VIII.
DROWNED OUT AND STARVED OUT.
_May 9, 1862_.--A great misfortune has come upon us all. For several daysevery one has been uneasy about the unusual rise of the Mississippi andabout a rumor that the Federal forces had cut levees above to swamp thecountry. There is a slight levee back of the village, and H. wentyesterday to examine it. It looked strong and we hoped for the best. Aboutdawn this morning a strange gurgle woke me. It had a pleasing, lullingeffect. I could not fully rouse at first, but curiosity conquered at last,and I called H.
"Listen to that running water; what is it?" He sprung up, listened asecond, and shouted: "Max, get up! The water is on us!" They both rushedoff to the lake for the skiff. The levee had not broken. The water wasrunning clean over it and through the garden fence so rapidly that by thetime I dressed and got outside Max was paddling the pirogue they hadbrought in among the pea-vines, gathering all the ripe peas left above thewater. We had enjoyed one mess and he vowed we should have another.
H. was busy nailing a raft together while he had a dry place to stand on.Annie and I, with Reeney, had to secure the chickens, and the back piazzawas given up to them. By the time a hasty breakfast was eaten the waterwas in the kitchen. The stove and everything there had to be put up in thedining-room. Aunt Judy and Reeney had likewise to move into the house,their floor also being covered with water. The raft had to be floated tothe store-house and a platform built, on which everything was elevated. Atevening we looked round and counted the cost. The garden was utterly gone.Last evening we had walked round the strawberry beds that fringed thewhole acre and tasted a few just ripe. The hives were swamped. Many of thechickens were drowned. Sancho had been sent to high ground where he couldget grass. In the village every green thing was swept away. Yet we werebetter off than many others; for this house, being raised, we have escapedthe water indoors. It just laves the edge of the galleries.
_May 26, 1862._--During the past week we have lived somewhat likeVenetians, with a boat at front steps and a raft at the back. Sunday H.and I took skiff to church. The clergyman, who is also tutor at aplanter's across the lake, preached to the few who had arrived in skiffs.We shall not try it again, it is so troublesome getting in and out at thecourt-house steps. The imprisonment is hard to endure. It threatened tomake me really ill, so every evening H. lays a thick wrap in the pirogue,I sit on it and we row off to the ridge of dry land running along thelake-shore and branching off to a strip of woods also out of water. Herewe disembark and march up and down till dusk. A great deal of the wood gotwet and has to be laid out to dry on the galleries, with clothing, andeverything that must be dried. One's own trials are intensified by theworse suffering around that we can do nothing to relieve.
Max has a puppy named after General Price. The gentlemen had both gone uptown yesterday in the skiff when Annie and I heard little Price'sdespairing cries from under the house, and we got on the raft to find andsave him. We wore light morning dresses and slippers, for shoes arebecoming precious. Annie donned a Shaker and I a broad hat. We got theraft pushed out to the center of the grounds opposite the house and couldsee Price clinging to a post; the next move must be to navigate the raftup to the side of the house and reach for Price. It sounds easy; but pokearound with our poles as wildly or as scientifically as we might, the raftwould not budge. The noonday sun was blazing right overhead and the muddywater running all over slippered feet and dainty dresses. How long westaid praying for rescue, yet wincing already at the laugh that would comewith it, I shall never know. It seemed like a day before the welcome boatand the "Ha, ha!" of H. and Max were heard. The confinement tells severelyon all the animal life about us. Half the chickens are dead and the otherhalf sick.
The days drag slowly. We have to depend mainly on books to relieve thetedium, for we have no piano; none of us like cards; we are very poorchess-players, and the chess-set is incomplete. When we gather round theone lamp--we dare not light any more--each one exchanges the gems ofthought or mirthful ideas he finds. Frequently the gnats and themosquitoes are so bad we cannot read at all. This evening, till a strongbreeze blew them away, they were intolerable. Aunt Judy goes about in adignified silence, too full for words, only asking two or three times,"W'at I dun tole you fum de fust?" The food is a trial. This evening thesnaky candles lighted the glass and silver on the supper-table with a palegleam and disclosed a frugal supper indeed--tea without milk (for all thecows are gone), honey, and bread. A faint ray twinkled on the waterswishing against the house and stretching away into the dark woods. Itlooked like civilization and barbarism met together. Just as we sat downto it, some one passing in a boat shouted that Confederates and Federalswere fighting at Vicksburg.
_Monday, June 2, 1862_.--On last Friday morning, just three weeks from theday the water rose, signs of its falling began. Yesterday the groundappeared, and a hard rain coming down at the same time washed off much ofthe unwholesome debris. To-day is fine, and we went out without a boat fora long walk.
