of the Con- 
 federate soldiers. General Early turned his raid to- 
 wards Washington, D. C, but by Federal troops being 
 mustered was checked and driven back into Virginia. 
 
 179. July 20— Battle before Atlanta, Ga. Here the 
 loss on both sides was severe, and General J. B. Mc- 
 Pherson (Federal) was killed. This siege continued 
 till late in August, when the Federals withdrew. 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 105 
 
 180. July 21 — General Stoneman, while out on a 
 cavalry expedition in Georgia, was met, overpowered, 
 and taken prisoner with many of his (Federal) com- 
 mand. A part of General Stoneman's command cut 
 their way through the Confederate line and made their 
 escape. 
 
 181. August 5 to 23 — Capture of Forts Morgan and 
 Powell, a great Union victory, in Mobile Bay, David 
 G. Farragut (Federal) commanding. It was here that 
 the Confederate ram Tennessee was obliged to surren- 
 der; and when the white flag was hoisted, Captain 
 Heywood, one of the rescued of the Cumberland, sunk 
 March 9, '61, was sent on board the Tennessee to arrange 
 the surrender, and among those to surrender was 
 Admiral Buchanan, the commander of the Merrimac 
 when she sunk the Cumberland in Hampton Roads, Va., 
 March 9, '61. Buchanan had one of his legs broken 
 when he surrendered. 
 
 182. August 18 — Capture of Reams Station, Va., by 
 Federal troops, but they lost about 300 men in doing so; 
 Confederate loss light. 
 
 183. August 19 — The Confederates made an attack on 
 Reams Station, Va., with such a determined onslaught 
 that at one time the Federals were obliged to fire with 
 their batteries upon their own men, in order to save 
 themselves. The Confederates were finally checked, 
 and the Union troops remained in possession of the 
 station, but the Union loss was greater than that of the 
 Confederates. 
 
 184. August 21 — General Early (Confederate) defeat- 
 ed General Sheridan, at Summit Point, Va. ; loss light. 
 
 185. August 28 — Battle of Reams Station, Va., fought 
 with great determination. Union loss, about 1,200 
 men; Confederate loss much greater. The Confederates 
 were finally obliged to fall back. 
 
 *180. September 2 — General Sherman takes posses- 
 sion of Atlanta, Ga., after a series of hard-fought bat- 
 tles, the Confederates finally being obliged to evacuate 
 after losing many men. This was a great victory for 
 General Sherman and the Union. 
 
 187. September 19 — Battle of Opequan Creek, Va. 
 General Sheridan (Federal) routed General Early (Con- 
 federate) with great loss. 
 
106 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 1SS. September 21 — Fisher's Hill, Va. Sheridan 
 routed Early (Confederate) with quite a loss. 
 
 189. September 28— Battle of Chapin's Bluff, Va. 
 This was a bold undertaking to capture Richmond, Va., 
 by the Federals, but they were obliged to fall back 
 with considerable loss. 
 
 190. October 5 — Battle of Allatoona, Ga. This was 
 a short but destructive battle to the Confederates. 
 
 191. October 7 — The Confederates made an attack 
 upon General Grant's right flank, in front of Peters- 
 burg, Va., but were repulsed with considerable loss; 
 General Gregg was among their- (Confederate) killed. 
 
 192. October 9 — Near Strasburg, Va., General Sheri- 
 dan routed General Early (Confederate) with consid- 
 erable loss. 
 
 193. October 16 — Cedar Creek, Va. Confederate 
 General Early made an attack upon General Sheridan's 
 troops, but was checked and routed. 
 
 194. October 19— Battle of Cedar Creek, Va. Here 
 at first the Confederates were victorious, and caused 
 quite a loss to the Federals; but General Sheridan, who 
 had been away from . his command, arriving on the 
 held, like magic turned the defeat into a victory, rout- 
 ing the Confederates with great loss. Federal loss, 
 about 17,100; Confederates', about 23,000, about one- 
 half of which were prisoners. To this place was 
 Sheridan's great ride. 
 
 *195. October 27— Battle of Hatche's Run, Va. The 
 Confederates were simply driven inside of their works 
 by the Federals. 
 
 196. November 13 — Battle of Morristown, Tenn. 
 General Gillem defeated by General Breckenridge 
 (Confederate), with considerable loss. 
 
 *197. November 15 — General Sherman begins his 
 march from "Atlanta to the sea," after defeating and 
 misleading the Confederate commanders. 
 
 •198. November 15 to 21 — General Sherman's march 
 from Atlanta, Ga., to Savannah, Ga. Capture of Fort 
 McAlister, Ga., Dec. 14; capture of Savannah. Dec. 21. 
 General Sherman's march was not attended with any 
 great hard fighting, but his object was attained — that 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 105 
 
 of destroying- railroads, &c, which disabled the Con- 
 federates' facilities for continuing the war. Too much 
 credit cannot be given General Sherman and his noble 
 army, who marched 300 miles in 2T days. Federal loss, 
 760 men. 
 
 199. November 30— Battle of Franklin, Tenn. The 
 Confederates made the attack, but were repulsed with 
 heavy loss. 
 
 200. December 12 — General Stoneman's raid (having 
 been exchanged) in Western Virginia. He took many 
 prisoners and destroyed a large amount of Confederate 
 property. 
 
 201. December 15— Battle of Nashville, Tenn. The 
 Confederates made a hard fight, but were completely 
 routed with heavy loss. 
 
 . 1865. 
 
 *202, February 1 to March 23 — General Sherman 
 again on the march, leaving Savannah, Ga., February 1, 
 and reaching Goldsboro, N. C, March 23. This march 
 was attended with more or less fighting, but not to 
 such an extent as to materially impede his steady on- 
 ward march. On reaching Goldsboro, General Sherman 
 formed a junction with Generals Schofield and Terry, 
 who had arrived two days before from Wilmington; 
 General Sherman had now about 90,000 men, and was 
 in a position to prevent General Lee from retreating 
 southward. 
 
 *203. February 5 to ? — Hatche's Run, Va., taken, but 
 not till they had almost given the Federal troops a sad 
 defeat. This was a very advantageous position for 
 the Confederates, and they felt their loss sorely. Loss 
 somewhat heavy on both sides. 
 
 204. February 2] — -General Sheridan routed General 
 Early (Confederate) from Stanton, Va., and captured 
 many of his command. 
 
 205. February 2T to March 19— General Sheridan's 
 expedition through the Shenandoah Valley, Va., was 
 very successful, and met with but little opposition 
 from the Confederates. 
 
 20(J. March ,4 to 12 — General Newton's expedition 
 (Federal) from Key West to St. Mark's, Fla., was very 
 successful. 
 
108 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 
 
 207. March 20 to April 13 — General Stoneman's ex- 
 pedition (Federal) through North Carolina successful, 
 meeting - with but little opposition. 
 
 208. March 22 to April 20 — General Wilson's expedi- 
 tion in Alabama successful. General Wilson, learning 
 that Jefferson Davis, Confederate President, was trying 
 to make his escape from the United States, sent troops 
 in pursuit, and on May 11 captured him and his wife, 
 also some of his colleagues, who were also trying to 
 escape. Jefferson Davis was elected President of the 
 Confederacy, February 8, 1861, and served as such until 
 he was captured. 
 
 209. March 31 — General Warren met with defeat and 
 somewhat of a loss in trying to get possession of White 
 Oak Road, Va. The Confederates were too strongly 
 posted. 
 
 210. April 1 to 3 — General Sheridan attacked the 
 Confederates at Five Forks, Va., and routed them from 
 a strong position, and kept them on the retreat from 
 the 1st to the 3rd, when they at last were obliged to 
 succumb to the stars and stripes, from which they had 
 so unwittingly strayed. 
 
 *211. April 9 — The surrender of Robert E. Lee and 
 his Confederate Army to U. S. Grant. After the Con- 
 federates had fallen back from Petersburg, Va., they 
 were closely followed by General Grant, who took 
 many prisoners, and among them some of General 
 Lee's best officers. General Grant, seeing that Lee 
 could hold out but a short time, petitioned him to sur- 
 render. General Lee at first treated the petition with 
 some indifference, but knowing that further resistance 
 was only to sacrifice still more brave lives for nought, 
 accepted General Grant's terms of surrender, which 
 were that all officers give their own parole not to take 
 up arms against the United States Government until 
 properly exchanged; the men (rank and file) to be 
 paroled by their officers, and under the same condi- 
 tions, and all to go to their homes, and there remain 
 undisturbed by the United States Government so long 
 as they abided by their paroles and the laws of their 
 States or Territories; their arms, &c, to be given up, 
 there on the field, to the United States authorities. 
 The surrender took place about 20 miles outside of 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 109 
 
 Petersburg, Va., General Lee's headquarters being 
 near Amelia Courthouse, Va. I might say here that 
 the remaining Confederate armies surrendered under 
 the same conditions as did that of General Lee. 
 
 *212. April 12 to May 4 — Capture of Mobile. The 
 Confederates, knowing that further resistance and 
 shedding of blood was useless, surrendered their fleet 
 as well as Mobile, with but little resistance. 
 
 213. April 14 — Assassination of Abraham Lincoln, 
 President of the United States, by the tragedian John 
 Wilkes Booth, an American citizen, but a sympathizer 
 with the Confederates, while at Ford's Theatre, in 
 Washington, D. C, where " Our American Cousin" was 
 to have been played by Miss Laura Keene and her 
 company. Booth made his escape, by a fleet horse 
 that he had in readiness outside the theatre, into Vir- 
 ginia, where he was overtaken, shot and killed by 
 " Boston Corbet," who was one of a company of cavalry 
 sent in pursuit. Booth had broken one of his legs 
 while jumping from the theatre box, where he shot 
 the President, to the stage, otherwise he probably 
 would have made good his escape, and finally reached 
 some foreign country where he never would have been 
 detected. Thus ended the life of Abraham Lincoln, 
 one of America's truest patriots, as I might say, just as 
 the last clouds of a sad and hard-contested rebellion 
 were leaving bright our horizon, for the arms that had 
 been raised against our beloved country were not yet 
 all laid aside. 
 
 214. April 20 — Confederate General Johnson surren- 
 dered to General Sherman, with his army, at Greens- 
 boro, N. C. 
 
 215. May 4 — Confederate General Taylor surrender- 
 ed, with all the Confederate forces East of the 
 Mississippi, to General Canby. 
 
 210. May 20 — General Kirby Smith surrendered, with 
 all of the Confederate forces West of the Mississippi, 
 to General Canby. 
 
 Thus ended one of the greatest civil wars ever 
 known to civilization, and may our country never be 
 
110 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 subjected to another, but may peace and prosperity 
 always prevail among" us, is my prayer. 
 
 A nation reared by labor of 
 
 Men who tilled her soil, 
 
 Ever for her great future good 
 
 Rightly did they toil. 
 
 Independence which they gained 
 
 Could we now let go? 
 
 Ah! hear the answer: " No! no! no!" 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 . 1. John Brown, who had been preaching to the slaves 
 in the South for some time to rise and free themselves 
 from their bondage, was, after a hard struggle, cap- 
 tured at Harper's Ferry, Va., October 18, and after 
 being tried was hanged at Charleston, West Virginia, 
 December 2, 1859. 
 
 2. The vStar of the West, a merchant vessel, sailed 
 from New York, January 5, 1861, with reinforcements 
 for Anderson, and was fired upon in Charleston Har- 
 bor, vS. C, on the 9th. She then returned, without 
 communicating with Anderson. This was the first 
 shot fired upon our flag. 
 
 '.). January, 18(51, upon the refusal of Captain Bush- 
 wood to bring fhe U. S. cutter "Robert McClelland" 
 from New Orleans to New York, John A. Dix, then 
 Secretary of the Treasury, telegraphed for his arrest, 
 and for the lieutenant to take command, and added 
 that "If any man attempt to haul down the American 
 flag, shoot him on the spot." 
 
 -1. February 4, 1801, Jefferson Davis, of Mississippi, 
 and Alex. H. Stephens, of Georgia, were chosen Presi- 
 dent and Vice-President of the Confederate States, to 
 act until a general election, which was held in Novem- 
 ber, L861, when Davis and Stephens were elected for 
 the term of six years. Jefferson Davis graduated from 
 West Point in 1828, and served in the U. S. service 
 until 183."), when he resigned, and became a cotton 
 planter in Mississippi, and afterwards became a politi- 
 cian. At Mexico he was Colonel of the First Miss. 
 Riflemen, and won honors. He resigned his position 
 as L T . S. Senator, January 21, 1861, to take part in the 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-REARER. Ill 
 
 secession of his State. Stephens was a lawyer and 
 somewhat of a politician. 
 
 5. General Twiggs, in command of the Department 
 of Texas, surrendered his whole command, with all of 
 the Government property, to the Confederates. He 
 was immediately afterwards dismissed from the U. S. 
 service, March 1st, 1861. He then entered the Con- 
 federate service. 
 
 tj. Lieut. Adam Slemmer took possession of Fort 
 Pickens, West end of the Santa Rosa Island, January. 
 1861; and this fort never fell into the hands of the 
 Confederates. 
 
 T. P. T. G. Beauregard was Major of Engineers in 
 the U. S. service, but when his State, Louisiana, 
 seceded, he joined the Confederate service. 
 
 8. Edmund Ruffin, an old Virginia gentleman, it is 
 said, fired the first hostile shot on Fort Sumter. In 1865, 
 when there was no hope of the South gaining their in- 
 dependence, he committed suicide by snooting himself, 
 saying he could not survive the Confederacy. He was 
 then about 70 years of age. 
 
 9. Gen. Robert E. Lee resigned his commission April 
 20, 1861, as Lieut. -Col. U. S. Army. 
 
 10. Joseph E. Johnson resigned about April 20, 186.1. 
 He was a Brigadier-Gen. in the U. S. Army. 
 
 11. J. B. Magruder resigned his commission in the 
 U. S. service when his State, Virginia, seceded. 
 
 12. The Havelock gets its name from Sir Henry 
 Havelock, who used them in a rebellion in India. 
 
 13. There were no Union soldiers sent into Virginia 
 until that State seceded, May 23, 1861, but before dawn 
 of the next day (24th) there were 15,000 troops sent 
 from Washington to the opposite side of the River 
 Potomac. 
 
 14. The Potomac, from Washington, D. C, to the 
 Chesapeake Bay, is about 125 miles. 
 
 15. Old Point Comfort is where Fortress Monroe now 
 stands, and was so named because the first colonies 
 from England landed there. It was there, also, that 
 the first slaves of this country were landed and sold 
 (20 in number) from a Dutch vessel, in the year 1619. 
 
112 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 16. May, 1861, General George B. McClellan made 
 Major-General in the Regular (U. S.) Army, and given 
 command of the Department of Ohio. 
 
 17. Robert S. Garnet had been an officer in the U. S. 
 Army. He was'killed, while serving in the Confederate 
 Army, July 13, 1861, at a ford on Little Cheat River. 
 
 18. General Beauregard first, and then Joseph E. 
 Johnston, commanded the Confederate Army at the 
 first Bull Run battle. General Irvin McDowell com- 
 manded the Federal troops. 
 
 19. General Leonidas Polk was a graduate of West 
 Point, but after graduating adopted the clerical profes- 
 sion, which he continued till the outbreak of the rebel- 
 lion, when he accepted a generalship in the Confederate 
 service. 
 
 20. Ulysses S. Grant graduated from West Point 
 and served with credit in the Mexican war. In 1854 
 he resigned, but at the outbreak of the rebellion he 
 entered the volunteer service as a captain. On the 
 17th of June, 1861, he was commissioned Colonel of the 
 21st Illinois Regiment, and so he kept rising till he 
 reached the highest command. 
 
 21. Confederate General Thomas Jefferson Jackson 
 (Stonewall) was born January 24, 1824; died May 10, 
 1863, from wound received at the battle of Chancellors- 
 ville, Va. 
 
 22. General George B. McClellan (Federal) — 
 
 1. In the dark days of '61 
 
 He was our country's greatest son, 
 Acknowledged such both far and near. 
 By some from love, by some from fear. 
 
 2. In those trying days of '62 
 
 We find him ever brave and true. 
 And loved by all true patriots 
 For his great science in war arts. 
 
 3. But in the year '63 — 
 
 Ah! well — but yet it was to be! — 
 
 No longer at his army's head, 
 
 Who loved the soil beneath his tread! 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 113 
 
 4. Yet in the year '64 
 
 He is as loyal as of yore, 
 Ever ready to mount his steed, 
 And battle for his country's need. 
 
 5. Why in the field he did not stay 
 I will not venture here to say; 
 
 But by all his greatness was known. 
 Even though it was overthrown. 
 
 22. Showing' the strength of the Union Army, '61 -'65: 
 
 July 1, 1861 — present, 183,588; absent, 3,163. Total, 
 
 186,751. 
 January 1, 1862 — present, 527,204; absent, 48,714. Total, 
 
 575,918. 
 March 31, 1862— present, 533,984; absent, 103,152. Total, 
 
 63;, 126. 
 January 1, 1863 — present, 689,802 
 
 Total, 'JO 9, 11)1. 
 January 1, 1864 — present, 611,250 
 
 Total, 860,737. 
 January 1, 1865 — present, 620,924 
 
 Total, 959,460. 
 March 31,1 865— present, 657,747 ; absent, 322,339. Total, 
 
 980,086. 
 May 1, 1865 — present, volunteers, 787,807; absent, vol- 
 ' unteers, 202,709. Total, 990,516, or nearly 1,000,000. 
 
 24. Number of colored troops enlisted during the 
 rebellion, 186,090. 
 
 25. The casualties of the Union Army during the 
 rebellion were: 
 
 Officers and men killed 60,970 
 
 Died of wounds 35,963 
 
 Died of disease 183,46-1 
 
 absent, 219,389. 
 absent, 249,487. 
 absent, 338,536. 
 
 Total 280,397 
 
 Discharged for disability 224,306 
 
 Grand total of loss to the Union Army, 
 '61— '65, not including thousands who were 
 probably killed and marked "missing"... 504,703 
 
114 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 
 
 2(>. There were of officers and men 302 who committed 
 suicide, 103 homicide, and 121 were executed. 
 
 Colors of a heavenly hue, 
 How great our sacrifice for you! 
 Now guide us through a peaceful life 
 To that land where there is no strife. 
 
 27. Quincy Adams Gilmore (Federal), born at Black 
 River, Lorain County, Ohio, 1825, graduated 1849. In 
 1861 he received a commission as captain in the U. S. 
 service. His abilities as an engineer were soon notice- 
 able, and he was appointed Chief Engineer of the Port 
 Royal expedition, where he planned the siege of Fort 
 Pulaski, at the mouth of the Savannah River, which 
 was captured in the early part of '02. He afterwards 
 commanded the 10th Army Corps, and did good ser- 
 vice during the siege of Charleston Harbor, also 
 through the rebellion. 
 
 28. David D. Porter (Federal), son of Commodore 
 David Porter, born in the year 1814, and in the year 
 1829 entered the navy, and served there the greater 
 part of the time, from one position to another, till the 
 outbreak of the rebellion, when he was placed in com- 
 mand of the steam sloop-of-war Powhatan, and placed 
 on blockade duty. He finally became commander of 
 one of our greatest naval fleets, and history tells of the 
 great work he accomplished. 
 
 29. John A. McClernand (Federal) was a lawyer by 
 profession, from Illinois. At the outbreak of the re- 
 bellion he entered the Union Army, and soon became 
 a brigadier-general, and proving himself to be a shrewd 
 military man in many battles, was ranked as Major- 
 General of Volunteers. 
 
 30. Benjamin F. Butler (Federal), of Massachusetts, 
 like McClernand, was a lawyer, and proved himself a 
 valuable officer for the Union cause. 
 
 31. Phillip Henry Sheridan (Federal), born 1831, in 
 Perry County, Ohio, and entered West Point, 1848. He 
 graduated in June, 1853, and then entered the U. S. 
 Army as Brevet Second Lieutenant of Infantry. At 
 
THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 115 
 
 the outbreak of the rebellion Sheridan had only risen 
 to the rank of second lieutenant, but during the year 
 of '01 received a captain's commission. He took, as I 
 might say, no active part till May, '62, when he was 
 appointed Colonel of a Massachusetts Regiment (2nd 
 Cavalry), after which he proved himself a dashing and 
 victorious officer, and at the end of the rebellion was 
 ranking as Major-General of the U. S. Army. 
 
