throwing the usual shells at us, and we were dodging them, I remarked to a comrade that "that old well would be a good place to get into." The remark had scarcely been made before a shell dropped into that well as accurately as possible. It was simply one of those remarkable occurrences that happen in real life, but which writers dare not put in fiction.

The picket line on James Island in this vicinity, together with Battery Haskell, was then under the command of Maj. Edward Manigault, an officer of very exceptional ability. During this summer our shortness of rations began, and continued rather to intensify until the end. For one period of about two months it consisted of only one small loaf of baker's bread and a gill of sorghum syrup daily. For that time we had not a particle of either fresh or salt meat. If we had not been where we could obtain plenty of fish, we would have suffered seriously. The quartermaster's department was as badly crippled as the commissary's and most of us could get no new shoes, and several of our men were actually bare-footed in consequence; but it being summer, and on a sandy coast, there was not as much suffering as might have been otherwise. Scurvy, fever, and other ailments were very general and several deaths resulted. The battery was on a strip of land separated from the main land of James Island by a marsh and small creek, over which was a causeway and bridge. This causeway was watched from the Federal gunboats, and every time even one man would go across it he would be saluted with a shell or two. On one occasion I was ordered to drive several sick men to the city in an ambulance, and as we struck the causeway a gunboat sent the customary shells at us. The sick men were nervous, and one of the men called out, "For God's sake, Ford, put down the curtains!"

Toward the fall of 1863, after the evacuation of Morris Island by the Confederate troops, our company was withdrawn, and returned to the old camping ground at Heyward's place near Wappoo Cut.

As it seemed that we would remain here all winter, as we really did, I obtained permission to build a log cabin for myself and my mess. One day, as I was building the chimney, I saw Maj. Edward Manigault and his brother, Gen. Arthur Manigault, who was spending the day with him, walking toward me to inspect the guns parked near by. As they approached I jumped down off the scaffolding and saluted them. They returned the salute, and then the Major said: "We have been admiring your chimney, Mr. Ford. It is as well built as if a mason had done the work." The old man, whenever on the few occasions he spoke to me, strange to say, always addressed me, a private soldier, as "Mr." Ford. I never could account for it, unless it was that he knew all about me and my people. He had been a West Pointer, but had resigned from the U. S. Army a good many years before. Thus he was a strict disciplinarian, and on that account at that time not popular with the men; but I always liked him, and approved of his discipline. Later on, as the service became more exacting, and really active, the men became devoted to him, as they realized his ability as an officer.

On December 23 our company, then having four 24-pounder Parrott guns, started off for John's Island, where an attempt was to be made to capture a small body of Federals that were near Legareville, and also to sink or capture a Federal gunboat that was off that place. Our company was to have been supported by a Virginia regiment. On Christmas day at daylight we opened fire from our masked battery upon the two gunboats, for there were two on hand instead of one, but the infantry remained in the background, and failed to attack the Federals near Legareville as designed, and we had to bear the whole brunt of the fight. It was a sharp affair, and we soon had to get out of it as best we could, with the loss of several men and a half dozen horses.

In this affair I had a very narrow escape, and another man lost his life in my stead. I had been lead driver on gun No. 2, and when we started on this expedition I was transferred to cannoneer's duty, and young Heyward Ancrum given my horses. Well, in the fight a shell from the U. S. S. Marblehead passed entirely through the bodies of both of my horses, and took off Ancrum's leg at the knee. He fell among the struggling, dying horses, but was pulled out, and died soon after. He was certainly killed in my place.

It was about this time that I saw that celebrated torpedo submarine boat, the Hundley, the first submarine boat ever built. As I was standing on the bank of the Stono River, I saw the boat passing along the river, where her builder, H. L. Hundley, had brought her for practice. I watched her as she disappeared around a bend of the river, and little thought of the fearful tragedy that was immediately to ensue. She made an experimental dive, stuck her nose in the mud, and drowned her entire crew. Her career was such an eventful one that I record what I recollect of it.

She was built in Mobile by Hundley, and brought on to Charleston in 1863. She was of iron, about 20 feet long, 4 feet wide, and 5 feet deep—in fact, not far from round, as I have seen it stated; and equipped with two fins, by which she could be raised or lowered in the water. The intention of her builder was that she should dive under an enemy's vessel, with a torpedo in tow, which would be dragged against the vessel, and exploded while the Hundley, or "Fish," as some called her, rose on the other side. She was worked by a hand propeller, and equipped with water tanks, which could be filled or emptied at pleasure, and thus regulate her sinking or rising. The first experiment with her was made in Mobile Bay, and she went down all right with her crew of seven men, but did not come up, and every man died, asphyxiated, as no provision had been made for storing a supply of air.

As soon as she was raised, she was brought to Charleston, and a few days after her acceptance by General Beauregard, Lieutenant Payne, of the Confederate Navy, volunteered with a crew of six men to man her and attack the Federal fleet off Charleston. While he had her at Fort Johnson, on James Island, and was making preparations for the attack, one night as she was lying at the wharf the swell of a passing steamer filled her, and she went to the bottom, carrying with her and drowning the six men. Lieutenant Payne happened to be near an open manhole at the moment, and thus he alone escaped. Notwithstanding the evidently fatal characteristics of this boat, as soon as she was raised another crew of six men volunteered under Payne and took charge of her. But only a week afterwards an exactly similar accident happened while she was alongside the wharf at Fort Sumter, and only Payne and two of his men escaped.

H. L. Hundley, her builder in Mobile, now believed that the crews did not understand how to manage the "Fish," and came on to Charleston to see if he could not show how it should be done. A Lieutenant Dixon, of Alabama, had made several successful experiments with the boat in Mobile Bay, and he also came on, and was put in charge, with a volunteer crew, and made several successful dives in the harbor. But one day, the day on which I saw the boat, Hundley himself took it into Stono River to practice her crew. She went down all right, but did not come up, and when she was searched for, found and raised to the surface, all of her crew were dead, asphyxiated as others had been.

After the boat was brought up to Charleston, several successful experiments were made with her, until she attempted to dive under the Confederate receiving ship Indian Chief, when she got entangled with an anchor chain and went to the bottom, and