_June 13_.--Since the water ran off, we have, of course, been attacked byswamp fever. H. succumbed first, then Annie, Max next, and then I.Luckily, the new Dr. Y. had brought quinine with him, and we took heroicdoses. Such fever never burned in my veins before or sapped strength sorapidly, though probably the want of good food was a factor. The two orthree other professional men have left. Dr. Y. alone remains. The roadsnow being dry enough, H. and Max started on horseback, in differentdirections, to make an exhaustive search for supplies. H. got back thisevening with no supplies.
_June 15, 1862._--Max got back to-day. He started right off again to crossthe lake and interview the planters on that side, for they had notsuffered from overflow.
_June 16._--Max got back this morning. H. and he were in the parlortalking and examining maps together till dinner-time. When that was overthey laid the matter before us. To buy provisions had proved impossible.The planters across the lake had decided to issue rations of corn-meal andpeas to the villagers whose men had all gone to war, but they utterlyrefused to sell anything. "They said to me," said Max, "' We will not seeyour family starve, Mr. K.; but with such numbers of slaves and thevillage poor to feed, we can spare nothing for sale.'" "Well, of course,"said H., "we do not purpose to stay here and live on charity rations. Wemust leave the place at all hazards. We have studied out every route andmade inquiries everywhere we went. We shall have to go down theMississippi in an open boat as far as Fetler's Landing (on the easternbank). There we can cross by land and put the boat into Steele's Bayou,pass thence to the Yazoo River, from there to Chickasaw Bayou, intoMcNutt's Lake, and land near my uncle's in Warren County."
_June 20, 1862._--As soon as our intended departure was announced, wewere besieged by requests for all sorts of things wanted in everyfamily--pins, matches, gunpowder, and ink. One of the last cases H. andMax had before the stay-law stopped legal business was the settlement ofan estate that included a country store. The heirs had paid in chattels ofthe store. These had remained packed in the office. The main contents ofthe cases were hardware; but we found treasure indeed--a keg of powder, acase of matches, a paper of pins, a bottle of ink. Red ink is now made outof poke-berries. Pins are made by capping thorns with sealing-wax, orusing them as nature made them. These were articles money could not getfor us. We would give our friends a few matches to save for the hour oftribulation. The paper of pins we divided evenly, and filled a bank-boxeach with the matches. H. filled a tight tin case apiece with powder forMax and himself and sold the rest, as we could not carry any more on sucha trip. Those who did not hear of this in time offered fabulous pricesafterwards for a single pound. But money has not its old attractions. Ourpreparations were delayed by Aunt Judy falling sick of swamp fever.
_Friday, June 27._--As soon as the cook was up again, we resumedpreparations. We put all the clothing in order and had it nicely done upwith the last of the soap and starch. "I wonder," said Annie, "when Ishall ever have nicely starched clothes after these? They had no starch inNatchez or Vicksburg when I was
there." We are now furbishing up dressessuitable for such rough summer travel. While we sat at work yesterday thequiet of the clear, calm noon was broken by a low, continuous roar likedistant thunder. To-day we are told it was probably cannon at Vicksburg.This is a great distance, I think, to have heard it--over a hundred miles.
H. and Max have bought a large yawl and are busy on the lake bankrepairing it and fitting it with lockers. Aunt Judy's master has beennotified when to send for her; a home for the cat Jeff has been engaged;Price is dead, and Sancho sold. Nearly all the furniture is disposed of,except things valued from association, which will be packed in H.'s officeand left with some one likely to stay through the war. It is hardest toleave the books.
_Tuesday, July 8, 1862._--We start to-morrow. Packing the trunks was aproblem. Annie and I are allowed one large trunk apiece, the gentlemen asmaller one each, and we a light carpet-sack apiece for toilet articles. Iarrived with six trunks and leave with one! We went over everythingcarefully twice, rejecting, trying to shake off the bonds of custom andget down to primitive needs. At last we made a judicious selection.Everything old or worn was left; everything merely ornamental, except goodlace, which was light. Gossamer evening dresses were all left. Icalculated on taking two or three books that would bear the most readingif we were again shut up where none could be had, and so, of course, tookShakspere first. Here I was interrupted to go and pay a farewell visit,and when we returned Max had packed and nailed the cases of books to beleft. Chance thus limited my choice to those that happened to be in myroom--"Paradise Lost," the "Arabian Nights," a volume of Macaulay'sHistory that I was reading, and my prayer-book. To-day the provisions forthe trip were cooked: the last of the flour was made into large loaves ofbread; a ham and several dozen eggs were boiled; the few chickens thathave survived the overflow were fried; the last of the coffee was parchedand ground; and the modicum of the tea was well corked up. Our friendsacross the lake added a jar of butter and two of preserves. H. rode off toX. after dinner to conclude some business there, and I sat down before atable to tie bundles of things to be left. The sunset glowed and faded andthe quiet evening came on calm and starry. I sat by the window tillevening deepened into night, and as the moon rose I still looked areluctant farewell to the lovely lake and the grand woods, till the soundof H.'s horse at the gate broke the spell.