 32. John Sedgwick (Federal), while in command of 
 the 6th Army Corps, was killed at Spottsylvania Court- 
 house, Va. He was a native of Connecticut, and was 
 born in the year 1811, and graduated at West Point, 
 1837. When the rebellion commenced, it greatly 
 changed his contemplations, for he was then about to 
 retire. He soon became an active officer in the Union 
 Army, and his loss was great to the Union, and mourned 
 by all. 
 
 33. Robert E. Lee (Confederate), born in Virginia, 
 
 1808, graduated from West Point, 1829, and was ap- 
 pointed Second Lieutenant of Engineers. Having 
 served faithfully, and with credit, in the U. S. Army, 
 was, at the outbreak of the rebellion, ranking as 
 Colonel. Like many others, he should have been the 
 last to desert his country; but when his State, Virginia, 
 seceded, he went with it, and took an active part, from 
 the beginning to the end of the rebellion, in the Con- 
 federate service. 
 
 34. Abraham Lincoln (Federal), born February 12, 
 
 1809, died April 15, 1865— Hadginville, Ky., his birth- 
 place. Mr. Lincoln was a faithful servant to his people 
 while President of the United States, and his assassi- 
 nation was hardly approved of by the most radfcal 
 secessionist. 
 
 In our historic civil war 
 
 There shines a part our brave ones bore. 
 
 In many battles gory red 
 
 Sounded their gallant noble tread. 
 Within this silent resting-place 
 Is mounds we yearly love to trace, 
 To strew them with rich garlands fair, 
 Heaven's sweet gift to us so rare. 
 
116 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 
 
 Leaving their homes and friends so dear, 
 Onward they march'd without a fear, 
 Venturing to the cannon's mouth, 
 Even in the farthest South. 
 With the spirit of soldiers old 
 Ever battled our brave ones bold, 
 
 Resting not till our land was clear, 
 Even beyond the slightest fear. 
 Merrily they sang loyal songs; 
 Eagerly they fought to right wrongs; 
 Many suffered heartrending pain, 
 Before the battle they could gain; 
 Even now, in that Southern land, 
 Rest some of our brave village band. 
 To them our mem'ry is as clear 
 Here to-day as though they were near. 
 Every kind kindred here to-day 
 Echo the words of praise I say, 
 
 Because they all remember well 
 Rebellion's mournful sounding knell. 
 As fathers, brothers, husbands, all 
 Ventured forth to our Union's call, 
 Every sister and mother dear 
 Offered up a prayer of cheer — 
 Now in peace, tfu3 word of prayer: 
 Ever guide us, Lord, with care! 
 So say we all. 
 
 Having now brought the story of "The Village 
 Color-Bearer" to a close, and feeling confident that 
 the reader has been much interested in the valuable 
 information the author has added to his reminiscences 
 of the late war of the rebellion, he will proceed to 
 give, in the following pages, his experience in the U. S 
 Life-Saving Service, and trust that it will be of equal 
 interest, and the information he presents be as useful 
 to the reader and all whom it may reach. 
 
The U. S. Life-Saving Service Keeper. 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 Rockaway Beach and its ocean shore! 
 
 And do I remember its mighty roar ? 
 
 Ah ! I guess I do, and always will, 
 
 For with pride I think of my playground still. 
 
 Although our beaches at times present an inde- 
 scribable scene, and one of the most heart-rending, 
 such as a vessel stranding at night and during a heavy 
 storm, with the wind blowing on shore, the mighty 
 waves soon washing over the ship, causing passengers 
 and crew to seek safety in the rigging — this, although 
 far from being a comfortable position, probably 
 affords a safe refuge for a short time — but finally, 
 as strong as the rigging and spars have hitherto ap- 
 peared, give way to the mighty power of the ocean, 
 and its precious burden is plunged deep in the roaring 
 sea, and there, by its wonderful power, carried to the 
 shore through the foaming billows, and left lifeless 
 on its 'beach ; but, as the darkness breaks away and 
 the storm abates, kind hearts and strong arms clear 
 the beach of wreckage, and tenderly care for its vic- 
 tims. A brighter and more pleasing scene, perchance, 
 soon presents itself. The sun beaming in its brightest 
 rays, the ocean calm and quiet, with the exception of 
 a low rolling swell, which makes its way to the beach 
 leisurely, and simply announces its arrival by a slight 
 rumbling noise, which only attracts without causing 
 affright to the most youthful; and, as if to amuse and 
 delight, sends its silvery spray a short distance up- 
 wards, where the sun, as if to aid the treacherous sea, 
 will cause it to sparkle like so many diamonds. 
 
 Such are the scenes of our ocean shores, 
 That none could help but fear its claws — 
 Again, no place could give more delight, 
 With their dazzling picturesque sight. 
 
122 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 My great-grandfather, while yet in the prime of life, 
 having made his home on Rockaway Beach and died 
 there, my grandfather being born and died there, and 
 my father being born there, and again I living there 
 during my youthful days, naturally placed me in pos- 
 session of its seashore changeable panorama; for many 
 hours have I listened to recitals of disasters and ad- 
 ventures along the beach ; also of the man}' rambles, 
 along the surf, of the lighthearted and frolicsome 
 girls and boys. It was here that I got my first pair of 
 skates, which were taken from a brig that stranded 
 upon our beach (Hog Island Shoals), with a miscel- 
 laneous cargo, of which skates and rock candy I have 
 the best remembrance. Other wrecks I looked upon 
 in my boyhood days with interest, but their cargoes 
 not being of a nature suitable to a boyish taste, their 
 incidents are not so bright to my vision. The greatest 
 loss of life on Rockaway Beach was probably the 
 wrecking of the ship Bristol, which occurred a little 
 to the West of the now Seaside Avenue (running from 
 the Seaside Hotel , in about the year 1889. The weather 
 had been somewhat "thick" and stormy for a few 
 days, but at the time of the Bristol's grounding the 
 sea had not reached its greatest magnitude. As the 
 ship struck upon the beach (about four hundred yards 
 off shore) bells were rung and guns were fired from on 
 board the ship. This soon attracted the attention of 
 the few inhabitants of Ruffle Bar, a small island in 
 Jamaica Bay, and about a mile and a half to the North 
 of Rockaway Beach, and nearly opposite the scene of 
 disaster. My mother was living at this time with her 
 parents on Ruffle Bar, and her brother (Carman Bald- 
 win), with two or three others, now took a yawl boat 
 and rowed across to the beach, where they joined the 
 few inhabitants of the beach. This yawl was now 
 placed upon a wagon and drawn across the beach, and 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 123 
 
 launched into the surf, and made two or three trips 
 to the Bristol, returning loaded as deeply as possible 
 with passengers each time; but the sea increased so 
 rapidly all further attempts to get through the surf 
 were fruitless, although brave endeavors were made; 
 but no sooner — with the most skilful management — 
 would the now historic little boat be launched from 
 the beach than she would be thrown, with her brave 
 crew, back upon the shore. Now came the greatest 
 scene of horror. The few who had been rescued 
 began to realize the fate of their dear loved ones cling- 
 ing to the rigging of the fast demolishing ship, and 
 in their despairing frenzy some would offer one, two, 
 or even more, thousand dollars for the rescue of some 
 one, others would implore the aid of Deity, but all was 
 of no avail. The life-savers now prevailed upon some 
 of the rescued to leave the sad scene, but others could 
 not be induced to leave till after the last hope of rescue 
 had vanished, which was after the last spar had con- 
 signed its clinging mass of humanity to the deep. A 
 patrol was now established upon the beach, and as the 
 ocean gave up those which she had claimed they were 
 properly cared for. 
 
 I remember of hearing my uncle, on my father's 
 side, telling of the scene on first getting off to the 
 Bristol, two or three days after the disaster. The ocean 
 was calm, with the exception of a ground sea (high 
 rolling sea), and overhead the sun was spreading its 
 radiant light from a cloudless sky. As they reached 
 the wreck and got over the fallen spars, the water 
 being very clear, the scene that the}- then witnessed 
 was never forgotten by them. A number of ladies 
 could be seen lashed to the submerged spars, and the 
 one among them most conspicuous was that of a young 
 woman. She was so fastened in the loose rigging that 
 it gave her the appearance of sitting in a swing and 
 
124 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 being leisurely swung to and fro; as the ingoing sea 
 would carry her forward, her long dark hair would 
 trail behind, which added to the lifelike appearance of 
 its owner. 
 
 About the year 185? there was a Life Saving Station 
 erected on Rockaway Beach, near where I was resid- 
 ing — the Ryder Homestead. This station contained 
 a metallic surfboat suitable for six oarsmen, oars and 
 a limited amount of cordage — about thirty fathoms of 
 a two and a half inch hawser nearly covered the entire 
 amount of cordage — but even this limited amount of 
 life-saving appliances did good service, and it had not 
 been assigned to duty long before it took an active 
 part. During the early part of the winter, and during 
 a very severe easterly storm, I was awakened just be- 
 fore daybreak by a melancholy sound of a ringing bell. 
 This sound 
 
 Mingling with the great tempest dirge 
 Caused me quickly to emerge 
 From cot, and leave that garret old 
 Which of many storms had told. 
 
 I believe every country boy of a few years back re- 
 members well of his sleeping apartments in usually 
 an unceiled garret. I remember of more than once, 
 on awakening in the morning and finding myself sur- 
 rounded by snow-drifts, and they not all diminutive 
 ones either, and my bed-covering weighing consider- 
 ably more than it did when I retired, and its color 
 completely changed to a spotless white ; but to me 
 there was always a fascination about our old garret. 
 How late I would lie of a morning, if I would be per- 
 mitted to do so, and listen to a roaring wind, through 
 the many crevices, or the beating of hail, snow or rain 
 upon that old weather-beaten roof. But on hearing 
 the bells ringing this morning its charms to me were 
 forgotten for the moment; and springing out of bed, 
 
THE U. S. LIFEtSAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 125 
 
 I was soon dressed and down stairs, for I instantly 
 divined the meaning of that bell, having- been well 
 taught, through recitals, of signals of distress on our 
 beaches. Arriving down stairs I called my uncle, 
 whom I was residing with, but his voice did not an- 
 swer my call ; instead, it was my aunt's, who said: 
 "Uncle Ben. has gone over to the surf; he thought 
 there was a vessel on the beach." I now asked per- 
 mission to go over to the surf. My aunt at first hesi- 
 tated, but finally gave her consent; after which I was 
 not long in making my way across the beach to the 
 surf, even though the storm was raging, and but little 
 of the coming daylight had as yet made its appearance. 
 On reaching the surf, there I beheld in its fullest term 
 a shipwreck. It was the bark John Shrowd. She had 
 been driven by the fierceness of the storm upon the 
 beach about South from where I lived, or at the sea- 
 side terminus of the now Eldert Avenue. On arriving 
 at the scene of disaster I found the morning cold, and 
 yet quite dark; but I saw there about all of the beach 
 inhabitants, and a number from Rockaway, and they 
 were getting the surf boat ready to launch. 
 
 In a surf maddened by the gale — 
 Which herald many a wail — 
 And looked defiance at man's will, 
 With his appliances and skill. 
 
 As every sea was sweeping over the bark's decks, 
 and her almost exhausted crew clinging in her fore 
 rigging, all haste was made towards their rescue. 
 With great interest I saw the brave crew volunteer to 
 man the surfboat and get her ready for launching, 
 and how impatiently they waited a few moments for 
 an abatement of the huge breakers. Finally, the word 
 was given, and the crew, who had been holding their 
 boat in the edge of the surf, gave her all the headway 
 they could, and then jumped into her and tried to get 
 
12G THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 off. The men being experienced oarsmen, pulled man- 
 fully, but, the wind blowing so hard on shore, they 
 were unable to get out beyond the dark, hollowed 
 break which soon met them. As the boat and sea met 
 the bow of the boat was pitched so high in the air that 
 it appeared that she must over-end; the next instant, 
 the sea breaking, the brave crew and their noble boat 
 were enveloped in its madly-tossed waters. 
 
 All on shore now, for an instant, were awe-stricken; 
 for it looked as though boat and crew had been dashed 
 to the bottom of the ocean; but as the sea, after break- 
 ing, swept madly high up upon the beach, it carried 
 the surf boat and crew with it, where they were in- 
 stantly, before the receding of the sea could carry them 
 back, assisted by those who were on the beach. Two 
 more attempts met with the same result, but the 
 fourth was more successful. This time they got out 
 beyond the break, but the current was running so 
 strongly to the westward they could not quite reach 
 the bark, but got near enough to throw the end of a 
 small line on board, or in the fore rigging, where a 
 sailor caught it. The surfboat now returned to the 
 beach, and her crew bent their end of the small line 
 on the end of their hawser, which was hauled off by 
 the bark's crew and made fast, after which the shore 
 end was made fast to a large pile, which had been 
 buried, end first, down deep in the sand. Two ropes 
 were used now, one made fast at each end of the surf- 
 boat (she being a double-ender) and over the hawser, 
 which prevented the boat from getting away from the 
 hawser, but allowed her to be hauled to and from the 
 bark. When the surfboat was hauled off she was 
 hauled under the bowsprit, and from there, by means 
 of a rope, the bark's crew was taken in the surfboat. 
 There was one woman on board; she was made fast 
 to a rope and lowered down first; she was the stew- 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 127 
 
 arc! ess, and was nearly exhausted, but by good treat- 
 ment for a few days was able to go to New York City. 
 Providentially, there was none of the crew lost; but 
 they were only saved by the greatest of courage and 
 skill. The bark was a total loss, but her cargo, which 
 was mostly flour, was not so seriously injured; the 
 barrels of flour were only wet in about three inches, 
 inside of that it was good. I might say here that at 
 this time there were but four houses on the beach, 
 viz.: Elias Watts, about a mile and a quarter East of 
 my uncle's (the Ryder Homestead) ; Lewis Dodge, 
 half a mile Southeast, and the other about one mile 
 West, which was occupied, I believe, at the time, but 
 the name of its occupant I have forgotten. I might 
 add yet another house, if such it could be called; still, 
 it sheltered a family, and they were properly named 
 "the happy family," if to neglect all acts of cleanli- 
 ness and the ways of this world's people would make 
 them happy, certainly they had their share of happi- 
 ness. There were four in this family, viz.: Father, 
 mother, sister and brother, and their residence, such 
 as it was, was about half way between my uncle's and 
 the upland (the West part of'Far Rockaway), distance 
 about four miles. 
 
 Their house or shanty, thatched o'er with straw, 
 Looked " rustic" enough from outdoor; 
 But the inside, where all was centred. 
 Few visitors ever entered. 
 
 Rockaway Beach had many charms for me, and I 
 still think pleasantly of my boyhood days there, and 
 of the many strolls I have had along its surf, 
 
 Where Winter's storms gave me no fear, 
 And the angry waves did but cheer 
 Me through the darkness of the night 
 As well as by the bright daylight. 
 
 The reminiscences of Rockaway Beach would make 
 
128 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 
 
 an interesting book ; but it is not my purpose to go 
 far into details. Still, I will make mention of one or 
 two more incidents. I was not very old before I 
 learned well of the surf and its inducements, of which 
 the pleasant scenes of the calm ocean or the mag- 
 netism of its storm -lashed waters was not always the 
 greatest ; therefore I was always watchful as to the 
 wind's direction, duration and velocity. Any South- 
 erly wind, from Southeast to Southwest, was favor- 
 able, but the nearer South the' better it was thought 
 to be for our purpose. The wind having been Easterly, 
 and the weather stormy for a day or two, and the wind 
 finally working around to about South at about noon, 
 and blowing fresh, kept me during the afternoon some- 
 what uneasy, for I wanted to get over to the surf 
 ahead of the other boys. This was about the year 1855. 
 There was now a family living in the Watts house 
 by the name of Foster, and some of the boys often 
 went along the surf. But I had work to do, so I could 
 not go till after sunset, and then it was with the 
 greatest reluctance that my aunt gave me permission; 
 but after getting her consent, I was but a short time 
 making my way across the beach, although it was now 
 getting dark, and the heavy'clouds overhead and black 
 waters off shore adding greatly to its density, still, I 
 lost none of my desire to take a "cruise " to the west, 
 although the roaring of the wind and sea was almost 
 deafening. I had not gone far, however, before I 
 stopped and tried to look seaward, for I imagined I 
 could hear the cry for help; but the darkness was so 
 great that my eyesight failed to pierce its thickness 
 beyond the foaming break. But there! being carried 
 in upon its crest, what did I behold? A huge, black 
 object in its snowy-white foam. I was not frightened, 
 but stood in a sort of bewilderment. Still, I was not 
 held in its grasp long, for in an instant the black ob- 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVIXG SERVICE KEEPER. 1^'.) 
 
 ject was thrown upon the beach. Without thought I 
 quickly approached it, and soon discovered its nature. 
 It was a large hogshead, about five feet in height and 
 measuring across the top about four feet. It was 
 lying upon its side, and with my utmost strength I 
 was but just able to roll it above high water-mark. 
 Now my work commenced, and all thought, save that 
 of getting the hogshead up, was quickly banished from 
 my mind. As dark as the night was, there was con- 
 stantly one or two of these hogsheads in my view, 
 either upon the beach or in the edge of the boiling 
 surf, from which it was soon landed high upon the 
 beach. I continued my work of rolling them up until 
 I was nearty exhausted. Luckily I could see no more, 
 so quite willingly I turned my steps homeward; but 
 I had done a good night's work, having rolled up sixty 
 of those hogsheads. 
 
 With what pride did I return home and report to 
 my uncle what I had accomplished, who was anxiously 
 waiting my return, as the hour was now late. I felt 
 sure that my uncle would go to the surf early the next 
 morning. So, before bidding him good night, I asked 
 permission to go with him if he did go. " I will think 
 it over," answered my uncle. Although, being greatly 
 fatigued, and the hour being late when I did retire for 
 the night, still I was up early the next morning. Yet 
 I was not up early enough to find my uncle at home, for 
 he had long been gone to the surf and at an early hour 
 returned, having added about forty hogsheads to my 
 number. These hogsheads proved to have been a deck 
 load of some vessel, and during the rough weather had 
 been washed overboard. They were given up to the 
 owners, a firm in New York City, who paid my uncle 
 liberally for his trouble. 
 
 I often picked up little curiosities along the surf, 
 which were always eagerly sought. I also found a 
 
130 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 number of heavy sticks of timber, which, after being 
 advertised, were sold, my uncle receiving from the 
 sale a fair compensation. In the year 1858 the Foster 
 boys found the remains of a young man on the beach, 
 near what was called "the Baters," a large opening 
 across the beach, where there had been an inlet through 
 and through, which my grandmother often told me 
 she had seen large vessels pass. This young man was 
 well dressed and of wealthy parents, and his death 
 was a mystery, but it was supposed that he had been 
 drowned from one of the docks of New York City. 
 There was a reward of $500, which the Fosters got, 
 also $20 for caring for the remains; so that there was 
 constantly an inducement, other than that of pleasure, 
 in "cruising" the surf. 
 
 My object being mainly to give a few incidents and 
 adventures while in the Life-Saving Service, I will not 
 dwell longer upon early beach incidents. To give a 
 better knowledge of the Life-Saving Service, perhaps 
 it will be well to give a little of its history — that is, 
 our Government's Life-Saving Service. As I have 
 said, about the year 1857 there was a station erected 
 on Roekaway Beach, and furnished with a boat, &c. 
 Similar stations were erected on the Jersey beach, and 
 they were similarly furnished. A keeper for each one 
 of these stations, whose duty it was to enrol a volun- 
 teer crew (who only received compensation upon ren- 
 dering service), to look after the house and its property, 
 and render all possible assistance in the saving of life 
 and property, was appointed by the Government, and 
 for his services he received a small yearly compensa- 
 tion. Although this beginning, as small as it was, 
 rendered valuable service, still it was slow in making 
 itself felt sufficiently to guarantee any great advance- 
 ment, and not until 1871 did its rapid growth begin, 
 when the small sum of 110,080 was appropriated for 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING .SERVICE KEEPER. I'M 
 
 the employment of a few crews on the Jersey beach, 
 who were to reside at certain stations, and establish a 
 patrol upon the beach, in the near vicinity of their 
 stations, from December 15 to March 15. The estab- 
 lishment of this little patrol, I believe, is wholly due 
 to the quick perception of the energetic little Senator, 
 S. S. Cox, of New York, although great credit is as well 
 due Senators Dawes of Massachusetts and Stockton of 
 New Jersey, and to whom thousands to-day are in- 
 debted for their lives, not speaking of the vast amount 
 of property saved. The establishment of this little 
 patrol bore such fruit that it gave such an impetus to the 
 service that rapid strides were immediately noticeable 
 towards its great advancement, 
 
 And as though it was but a day 
 From its childhood to man's ray, 
 It rose so noble and so grand, 
 With pride it has covered our land. 
 
