The Negro in The American Rebellion

“F. G. Shaw, Esq., Clifton, Staten Island, N.Y.

Sir! I have just received your letter, expressing the disapprobation of yourself and family of any effort to recover the body of your son, the late Col. Shaw, of the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts Volunteers, buried in Fort Wagner; and requesting me to forbid the desecration of his grave or disturbance of his remains.

“Had it been possible to obtain the body of Col. Shaw immediately after the battle in which he lost his life, I should have sent it to his friends, in deference to a sentiment which I know to be widely prevalent among the friends of those who fall in battle, although the practice is one to which my own judgment has never yielded assent.

“The views expressed in your letter are so congenial to the feelings of an officer, as to command not only my cordial sympathy, but my respect and admiration. Surely no resting-place for your son could be found more fitting than the scene where his courage and devotion were so conspicuously displayed.

“I beg to avail myself of this opportunity to express my deep sympathy for yourself and family in their great bereavement, and to assure you that on no authority less than your own shall your son’s remains be disturbed.

“Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

“Q. A. GILLMORE,

“Brigadier-General commanding.”

The following address of the Military Governor of South Carolina to the people of color in the Department of the South pays a fit tribute to the memory of the lamented Col. Shaw: —

“Beaufort, S.C., July 27, 1863.

“To the Colored Soldiers and Freedmen in this Department.

“It is fitting that you should pay a last tribute of respect to the memory of the late Col. Robert Gould Shaw, Colonel of the Fifty-fourth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers. He commanded the first regiment of colored soldiers from a free State ever mustered into the United-States service.

“He fell at the head of his regiment, while leading a storming-party against a rebel stronghold. You should cherish in your inmost hearts the memory of one who did not hesitate to sacrifice all the attractions of a high social position, wealth and home, and his own noble life, for the sake of humanity; another martyr to your cause that death has added; still another hope for your race. The truths and principles for which he fought and died still live, and will be vindicated. On the spot where he fell, by the ditch into which his mangled and bleeding body was thrown, on the soil of South Carolina, I trust that you will honor yourselves and his glorious memory by appropriating the first proceeds of your labor as free men toward erecting an enduring monument to the hero, soldier, martyr, Robert Gould Shaw.

“R. SAXTON,

“Brigadier-General and Military Governor.”

We are glad to be able to say, that the noble proposition of Gen. Saxton met with success.

Col. Shaw was singularly fortunate in being surrounded by officers, like himself, young, brave, and enthusiastic. Major Hallowed, the next in command, was wounded while urging forward his men. Adjutant G. W. James, Capts. S. Willard, J. W. M. Appleton, E. L.

Jones, G. Pope, W. H. Simpkins, C. J. Russell, and C. E. Tucker, and Lieuts. O. E. Smith, W. H. Homan, R. H. Jewett, and J. A. Pratt, – were severely wounded. A large proportion of the non-commissioned officers fell in the engagement or were badly wounded. Among these was Sergt. R. J. Simmons, a young man of more than ordinary ability, who had learned the science of war in the British army. The writer enlisted him in the city of New York, and introduced him to Francis George Shaw, Esq., who remarked at the time that Simmons would make “a valuable soldier’.” Col. Shaw, also, had a high opinion of him. He died of his wounds in the enemy’s hospital at Charleston, from bad treatment. The heroic act of Sergt. Carney, to which we have already alluded, called forth the following correspondence, which needs no comments, from the Adjutant-General’s Report of the State of Massachusetts for the year 1865: —

“New York, 596 Broadway, Boom 10,Dec. 13, 1865..

“To Adjutant-General of Massachusetts, Boston.

“Sir, – Will you be pleased to give me the name of some officer of the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts colored regiment, so that I can obtain information concerning the famous assault that regiment made on Fort Wagner? I wish to learn the facts relating to the wounded color-bearer, who, though wounded severely, bore the flag heroically while crawling from the parapet to his retreating or repulsed regiment. It would make a splendid subject for a. statuette.

“Respectfully,

“T. H. BARTLETT,

“Sculptor.”

I immediately forwarded the letter to Col. Hallowell, with a request that he would furnish me with all the facts relating to the incident which he possessed. The following is Col. Hallowell’s reply: —

“Boston, Dec. 18, 1865.

“William Schouler, Adjutant-General.

“Dear Sir, – Your letter of the 15th to my brother, enclosing one from Mr. Bartlett, and requesting me to furnish a statement of facts relating to Sergt. Carney, of the Fifty-fourth Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers, is received. The following statement is, to the best of my knowledge and belief, correct; but you must remember it is made up principally from hearsay, no one person having seen every incident, except the sergeant. During the assault upon Fort Wagner, July 18, 1863, the sergeant carrying the national colors of the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts Volunteers fell; but, before the colors reached the ground, Sergt. Carney, of Company C, grasped them, and bore them to the parapet of the fort; where he received wounds in both legs, in the breast, and in the right arm: he, however, refused to give up his trust. When the regiment retired from the fort, Sergt. Carney, by the aid of his comrades, succeeded in reaching the hospital, still holding on to the flag, where he fell, exhausted and almost lifeless, on the floor, saying, ‘The old flag never touched the ground, boys.’ At the time the above happened, I was not in a condition to verify the truth of the statements made to me; but they come to me from very reliable parties, and from very different people; so, after a close cross-examination of the sergeant (who was known as a truthful man), I have concluded that the statement I have made is substantially correct.

