accommodate our regiment; but we were informed that our stay aboard would be of brief duration—perhaps only a day or two would elapse before we should land. We accepted the situation, as it all made up the three years of a soldier’s life. A storm set in and

kept the fleet in the harbor for nearly a week; after which we weighed anchor and dropped down to Warsaw Sound, Ga., with the idea of avoiding Fort Pulaski and capturing Savannah by the way of an inlet. A long experiment was made by our gunboats, while the transports with the troops lay in Warsaw Sound. Commodore Tatnall, of the rebel navy, with his “mosquito fleet,” as it was named, made several assaults on our gunboats, but was invariably compelled to withdraw without any advantage gained. Our condition on shipboard was deplorable; so cramped were we for room that when we lay on the decks at night one could not walk among the sleeping forms without stepping on a soldier. For sixteen days we were fed on salt pork and beef, and no vegetables, with hard tack that was full of vermin, and water that had been put in kerosene oil barrels three months before. The water was so thick in one barrel that the writer saw, it could be lifted up on the finger. It was so nauseating and foul that when poured into the sea, the water was discolored by it. We had no water to cleanse our bodies, save what the sea afforded, and salt water without soap is not very good to cleanse with. Dirt and filth prevailed to an alarming extent, and “gray-backs,” as the boys called them, accumulated upon our bodies in a fearful manner. As one Dutchman expressed it, he had lice so big, “shust like wheat.”

None were exempt from these pests, from the Colonel down. So alarming was our condition that the whole brigade was ordered ashore that we might bathe and wash our clothes while the boats were fumigated. Scarcely had we landed ere the whole beach presented a ludicrous appearance—a sight of which a “special artist” might envy—that of a brigade of soldiers stripped to the waist, picking off these vermin. We remained ashore one day and then returned to our old quarters on board the ship, and in a short time were as filthy as ever. Severe sickness in the form of “spotted fever” broke out in the ranks of the Sixth in consequence, and became so aggravating that there was an average of four or five deaths daily. Large strong men were attacked in the morning and before night were dead. It baffled the skill of our surgeons, who worked with untiring zeal to break up this dread malady. Death seemed near at hand; and to pass away by a foul disease contracted by being kept amid such filth was hard to contemplate. All expressed a desire rather to face all the guns of the rebel army than to meet death in this manner.

A religious interest sprang up and prayer meetings were held in the cabins every evening. Many were converted and a large number professed Christ as their only hope. The Division Surgeon came on board and pronounced our condition as a very critical one, and said we must be sent back to Hilton

Head to recruit; so back we went, although we would have preferred to go with the fleet if our quarters had been suitable to stay in. News of our illness reached the Head before we did, and when we landed, there were none to bid us welcome; all the soldiers kept at a safe distance. We pitched our camp on the old parade ground of the Ninth Maine Regiment, but no soldiers ventured near to greet us, as is usual on such occasions. One regiment sent us some coffee, bringing it as far as our camp guard and leaving it for us to take at our pleasure.

Being once more on mother earth, with plenty of exercise and the facilities for keeping clean, the regiment rapidly improved in health, deaths became less frequent, and we felt like ourselves once more. As soon as practicable we were detailed to work on the fortifications, and the pick and shovel were not allowed to rust. The 20th of March again found us under marching orders; this time our destination was Dawfuskie Island. We embarked in the morning and landed at 10 o’clock at night; marched through the woods to the end of the island opposite Fort Pulaski. A drenching rain made our march very wearisome, and we were glad enough to find a chance for rest a short time before daybreak.

Dawfuski Island was a beautiful place. The groves of orange and fig trees were in blossom and their fragrance filled the air. The pomegranate and persimmon

looked fine indeed, and the plantations were beautified with many choice flowers in full bloom. The Sixth made several reconnoissances up New River, toward Savannah, and watched the enemy in that direction. Part of our regiment was selected to occupy Jones Island, which was on the Savannah River, about midway between Fort Pulaski and the city. A few companies of the Forty-eighth New York Regiment had preceded us and were engaged in building a fort to prevent the enemy from reinforcing Pulaski. We built a corduroy road across the island by laying several tiers of logs across each other; and it was with extreme difficulty we could gain a foothold, as the mud was so soft we would slip and go down knee deep into the mud. None but Connecticut Yankees would have thought it possible to fortify themselves in such a place. There was not a tree or shrub on the whole island; nothing but tall rank sea grass. We pitched our tents in the mud; banked them up with mud, and it was mud everywhere. At some of the high tides the entire island was covered with water to the depth of several inches. The writer has a vivid recollection of being awakened one night with the water surging into his ears, and we were all obliged to get up from our bed of sea grass and wait for the tide to recede, with no more sleep that night. The confederacy and its leaders did not receive very flattering compliments from the

Union soldiers about this time, or the writer’s ears deceived him.

We managed, however, by excessive labor, to build a fort of mud, with the assistance of a few bags of sand which we got out of the river when the tide was low. The hot southern sun baked the mud quite hard as we piled it up, and by degrees we managed to get a foundation secure enough to mount nine heavy guns, which we drew across the island by night. The task was very laborious, and many gave way to fevers and other diseases, which made extra duty for those who managed to survive. Day after day we worked in mud and water up to our knees. The gnats and mosquitos were so thick we tied cloths around our heads to get a partial relief from the insects. Our water for cooking and drinking purposes we got from the river; it was brackish and insipid enough, and many sighed for a cooling draught from the old oaken buckets of our northern homes.

CHAPTER IV.

The batteries on Tybee Island being already very strongly entrenched (the mortars out of sight of the fort), everything appeared ready for the battle. The Seventh Connecticut was assigned the duty of serving at the mortar batteries and other troops were on duty at the rifled guns. The work before us seemed no easy task, considering the strength of the enemy. Fort Pulaski’s walls were seven feet thick and mounted one tier of guns in embrasures and on en barbette. It was a huge five-sided fortress and was said to have been built by a Connecticut Yankee. Twenty guns, including 10-inch Columbiads, bore upon our batteries at Tybee, which had a decidedly unpleasant look. Col. Olmstead, the commander of Pulaski, was once more and for the last time invited to surrender; but he sternly refused by saying he was put there to defend the fort and not surrender it. Our batteries opened the ball at 8 o’clock on the morning of the 10th of April by a signal gun from battery Halleck. Simultaneously all the guns and mortars blazed away with such a deafening roar