 Each year now brought forth some new improve- 
 ment; old stations were put in better condition, and 
 new ones built, and they were better equipped; the 
 employment of extra crews, the prolonging of their 
 term of service, and the increase in their pay — all 
 showed the appreciation of the service. This service 
 comes under the head of the Treasury Department; 
 but it having become, some time since, such an impor- 
 tant branch, a General Superintendent, with assistants, 
 was appointed, whose office is at the Treasury Depart- 
 ment, Washington, D. C, and who has the supervision 
 of all the service. The service is divided into districts, 
 and each district has its District Superintendent, who 
 is a civilian, and an Assistant Inspector, who is a Lieu- 
 tenant of the Revenue Marine Service. There is also an 
 Inspector, whose office is in New York City, and who is 
 of the Revenue Marine Service. The District Superin- 
 tendent is always a welcome visitor, as it is he who 
 
13^ THE V. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 
 
 pays the crews, which is quarterly, June the 30th being 
 the end of the fiscal year. He also has the power of 
 finding out the proficiency of the crews in their duty 
 and the condition of the Government property in the 
 stations; but this is usually the duty of the Assistant 
 Inspector, or, as I might say, it is his duty, and he 
 usually attends to it very regularly — too much so for 
 many of the crews. While I was in the service I must 
 say that we were favored with good and gentlemanly 
 District Superintendents, " Capt." Huntting, of Bridge- 
 hampton, being our first, and then Mr. Arthur Downing, 
 of Bay Shore, N. Y. 
 
 My first duties in the U. S. L. S. S. commenced, after 
 passing a medical examination at the Revenue Marine 
 Hospital (which all new men are obliged to do upon 
 first entering the service, but, after once passing there, 
 they can, at the commencement of each year thereafter, 
 if they choose, be examined by a family physician), 
 September 1st, 1883, in the Coney Island Life-Saving 
 Station, at Manhattan Beach, L. I., N. Y., about 150 
 yards East of the Oriental Hotel. The crews in our 
 district went on duty then as now, viz., six men on the 
 1st of September and the " 7" man on the 1st of Decem- 
 ber, and all staying until the 30th of April, commenc- 
 ing at midnight and ending the same. Their pay was 
 as now — keepers, 1700 per annum; surfmen (crew), $50 
 per month during the active service. During the in- 
 active season (May, June, July and August,) all went 
 to their homes and sought other employment, the 
 keeper going occasionally and looking after the prop- 
 erty (station, &c.) During my first year I was No. 4 
 in the crew. Our duty was about as follows, after we 
 had got in "working order:" Our hours of patrol 
 were — "A" from sunset until 8 p. m.; "B" from 8 p. m. 
 until midnight; "C" from midnight until 4 a. m.; and 
 then "A" again from 4 a. m. until sunrise, after which 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 133 
 
 he did the cooking for the day, and was "day duty man." 
 The distance of our patrol was about 1\ miles East and 
 '2 miles West of our station. The duty of the patrol- 
 man, if he saw any one that he could assist, was to do 
 so; if he saw any vessel sailing too near in towards 
 the beach, he was to warn her off by burning one of 
 his caution signal lights; these he carried in a box 
 similar to a cartridge-box worn by soldiers for carry- 
 ing their ammunition in. To burn the signal, the 
 patrolman would insert it in a "holder" which he car- 
 ried, and by hitting a spindle which was in the other 
 end of the holder the signal would be ignited and give 
 a bright red light. This would signify to the vessel 
 that she was running into danger. If the patrolman 
 saw a vessel in distress, of whatever nature, and could 
 not render all necessary assistance himself, he was to 
 report it to the Keeper of the Station as soon as possi- 
 ble. He was also required to keep a good lookout for 
 smugglers, and take charge of all smuggled goods, or 
 report the same to the keeper. At the station he was 
 to note, on a slate kept for the purpose, the state of 
 wind, weather and surf at midnight; the day duty man 
 noting the same at sunrise, moon and sunset, also the 
 number of vessels which passed the station during the 
 day — for example: "Ships, 8; barks, 4; brigs, 9; steam- 
 ers, 20; schooners, 48; sloops, 20;" and if he saw any 
 vessel in distress, he (day duty man) was to report the 
 same to the keeper, or the one in charge during the 
 absence of the keeper. No. 1 would be in charge. Our 
 drilling consisted of the following, but we were not 
 overworked by drill at this time: Practising with the 
 surfboat was done by launching and going through 
 the surf, and then rowing for half an hour. Beach 
 apparatus was as follows, but to make it thoroughly 
 understood would perhaps be impossible, still I may 
 give an insight as to its working, and briefly explain 
 
134 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 the duties of a surfman (those employed in the 
 U. S. L. S. S.) The beach apparatus paraphernalia is 
 always carefully, and in accordance with regulations, 
 stowed away upon a cart, and after the crew assembles 
 in the boatroom for drill, the keeper gives the com- 
 mand, " Open Boatroom Doors; man the Beach Wagon." 
 The men designated for this duty open the doors, and 
 after the crew has manned the wagon (see illustration 
 on page 118), each man repeats the lesson of his duty. 
 After each man has recited his lesson, the Captain 
 gives the command, "Forward," and upon reaching 
 the desired point, commands, "Halt." The command 
 "Action" is then given, and during the progress of the 
 drill the following additional commands are given: 
 "Man weather part of whip," "Haul out," "Man lee 
 whip," " Haul ashore." 
 
 After the gun is taken from the cart and loaded with 
 from one to seven pounds of powder, a shot (iron) 
 weighing 19 lbs., and 16 inches in length, with a thin 
 shank in one end, is inserted in the gun upon the 
 the powder (the powder being in flannel bags); but 
 before the insertion of the shot in the gun, the end of 
 the shot-line is tied in the eye of th,e shank, which re- 
 mains just out from the muzzle of the gun — an excel- 
 lent brass piece. The gun being sighted, elevated, &c, 
 by the Captain, he then gives the command, "Ready," 
 and fires the gun, which is done by friction primer 
 and lanyard. Supposing it to be at a wreck, the shot 
 being thrown over the vessel, carrying the line with 
 it, the line is got by those on board, and after the shore 
 end is made fast around the whip-block, they begin to 
 haul off (upon signal), and, on getting the block, make 
 it fast (by a rope which is spliced around it for the 
 purpose), well up to one of the vessel's spars, a tally- 
 board (No. 1) accompanying the block, with directions 
 in both English and French. This whip-block is a 
 
the r. s. Life-saving service keeper. 135 
 
 single block, and a rope which is known as the "whip," 
 is rove through it, the two ends being kept on shore, 
 one of which is rove through the sand-anchor-block 
 (or another block for the purpose); after which the 
 two whip ends are bent (tied) together and then made 
 fast to the end of the hawser (a 2^-inch rope), which 
 is hauled off from the shore, by the whip, to the vessel, 
 and made fast about two feet above the whip-block. 
 Tally-board No. 2 accompanies the hawser. The whip 
 being unbent by the vessel's crew, is overhauled by the 
 station crew, until they get the two parts which are 
 bent together. Before the hawser is sent off, the end 
 of it is rove through the "breeches buoy" block. This 
 breeches buoy is round, made of canvas, and filled with 
 cork; it is in diameter 18 inches on the inside, and '17 
 inches over all, the buoy being like a big round ring. 
 There is attached on the inside, as it is often termed, 
 a pair of " trousers," with the legs cut very short. 
 These trousers hang down when the buoy is raised. 
 On the upper part of this buoy are slings, which are 
 made fast to the traveller block; the snap traveller 
 block is now very seldom used. The two ends of the 
 whip, after being overhauled, are unbent and made 
 fast to the lower part of the traveller block, there being 
 a place for the purpose. Now, if you remember, we 
 have one end of the hawser made fast to the spar of 
 the wreck. The shore end is now made fast to the 
 sand anchor. This sand anchor is, say two pieces, of 
 H-inch planking, 10 inches in width, and 4 feet in 
 length. These two pieces are laid flat upon each other 
 and bolted together at the centre, but in such a man- 
 ner that" they can be opened, but remaining flat, and 
 closed easily. One end of a piece of large rope, say 
 feet in length, is made fast to the centre of the sand 
 anchor. At the other end of this rope is the sand an- 
 chor block. The sand anchor is opened slightly and 
 
136 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 placed on its ends down in a hole dug for the purpose, 
 the fiat part facing the wreck, and the top part canted 
 a little backwards. In this manner the sand anchor is 
 buried. The shore end of the hawser, in being- made 
 fast to the sand anchor, is snapped into the sand 
 anchor block. The hawser is now hauled moderately 
 taut, and then the crotch is raised under it. This 
 raises the hawser at the edge of the beach about eight 
 feet, which, to a great extent, prevents the buoy from 
 being drawn through the water. After the crotch is 
 raised the hawser is hauled as taut as it can be got, 
 by a four-fall tackle. After this is done, the weather 
 (say right) whip is manned, and the buoy hauled out. 
 As a better explanation of this whip while in use we 
 will say that we have a rope 200 yards in length, and 
 hauled out to its full length from east to west — this 
 representing the hawser from the wreck to the shore — 
 now place a coil of rope just on the south side of the 
 hawser and near the west end; then let a man take 
 each end of this rope, and one with his end go to the 
 east, and at the end of the hawser, reeve it through a 
 block and bring it back on the north side of the 
 hawser, to a point opposite from where he started; let 
 the other man go to the west with his end, and reeve 
 it through the block at the west end of the hawser, 
 turn and bring it on the north side of the hawser, till 
 he gets opposite the starting point, where he meets the 
 other man with his end. Now, we'll say let those two 
 ends be made fast to the breeches buoy, or traveller 
 block which runs upon the hawser. This being done, 
 it can easily be seen that by hauling out on the South 
 (weather) side, sends the breeches buoy out to the 
 wreck, where one person at a time gets in and is hauled 
 ashore by the surf man manning the lee (North) whip. 
 No. 1 surfman always remains in charge of the lee 
 whip, and No. 2 in charge of the weather whip ; the 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 137 
 
 other men are called shifting- men on the whip. For 
 practice we have a pole representing the spar of a 
 vessel, and a ladder going up to a small platform which 
 is around the pole. The shot being fired, with shot- 
 line over the pole, one of the crew goes to the pole, 
 and after performing the duty of a shipwrecked crew, 
 gets in the buoy and is " hauled ashore.'' This drill 
 is performed in the short time of five minutes, and 
 often in less time, and is done precisely the same as 
 though at a wreck; but at a wreck the time depends 
 entirely upon circumstances— it would naturally take 
 half an hour in ordinary times. The greatest distance, 
 I believe (I have heard of none greater), that people 
 have been rescued from shipwreck is 450 yards by the 
 beach apparatus. The lesson of resuscitation of the 
 apparently drowned is somewhat lengthy, and the 
 committing of it to memory and the reciting of it is 
 seldom appreciated by surf men, but in the working of 
 the practical part they become, as a rule, quite pro- 
 ficient. They also readily gain a good knowledge of 
 the treatment of wounds and exposures in the cold, 
 frostbites, &c. 
 
 The International Code of vSignals is, as its name 
 implies, that adopted by all nations, and is used for 
 signalling from one vessel or point to another. All 
 large vessels, of whatever nationality, as a rule, carry 
 this Code; and should one be near a Signal or Lifc- 
 Saving Station and wish to communicate, she could 
 easily do so. The principal object of having the code 
 in the Life-Saving Stations is in cases of distress. The 
 following will give a slight idea of the code and its use: 
 
 B Burgee — Red, swallow-tail. 
 
 C Pennant — White, with red spot. 
 
 D Pennant — Blue, with white spot. 
 
 F Pennant — Red, with white spot. 
 
 G Pennant — Yellow, blue, in two vertical stripes. 
 
138 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 SQUARE FLAGS. 
 
 H White, reel, in two vertical stripes. 
 
 J Blue, white, blue, in three horizontal stripes. 
 
 K Yellow, blue, in two vertical stripes. 
 
 L Blue and yellow, in four alternate checks. 
 
 M Blue, with white diagonal cross. 
 
 N Blue and white, in sixteen alternate checks. 
 
 P Blue, with white centre. 
 
 Q Yellow. Quarantine. 
 
 R Red, with yellow right cross. 
 
 5 White, with blue centre. 
 
 T Red, white, blue, in three vertical stripes. 
 
 V White, with red diagonal cross. 
 
 W Blue, white, red, in three borders. 
 
 Code Pennant — Red and white, in five vertical stripes. 
 
 This code requires considerable study. Still, the 
 surfman gains a very good knowledge of its use. The 
 following as an example: Two-flag hoist, burgee up- 
 permost, is an attention signal; two-flag hoist, pennant 
 uppermost, is a compass signal; two-flag hoist, square 
 flag uppermost, is a distress signal. And then we have 
 the three and four flag hoist. 
 
 Our duties in the house were, usually: No. 1 had 
 charge of the boat room, and was responsible for its 
 cleanliness; No. 2, the upstairs work, which was to see 
 that the covering on the cots (each man having a cot 
 to himself) were in order, and to the cleanliness of the 
 room, the other men doing all the work in the kitchen, 
 with the exception of the cooking and setting of the 
 table, which the day duty man did. Day duty would 
 come about once a week for each man. Our station 
 was classed among the best, and was built in the year 
 1878, near where the old one stood (of the old volun- 
 teer style). 
 
 March 4, 1880, early in the morning, the wind was 
 blowing very hard from the Northeast, and the weath- 
 er was "thick" and stormy, and had been for a day or 
 two; but at about 11 o'clock a. m., the wind working 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 13!) 
 
 around to the Sotitheast, the fog broke away, and, to 
 the surprise of the station crew, they saw a piece of a 
 wreck just to the West of our West Shoals, and upon 
 looking closely, saw there was a man upon it. They 
 immediately took their surfboat about one-third of a 
 mile to the East, where the surf was not quite so high, 
 and launched her. The distance then was about l-£ 
 miles to the floating piece of wreckage, and the sea 
 running very high ; but fortunately the wind had 
 lulled considerably, which enabled the crew to make 
 very good headway. But just before reaching the ob- 
 ject in pursuit of, they encountered a large number of 
 kerosene barrels (empty), and other signs of a serious 
 marine disaster. On reaching the piece of wreckage 
 which they had sighted, they found there was but the 
 one man upon it, and it was with great difficulty that 
 they rescued him, as the sea was very high, and he 
 being nearly exhausted; but he was finally got safe in 
 the surfboat and taken to the station, where, after a 
 few hours of kind treatment, he made the following 
 statement (through an interpreter): His name was 
 Petro Sala, of the Italian bark Ajace, of Genoa, 566 
 tons register, bound for New York. Sala further stated 
 that the bark had been running before the wind dur- 
 ing the morning (March 4), but as to their immediate 
 whereabouts they did not know. Finally, at about 9 
 o'clock, a. m., they found they were getting in shoal 
 water and sharp seas. They then tried to head the 
 bark off shore, but the wind and sea being so great, 
 the bark was soon upon the shoals and in a tremendous 
 break. Seas now began to wash over the vessel, and 
 her spars soon fell; and in less than an hour's time 
 there was but little of her left together. There was a 
 crew of fourteen (officers and all) on board, and they 
 all perished, with the exception of the one who chanced 
 to be on a portion of the afterdeck when it was carried 
 
140 
 
 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 141 
 
 away, and it was a miracle that he was able to cling 
 to it as he did, for the bark went to pieces on the East 
 Shoals, and Sala was carried across the main (Rocka- 
 way) inlet and through the "wild" break of the West 
 Shoals. All of the Ajace's crew were picked up shortly 
 after the disaster, most of them on Manhattan Beach 
 and by the station crew. 
 
 My first year I remained as No. -1 surfman all through 
 and without any incident of great interest. • At the 
 commencement of my second year I was made No. 1, 
 and acted as such the year through without any great 
 adventures. I might say here that on or about Octo- 
 tober 18, 1884, the Bennett and Mackay Cable was 
 landed about 100 yards to the East of our station by 
 the steamer Faraday. June 30, 1885, our keeper (Chas. 
 Bebensee, of Coney Island L. S. Station), having ten- 
 dered his resignation, and it being accepted, I was 
 placed in charge of the station and under pay as surf- 
 man in active service (#50) per month). During the 
 inactive season ('85), Mr. Arthur Dominy superseded 
 Mr. Henry E. Huntting as District Superintendent, 
 which caused some delay in our crew going on active 
 duty. About September 10, 1885, I received my ap- 
 pointment as Keeper of Coney Island L. S. Station from 
 Mr. C. S. Fairchild, acting Secretary of the Treasury 
 Department. Sept. 15, 1885, I entered upon active duty 
 with my crew. I might say here that my pay as keeper 
 was seven hundred dollars per year. On entering upon 
 active duty this season we all found a great change in 
 our rules, and many privileges we had enjoyed we 
 were now deprived of. Not only that, but our duty, 
 as I might say, was increased tenfold. We were now 
 obliged to have two patrolmen out at once — one East, 
 the other West. This was double duty for the patrol- 
 men. In starting this double patrol we had the time 
 detecters given us. This obliged me to get up every 
 
142 ' THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 night at midnight and change the dials on the clocks. 
 The former keepers never had any of this duty to do. 
 In fact it was seldom they were ever called for any- 
 thing after retiring for the night. Perhaps it would 
 be well for me to give a little insight as to these time 
 detecters, or their use. With these "clocks" we were 
 given two iron safes. These safes we set in posts, 
 which were placed at each end of the patrols (East and 
 West); in these safes there were keys which the patrol- 
 man, after unlocking the safe with a key that he car- 
 ried, inserted in the clock and gave one turn. This 
 punctured the dial (paper) on the face of the clock 
 and showed the time of puncture and the number of 
 the surfman doing the patrol. At midnight I wound 
 the clocks and replaced the dials. These dials were 
 sent to the District Superintendent every Monday, 
 with my weekly transcript of the journal. Fortune 
 now appeared to join in with our officers in adding to 
 our labors, which the following shows: September 20, 
 1885, we saved a yawl-boat, valued at sixty dollars and 
 belonging to Samuel Greenwood, Jr., of Sheepshead 
 Bay. She was off by our (Rockaway) West Shoals 
 when picked up, about two miles from our station, and 
 she would probably soon have been a total loss. 
 
 October 13, 1885— On this date came to us a hard 
 Northeaster, an extra high tide and a heavy fall of rain, 
 which gave us a laborious duty — that of saving the 
 yacht Christiana, owned by Mr. N. W. Moulton of New 
 York City. The Christiana was anchored in Sheeps- 
 head Bay, and had two anchors out; and her cables 
 were supposed to have been good, but the wind blow- 
 ing so hard, and the sea getting so high, caused her to 
 part one of her cables, and then she began to drag her 
 other anchor. Seeing this, I saw there was but one 
 thing to do, and that was, to go with my crew on a 
 roadway, which was all piled in with heavy piling, and 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 143 
 
 where the Christiana was dragging towards, and not far 
 from. This bulkhead, as I might say, was the scene of 
 a solid spray, the wind driving the sea against it with 
 such force that the water was flying over almost in a 
 solid body. We had about one-fourth of a mile to go, 
 and, although we went that distance very quick, we 
 did not get on the bulkhead any too soon; for the yacht 
 parted her other cable and squared away for us ; and 
 as if with the utmost haste she wished to get to us for 
 deliverance, she mounted the crest of a foaming wave, 
 'and was borne with its great force swiftly towards us, 
 regardless of the enemy on whose edge we were stand- 
 ing — the bulkhead. The distance from where we were 
 to Manhattan Beach was short, but I immediately saw 
 that it would be impossible for us to get her there; so 
 the only hope we had of saving her was to get her 
 around a slight bend in the roadway towards Sheeps- 
 head Bay, then board her, make sail and run her 
 aground on the opposite shore (Sheepshead Bay). The 
 sea that had borne the Christiana to the bulkhead had 
 somewhat outrun her, and on receding, after striking 
 the bulkhead and a large amount of seaweed, which 
 had been driven by the wind against the roadway, 
 greatly checked her speed. This we took advantage 
 of, and, taking hold of her bowsprit, shoved her some 
 distance before the next sea caught her; but when it 
 did. she was thrown with such force that we feared 
 there was no help for her. Still, we continued our per- 
 severance, with the rain pouring down upon us, and 
 each sea, as it struck the bulkhead, breaking solid over 
 us. This, however, we were almost heedless of, so 
 great was our danger of having some of our limbs 
 broken or being instantly killed. Near the edge of 
 this bulkhead were posts, with a top piece running 
 over them of about 6 inches in width and 2 inches in 
 thickness ; and to work to any advantge we were 
 
144 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 
 
 obliged to be between the edg-e of the bulkhead and 
 this fence ; and as nearly every sea wowld throw the 
 Christiana in, her bowsprit would corne down on this 
 top rail with such force that it was instantly broken 
 in pieces, and all of us had many narrow escapes from 
 being" crushed. Although this fence was left in a de- 
 lapidated condition enough where the Christiana had 
 passed by, still, it had its revenge, for it had parted 
 stays, knocked the bowsprit out of place, and other- 
 wise greatly disarranged all of her head-gear. After 
 reaching the bend in the roadway I found it was yet 
 impossible to make sail. In fact, we had parted nearly 
 every rope on board, even to the main sheets. There 
 was another sloop that had dragged against this road- 
 way, and the parties who had eharg-e of her cut a hole 
 through her bottom and sunk her as quickly as they 
 could, so as to save her from being demolished against 
 the bulkhead. (Most of these yachts carry so much 
 ballast that they will go to the bottom should they fill 
 with water.) This the) - wanted me to do with the 
 Christiana, but I foresaw the result — that the ''cure 
 would be worse than the disease." My crew and my- 
 self continued our labors, and finally reached a bridge 
 running across the bay. At first we thought our boat 
 would be dashed to pieces here, but fortune appeared 
 to favor us again, for, on reaching- the bridge, we soon 
 got her beyond the worst point, and then easily ran 
 her along it to a place of safety, injured in all to about 
 the amount of $100; $800 would be a low valuation for 
 the yacht. On returning to our station I found we had 
 been gone two hours; and I must say it was two hours 
 of hard work for us ; but the consolation of knowing 
 that we had saved fully $700 to the owner of the 
 Christiana was ample reward for us. We were offered 
 thanks and something more substantial for our labors 
 by the Christiana's owner, but the thanks was all that 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 145 
 
 we would accept. I might say here that among my 
 crew who helped to save the Christiana was William 
 Arend, one of the crew who saved the one man (Petro 
 Sala) of the Italian bark Ajace, and James W. Nolan, 
 one of my old army associates, two noble boys. Just 
 after returning to my station I saw a small sloop, 
 about 8 tons, being driven off to sea by the wind. She 
 had parted her cable, with no one on board, in Jamai- 
 ca Bay, and the wind was such that she came down 
 out of Rockaway Inlet (the West way), passing within 
 about 1| miles of my station. At first I thought of 
 trying to save her, but I soon saw that it was impos- 
 sible, as she was more than a mile to windward of me, 
 and the ebb tide heading her off shore, she was going 
 with far greater speed than we could row. 
 
 January 13, 188G — Abraham W. Skidmore, of Canar- 
 sie, wishing to get to Barren Island on important 
 business, came to my station and requested me to take 
 him across to the island, as the bay was frozen over 
 in such a manner that he could not get there from 
 Canarsie. James W. Nolan and myself went to the 
 East end of our beach, distance about 1^ miles, where 
 we got a yawl-boat, and took him across, distance 
 nearly half a mile. There was a great deal of ice 
 running at the time, which made the crossing very 
 difficult. Still, we accomplished it without mishap. 
 
 February 9, I860 — Abraham W. Skidmore, George 
 Rhoe and Richard Guiler, wishing to go to Barren 
 Island on business, came to my station, as they could 
 not get to the island from any other point; Nolan and 
 myself took them there in a yawl-boat. The whole of 
 the journey was attended, with so much floating ice 
 that it made it very laborious; still, we succeeded. 
 
 February 27, 188B— 
 
 A day to our vision yet bold, 
 Made more lasting by its intense cold; 
 Ami not one was on land to say 
 They'll yet be saved from our icy bay. 
 
146 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 During' the evening of February 25, 1886, the wind 
 came out from the Northwest, and at midnight it was 
 blowing a gale, and so intense was the cold wave that 
 came with it that our bays were soon completely 
 covered with a heavy coating of ice; and at about 2 
 o'clock, p. m., of the 27th inst., a gentleman repre- 
 senting the Street Cleaning Department of the City 
 of New York came to my station and reported to me 
 that there were five or six persons on board of dump- 
 ing scows anchored off in Gravesend Bay who would 
 surely perish unless very soon rescued. The wind 
 had not lost any of its velocity, neither had the in- 
 tensity of the cold abated. When this gentleman (a 
 Mr. Britton) came to my station all within was com- 
 fortable and cheerful. I was upstairs in my room at 
 the time, and when I was called and met the gentle- 
 man, and informed of his errand, it caused me a serious 
 thought; for I immediately saw that to rescue those 
 people was no small undertaking, but instantly I began 
 to act by inquiring as to where those scows were, the 
 amount of ice in the bay, and why a tugboat had not 
 made the rescue. To all of my questions I received 
 a favorable answer with the exception as to the rescue. 
 Knowing that I was rendering no assistance by asking 
 questions, I lost but little time in that respect. Going 
 upstairs, and calling my crew to me, I stated to them 
 my opinion of action and asked for theirs. They co- 
 incided with me that if assistance could be rendered 
 it must be done without delay, and the only way to 
 know was to go to the scene of action. I went down 
 stairs and informed Mr. Britton of our willingness to 
 go to Gravesend Bay if he could assist us in getting 
 our surfboat there. This he said he could and would 
 do if we would get her out a short distance on the 
 Manhattan Boulevard, a roadway running out from 
 the Oriental Hotel to a Gravesend road. I now gave 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 147 
 
 my crew the order to get ready, and called their at- 
 tention to what we might expect, and told them to 
 dress warm and not be afraid to throw an extra coat 
 or two in our boat; but, probably through the comfort- 
 ableness of our apartments at the time, my last ad- 
 monition was not heeded, as it should have been. At 
 about 2:30 o'clock, p. m. (Saturday, 27th), all being in 
 readiness, we started with our boat, and hauled her, 
 upon her trucks, by hand over hills and railroads, until 
 we reached the Boulevard, and then about one mile, 
 when a horse was procured and hitched to one side of 
 the pole (our truck being so arranged that a team of 
 horses could be hitched before it), my crew taking 
 turns on the other side — this being necessary on ac- 
 count of the roughness of the road — and thus we made 
 our way over rough and frozen roads to a point at 
 Gravesend Bay, a distance of about eight miles. 
 
 The sad scene now which met our gaze 
 Was new and frightful in our bays. 
 Off in the ice and seas so wild, 
 Man was as helpless as a child. 
 
 On reaching Gravesend Beach I saw that the bay 
 from Coney Island Point (West End) across to Graves- 
 end Beach was filled solid with ice, and that there was 
 a large amount of floating ice being driven down by 
 the fierce wind that was blowing from the Northwest 
 upon that already there. Off from where we were, 
 about 1^ miles in a Southwest direction, was anchored 
 one of the dumping scows. As the great sea which 
 was driven by the wind struck her bow its spray was 
 immediately converted into ice, and her bow, through 
 the freezing spray, soon had the appearance of a huge 
 iceberg. On her stern, which was greatly elevated by 
 the ice weighing her bow down, stood a man waving 
 a signal of distress. And we all knew that unless he 
 was soon rescued he would perish, if not through the 
 
148 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 cold, by the sinking of the scow. This had an ill 
 effect upon some of my crew, for they allowed the try- 
 ing scene to govern them instead of cool deliberations, 
 for almost at once they began to urge me to launch our 
 boat and make the attempt at rescue. I said to them 
 that it would be impossible for us to reach the scow 
 from where we were, and that I would get as far to 
 windward as I could before I launched. With great 
 impatience some of my crew continued to help draw 
 our boat along the beach ; but a stone wall which pro- 
 jected out from the shore soon caused me to launch. 
 Knowing that I was attempting something very haz- 
 ardous, I felt that it was my duty to consult my crew 
 before, perhaps, sacrificing their lives in the perform- 
 ance of our duty; so I called their attention to a large 
 body of ice a short distance off shore and extending 
 a long distance both East and West, and asked whether 
 they did not think we had better row along the shore 
 a short distance, which would take but little time, and 
 then we would be more sure of reaching the scow and 
 rescuing whoever might be on board. But some of 
 my crew so emphatically objected to my advice that 
 the rest of us gave way to them, and I continued my 
 course. After going about 100 yards I struck in the 
 ice, which proved to be harder than my crew had 
 imagined. With very slow headway we finally got 
 through it; but as we did, we only entered a small 
 body of clear water, and was soon again obliged to 
 enter the ice. This time, on entering it, I saw that by 
 continuing straight for the scow I would be obliged to 
 go about 100 yards through the ice; but by keeping off 
 a little to leeward I would not have more than 50 yards 
 of ice to go through ; and as we were set so rapidly 
 while in the ice to leeward the latter course would be 
 the most advantageous, so I pursued it. After getting 
 through these two bodies of iee I found that we had 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 149 
 
 been set quite some to leeward, and that it was now 
 necessary to head well to windward. We found our- 
 selves now out in the full force of the wind and in a 
 high-wind sea ; and I knew that it was necessary for 
 my crew to do their very best at their oars, so I told 
 them to keep up a strong and steady stroke. We had 
 not gone far, however, before I saw what our fate was 
 to be, but I did not tell my crew; I continued to en- 
 courage them, till they saw themselves where we were 
 getting. I was now heading well to windward, and 
 had been about all the time since we got out of the 
 last ice, but seeing now that we were so near the solid 
 body of ice, which extended from the West end of 
 Coney Island Point clear across to Gravesend Beach, 
 I headed sharp in the wind, but my crew could not 
 hold " their own." The sea being sharp and high, we 
 were slowly but surely going astern, and it was but a 
 few moments before we were not more than 10 yards 
 from the ice, which was acting almost as a solid em- 
 bankment. The sea coming up to it would rise very 
 sharp and almost break. This looked bad enough for 
 us, for it did not appear possible for our boat to keep 
 from filling instantly when once in it. Through the 
 wind and sea it had been very hard for me to manage 
 my boat, and I was now getting greatly fatigued; still, 
 when one of my crew said he was completely tired 
 out I told him to take the stern and I took his oar, but, 
 as I might say, it was only for a moment, for steadily 
 going astern we were soon in the ice. I had always 
 had a good opinion of our boat in a sea, but her actions 
 here caused me to admire her with a greater admira- 
 tion than I had ever had for her before. Fortunately, 
 we were driven a short distance in the ice, which 
 cleared us from the worst of the sea. This ice, on the 
 outer edge, was a sponge ice, and I am safe in saying 
 that it was all of 12 feet in depth, and so thick that 
 
150 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 we could but just get an oar down in it. We had, 
 while going out, encountered more or less drifting ice, 
 and this kept constantly coming down upon us now. 
 T said to my crew that we would not yet give up, but 
 would try to keep out on the outer edge of the ice, for 
 it might yet be possible for us to accomplish my object. 
 I had a slight hope of the wind dying out a little at 
 sunset, but it did not; if possible, it blew harder. At 
 one time we got well out, and I had some hopes of get- 
 ting clear, but soon our uttermost endeavors were fruit- 
 less, and we were thrown back in the ice, where, in a 
 very few moments, we were so fastened that we could 
 not even move our boat. It was now getting quite 
 dark, but we could see a tugboat coming towards the 
 scow, and we thought perhaps she would see us. We 
 were now in an Easterly direction, and about one- 
 fourth of a mile from the scow, but the tugboat did 
 not apparently see us, for after rescuing the man who 
 was on the scow it returned to New York. This tug- 
 boat, as I was afterwards informed, was sent for by a 
 Mr. Furgurson, of Gravesend, who, believing that it 
 would be impossible for us to live through the night 
 out where we were, had sent a message to that effect; 
 but the parties on the tugboat, not seeing us where they 
 expected to find us, and seeing the red light on the scow, 
 went to her and made the rescue of the one man, who 
 was the only person on board. It might be supposed 
 that the tug should have made more of a search for us, 
 but I will say in her behalf that it was impossible, as 
 she was then completely covered with ice, and was get- 
 ting well down in the water through the amount of ice 
 accumulating on her decks. While watching the tug 
 taking her departure, I felt a sense of thankfulness to 
 know that, even though we had failed to rescue the 
 man, he had been rescued; and I did not regret my 
 suffering that night when I learned that, if not directly, 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 151 
 
 indirectly we had saved his life. When we fully real- 
 ized what our position was, it was discouraging enough, 
 for, as I might say, everything within and without was 
 solid ice, for no quicker had a drop of water struck in 
 our boat than it was ice, and there had been many 
 drops to come in: but I shall always feel thankful to 
 some of my crew for their lightheartedness and great 
 store of mirth under the most trying circumstances. 
 At the beginning I told my crew that the night would 
 probably be the longest to us that we had ever wit- 
 nessed, but to be of good cheer, and we would see it 
 through. All through the night I held up two ways 
 of escape when morning did make its appearance — one 
 by tugboat, the other by the ice bearing us sufficiently 
 to walk ashore on it. The latter my crew had no faith 
 in. Joseph Brown, one of my crew, took to rowing, or 
 going through the motion; this he kept up cheerfully 
 all night, with such remarks as, "Well, Cappy, don't 
 you think we are getting near the beach?" When morn- 
 ing did come, "Browny" had a small mountain rowed 
 up, through the ice being a little soft. My old friend, 
 James W. Nolan, appeared a little downhearted through 
 the night, but it seemed to be caused wholly by his re- 
 membrance of a good pot of beef soup in our station — 
 "If we only had that soup here! ah! boys?" One of 
 my crew began to find a little fault with our situation, 
 but he had uttered but a few words of discontent when 
 Nolan told him that if he did not like his situation, he 
 (Nolan) was sure that I would give my consent for him 
 to go ashore. Nolan's words were spoken in such a 
 manner as to create great laughter, and there was no 
 more faultfinding. William Arend was another among 
 the most jocular, and he would hardly have given a 
 man time to " freeze" if he had wanted to. Some of us 
 had watches with us, but we dared not venture to 
 loosen our clothing to see the time, so it can be ima- 
 
152 THE U. s". LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 
 
 gined how thankful we were when the moon rose in 
 the East, clear and bright, for we knew then it was 4 
 o'clock (Sunday morning). I now tried the ice, to see 
 whether it could bear me, but I was cautioned against 
 bearing too much weight upon it. I found that it ap- 
 peared solid, but I did not venture out upon it. Day- 
 break soon making its appearance, I got out on the ice, 
 and found that it held my weight and appeared very 
 solid; and after walking out upon it I wanted my crew 
 to make a start with me for the shore, as I knew their 
 limbs were well stiffened, and the longer they remain- 
 ed in the boat the worse it was for them, but they would 
 not venture out yet. Finally, it getting lighter, we 
 started, with our heaving-line (a small rope, with a 
 piece of lead on one end, used for throwing on board a 
 vessel, &c.,) stretched out, and each man having hold 
 of it about 5 yards apart. After I had got my crew 
 arranged in this manner, I gave the first and last man 
 a boathook, and said, should any man break through 
 the ice, for him to hold fast to the line, and for the 
 others to use their best endeavors to haul him out. 
 We had about 1-^ miles to go before reaching Graves- 
 end Beach. We kept up the bay a little, believing the 
 ice to be the harder. All went well until we got near 
 the beach, when one of our men broke through the ice, 
 but he was hauled out so quickly that his body did 
 not get wet, still both of his boots were filled with 
 water. Seeing the ice was poor close under the shore, 
 we went a short distance to the West, where we came 
 to the outer end of a long dock (Cropsey's). This dock 
 being very high, made it difficult for us to get upon it, 
 but by using our boathooks, driving them in the pile 
 so a man could stand upon them, we managed to get 
 one man up, after which we got along better until we 
 came to the last man, friend Nolan, who was rather 
 weighty, and, unable to climb the pile, was obliged to 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 153 
 
 tie the heaving-line around himself, and then we hoist- 
 ed him up bodily. The line being very thin, it cut 
 into poor Nolan's flesh pretty well, and this he soon 
 let us know, but we did not stop hauling until we 
 landed him up with us, safe on the dock. We now 
 started in pursuit of something to eat, which I assure 
 you we were sorely in need of. After walking up the 
 dock and reaching terra firma, we met a man, of whom 
 we inquired for a hotel, restaurant, or any other place 
 where we could get a breakfast. We were directed to 
 the jovial John Bagaw, whom we soon found, and had 
 actively at work. There is a great deal of material in 
 John's make-up, but there was none of it idle while he 
 helped his "better half" to get a breakfast for us; and 
 when it was ready, what a meal it was! Well, I can 
 only compare it to John himself; it portrayed his very 
 nature! Did we relish our breakfast? Well, I should 
 say we did, and I hardly think that John charged 
 enough to get first-cost back from it. After breakfast 
 we returned to our station, and on the next morning 
 (Monday) went back to Gravesend Beach, where we 
 procured a big wood sled and went out on the ice, cut 
 our boat loose and brought her ashore, and then to our 
 station, with the aid of a horse — that is, we used the 
 horse after we got our boat to the upland. About the 
 only injuries my crew sustained were frost bites, which 
 were rather painful for a short time, I myself being 
 the only one to escape. 
 
 In addition to the above statement, I would say: had 
 I been more determined in my action, and done as 
 my judgment taught me, I would, in all probability, 
 have reached the scow and got the man off; but it is 
 very probable that we would have got his clothing wet 
 in doing so, and if such had been the case he would 
 have soon perished. As for ourselves, I feel positive 
 that we would have lain in the ice all night, the same 
 
154 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 
 
 as we did, only that we would have been nearer Coney 
 Island Point, which, by the way, would not have helped 
 our condition any. Taking- all in consideration, I do 
 not regret our undertaking or its results. I would say, 
 the one of my crew who broke through the ice while 
 on our way ashore was Cornelius Ver Plank. He also 
 was one of the 87th New York Regiment boys, and he 
 bore his mishap manfully, as he did many while in the 
 army. The following I still feel grateful to for their 
 kindness in going out on the ice and helping us ashore 
 with our boat: Lewis Potter, George W. Ryder, Nelson 
 Williams and A. W. Aumack; Thomas J. Lord, a young 
 men employed at the Brighton Hotel, also went with 
 us, and he, too, has my sincere thanks. 
 