“Sergt. Carney was an African, of, I should think, full blood; of very limited education, but very intelligent; bright face, lips and nose (comparatively) finely cut, head rather round, skin very dark, height about five feet eight inches, not very athletic or muscular; had lived in New Bedford, Mass., for many years. Hoping this will be of service to Mr. Bartlett, I have the honor to be, very respectfully,

“Your obedient servant,

“E. N. HALLOWELL,

“Late Colonel, &c.”

CHAPTER XXVIII – THE SLAVE-MARTYR

The Siege of Washington, N.C. – Big Bob, the Negro Scout. – The Perilous Adventure. – The Fight. – Return. – Night Expedition. – The Fatal Sandbar. – The Enemy’s Shells. – “Somebody’s got to die to get us out of this, and it may as well be me.” – Death of Bob. – Safety of the Boat.

The siege of Washington, N.C., had carried consternation among the planters of the surrounding country, and contrabands were flocking in by hundreds, when, just at day-break one morning, a band of seventeen came to the shore, and hailed the nearest gunboat. The blacks were soon taken on board, when it was ascertained that they had travelled fifty miles the previous night, guided by their leader, a negro whom they called “Big Bob.” This man was without a drop of Anglo-Saxon blood in his veins, if color was a true index. It was also soon known that he was a preacher, or had been, among his fellow-slaves. These men all expressed a desire to be put to work, and, if allowed, to fight for “de ole flag.”

“Big Bob” sported a suit of rebel gray, which his fellow-slaves could not; and the way in which he obtained it was rather amusing. In the region from which they escaped, the blacks were being enrolled in the rebel army; and Bob and his companions were taken, and put under guard, preparatory to their being removed to the nearest military post. Bob, however, resolved that he would not fight for the rebel cause, and induced his comrades to join in the plan of seizing the guard, and bringing him away with them; which they did, Bob claiming the rebel soldier’s clothes, when that individual was dismissed, after a march of thirty miles from their home. Bob made an amusing appearance, being above six feet in height, and dressed in a suit, the legs of the pants of which were five or six inches too short, and the arms of the coat proportionally short.

A few days after the arrival of the contrabands, their services were needed in an important expedition in the interior. These negroes, upon being told what was wanted of them, although knowing that the enterprise would be attended with the greatest danger, and would require the utmost skill, volunteered their services, and, upon being furnished with arms and implements, immediately started upon the expedition. Being landed upon a point some little distance from Washington, they succeeded in penetrating the enemy’s country, arresting three very important rebels, and conveying them to the fleet. In the return march, the rebels complained at their being made to walk so far and so fast; but Bob, the captain of the company, would occasionally be heard urging them along after this style: “March along dar, massa; no straggling to de rear: come, close up dar, close up dar! we’re boss dis time.” On the arrival of the party, the blacks were highly complimented by the commander.

A week had scarcely passed, and the slaves rested, before they were sent upon a more difficult and dangerous expedition; yet these men, with Bob to lead them, were ready for any enterprise, provided they could have arms and ammunition. Once more landed on shore, they started with a determination to accomplish the object for which they had been sent. They had not gone far before they were attacked by a scouting-party from the rebel camp, and four of the whites and one of the blacks were killed: one also of the latter was wounded. However, the rebels were put to flight, and the negroes made good their escape. Still bent on obeying the orders of the commander, they took a somewhat different route, and proceeded on their journey. Having finished their mission, which was the destroying of two very large salt-works, breaking up fifty salt-kettles, a large tannery, and liberating twenty-three slaves, some of whom they armed with guns taken in their fight with the rebels, Bob commenced retracing his steps. The return was not so easily accomplished, for the enemy were well distributed on the line between them and the gunboats. After getting within four miles of the fleet, and near Point Rodman, a fight took place between the colored men and the rebels, which lasted nearly an hour. The blacks numbered less than forty; while the whites were more than one hundred. The negroes were called upon to surrender; but Bob answered, “No, I never surrenders.” And then he cried out, “Come on, boys! ef we’s captud, we’s got to hang; and dat’s a fack.” And nobly did they fight, whipping their assailants, and reaching the gunboats with but the loss of three men killed and ten wounded. Bob and his companions were greatly praised when once more on the fleet.

But Bob’s days were numbered; for the next day a flat full of soldiers, with four blacks, including Bob, attempted to land at Rodman’s Point, but were repulsed by a terrible fire of rebel bullets, all tumbling into the boat, and lying flat to escape being shot. Meanwhile the boat stuck fast on the sand-bar, while the balls were still whizzing over and around the flat. Seeing that something must be done at once, or all would be lost, Big Bob exclaimed, “Somebody’s got to die to get us out of this, and it may as well be me!” He then deliberately got out, and pushed the boat of, and fell into it, pierced by five bullets.

“The surf with ricochetting balls
Was churned and splashed around us:
I heard my comrades’ hurried calls,
“The rebel guns have found us.’

Our vessel shivered! Far beneath
The treacherous sand had caught her.
What man will leap to instant death
To shove her into water?

Strange light shone in our hero’s eye;
His voice was strong and steady:
‘My brothers, one of us must die;
And I, thank God! am ready.’

A shell flew toward us, hissing hate,
Then screaming like a demon:
He calmly faced the awful fate,
Resolved to die a freeman.

He fell, his heart cut through with shot: