"...the whole damned Yankee navy".

Wednesday, November 6, 1861

There has been so much that has happened since my last entry. I am lucky to still have my hearing. While sitting quietly in the church penning the last lines of this diary, the church bells rang as if the Devil was coming. It was unexpected and liked to scare me into the next world. Within seconds,I think every church bell in Beaufort was ringing. In the midst of this din, I could hear steamboat whistles expelling their energy in unholy sounds. I ran out into the street, forgetting both my diary and the package Miss Barnwell had given to me. In just this short time, a crowd had formed and I had to fight my way back into the chruch to retrieve my posessions.

Everywhere there was great and nervous excitement. The Yankee navy was here.
I could discern few details of this event from frightened crowd. Apparently, I was not the only one who thought they would never come here and I take no comfort in not being the only one wrong.

Several times, I was nearly killed by speeding wagons and horses while trying to make my way back to the docks to board anything that would return me to Fort Beauregard or anywhere else so I might finally have at the Yankees. In my rush to the docks, I encountered many of the named families of Beaufort heading just as fast the other way. The Barnwells, Johnsons, Morcocks, Draytons, Haywards, Rhetts, Fripps and others all were fleeing away as I was fleeing to.

The General Clinch was at the docks, it's whistle blaring loudly. With so much steam going up the whistle, I wondered if there would be enough to propell us across the water. Indeed there was. The boat plowed through the water furiously, without care or consideration for freight or passengers. The boiler and paddle mechanism made so much noise that I feared we would blow up. The captain had posession of some newspapers that were not too old, including a few from the north. I read them, looking up every so often, expecting to see the whole damned Yankee navy around every shoal and inlet.

Fremont, the, "Pathfinder", is out, replaced by Hunter in Missouri. Apparently, Lincoln did not approve of Fremont's freeing of the slaves there. Scott is out as general-in-chief and that fellow MacClellan is in. Scott was our other victorious general in Mexico along with my own general, Taylor, who went on to beciome President. I do not recall seeing Scott, although given his nickname of, "Old Fuss and Feathers", had I seen him, I do not think I would have forgotton him. Jackson is our new commander in the Shenandoah. I think I recall reading about him being at Manassas.

As I left the Beaufort docks for the second time, I thought about an earlier time when a captured enemy ship was docked there. In May, the Lady Davis, which had been part of the South Carolina state navy but was purchased by the Confederacy, captured the Yankee ship A.B. Thompson as it left Savannah. The Thompson, now a prize, was brought to Beaufort where a prize court debated her fate. Now, it is November and will it be my fate never to see home again? 

We did see them. It was a mighty host of warships and transports, lying outside the range of our guns. Soon enough we will sink the lot. We have already had our first exchange of shot and shell. On Monday, some of their ships ventured a little too close for comfort for Tatnall, the commander of four little vessels called the, "Mosquito Fleet". Gallantly, he attacked a much superior force and drove them away. Yesterday, Tuesday, the Yankees tried it again but with a larger force. Tatnall fooled them by going up an inlet where the Yankees could not go and saved his mosquitos for future stinging of the Yankees.

I might as well be an artilleryman or a mole. We turn so much earth at Fort Beauregard that I feel like that small mammal but it is all for the good as we strengthen our defenses. When not burrowing into the earth, many of us train as artillerymen with the Beaufort Volunteer Artillery militia as reinforcements should the need arise. I know some of the big guns already. There are about nineteen guns at this fort. Some face the sea and others face away should the Yankees make a landing behind us. Our largest gun is a Columbiad of ten inch caliber. There are others that fire solid shot of twenty-four, thirty-two and forty-two pound size. One of the thirty-two pounders is to fire hot shot and set the wooden ships on fire. We keep the hot shot furnance going and it is very comfortable now that it has turned cold. We even have a nine-inch Dahlgren gun, named after the Yankee naval officer who invented it.

I can only assume that the same efforts are being expended at Fort Walker at Hilton Head. From here, we can see a great deal of activity. Several companies of the regiment are there.

The ranks of the Beaufort Artillery are represented by many of the powerful planter families in Beaufort District. The Barnwells are here. A corporal and a sergeant Barnwell have been instructing us infantrymen in the finer points of gunnery. An Elliott commands the battery. The Fullers are represented by a sergeant-major, a sergeant, and two lieutenants. I wonder what they would say if I mentioned what I had seen in Beaufort on that day? I will say nothing. I am just a private.

Finally, I got the chance to open the package that Miss Barnwell gave me. I am blessed with a new frock coat, a kepi, a cotton scarf and a pair of drawers. The drawers must have been why Miss Barnwell insinuated  that I should not open the package in the house.

Now, I look like a soldier. I have my uniform. I have my musket and ammunition. Let them come.