 In our opinion we had done work enough for the 
 season, but that did not appear to make it so; for, on 
 April 1C, 1886, at about 5:40 o'clock, a. m., my East 
 patrolman reported to me that he thought there was 
 a sloop ashore on the East (Rockaway) Shoals. I 
 jumped up from my cot and looked through our sta- 
 tion glasses, and as I did I saw a sea break against her 
 stern and the spray fly well up in the air. This was 
 enough. I told the patrolman to call up the crew, and 
 I returned to my room and prepared for work, for the 
 wind was E. S. E., fresh, which was against us, with 
 quite a wind sea. As soon as I got my boots, &c, on, 
 I went down stairs and began to see that every thing 
 was in readiness about our boat. My crew soon being 
 ready, we manned our wagon and ran the boat out on 
 the beach. I had already laid out my course. It being 
 high ebb tide, I could launch as quick on the bay side 
 as I could on the surf side, and by launching in the 
 bay I would have the tide with me and smooth water, 
 which was a great advantage, not only in the bay 
 (Sheepshead Bay) but it kept me to the windward, and 
 gave me almost a fair tide the whole of the distance. 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 155 
 
 All soon being ready, we launched and down the bay 
 we went. Just after reaching the point of our beach, 
 distance about 1£ miles, I saw that the three men who 
 were on the sloop were being taken off by the yawl of 
 the Two Brothers, a steamer plying between New York 
 and Barren Island. After being rescued, the three men 
 were placed on board the sloop Thomas Armstrong. 
 These two vessels were on their way in Jamaica Bay. 
 I arrived near the sloop (Lillie) which was on the 
 shoals just after her crew had been placed on board 
 the Armstrong and hailed them. They informed me 
 that they were coming back as soon as they could get 
 a vessel to come back with, and try to save what they 
 could of the cargo, which was seed oysters. I now 
 landed on the West end of Rockaway Beach, and with 
 my crew walked to the " Rockaway Point Station," 
 where a breakfast of hot biscuits and coffee was given 
 us by the Rockaway boys, for which we were thankful, 
 as we did not wait to get breakfast at our own station. 
 Both of our crews now got in the Rockaway boat and 
 came to our boat; after we had got her off, both boats 
 went to the Lillie. The Lillie's crew soon returning 
 with other help and two sloops, we all went to work 
 and transferred the oysters from the Lillie on board 
 the other two sloops, the tide falling so that it left 
 but little water around the Lillie. After transferring 
 the oysters, we got all of the water out of the Lillie, 
 she having been filled, and at 4 o'clock, p. m., the tide 
 having risen sufficient, got her off, and she was taken 
 up Jamaica Bay by her owner, Capt. Henry Schmeelk, 
 of Canarsie. I now returned to my station, reaching 
 there 5:20 o'clock p. m., having performed a hard day's 
 work, with no dinner, but thankful that we had ren- 
 dered all the assistance which was possible for us to 
 do. Fortunately, the sloop Lillie was injured but very 
 little, and we saved the most of her cargo. Among 
 
156 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 my crew again were the three willing and jovial boys, 
 viz., Nolan, Brown and Arend. This was the end of 
 our season's work, and we were all thankful. 
 
 May 1, 1886, the active season being over, my crew 
 took their departure for their respective homes. This 
 left me alone, the order now being that all keepers 
 should remain throughout the whole of the year in 
 their stations, but their families had the privilege of 
 being with them during the inactive season; still, it 
 was only convenient for a part of my family to be with 
 me, and then only at times. This left me alone a great 
 deal. September 1st, 1886, my crew again entered upon 
 active duty, but there were two of my old crew whom 
 I greatly missed, Nolan and Brown, they having got 
 in such employment that they did not wish to leave it. 
 [Copiea I from my Station Journal^ 
 
 Sept. 10, 1886. — At about 6 o'clock, a. m., I launched 
 our surfboat for practice, and when about half a mile 
 off shore I noticed a small steamboat aground on the 
 East Shoals (East side of Rockaway Inlet). I imme- 
 diately headed n\y boat and rowed towards her, but, 
 on reaching the North end of the West Bar, about 2 
 miles from my station, I saw the Rockaway Point Sta- 
 tion crew leaving the steamer, and as they landed at 
 the point of Rockaway Beach and returned to their 
 station, and as no assistance could be rendered the 
 steamer — which was the Franklin Edson — until the 
 next high tide, I returned to my station, and retained 
 my whole crew at the station, and even at sunset I did 
 not let my two patrols go out, as I did not know but 
 what I would need them to go with me to deliver a 
 message from General Shaler, of the Health Depart- 
 ment of the City of New York, to the Rockaway Point 
 crew, or to go to the assistance of the Edson; but near 
 high water she was towed off by a tug that was sent 
 for the purpose. I watched her until she got to the 
 West end of Coney Island Beach, and saw that she was 
 being towed nicely. It was then 7 o'clock, p. m. The 
 Edson had been out with a party of excursionists the 
 day before (the 0th,) to witness the international yacht 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 157 
 
 race, and, the weather turning out very foggy, had, 
 while returning, got aground on the shoals. At 8.30 
 o'clock, p. m., the West patrol of Rockaway Point Station 
 reported her signals of distress (whistles) to his station. 
 The crew immediately got ready and went to her as- 
 sistance. There was a dense fog prevailing at the 
 time, but the crew boarded the steamer, and by making 
 two trips landed her passengers at the point of the 
 beach (Rockaway), 21, I believe, in all. The steamer's 
 crew remained on board all night. When I saw the 
 Rockaway crew leaving the Edson the next morning 
 they had taken provisions to the steamer's crew. The 
 Edson was aground about 200 yards off shore from 
 where the Lillie got on the shoals, the Llllie also get- 
 ting on during a heavy fog. This was about 2- 1 miles 
 from my station. The next day, one of my East pa- 
 trolmen said to me that he believed he had heard the 
 Edson's whistle, but hearing it only once, and that very 
 faint, he had believed that it was a whistle on Rocka- 
 way Beach. 
 
 May 1, 188T. — By order, I forwarded the following 
 for the year ending June 30, 1887: 
 
 Number of surfboat drills 89 
 
 " apparatus drills 43 
 
 signal drills (53 
 
 " resuscitation lessons 0-4 
 
 I might say here that we (my crew) were given credit 
 for standing " No. 1" in our district (3rd) for drills, &c. 
 
 July 10, 1887. — I assisted in carrying up on the 
 beach the remains of an unknown man who had drifted 
 in upon the beach. The Manhattan Beach Police took 
 charge of the body. 
 
 A TERRIBLE SHOWER AND SQUALL. 
 
 July 17, 1887. — At 12.15 o'clock, p. m., I was about 
 150 yards East of my station, when a heavy shower 
 was near, and I noticed a small sloop yacht about one 
 mile off shore, in a Southeast direction from my sta- 
 tion. I saw her crew take in her jib and mainsail, but 
 they could not get her topsail down; and while one of 
 her crew was about halfway up her rigging, trying to 
 
158 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 get it down, the first part of the squall struck her. 
 Feeling quite sure as to her fate, I ran to my station 
 and went upstairs, but the rain and dust were so dense 
 now that I could see hardly 50 yards off shore. After 
 waiting about ten minutes I could dimly see, with my 
 station glasses, an object off in the direction where I 
 had seen the yacht. From the appearance, I felt sure 
 that it was the yacht capsized. Now there I was, with 
 a noble surfboat in my house, but no crew to man her; 
 still, I had already decided upon my course of action. 
 I immediately ran.about a quarter of a mile to the West, 
 where there was a bathing pavilion. I hailed one of 
 the " swimmers," who was out in a small boat, and 
 told him there was a yacht capsized off near the West 
 Shoals, and asked him to come ashore and get me, and 
 if he would, he could go off to her with me, or other- 
 wise I would like for him to let me have a small boat, 
 that I might go off myself. The swimmer looked in 
 the direction that I had named, and said that he could 
 not see any boat off there. I told that 1 knew there 
 was one, and that I did not want to lose any time. At 
 this another swimmer got into the boat with him, and 
 they said they would go off. They asked me to point 
 out the direction for them to row. I did so, and then 
 said that they had better take me with them; but they 
 answered that they would soon row off. In all prob- 
 ability, they knowing each other and not knowing me, 
 they preferred going together, and for three of us to 
 have gone would, in fact, have been too many. The 
 shower and squall, although very severe, passing over 
 quickly, and it becoming very calm, was fortunate for 
 those who were clinging to a very small portion of 
 their boat which remained out of water; and it was 
 well that I got assistance to them as soon as I did, for 
 they could not have " held out " much longer. There 
 was one of them who could not swim any; the other 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 159 
 
 two could swim a little under ordinary circumstances, 
 but clinging to their boat, as they had, with the water 
 constantly flying over them and the cold rain pouring 
 down upon them, they were rescued almost helpless. 
 After they were brought ashore I took them to my 
 station and gave them dry clothing from those placed 
 in my station by the Women's National Relief Asso- 
 ciation. After getting dry clothing on and drinking 
 some hot coffee, which I made for them, they soon 
 began to feel like themselves again. It being flood 
 tide and the wind ceasing to blow, the yacht (Monai- 
 tipee) drifted in the bay, and was picked up and cared 
 for. The three young men remained all night with 
 me, and the next day returned to their homes in Brook- 
 lyn, thankful that their accident had not resulted any 
 worse than it did. 
 
 September 1, 1887 — Entered again upon another ac- 
 tive season. All now went smoothly and fortune ap- 
 peared to smile upon us, until the great "blizzard," — 
 and a blizzard it was — which came upon us on the 12th 
 of March, 1888 (Monday), The weather had been, the 
 day before (11th), as follows, and the surf at our beach 
 as named : 
 
 [Copied from my Log.\ 
 Midnight: Wind S. E., light, weather clear, surf smooth. 
 Sunrise: Wind S. E., light, weather clear, surf smooth. 
 Noon: Wind S. E., fresh, weather cloudy, surf smooth. 
 Sunset: Wind S. E., fresh, weather light rain, surf 
 moderate. 
 
 Wind, Weather, erv., Ylth {Monday) 
 Midnight : Wind N. E., fresh, weather raining, surf 
 
 moderate. 
 Sunrise: Wind N. E. fresh, weather snowing, surf 
 
 moderate. 
 Noon: Wind N. W., gale, weather snowing, surf mod- 
 erate. 
 Sunset: Wind N. W., gale, weather snowing, surf mod- 
 erate. 
 
160 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 Windy Weather, &*c, 13/7/ ( Tuesday). 
 Midnight: Wind N. W., gale, weather snowing, surf 
 
 moderate. 
 Sunrise: Wind N. W., gale, weather cloudy, surf mod- 
 erate. 
 Noon : Wind N. W., fresh, weather cloudy, surf moderate. 
 Sunset: Wind N. W., fresh, weather light snow, surf 
 smooth. 
 At 0:15 o'clock, a. m., Monday (12th), Frank E. Ford, 
 who was on patrol West, from 4 to sunrise, a. m., after, 
 returning from his patrol reported to me that the snow 
 was then deep, and that the storm was very severe; 
 and that he feared that something had happened to 
 William Arend, who was the East patrolman from 4 to 
 sunrise, a. m. I immediately jumped up and was but a 
 few moments in getting dressed and out on the beach 
 with Ford in search of Arend; but we did not go far 
 before we met him, and I could only compare his ap- 
 pearance to the snow men I helped to make when a 
 boy. The snow had that moisture about it that when 
 it once fell upon an object it stayed there. After 
 meeting Arend, we all returned to our station. Al- 
 though I had been out in the storm but a short time, 
 T had been out long enough to see that it was some- 
 thing unusual, and its indications foreshadowed a 
 storm to surpass any that I had ever witnessed, and I 
 looked forward with anxiety to see its extent. All 
 through the day my crew and myself often looked out 
 of our boat room doors, but so dense was the falling 
 snow that we could not see more than ten yards from 
 us. The storm being such it did not appear safe to 
 send a man out on the beach. Still, I feared there 
 might have been some one out in the bay, and seeing 
 how severe the storm was getting, had made their way 
 toward our beach with the hope of reaching our sta- 
 tion. This thought became so prominent in my mind 
 that I proposed to Arend, who I know was always 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 161 
 
 ready for any adventure, that we go out on the beach 
 and see the extefit of the storm. After my proposition 
 we were not long in getting ready. The undertaking 
 was considered not only hazardous, but foolish by my 
 crew, for, said they, "a vessel could not get on our 
 beach if she tried, and there was no danger of us meet- 
 ing any one on the beach." Still, I did not feel satis- 
 fied, sitting in our comfortable quarters, with the 
 thought that there might be some poor unfortunate 
 out on our beach. When Arend and I left the station 
 we went out from the front, but we had not gone more 
 than 15 yards when we found it was impossible to go 
 farther in that direction, and it was very difficult for 
 us to retrace our steps. Still, we did. After getting 
 back to our station we started again, but this time 
 took a course that led over the highest hills. The dis- 
 tance from our station to the surf was about 150 yards, 
 and before reaching the surf we were obliged to rest 
 many times. The snow we found to be the worst to 
 travel through that we had ever seen. We would sink 
 in it at times so deep that we were obliged to lie down 
 and crawl out, and this was not easy to do, either. 
 After reaching the surf we hardly knew whether to 
 venture farther or not, for the whole of our way to 
 the surf had only been accomplished by a thorough 
 knowledge of every hill in our vicinity, for we could 
 not see even ten yards from us. After reaching the 
 surf we went up on the beach a short distance, but 
 found it impossible to walk there; in the edge of the 
 surf was the only place that we could walk, and even 
 there it was none too easy, but we decided to go a short 
 distance to the East ; so, with the Northwest gale at 
 our backs, we started. We were soon reminded, how- 
 ever, that we were like a man walking in total dark- 
 ness. We cor.ld see to keep the edge of the surf, and 
 that was about all we could see. We walked for some 
 
162 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 time before the wind, but how far we went neither of 
 us ever knew; we only knew that we went too far 
 when we came to walk back, for it appeared that we 
 would never reach the bulkhead, at which place, when 
 we did reach it, we turned up on the beach, and then 
 followed a ridge of hills to our station. Even our sta- 
 tion we could not see until we got within about 15 
 yards of it. When we got into our station our eyes 
 were nearly closed by the ice making to our eye-lashes 
 and eyebrows; in fact our faces were completely coated 
 with ice, but not so hard but what it would break and 
 chip off quite easily, but that upon our eyebrows and 
 lashes was like hard icicles, which we were obliged to 
 wait some time before they would thaw off by a hot 
 stove. After a good rest and getting our dinner, Arend 
 and myself again started— this time to the West. Af- 
 ter going about half a mile we returned. We found 
 the snow very deep all over; but in places where it 
 had drifted it was something wonderful. In front of 
 the entrance to the Oriental Hotel it was fully 20 feet 
 in height. At 5 o'clock, p. m., the storm was yet con- 
 tinuing its wild freak, but I wanted, if possible, to 
 make both patrols (East and West), or as much of them 
 as I could, so I took three surfmen with me to the 
 East and sent my No. 1, Abraham S. Mathews, a trust- 
 worthy man, to the West, with orders not to venture 
 too far beyond the Manhattan Hotel. Mathews had 
 two surfmen with him. When I left my station, I and 
 my associates left prepared to remain out all night. 
 There was an unoccupied building at the East end of 
 our beach, about 1£ miles from our station, at which 
 place, if we could not get back, we intended to stay; 
 so I told the one man whom I left in the station not to 
 be worried if we did not return. We found, after get- 
 ting on the beach, that we yet were obliged to walk in 
 the edge of the surf. The storm was yet raging and 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 163 
 
 the wind blowing a gale, but away we started, with the 
 wind almost sending us on a run or down in the surf. 
 
 Ah, what a night along our shore ! 
 Nought to hear but the storm's great roar; 
 Nought to see but the splashing wave, 
 As with the snow it then did rave. 
 
 After having been carried some distance to the East, 
 along our beach, by the fierce gale, we all began to 
 realize that it required determination to accomplish 
 our undertaking, and that it was no mere pleasure trip; 
 and it was very doubtful whether we could all endure 
 the fatigue of returning. But finally our thoughts 
 were turned from our real object and further medita- 
 tions by a wild duck jumping up almost from under 
 our feet; but it being so unexpected, we all stood still, 
 and, after it had got out of our reach, said how easily 
 we might have caught it. After going a few steps 
 farther, another got up, and then another, and so on 
 until we got near the east end of our beach. At the 
 getting up of each one of these birds there was a great 
 " charge" made upon them, but always ended by the 
 most of us tripping and going .head first in the snow, 
 and, if we got our heads out quick enough, in seeing 
 the duck out of our reach. Those who were fortunate 
 enough to keep upon their feet always had many "ifs." 
 "Why, I could have reached him easy enough, only 
 for your tumbling," and like expressions were often 
 heard, which only made the merriment greater. These 
 wild birds had probably been off to sea, but the storm 
 being so severe, they, while returning, became so fa- 
 tigued that they were thankful for any resting place 
 that they could get. On our return we were obliged 
 to stop and turn our backs to the wind many times; 
 still, although we were a long time in doing it, we 
 managed to get back to our station. Our West patrol 
 also got back safe after going the full patrol, aboul 1^ 
 
164 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 miles. Our patrol safes being completely snowed 
 under, the next day, during the afternoon, we dug 
 them out, and then renewed our regular patrols; but 
 it was some few days before we could leave our beach. 
 For three or four days the watchman at the Oriental 
 Hotel was unable to get home, at Sheapshead Bay, but 
 fortunately we had a very good supply of provisions 
 in, so he was well cared for. 
 
 April 10, 1888— The Rockaway Point Station crew 
 brought Superintendent Arthur Dominy over to my 
 station, and while they were returning, and at about 
 2:20 o'clock, p. m., boarded the schooner P. S. Lindsay, 
 of Squan, N. J., which had just got on the West Shoals 
 of Rockaway Inlet. The Rockaway crew, seeing that 
 the wind was rapidly increasing from the Southeast, 
 advised the schooner's crew to leave her, which they 
 did. The wind and sea both increasing with great 
 rapidity, the waves were soon breaking all over the 
 Lindsay, and at G o'clock, p. m., the wind having 
 reached the force of a gale, rolled up huge billows, and 
 sent them with such force against the broadside of the 
 Lindsay that she was soon a total wreck. While watch- 
 ing her, it was a grand sight. The sea, striking her 
 side, would fly almost in a solid body fully half way 
 to her masthead. We could see now how fortunate 
 the crew were in leaving her as early as they did. 
 The Lindsay's tonnage was probably about 150 tons. 
 
 April 14, 1888— At 2:30 o'clock, a. m., Abraham S. 
 Mathews, patrolman, called my attention to, as he be- 
 lieved, a steamer on our West Shoals. Upon looking, 
 I saw, by ranges that I had, that she was just to the 
 West of our shoals. At 5 o'clock, a. m., William Biggs, 
 patrolman, reported to me that he feared there was a 
 vessel on our West Shoals. On looking this time I 
 saw that it was the same vessel that Mathews had 
 called my attention to, and that it was a tugboat with 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 165 
 
 two dumping-scows, and that they were just to the 
 West of our Shoals. Shortly after, I saw the tugboat 
 leave the scows and go towards New York. The wind 
 soon working around to about South, and breezing up 
 pretty fresh, and the flood tide beginning to run 
 strong, caused the two scows to drag their anchor 
 (they having but one anchor for the two scows) along 
 our shoals in towards our beach, but when they got near 
 the North point of our shoals (West Dry Bar), the tug 
 Dean of Barren Island went to them and towed one to 
 Barren Island. The other one now held to her anchor; 
 but the wind finally working around to the Southwest, 
 swung her in upon the shoals. Fortunately there was 
 no great ground (swell) sea or break; still, the wind 
 beginning to blow fresh, made somewhat of a wind 
 sea. When I saw the turn the wind had taken I was 
 about to board the scow, but just as I was thinking of 
 doing so, a gentleman from a towing company of New 
 York City called at my station and requested me, if I 
 could, to take him where he could get a small tug to 
 tow the scow off. I immediately manned and launched 
 our surfboat and took him to Barren Island, where he 
 made arrangements with Arthur McAvoy, captain of 
 the tug Edith Peck, to tow the scow off on the evening 
 high tide, after which I returned to the East end of 
 our beach; but while returning, what a shower over- 
 took us. At first the rain poured down with its might- 
 iest power, and then hail began to fall; a fresh North- 
 west wind was now also blowing, which added greatly 
 to our discomfort, but my crew remained at their 
 oars, with the rain at first, and then the cutting hail, 
 beating down upon their bare hands, without a mur- 
 mur. I asked them whether I had not better board a 
 schooner which we passed by until the shower abated 
 somewhat, but they said no, as they knew I wanted to 
 take advantage of the last of the ebb tide. After 
 
166 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 reaching- the point of our beach, the gentleman (a 
 captain of a tugboat) that I had taken to Barren Island 
 said as I was going off to the scow he would go with 
 me. After boarding the scow I informed the two men 
 who were on board that I expected to board them 
 again on the coming high water with a tug to try and 
 tow them off; but should they need any assistance at 
 any time, to show a signal. I now returned to my 
 station, reaching there at 5:30 oclock, p. m. At 7:30, 
 p. m., I again left my station, with my crew, and tak- 
 ing the tugboat captain with us, went to Barren Island. 
 After waiting some time, Captain McAvoy said as the 
 wind was blowing so hard, and there was quite a sea 
 at the shoals, he would not go and run the risk of 
 losing his own boat in trying to get the scow off. The 
 wind now was Southwest, fresh, and the night was 
 dark, but I returned to my station, although my crew 
 had a hard pull of it, as there was a sharp wind sea, 
 with the head wind. We arrived at our station at 
 about 11 o'clock, p. m. The next morning (Sunday, 
 15th), at about 7:30 o'clock, a. m., in accordance with 
 the arrangements previously made, I again left my 
 station and boarded the scow, and soon had the tug- 
 boat Peck, of Barren Island, and America, of New 
 York, with me. As the tide was high, the Peck ran a 
 hawser for the America, who soon towed the scow off. 
 I now returned to my station, reaching there about 
 9:20 o'clock, a. m. — distance from my station to Barren 
 Island, where we went, about 2} miles, and from my 
 station to where the scow was, on the shoals, about 1-J 
 miles. These dumping-scows are valued at from $4,000 
 to $5,000, and are used for conveying garbage from the 
 City of New York out to sea. They are towed by tug- 
 boats. ' The tugboat captain whom I took to Barren 
 Island and to the scow, appreciated our services so 
 highly that he made my crew and myself a present of 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 1G7 
 
 §"20. This was something not looked for; still, it was 
 very acceptable. 
 
 June 11, 1888 — Received from Mr. Edmund Morris, 
 of Gravesend, a skiff that by my request I had been 
 authorized to have built for the U. S. L. S. S., at my 
 station. I had, from the first of my keepership, asked 
 for a small boat that I could manage alone; but the 
 head authorities could not see the necessity of my 
 having such a boat until the capsizing of the Monai- 
 tipee (July 17, 1887). Messrs. Hopping and Topping, 
 house movers, came to my station for the purpose of 
 moving it about one mile to the East. 
 
 July 4, 1888 — I rescued two men with my U. S. L. 
 S. S. skiff, who were clinging to their capsized boat in 
 Sheepshead Bay, near the inlet. 
 
 July 30, 1888 — During the afternoon, and at high 
 ebb tide, with the wand blowing fresh from the South- 
 ward, I saw a small pleasure yacht get knocked down 
 on her beam-end, across the tide in Johnson's Inlet. 
 She also had the gaff of her sail on one side of her 
 mast and her boom on the other. I at this time was 
 with my son Frankie, aged eight years, in my inactive 
 season skiff (U. S. L. S. S. skiff), at the point of our 
 (Manhattan) beach. Seeing the sad and dangerous 
 predicament they were in, I hastened to their relief. 
 While rowing out against the wind and sea my little 
 boat was pitched and tossed pretty well, and I feared 
 my little son, whom I did not take time to put out on 
 the beach, would become frightened; so I said to him, 
 to sit still, and it w r ould be fine sport for him to be a 
 Life Saving Captain. Although he tried to be pleased 
 with his situation, still I could see him eye each wave 
 and tighten his hold upon the boat as it struck her, 
 and dodge his head as the spray flew over; yet he 
 hardly said a word, but tried to look pleased upon the 
 scene. On arriving at the yacht I asked whether the 
 
1G8 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 
 
 lady — there being - one lady and two gentlemen on 
 board — had not better get in my boat, and as I did, the 
 lady expressed a desire to do so. After getting her in 
 ray boat and seated by my son, which greatly pleased 
 him, I advised the gentlemen how to act, and they soon 
 got their boat headed up in the wind and their sail in 
 its proper place. I now rowed to the point of our beach, 
 where the young lady and my son got out of my boat. 
 As they got out upon the beach, I looked around just 
 in time to see the yacht capsize. I now hastened to 
 their rescue, and after an hour or more hard labor, and 
 getting all of my clothing completely wet through, I 
 got them and their boat to the beach, where the boat 
 was righted, freed of water, and with her party taken 
 up the bay by another yacht. Without my knowledge 
 at the time, they gave my son a dollar bill — that was a 
 fortune to him — they then wanted to pay me for my 
 trouble, but I would not take any pay from them. 
 
 August 11, 1888 — The house movers completed the 
 moving of my station, which was 1 mile and 90 feet 
 East of its old site. On this date, also, the Inspector, 
 who had charge of the moving of my station, and my- 
 self measured the distance from the front sill of my 
 station out directly in front to ordinary high water 
 mark, and found it to be 244 feet. 
 
 August 13, 1888 — At about 5 o'clock, p. m., I saw a 
 yacht with a party of four aged people (three ladies 
 and one gentleman) get aground near Sheepsheads 
 Bay Inlet. I boarded the yacht in my "Inactive Season 
 Skiff," and found the party very anxious to get ashore, 
 out of the stormy and chilly wind which was blowing 
 at the time. Knowing that they would be obliged to 
 remain there until 8 o'clock, or later, if they waited 
 for the yacht to float, I took them in my skiff and 
 rowed them, against a very strong wind and tide, more 
 than a mile distant, to Sheepshead Bay Village. The 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 109 
 
 gentleman insisted upon me taking pay for my labor, 
 but I refused; still, he managed to leave me some pay, 
 saying that I could " lay in a few cigars to smoke at 
 leisure times." After returning, I assisted the captain 
 in getting the yacht off when the tide rose sufficient, 
 which was about 8:30 o'clock, p. m. 
 
 August 17, 1888 — Messrs. Hopping and Topping took 
 their departure, they having completed their contract 
 of moving my station and its appurtenances. 
 
 September 1, 1888 — Entered upon another active sea- 
 son. Again another of my best surfmen staying out, 
 Abraham S. Mathews, he finding employment that paid 
 him as well and suited him better, but the season I 
 am proud of. 
 
 A season crowned with grand success, 
 Surfmen with honors no less. 
 They dared the storms and seas so bold, 
 And saved all — the young and old. 
 
 September 2, 1888 — At about 8 o'clock, p. m., it being 
 very foggy, but calm, I heard a voice off shore calling 
 for assistance. With Arend and Harris, of my crew, 
 I went off to them in my inactive season skiff. I found 
 there were two men in a small sailboat, and through 
 the fog the}- had lost their way, and were being carried 
 out by the tide. We towed them in to the beach, and 
 then around into Sheepshead Bay, where we secured 
 their boat and took the two men to our station, where 
 they remained all night, and went off on their journey 
 rejoicing the next morning. 
 
 September 3, 1888 — At 9 o'clock, a. m., as I was row- 
 ing in my inactive season skiff out of Sheepshead Bay 
 Inlet, I saw a yacht, with a fishing party on board, 
 aground on the inner shoals. I continued out and 
 went to them. After carrying an anchor off, and in 
 other ways trying to get the yacht off, but failed, by 
 request of the party, I took them — four gentlemen — to 
 
170 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 
 
 our beach, from which place they walked to the Man- 
 hattan train and returned home, thankful that they 
 had escaped the tedious task of remaining on board 
 aground the greater part of the day, as it was high ebb 
 tide when their boat got aground. 
 
 September 12, 1888 — Just after sunset, Joseph Harris, 
 of my crew, called my attention to a gentleman on 
 board a small sailboat in Sheepshead Bay, near the 
 inlet. Harris had assisted the gentleman for some 
 distance while returning from day leave. Seeing there 
 was a heavy shower raising in the West, and that the 
 gentleman was not making any headway with his boat 
 against the tide, and, unless assisted, in all probability 
 would remain out all night, and probably meet with 
 some accident, I launched my inactive season skiff, 
 and with Arend, one of my crew, rowed around in the 
 bay, secured the man's boat and brought him to the 
 point of our beach, where we landed and left our boat, 
 as it was now getting quite dark, and we found it very 
 "rough" (a big sea) while rowing around into the bay. 
 After securing our boat we went to our station, from 
 which place the gentleman walked with one of my pa- 
 trolmen to the Manhattan Hotel. As the night soon 
 turned out very bad, the wind blowing hard, with a 
 heavy rain, and continuing so the greater part of 
 the night, the gentleman afterwards expressed again , 
 his sincere thanks for having been spared its severe 
 pangs. 
 
 September 17, 1888 — At about 7:30 o'clock, p.m., the 
 weather being stormy, two men in a small sloop-rigged 
 yacht got aground on the East end of our beach, while 
 coming in the inlet. As the tide was going out, and 
 their boat soon getting hard aground, they threw over 
 their anchor and started to walk to our station; but 
 before reaching the station they were met by my East 
 patrolman, who came back with them. On their ar- 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 171 
 
 riving I saw the two men's clothing- was wet through, 
 and that they themselves were greatly chilled. I im- 
 mediately gave them hot coffee — our remedy for nearly 
 all complaints— and something to eat, and went to 
 work drying their clothing. After they had got to 
 feeling pretty comfortable, they, in company with my 
 West patrolman, went to the Manhattan Hotel. The 
 two men then crossed over to Sheepshead Bay Village. 
 My East patrolman kept a lookout for their boat 
 through the night. The next day they came and got 
 her. 
 
 September 21, 1888 — At 4 o'clock, p. m., I noticed 
 what looked to be a capsized boat at the point of 
 Rockaway Beach, with a sloop-rigged boat by her. 
 Thinking that I might render some assistance, I 
 launched my surfboat and went to her. On my ar- 
 rival I learned that the capsized boat was the yacht 
 Jennie Havemeyer, and that she had capsized outside 
 of the East Shoals, and that her crew of two men had 
 been picked up by Adam Carman, a fisherman of Ca- 
 narsie, and the Havemeyer had been towed in to the 
 point of the beach. I then, with the Rockaway Point 
 crew, helped to get her up out of danger; after which, 
 there being nothing else that I could do. returned to 
 my station, reaching there at 8 o'clock, p. m. Distance 
 from my station to the point of Rockaway Beach, 
 about H miles. 
 
 September 25, 1888 — At 1 o'clock, p. m., I saw a small 
 boat, with two men in her, on the East side of Rocka- 
 way Inlet, and from all appearances they were about 
 to be carried out through the break, which was high. 
 I immediately launched my surfboat and rowed off 
 towards them, but on reaching the West Dry Bar, dis- 
 tance about 1 mile from my station, I saw that they 
 had got back out of danger. After waiting a short 
 
172 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 time at the bar, to make sure that they were safe, I 
 returned to my station. 
 
 September 25, 1888 — At about 5:45 o'clock, a. m., 
 Joseph Harris, patrolman, called my attention to a 
 sloop on the West Shoals of Rockaway Inlet. As she 
 was lying well aground and easy, I allowed my crew 
 to get their breakfast, and then told them to take 
 something to eat and drink with them, as it would 
 very likely be late before we got back. At about 7 
 o'clock, a. m., I boarded the sloop, and found it to be 
 the Mystery, of Canarsie, with no one on board but her 
 owner, who said that he had been, as he believed, on 
 the shoals most of the night. As he had not eaten or 
 drank anything since early the day before, our visit to 
 him with provisions was welcomed. As he had no 
 bedding or anything whereby he could make himself 
 comfortable in the cabin, the night must have been a 
 dreary one to him. After I boarded him some of my 
 crew fixed up an old stove that he had on board, and 
 soon got him hot coffee, which, with some sandwiches 
 which we had taken, he greatly relished. We carried 
 an anchor off, but were obliged to wait until 11:30 
 o'clock, a. m., before we could heave the sloop off, at 
 which time there was a strong Northwest wind, which 
 was against us in getting off; but fortunately there was 
 no great sea. After getting the Mystery off the shoals 
 we found that she had not been seriously injured, but 
 we remained on board, towing our surfboat, until we 
 got to Barren Island, and then I allowed one of my 
 crew to go to Canarsie on board of the Mystery, with 
 her owner; the rest of my crew and myself now re- 
 turned to our station, reaching there at 3 o'clock, p. m. 
 
 October 12, 1888 — At 5 o'clock, a. m., my patrolman 
 reported to me that there was a schooner on our West 
 Shoals. I immediately jumped up out of my bed, and 
 on looking saw that we had a hard piece of work to 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 173 
 
 perform, if it was even possible for us to perform it. 
 I called my crew up and allowed them to get their 
 breakfast, which took but little time, and which I knew 
 would greatly aid them in the performance of their 
 hazardous duty. I now launched my surfboat, and 
 although there was no signal of distress, or person on 
 board to be seen, still I could not see how it had been 
 possible for the crew to have made their escape. After 
 I got off shore about three hundred yards, I saw that it 
 was necessary for me to change my " plans of opera- 
 tion" — for I was being carried too far to leeward — in 
 order that I might know for a certainty what the result 
 would be by continuing. I had urged my crew to use 
 their utmost ability, which they did. On heading my 
 boat back towards our beach, I informed my crew what 
 my intentions now were, and that was to go to Barren 
 Island and get a tugboat to tow me off. After getting 
 back under our beach, and while crossing over to Bar- 
 ren Island, we had comparatively smooth water; yet 
 it was all that my crew could do to row against the 
 East wind, and there was continuously a heavy fall of 
 rain. On reaching Barren Island, I learned that the 
 two tugs which belonged there had both gone to Ca- 
 narsie. The storm was now raging, and it was only 
 at times that I could see the schooner, but I was de- 
 termined to use every effort to get off to her. I now 
 returned to the point of our beach, intending to try 
 and get a boat at Sheepshead Bay to take me off; but 
 just as I landed, I saw the little schooner smack, S. 
 Greenwood, like an angel sent from Heaven, standing 
 in, all reefed down, toward our beach. I now manned 
 our boat again and ran off, having the wind with us, 
 to the Greenwood. On reaching her, I was informed 
 that the crew of the schooner on the shoals was cling- 
 ing in her starboard rigging. I now threw a line to 
 Capt. Greenwood, and asked him to tow me off, which 
 
174 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 he did to within about half a mile of the wreck (Rich- 
 ard Morrell). On leaving - the schooner Greenwood I 
 had the wind against me, but I again appeared to be 
 favored, for the wind lulled a little. I now cautioned 
 my crew against overexertion, saying that when we 
 got in the break would be the time they would need 
 all of their strength. I also told them that on reach- 
 ing the break I would be careful to select the best 
 possible place to enter. On arriving at the edge of the 
 shoals, it is true the scene was exciting*; for in through 
 the " cobble" break, at the distance of about 200 yards, 
 lay the Morrell, with her crew of five men in her star- 
 board main rigging, and with a tremendous high break 
 coming in from the East, which was fast demolishing 
 the forepart of the schooner. Taking the best course 
 that I could see, and feeling sure that if I could get 
 in to the schooner's stern I could lay there long- enough 
 to get her crew, I started, and said to my crew for 
 them to stick to their oars and do the best they could, 
 and that I felt sure we could reach the schooner. This 
 cobble break was a big lumpy sea, heaving in around 
 the shoals from the Southwest, while my course to the 
 schooner was nearly East, and in this way only could 
 I reach the Morrell. I had not gone far, however, 
 before it looked as though we were doomed for fully 
 as bad a fate as those on the schooner, but I gave no 
 thought of turning back. I continued to encourage 
 my crew, who were doing nobly. When we were about 
 half way to the schooner, after entering the break, we 
 met with our worst trouble. I had three seas to watch. 
 There was one which was very large, and I knew that 
 it would strike me heavy; but by heading towards one 
 which was coming in towards my starboard fore- 
 quarter, would cause the former to strike well aft, and 
 glancing, and after passing these two, I felt that I 
 could then turn and meet the one comin»- in from the 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 175 
 
 East. When the one that I looked for to strike the 
 after part of my boat curled up, it looked as though it 
 could not help but bury us, so sharp was it that its top 
 was not more than five feet offshore from us, but 
 loomed up above my head about six feet. I was on my 
 knees on the stern of my boat steering, as to have 
 stood up would have been impossible. AVhen this sea 
 did strike, it struck with such force that it appeared 
 for the moment that our boat was completely broken 
 to pieces; the stern part of our boat was for the in- 
 stant buried, and when the sea passed over it, it was with 
 some surprise that I saw our boat was yet whole. My 
 No. 1 man (Arend) who rowed aft, got the full force 
 of the sea, as I did, but he stuck to his oar like a man, 
 even though he was completely buried. I suppose we 
 took in about three barrels of water of this sea ; but 
 there was no time for a thought but the one. My 
 eyes had hardly freed themselves of water when 
 we met the next sea; still, being heade r1 right, our 
 gallant boat nobly rose and passed over it, yet not 
 without making its top fly well over us. After this 
 sea I squared for the Morrell, and my crew gave way 
 with a will, and after meeting and passing nicely over 
 two or three seas coming in from the East, I told my 
 bow oarsman to take in his oar and get our cable ready 
 for heaving, which he did, and when we got near the 
 schooner's stern threw it to one of the schooner's crew, 
 who had got aft. After our cable had been made fast 
 on the Morrell, I saw that it required considerable 
 skill yet to complete our work successfully. The heavy 
 sea which was heaving in from the E., or E. S. E., would 
 break when it got about midships of the schooner, and 
 coming back with such force that I was obliged to pay 
 out on my cable and drop a short distance astern of 
 the schooner, and then watch my chance to get back 
 to her and get one of her crew. As thev were so stif- 
 
176 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 fened up, at times I would have to drop back several 
 times before even getting one. A great obstacle to 
 my progress was the schooner's yawl, which was bot- 
 tom up, but made fast to the schooner's stern. This 
 kept two of my crew busy with boat-hooks to prevent 
 our boat from getting against her and being stove to 
 pieces. Finally, getting all of the Morrell's crew in 
 my boat, I gave my bow oarsman (Frank E. Ford) the 
 order to stand ready to cut our cable when I said for 
 him to do so. As soon as a favorable opportunity pre- 
 sented itself I gave the order to cut, and with one 
 unerring stroke of our boat-hatchet our cable was 
 severed clear and clean by my bowman (Ford), and 
 we were again to battle the " lumpy water" and ocean 
 swells. We had already got most of the water out of 
 our boat, which altogether amounted to considerable. 
 After our cable had been severed I gave the order to 
 back water — shove back on the oars — and at the same 
 time I kept my boat's bow at .the incoming sea. After 
 getting back a short distance, and at a favorable op- 
 portunity, I gave the order for the starboard oars to 
 give way, and the port oars to back, which turned my 
 boat very quickly. After being turned, I sang out for 
 all to give way with a will, which my crew nobly did. 
 Fortunately, in coming out we encountered but a few 
 bad seas, and were not long in running off before the 
 wind to the Greenwood, who waited for us, and towed 
 ks back to within about £ of a mile of our station, from 
 where we rowed and landed the rescued at our beach, 
 all alive but much exhausted. One of the crew we 
 were obliged to partly carry to our station, the rest 
 managed to walk unaide:!. The schooner Richard 
 Morrell had dragged her anchor during the night, 
 while the wind was blowing almost a gale from the 
 Northeast, from the point of Rockaway Beach across 
 the inlet, and on the West Shoals, South, about 2] miles 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 17? 
 
 RETURNING-. 
 
178 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 from my station. The crew had been obliged to seek 
 the rigging" for safety at about 3:30 o'clock, a. m., and 
 it was about 9 o'clock, a m., before I could rescue them. 
 Apparently they had not given it a thought to hoist a 
 signal of distress (anything hoisted in the rigging to 
 attract attention), and they being aft in the starboard 
 rigging (the schooner heading East), with a portion of 
 their mainsail loose, completely hid them from my 
 view. After getting them to my station, which was at 
 10:30 o'clock, a. m., I soon had dry clothing on them 
 (from those furnished by the W. N. R. A.) and gave 
 them something warm to eat and drink. During the 
 afternoon they had so far recovered that they were 
 able to take a late train from Manhattan Beach to the 
 city. The schooner Morrell, when I boarded her, was 
 all stove in forward, and was soon after a total wreck. 
 The following members of my crew, I think, proved 
 themselves, upon this occasion, to be worthy of men- 
 tion fully as much as any that ever went in a surf- 
 boat: William Arend, Abram K. Tice, Frank E. Ford, 
 Joseph Harris, and William H. Thomas, Jr. 
 
 October 17, 1888— This time a more pleasant trip. 
 At 7 o'clock, a. m., I saw the tugboat W. H. Bentley, of 
 New York, having in tow the. schooner Hattie Dunn, 
 tonnage (net) 213 90-100, get aground on our shoals, 
 Southeast, about one mile from my station. It being 
 high ebb tide, I knew there was no time to be lost if 
 the tug was to be got off and the schooner prevented 
 from getting on. So I immediately called for my crew 
 to man our boat, and it did not take us long in getting 
 off to the tug. I was about to go after another tug to 
 tow the schooner up when the Bentley, which had 
 been freed of all her water, showed signs of working 
 back, and after a little time, but with great exertions, 
 got off the shoals. I now, with my crew, staid with 
 the tug and piloted her to Barren Island, where she 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 179 
 
 was bound with the schooner Dunn. I returned to 
 my station at 10 o'clock, a. m. 
 
 Oct. 28, 1888 (Sunday) — A creditable piece of work, 
 which surely saved two lives from the " deep." During 
 the latter part of the afternoon of this date a heavy 
 squall came out from the N.W. All of my crew being 
 present at our station, we eagerly watched the passing 
 vessels as the squall struck them, and noted the havoc 
 done. One sloop had her mainsail completely torn 
 out of its ropes ; others ran before the wind under 
 bare poles (spars), with their sails whipped to threads; 
 but the one which attracted our attention most was a 
 pleasure yacht, having on board ten or twelve gentle- 
 men. As the first of the squall struck her, the jib was 
 lowered, and she was allowed to come up in the wind, 
 but while doing so she was nearly capsized. Just as 
 she got up in the wind the heaviest of the squall was 
 upon her. This ran the jib up in spite of those who 
 tried to keep it down, and the yacht paid off. Now 
 being under no headway, and the squall so fierce, she 
 was knocked down upon her beam-end so far that her 
 sails were almost in the water. At this we stood with 
 our eyes riveted upon the scene, and hardly drew a 
 breath, our nerves beginning to exercise themselves 
 preparatory to jumping to their rescue, but miracu- 
 lously, although slowly, she again headed to the wind 
 and righted herself. This astonished us all, and each 
 expressed himself as to how impossible it had appeared. 
 After this the yacht's sails were got in and tied up, 
 with the exception of her jib, which was hoisted, and 
 with which she continued her journey up the bay. Our 
 supper now being ready, we were called into our rear 
 room, which was our kitchen and diningroom combined. 
 All in front of our station was now clear; not a single 
 sail or vessel was to be seen; so we supposed that we 
 could rest easy for the remainder of the day. Just as 
 
180 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 we had got seated at our table a heavy gust of wind 
 struck the rear of our house, which fairly made it shake. 
 At this I got up from the table and started for our 
 front door. Some of my crew said to me, as I was 
 going, that I had better stay and eat my supper before 
 it got cold, and that there was nothing to watch in our 
 front; but I had started, so on I went, and as I stepped 
 out of our front door I saw a small sailboat, with two 
 men in her, being driven offshore by the then gale of 
 wind and high sea. But no quicker had I seen them 
 than they saw me and began to wave their hats for as- 
 sistance. I saw there was no time to lose, so I called 
 out for my crew to man our boat. Although my crew 
 could hardly have believed that their services would 
 be required that day — more especially at the time I 
 called out to them — still they knew by my voice that 
 there was "something up," so without a word our boat 
 was manned and soon being driven by the fierce wind 
 to the rescue. The wind and sea were so great, that 
 at times it was almost impossible for me to keep con- 
 trol of my boat, and, just before I got to the two men, 
 she did get somewhat the best of me, but I soon got 
 her under my power again, and told my two bow-oars- 
 men to take in their oars and be ready to assist the 
 two men, but for them not to be too hasty. I then 
 called to the two men in the small boat, and told them 
 to sit still until I came up to them, and that they would 
 have plenty of time to get into my boat. All now ap- 
 peared to work splendidly, and I just lapped the for- 
 ward part of my boat on the windward af terquarter of 
 theirs. My two bow-men now assisted them into our 
 boat. We also saved their guns, &c, which they had 
 with them. By the time that we had saved all, the 
 wind had carried the stem of our boat around so that 
 we were all -clear of theirs, which was now filling 
 rapidly with water. After getting the two men seated, 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 181 
 
 which took but a moment, my crew gave wa3^ with a 
 will. I had not expected that we would be able to get 
 back to our beach, but thought we might reach Barren 
 Island. After getting the two men in our boat, I said 
 to my crew that we would try for our beach. They, 
 not having been subjected to any hard rowing while 
 going out, pulled nobly, and although each wave, as 
 we met it, cast its heavy spray well over us, we slowly 
 but steadily made headway, and finally got back to our 
 beach, where we were greatly applauded by pleasure- 
 seekers who had safely reached the beach before the 
 first squall; they also picked up our boat and fairly 
 carried her up on the beach for us. We all now went 
 to my station, feeling thankful that the two men had 
 been saved from the ocean's grasp. Their boat, soon 
 filling with water, drifted offshore, but was fortunately 
 picked up two days afterwards and brought ashore, 
 damaged but little. On this occasion I had Richard 
 Wanser, who was a substitute for one of my crew, with 
 me. " Dick" was an old seine fisherman, which ac- 
 counted for his great ability in handling an oar. 
 
 November 18, 1888 — Two young men, during a storm, 
 while returning from fishing, and rowing along our 
 beach, about one mile West of my station, getting too 
 near the beach, w r ere picked up by a breaker, and with 
 their boat were thrown unceremoniously upon the 
 shore. One of my crew being near at the time, ran to 
 their rescue, and, with their clothing drenched, which 
 fortunately was their most serious mishap, conducted 
 them to my station; and while their clothing were 
 being dried and they warmed, Harris, of my crew, and 
 myself went to their boat, emptied the water out, 
 launched and rowed her around into Sheepshead Bay, 
 where the two young men took charge of her and re- 
 turned to Sheepshead Bay Village, thankful that they 
 had been so timely and cheerfully aided. 
 
182 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 November 26, 1888 — At 12:15 o'clock, a. m., my patrol- 
 man reported to me that my surfboat, which I was in 
 the habit of leaving out on our beach, was in danger of 
 being driven off the beach and carried out to sea. I 
 being' up at the time, having just changed the dials on 
 the patrol clocks, immediately went out and saw that 
 it was necessary for me to get my boat on the top of a 
 ridge just in front of my station. Calling all of my 
 crew up to help me, I did so. This was one of the 
 many high tides and severe storms that we often had 
 to contend with, our station now being on a beach 
 about 1^ miles in length from the Manhattan bulkhead, 
 and running East and West, and on ordinary high 
 waters about 100 yards wide at the widest parts, on 
 this night, at our station, from the ocean's water to 
 that of the bay in the rear of our station, was not more 
 than 75 feet; and from a short distance to the West of 
 us to to the bulkhead all of the beach was constantly 
 swept over by the ocean's mad and foaming billows. 
 
 December 5, 1888— At about 1 o'clock, p. m., I boarded 
 the schooner Ira W. Hover, of New York, which was 
 S.E. about three-quarters of a mile from my station, 
 but she soon getting hard aground, the sea, which was 
 heaving in, did her but little if any harm. Her crew 
 staid on board of her, and as the tide rose got her off. 
 
 December 6, 1888 — At 10 o'clock, a. m., I saw the 
 schooner Hattie Chevalier get aground E.S.E. about 
 three-quarters of a mile from my station. A few mo- 
 ments later I saw her lose her yawlboat. I then launch- 
 ed my surfboat, and boarded the Chevalier. The wind 
 had been N.E., fresh, but now suddenly came out from 
 the N.W., and blew very hard. On boarding the 
 schooner I found there was quite a wind sea, but she 
 was lying easy. On learning that the crew of the 
 schooner had nothing on board to eat, I took her cap- 
 tain to Barren Island, where he got a supply of provi- 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 183 
 
 sions. After returning to the schooner, seeing that I 
 could do nothing then, I returned to my station (1 
 o'clock, p. m.) At -1 o'clock, p. m., I again boarded the 
 Chevalier, and took her captain and two of her crew 
 to Barren Island, that they might get their yawlboat, 
 as the wind had continued to blow so hard that I could 
 not go to Rockaway Beach, where the yawl had drifted, 
 and get her. On our first trip to the island, arrange- 
 ments were made for a tug to get the yawl and leave 
 her at the island, which she did, but the oars had been 
 lost out of the yawl, and the wind blowing so hard that 
 we could not tow her, we were obliged to return with- 
 out her. At 8 o'clock, p. m., I returned to my station, 
 my crew having had a hard day's labor at their oars. 
 On the next day's high tide the schooner floated off 
 and went to Barren Island. The schooner appeared 
 to have had bad luck. 
 
 December 8, 1888 — At about 8 o'clock, a. m., I boarded 
 the schooner Buckley, which had got aground on one 
 of our shoals, S.E. about three-quarters of a mile from 
 my station, and carried her anchor off for her. I then 
 boarded the schooner Nathaniel Jarvis, South about 
 one mile from my station, which had got on the shoals 
 and soon filled with water, her crew leaving her in 
 their yawlboat and going on board of another schooner 
 near-by. There being nothing now that I could do, I 
 had an understanding with the captain of the Jarvis 
 as to how he could signal me if my services were 
 needed. I now returned to the Buckley. My crew 
 and the schooner's crew, partly unloading her by that 
 day's high water, got her off, which was fortunate for 
 her, although hard work for us. I now returned to my 
 station (1:30, p. m.) Dec. 9, 1888 (Sunday), at 7 o'clock, 
 a. m., the wind having been blowing from the East, 
 and the weather now looking as though we were going 
 to have a bad "East storm," I left my station and 
 
184 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 
 
 boarded the Jarvis, which had been left alone, the 
 other schooner going to New York. On boarding the 
 Jarvis I found no one on board of her, but shortly after 
 her captain came from on board a passing schooner, 
 which he had gone up the bay with, the night before. 
 It had been his intention to try and stay in his yawl, 
 near the Jarvis, but as it was raining now, and the 
 weather looking so bad, and there being quite a sea 
 around the Jarvis, which was washing all over her 
 decks, we, after securing everything that we could on 
 board, took him (the captain) to our station, where he 
 remained until 3 o'clock, p. m., when he left and 
 boarded another schooner, which had been sent to get 
 the Jarvis off or dismantle her. She was finally got 
 off and taken to New York. 
 
 December 31, 1888 — At 11 o'clock, a. m., I saw the 
 schooner G. Downing get aground on one of our 
 shoals, E. S. E., about half a mile from my station. As 
 she soon listed over badly, I feared she would fill with 
 water; so I, with Ford and Thomas of my crew, board- 
 ed her in my inactive season skiff. It was raining 
 hard at the time, and the wind was Southwest, fresh, 
 which made a bad wind sea. On boarding the schoon- 
 er, and looking around, I was of the same opinion as 
 that of her captain — that she would rise with the tide. 
 On takiog my leave, I informed the captain that I 
 would come off to him with my crew at any time, 
 could I be of service to him, and all that he need do 
 was to hoist anything in the rigging. After the tide 
 had risen somewhat, the schooner floated off with, as 
 I believe, very little damage. 
 
 March 2, 1889 — At 1 o'clock, p. m., Ford, of my crew, 
 (he being on day duty) reported to me that there was 
 the remains of an unknown man on our beach, who 
 had drifted in with the tide. I went with my crew 
 and carried the remains up above high water-mark, 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 185 
 
 and then reported the circumstances to the civil au- 
 thorities of the Town of Gravesend, who took charge 
 of the body, which, as 1 was informed, was never iden- 
 tified, although the features, &c, were well preserved. 
 
 March 14, 1889 — Took full charge of this schooner 
 ourselves, and sent her to New York. At 1 o'clock, 
 p. m., I boarded the schooner Annie V. Willis, which 
 was aground Southeast, § of a mile, from my station. 
 On boarding her I was informed that she had lost her 
 heavy anchor, and had nothing but a very small one 
 out. I now, with the schooner's crew and my own, 
 tried to find the heavy one by dredging for it, but could 
 not. The captain then informed me that he intended 
 to stay near where he was until the next morning, 
 after the schooner was got off. This I did not think 
 wise, as there was every indication of a bad storm near 
 at hand. But I said nothing; still, I did some think- 
 ing. Finally we got the schooner, and heaved her up 
 to her anchor, then, in a jolly way, we began to make 
 sail on the schooner. I having told my crew of my in- 
 tentions, in a very short time, without a word being 
 said as to what was to be done, the anchor was heaved 
 up and the schooner paid off on the port tack, and, with 
 a good stiff breeze, down out of the inlet we went, 
 with one of my crew (Ford) at the wheel. After get- 
 ting well out, and where the schooner could soon be 
 "squared " with a good run for New York, my crew 
 and myself jumped in our boat and bid the schooner's 
 crew and captain adieu, who were enthusiastic in their 
 expressions of thanks. The wind working around a 
 little more to the East made a bad storm of it that 
 night, which continued all the next day, the wind 
 blowing a gale; and it was quite evident that had not 
 the Willis — which made a safe run to New York — got 
 away as she did she would have gone to pieces on the 
 
18G THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 shoals, or dragged to sea, where she and her crew 
 would have been lost. 
 
 March 22, 1889 — At 12 o'clock, m., I boarded the 
 sloop Chief; which was on our West Shoals, South, 
 about one mile from my station, loaded with 1,500 
 bushels of seed oysters, which were worth TO cents per 
 bushel. After boarding the Chief I carried off an 
 anchor for her, and then was obliged to wait until 
 % o'clock, p. m., when three small sloops came from 
 Rockaway, on board of which we went to work and 
 placed about 600 bushels of oysters from the Chief. 
 As we were obliged to handle these oysters at a great 
 disadvantage it made our work very laborious. As 
 the afternoon advanced, and while we were yet hard 
 at work, it looked at one time as though we were to 
 have our "hands full." One of the little sloops which 
 we had loaded started up the bay, but after getting 
 about \ of a mile from us encountered a very bad sea, 
 and at times it appeared that she was completely buried 
 beneath it. So sure was I at one time that she was 
 doomed to go to the bottom, and remembering that it 
 was my duty to save life before property, I called for 
 my crew to stand ready to man our boat ; but at this 
 very time there was a large schooner being towed in 
 our main inlet, and she had got aground and was being 
 so knocked about by the big sea that was then sweeping 
 in over our outer shoals that it did not appear possible 
 that she could hold together; and the tug which had 
 been towing her looked as though she would go to the 
 bottom every moment. Such now was the scene that 
 we would have sprung instantly to the rescue of either, 
 only for the other — the two holding us in suspense for a 
 moment. We then watched them both calmly, and saw 
 them slowly work out of their perilous positions and 
 proceed safely on their journey. We now resumed our 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 187 
 
 work on the Chief, thankful that we had not been 
 obliged to leave her. At 5:45 o'clock, p. m., and at 
 about high water, with nearly a gale of wind from the 
 South, blowing in a portion of her sail, which we had 
 hoisted, and with a big sea to aid her, she very slowly 
 worked off the shoals, which was very fortunate, for, 
 had she not been got off as she was, much if not all of 
 her cargo would have been thrown overboard in order 
 to have saved her. A run to our beach, with many 
 ups and downs. On leaving the Chief to return to my 
 station, the tide being high and the wind having in- 
 creased to about a gale, made a big sea — in fact, the 
 biggest, I think, that I ever saw in that locality — but 
 as the wind was blowing directly towards our beach, 
 we were not long in running that mile; but I tell you 
 we found the course rough and tempetuous. On near- 
 ing our beach, and night beginning to set in, I hardly 
 knew how our landing would end, as I could see noth- 
 ing but a foaming break ahead of me; but steering for 
 a part which I thought would be the best, and watch- 
 ing my opportunity, I landed high and dry upon our 
 beach, and then was not long in getting to my station 
 and taking a rest, which we all greatly needed. 
 
 April 13, 1889 — An act of my crew which I shall 
 always feel proud of : The weather being good, at 
 noon I left my station and took the 12:30, p. m., train 
 from Manhattan Beach and visited my family. When 
 I returned, at 6:30, p. m., I found four strangers at my 
 station, and learned the following facts : Nathaniel 
 E. Baldwin, who was out on our beach, about 400 yards 
 East of our station, heard cries for help. On looking 
 around, he saw a capsized boat. He immediately ran 
 towards our station, but had only gone about 100 yards 
 when he saw John R. Skidmore, whose attention he 
 called to the boat. Skidmore instantly ran in the 
 house (station) and gave the alarm. The crew then 
 
188 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 picked up our inactive season skiff and ran with her 
 across the meadows, in the rear of the station, to the 
 Sheepshead Bay channel, where Abraham K. Tice, 
 Joseph Harris and William Biggs jumped in the skiff, 
 and were but a few moments in reaching the parties 
 and rescuing them. Tice, who "pulled" the men in 
 over the stern of our skiff, said he thought our little 
 skiff would be sunk when he got hold of one of the 
 unfortunates, as he weighed 250 pounds. The rescued 
 men gave to me the highest praise of my crew, and 
 said, only for their extraordinary quickness, all would 
 have been lost, as they were so chilled that they were 
 helpless. Their boat was bottom up, and her mast-top 
 resting on the bottom, prevented her from drifting 
 inshore sufficient for the men to save themselves. 
 Two of the four men, I believe, said they could swim 
 a little, but after getting chilled were afraid to make 
 the attempt. The weight of the men had their boat 
 under water, and had they been left five minutes 
 longer in the water, two, if not all of them, would have 
 been lost. After being rescued they were taken to 
 our station, where dry clothing was put on them, and, 
 with other good treatment, they were enabled to re- 
 turn to their homes that night. I will now give the 
 names of all of my crew at this time, and will add that 
 for this, as well as for many other noble deeds of 
 theirs, they deserve great credit ; William Arend, 
 Abram K. Tice, William H. Bush, John R. Skidmore, 
 Joseph Harris, Nathaniel E. Baldwin and William 
 Biggs. 
 
 May 8, 1889 (inactive season) — Seeing a small sloop- 
 rigged yacht (Jennie Horstman) get aground, East, 
 about half a mile from my station, and it being near 
 sunset, and ebb tide, I went to her, and, after a few 
 moments with her owner got her off; after which I 
 remained on board and piloted her up Sheepshead Bay, 
 for which I received sincere thanks. 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 189 
 
 May 25, 1880 — Just after sunset on this date I re- 
 turned from Sheepshead Bay, and felt somewhat fa- 
 tigued, as I had rowed up the bay and back hurriedly, 
 distance both ways about three miles, with a strong 
 tide against me going up (ebb tide), but as I returned 
 I saw a small sailboat, S. S. E., about half a mile from 
 my station. At this time there was no wind, and the 
 two young men, aged 14 and 18 years, respectively, 
 who were in the small boat were trying to paddle 
 ashore with a small piece of board, they having no oars, 
 but the tide running out so strong they were rapidly 
 being carried out to sea. The weather now was look- 
 ing very stormy, and I knew the night would soon set 
 in exceedingly dark, so I went off to their aid. After 
 reaching them, one got in my boat with me and helped 
 to tow their boat in. We had a hard pull, but finally 
 got in the bay. The two boys then proceeded to their 
 landing place, which was but a short distance, and I 
 returned to my station. The night now was very dark, 
 and the rain began to fall, with the wind springing up 
 fresh from the East. As I reached my station and 
 looked offshore, how thankful I felt that I had been 
 able to get them ashore safely. They were inexpe- 
 rienced boatmen and lived in the city (Brooklyn), and 
 had been out taking a sail; while going down the bay 
 and out of the inlet, having the tide with them, they 
 got along nicely, but when they tried to get back 
 against the tide, with hardly any wind, they found 
 cmite a difference in the speed of their boat. 
 
 June 1G, 1889 (Sunday) — At about 1 o'clock, p. m., I 
 saw the steamboat Eliza Hancock get aground, E. S. E., 
 about 9A miles from my station. With my son, Harry 
 C. Ryder, aged 18 years, I boarded her; but her pas- 
 sengers, or most of them, had just been taken off by 
 the tugs Dean and Peck. After taking soundings for 
 the captain, and advising him as to his course after 
 
190 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 
 
 the steamer floated, I returned to my station, having 
 the tide against me both ways, which made a hard row 
 of it. The Hancock floated off at ( J : 1 5 o'clock, p. m. 
 She was carrying parties between New York and 
 Rockaway Beach. 
 
 July 4, 1889 — At about 3:15 o'clock, p. m., I saw a 
 small sailboat, the Lillie, with a lady and a gentleman 
 on board, trying to get in Sheepshead Bay Inlet against 
 the tide, but the tide was running so strong they could 
 make no headway against it, so I went off to them — 
 East, about quarter of a mile from my station — and 
 managed to get their boat to the point of our beach 
 (Manhattan ) . As a heavy shower had just passed over, 
 and the two occupants getting somewhat wet, they 
 wanted to hire me to take them in my boat to the rear 
 of the Oriental Hotel. I told them that I was not to 
 be nired, but would willingly row them up the bay, 
 which I did after securing their boat. Distance to the 
 hotel about 1| miles. 
 
 July 22, 1889 — Seeing a small tugboat, the Eva Par- 
 ker, running too near the beach, and evidently trying 
 to go into Sheepshead Bay Inlet, but did not know the 
 way, I launched my boat, and, with my son, H. C. 
 Ryder, rowed off towards her. The wind at the time 
 was Southwest, fresh, which made quite a sea. The 
 Parker, which had got aground, but had got off again, 
 now came and met me, and Captain Williams asked 
 me to come on board, which I did. After getting on 
 board I was asked whether I could take the Parker in 
 the inlet. It was now about half tide (ebb), and I knew 
 there was none too much water to get in with, but I 
 said I would try; so I ran the tug offshore a short dis- 
 tance, took my ranges, and went in the inlet and all 
 the way up the bay without mishap. 
 
 July 28, 1889— At 12:30 o'clock, p. m., I saw the cat- 
 boat Lillie B, capsized, Southeast, about half a mile 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAYING SERVICE KEEPER. 191 
 
 from my station. I immediately launched my inactive 
 season skiff and went to her; but just before I got to 
 her a passing" yacht picked up her crew of four men. 
 I afterwards, with her captain, got her to the beach, 
 righted her and freed her of water. Her captain, then, 
 through over-exertion, becoming very faint and dizzy, 
 obliged me to take him in my boat to my station, where 
 after about an hour's time, he so far recovered as to 
 be able to go up Sheepshead Bay in a yacht that had 
 come for him. This yacht also towed the Lillie B up 
 the bay. 
 
 August 2, 1889 — In my inactive season skiff I board- 
 ed the yacht Nettie, Southeast, about quarter of a mile 
 from my station, which had got aground with a pleas- 
 ure party on board. After about twenty minutes' hard 
 work we got the yacht off, and she proceeded on her 
 journey up the bay with her party feeling thankful. 
 
 August 5, 1889 — Boarded the scow Mamie Alice, 
 which got aground while being towed in, East, about 
 quarter of a mile, from my station. She was loaded 
 with about 500 tons of half-inch stone. For three days 
 I rendered good assistance to her captain. She was 
 finally got off after being lightened, and was then taken 
 up Sheepshead Bay. 
 
 August 10, 1889 — At about o'clock, p. m., I saw 
 the sloop yacht Ionian get aground, Southeast, about 
 quarter of a mile from my station. As there was quite 
 a sea where the Ionian grounded, I immediately board- 
 ed her in my skiff. After working very hard for about 
 f of an hour we got the yacht off and went in Sheeps- 
 head Bay with her. As her captain, who was also her 
 owner, had been taken sick, and he being alone, he was 
 running in the bay for the night. Under the circum- 
 stances, more especially my services were highly ap- 
 preciated. 
 
 September 15, 1889 — Plenty of hard work, but inter- 
 
193 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 mingled with some pleasantry. At about 7 o'clock, 
 p. m., I saw the schooner M. W. Klots come in our 
 (Rockaway) West inlet. The evening- setting- in very 
 foggy, I lost sight of the schooner at about 8 o'clock, 
 p. m. She was then S. S. E., about 1 mile from my 
 station. At midnight, the fog lifting somewhat, I saw 
 an anchor light (a white light in the fore rigging) in 
 the direction where I had last seen the Klots, but 
 thought nothing of it, as vessels often anchored there. 
 September 10, at 6 o'clock, a. m., Nathaniel E. Baldwin, 
 who was on patrol from 4 o'clock to sunrise, reported 
 to me that he thought the schooner was aground On 
 looking, I, too, felt satisfied that she was; but as there 
 was but little sea, and the tide beginning to rise, I be- 
 lieved she would soon float off. So I went to the Post 
 Office and mailed my weekly report, and on my way 
 back changed the keys in my patrol safes. This I 
 usually did on Mondays, but on my return I could see 
 that the schooner was still aground and listed consid- 
 erably to port. I had, from the first, made all haste 
 possible, but the distance from my station to the Post 
 Office was fully 24- miles, so the walking of 5 miles 
 consumed a little time; still, I was back and launched 
 my surfboat at about 8 o'clock, a. m., and in about 20 
 minutes time was on board the schooner. On arriving 
 I found her captain, George C. Rhoe, and crew of two 
 men beginning to throw her cargo overboard, which 
 was 55 tons of coal, most of which was on deck. I 
 immediately, with my crew, began to help the schoon- 
 er's crew. At 10 o'clock, a. m., the tug Dean came and 
 tried to tow the Klots off — we then having the coal 
 mostly off — but could not. I then returned with my 
 crew to my station. At 2:30 o'clock, p.m., (Sep. 10), 
 I again boarded the Klots, but could not do much until 
 5 o'clock, p. m., when we began pumping with two 
 pumps. The tug Dean coming shortly after, two more 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 193 
 
 pumps, and, I believe, 18 colored men from Barren 
 Island, making 28 men of us altogether. We now went 
 to work with great energy, some pumping and some 
 throwing water out with pails, but the leakage was so 
 great that our progress was slow. Still, after working 
 through, at times, a dense fog, misty rain or almost 
 total darkness, we had, at 9 o'clock, p. m., got the 
 schooner freed of water sufficient to place 45 empty 
 barrels in her hold. As the tide soon began to wash 
 over the schooner decks, it had been thought that 
 these barrels would float the schooner, but as they did 
 not, it was believed that they buoyed sufficient for the 
 Dean to tow her off, so she tried it, but it was soon 
 found that she was unable to move her. We now 
 decided to leave her for the night ; and now came a 
 job for my crew and myself: The Dean was obliged to 
 lay off about 100 -yards from the schooner, and I had 
 to ferry the workmen from the schooner to the tug. 
 This was no easy task as the night was very dark, and 
 there was a big sea. While working we had kept the 
 colored men singing most of the time, w T hich they did 
 willingly, and which greatly amused; but after giving 
 up work they began to realize their situation, which 
 looked to them perilous enough. At first they were 
 afraid to leave the schooner and get in my boat, see- 
 ing how she was jumping in the sea, but as the sea was 
 now washing all over the schooner's deck they were 
 also afraid to stay there. Finally, by making three 
 trips I managed to transfer them all safely; then they 
 were afraid the tug would sink, and wanted me to stay 
 with them, but I assured them that they were safe on 
 the tug, after considerable talking. I had my compass 
 with me, but knowing how the wind was I went by 
 that instead of using my compass. At first, while 
 crossing a bar, we had it very rough, but after that the 
 seas were longer and we soon reached our beach and 
 
194 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 landed safely. It was now 10:20 o'clock, p. m. Sep- 
 tember 17, at 2 o'clock, p, m.,the tug Dean tried to tow 
 the Klots off, but onlv could tow her a short distance. 
 I did not at this time go off, as the wind was blowing 
 almost a gale from the south, and Mr. Rhoe, captain 
 of the Dean, not signalling me, as he was to have done 
 if I was needed. At midnight the Dean tried again to 
 tow the Klots off, but could not. September 18, at 10 
 o'clock, a. m., I boarded the Klots and carried off an 
 anchor, and did other work for Capt. Rhoe, and then 
 returned to my station. At 1:20, p. m., I again boarded 
 the Klots, ran a hawser and otherwise assisted the two 
 tugs, Dean and Peck, which, after trying very hard, 
 failed to tow the schooner off. September 19, at 12:30, 
 p. m., I left my station, and, with a fair (West) wind 
 blowing very hard and a high wind-sea, I soon boarded 
 the Klots, which was now Southeast, about f of a mile 
 from my station, she having been carried a little by 
 the flood tide. We now placed twenty more barrels 
 in the schooner's hold, and at about 3 o'clock, p. m., 
 the Dean tried to tow her, but could only get her a 
 short distance offshore, and was then obliged to leave 
 her, as the ebb tide began to run strong. .The wind 
 continued to blow very hard and the sea kept high, 
 but my crew rowed our surfboat against it, and we 
 landed on our beach at about 4 o'clock, p. m. Septem- 
 ber 20, at 2:30 o'clock, p. m., I boarded the Klots, and 
 at about 3 o'clock, p. m., the Dean towed her off and 
 up to Barren Island. I accompanied her, fearing an 
 accident might occur, but there did not, which we were 
 all thankful for, as the Klots had given us consider- 
 able labor already, The barrels which we had put in 
 the schooner's hold buoyed her equally, and she went 
 up to the island as nicely as could be wished for, with 
 her deck even with the water. After docking the 
 schooner at the island, Capt Henry Rhoe, with his tug 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPKR. 195 
 
 Dean, towed lis in our boat back to within half a mile 
 of our station; we then rowed the rest of the distance, 
 returning- to our station at about 5:30 o'clock, p. m. 
 While returning we had a very hard wind against us, 
 and a high sea to contend with — which was the case 
 generally all through while attending to the Klots — 
 but, through the great perseverance of all, the schooner 
 was saved from being a total wreck. She was, before 
 getting aground and sinking, valued at fully $1,200, 
 and it was thought that her damage would not exceed 
 $600. So, even though we had considerable trouble 
 with her, we always felt proud of our labors when see- 
 ing her sail by. 
 
 September 30, 1889 — Took my departure from the 
 service, having served two years as surfman and little 
 over four years as keeper, and it is with pride and 
 thankfulness that I think of my past services as a life- 
 saver; proud of what I achieved, and thankful that 
 none suffered for the want of aid within my reach. 
 To those who served faithfully under me I shall always 
 cherish the fondest remembrance. While I have not 
 in any way tried to give my statements a flowery cast, 
 I will say that many acts on the part of some of my 
 crews have been indeed gallant, and to all lovers of 
 manliness their names will always be as welcome as is 
 the haven light to the mariner. Although I had no 
 vessel to use the beach apparatus on, still 1 think my 
 statement concerning its use is as clear as though I 
 had given the account from actual service. 
 
 In reference to the service, past and present, I will 
 say that it has gradually improved, not so much as to 
 the appliances placed in the stations, but as to the men 
 employed. I might recite here a story I heard some 
 years ago, and I do not doubt but what many similar 
 incidents occurred: Two men belonging to one sta- 
 tion — we will call them Smith and Brown — went one 
 
19G THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 day with their horse and cart up the beach. While 
 there they partook pretty freely of their " whiskey 
 straight," which was their custom whenever an oppor- 
 tunity afforded. The night being very dark, and the 
 tide high, while they were returning, would probably 
 have made it difficult for them only for their faithful 
 animal; still, at one time Smith was awakened from 
 his quiet thoughts, and began to doubt his (the horse's) 
 knowledge of safety. They were crossing a low part 
 of the beach, and the sea sweeping over with great 
 force was nearly carrying horse, wagon and occupants 
 with it high up in the hills. Smith seeing the seas 
 dash up against the wagon, asked Brown where he 
 was going. Brown was supposed to be driving, but in 
 fact the horse was not driven at all; the reins were 
 slack, and the horse was taking his own road or way, 
 which, fortunately or unfortunately, he had often 
 traveled and knew well. " Where am 1 going? straight 
 for Sandy Hook, by G — ! " replied Brown. Sandy 
 Hook was offshore. " Well, go on, then, if you want 
 to," answered Smith, and at the same time he man- 
 aged to get out of the rear part of the cart, and went 
 back to a dry part of the beach. Brown soon coming 
 to dry land or sand, stopped the horse and called for 
 Smith, who after some trouble succeeded in crossing 
 and getting in the cart again. They now continued 
 their journey without further mishap. On reaching 
 their station they got their horse in the stable and 
 then went in. Whether they were really hungry, or 
 from habit, they sought for something to eat, and soon 
 found the dinner-pot. "Come Brown, the boys had 
 soup for dinner and they have left some for us," said 
 Smith. Plates, &c, were got on the table, and the 
 "soup "dished up. The two now sat clown to their 
 meal and apparently relished it, or a part of it, as their 
 following words will show: " T say, Brown, how do 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 197 
 
 you like the soup? " "Good, Smith, good." "Yes, Brown, 
 the soup is good, but I tell you the beef is as tough as 
 hi— 11." The soup was the dish-water left in the pot, 
 and the beef was the dish-eloth. This story may sound 
 a little "fishy," but it was told to me as a candid fact; 
 and coming from the source it did, I believed it; and 
 I know of fully as ridiculous incidents that happened 
 in my own station during the first part of my service; 
 but I believe now those days are over, and I hope 
 never to return. 
 
 When I was first appointed Keeper I had it under- 
 stood that I would never allow a man to remain in the 
 service if he came into the station drunk; and I will 
 say — which is creditable to those who served under 
 me — that not one of them ever came into our station 
 under the influence of liquor sufficient for me to de- 
 tect it, and I would not be slow in making the detec- 
 tion. It has been said that I was too strict, but I have 
 never been able to see where I was. I always required 
 a reasonable amount of morality and performance of 
 duty, which was never an injury to any one. My Sta- 
 tion Journal still show.? the many patrols I did for the 
 different members of my crews, also the truthfulness 
 of my within statements. I might state here what I 
 believe should be done, and if done would advance the 
 service to a much higher standard in every respect. 
 Keepers should receive $900 per year and surf men at 
 the rate of $800. This would reach and keep a better 
 class of surfmen. In some of our stations, if not the 
 whole crew, one man by all means, should remain with 
 the keeper during the inactive season, and every sta- 
 tion should have a small boat like or similar to the one 
 I had built for my station. Launching and practising 
 with surfboat, drilling with beach apparatus, resusci- 
 tation lesson and Code signals, should not be neglected, 
 especially the surfboat, although all are of great im- 
 
198 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 
 
 portance. Great care should also be taken in regard 
 to patrol duty ; gunning, fishing, &c., should be en- 
 couraged, but governed with care; good discipline 
 should be enforced, and all men treated with the great- 
 est of fairness. By all means, the crew should consist 
 of seven men (surfmen) during the whole of the active 
 season. Whatever asked for by keepers should be 
 carefully considered. Men who serve faithfully for 
 the best part of their years, or are injured in the ser- 
 vice, should be recompensed, also the heirs of those 
 who lose their lives in the performance of duty. Re- 
 compense should be in accordance with disability. I 
 believe those who are conversant with and interested 
 in our Life-Saving Service will acknowledge my views 
 to be right, and if carried into effect would bring about 
 great good, even in many minor things. 
 
 MY PRAYER. 
 
 Oh! Lord, my God on high. 
 
 Do not pass the sailor by, 
 
 But guide his thoughts towards Thee 
 
 While on land or on the sea. 
 
 Be his Captain ever; 
 
 I pray Thee leave him never; 
 
 A noble heart has he, 
 
 Our sailor, the gift of Thee. 
 
 On shore from ocean's deep, 
 From the dens do Thou him keep. 
 For no seas do compare 
 With the dangers lurking there. 
 
 If the sea should be his grave, 
 Do his soul, I pray Thee, save; 
 If on earth his tomb should be, 
 Take his soul, dear Lord, to Thee. 
 
 Our surfmen, Lord, I pray, 
 Care for them in every way. 
 When their duties here are o'er, 
 Take them to Thy peaceful shore. 
 
THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 199 
 
 Our soldiers, too, O Lord, do guide; 
 
 Class them with our nation's pride; 
 
 Let their lives, while here be, 
 
 " Not for self, but all for Thee." Amen. 
 
 My sketches of shoals, &c, in the vicinity of my station 
 were not made with any pretensions to regularity; still 
 they show, in a general way, the difficulties of getting 
 in our inlets, and how dangerous our outer shoals arc 
 to vessels bound for New York which happen, in thick 
 and bad weather, to get a little to the Northward of 
 their course. The most of the Inner Shoals run bare 
 on extra low tides, also a large portion of the West 
 Shoals. A few years ago the North end of the West 
 Shoals was, as I might say, always out of water, but of 
 late any ordinary high water covers it all. At times, 
 during a bad storm, the sea is very high even on the 
 most inner shoals, and no vessel can last long on our 
 outer shoals, even when the sea is breaking far from 
 its highest. From my station to the nearest point 
 of the West Shoals, or " Dry Bar," as the North end 
 was called, was nearly one mile. Where I boarded the 
 schooner Morrell, on the West Shoals, was well out. 
 On these shoals there have been many wrecks, and 
 many sad and, I might say, gallant scenes. 
 
 Rockaway Point L. S. Station lies about 2| miles 
 East of the point of Rockaway Beach. Our stations 
 are so located that there is no dangerous part of our 
 beaches but what they are patroled every night and 
 thick stormy days, and during clear days watched by 
 the day duty man. During extra bad storms two pa- 
 trolmen go together, or they are doubled up, as the 
 term is; and even then no one knows how difficult it is 
 to make the patrols, only those who have had Hie duly 
 to perform. During a dark, stormy night, with snow, 
 rain or hail beating in their faces, and the tide high, 
 causing them to walk on the roughest part of the 
 
200 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 
 
 beach, with nothing to guide them but the splashing 
 sea, as it breaks upon the beach, it is no easy task, and 
 it requires great will and determination to accomplish 
 it. Many a fall has the patrol had over old logs, &c, 
 and even some have had their legs broken; one I heard 
 of had his leg broke, and was obliged to lie all night 
 in the snow. I often think how happy must be the 
 thought to the mariner that our beaches are so well 
 watched, and I will say that they should be well versed 
 in our appliances for saving life. 
 
 I might say here, that only a few years ago a foreign 
 vessel got on one of our beaches, and after considera- 
 ble labor and trouble a life-saving crew managed to 
 shoot a shot, with the line attached, on the vessel's 
 deck. Other shots had been fired, but they all fell 
 short, the vessel being well offshore, and there was a 
 tremendous big break on the beach. As the life-savers 
 saw their shot reach the vessel they felt jubilant, but 
 in a moment, to their astonishment and dismay, they 
 saw one of the vessel's crew pick up the shot and throw 
 it overboard, thereby breaking the connection. The 
 sailor probably thought the shot would explode, and I 
 do not doubt but what he was applauded by his ship- 
 mates for his brave deed. Fortunately, by great per- 
 severance on the part of our life-savers, the vessel's 
 crew were saved. 
 
 A word to the life-savers: Do your duty, boys, and 
 it is my prayer that the Lord will help you. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 RD 1.04 
 
 Erratum. — On page 132, 11th line, for " Mr. Arthur 
 Downing" read "Mr. Arthur Dominy." 
 

 
 ' V V • • <? ^ v. 
 
 . <y c o « « „ <d ^ ^ 
 
 . 
 
 C v , 
 
 o V 
 
 ^■^ r^^'n y^ 
 
 <, 
 
 
 <\ 
 
 
 **^ 
 
 C 
 
 
 "W 
 
~r^ 
 
 +. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ° 
 
 0* 
 
 o V 
 
 i°*7 
 
 
 ^ cr • ^ 
 
 
 A Q * 
 
 D0B8S BROS. I .n * t ; 
 
 "■"*■' " ND,Na 
 
 A > <">. • ^vjllf \Jl '* ■0,-' >>>■ o H-' •\Ls 
 
 ST. AU 
 
 
 A