Camp Fire and Cotton Field by Thomas W. Knox

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Armed with my permit, I returned to the plantation. Mr. Colburn, in
my absence, had organized our force, lately engaged in cotton-picking,
into suitable parties for gathering corn, of which we had some three
hundred acres standing in the field. In New England I fear that corn
which had remained ungathered until the middle of February, would be
of comparatively little value. In our case it was apparently as sound
as when first ripened.

Corn-gathering in the South differs materially from corn-gathering in
the North. The negroes go through the field breaking the ears from the
stalks without removing the husk. The ears are thrown into heaps at
convenient distances from each other, and in regular rows. A wagon is
driven between these rows, and the corn gathered for the crib. Still
unhusked, it is placed in the crib, to be removed when needed. It is
claimed that the husk thus remaining on the corn, protects it from
various insects, and from the effect of the weather.

Every body of laborers on a plantation is called a "gang." Thus we had
"the picking-gang," "the corn-gang," "the trash-gang," "the hoe-gang,"
"the planting-gang," "the plow-gang," and so on through the list. Each
gang goes to the field in charge of a head negro, known as the driver.
This driver is responsible for the work of his gang, and, under the
old _regime_, was empowered to enforce his orders with the whip, if
necessary. Under our new dispensation the whip was laid aside, and a
milder policy took its place. It was satisfactory with the adults; but
there were occasions when the smaller boys were materially benefited
by applications of hickory shrubs. Solomon's words about sparing the
rod are applicable to children of one race as well as to those of
another. We did not allow our drivers to make any bodily punishment in
the field, and I am happy to say they showed no desire to do so.

As I have before stated, our first organization was the picking-gang.
Then followed the gin-gang and the press-gang. Our gin-gang was
organized on principles of total abstinence, and, therefore, differed
materially from the gin-gangs of Northern cities. Our press-gang,
unlike the press-gangs of New York or Chicago, had nothing to do with
morning publications, and would have failed to comprehend us had we
ordered the preparation of a sensation leader, or a report of the last
great meeting at Union Square. Our press-gang devoted its time and
energies to putting our cotton into bales of the proper size and
neatness.

The corn-gang, the trash-gang, and the plow-gang were successively
organized by Mr. Colburn. Of the first I have spoken. The duties of
the second were to gather the corn-stalks or cotton-stalks, as the
case might be, into proper heaps for burning. As all this debris came
under the generic name of "trash," the appellation of the gang is
readily understood. Our trash-gang did very well, except in a certain
instance, when it allowed the fire from the trash to run across a
field of dead grass, and destroy several hundred feet of fence. In
justice to the negroes, I should admit that the firing of the grass
was in obedience to our orders, and the destruction of the fence
partly due to a strong wind which suddenly sprang up. The trash-gang
is usually composed of the younger children and the older women.
The former gather and pile the stalks which the latter cut up. They
particularly enjoy firing the heaps of dry trash.

It was on Saturday, the 13th of February, that our press-gang
completed its labors. On the afternoon of that day, as we were hauling
our cotton to the landing, the garrison at Waterproof, two miles
distant, suddenly opened with its artillery upon a real or supposed
enemy. A gun-boat joined in the affair, and for half an hour the
cannonade was vigorous. We could see the flashes of the guns and the
dense smoke rising through the trees, but could discover nothing more.
When the firing ceased we were somewhat anxious to know the result.
Very soon a white man, an Irishman, who had been a short time in
the vicinity to purchase cotton, reached our place in a state of
exhaustion. He told a frightful story of the surprise and massacre
of the whole garrison, and was very certain no one but himself had
escaped. He had fortunately concealed himself under a very small
bridge while the fight was going on. He called attention to his
clothes, which were covered with mud, to prove the truth of his
statement.

For a short time the situation had an unpleasant appearance. While
we were deliberating upon the proper measures for safety, one of our
negroes, who was in Waterproof during the firing, came to us with
_his_ story. The fight had been on our side, some guerrillas having
chased one of our scouting parties to a point within range of our
guns. Our men shelled them with artillery, and this was the extent
of the battle. The story of the Irishman, in connection with the true
account of the affair, forcibly reminded me of the famous battle of
Piketon, Kentucky, in the first year of the war.

On the next day (Sunday) I rode to Waterproof, leaving Colburn on the
plantation. Just as I arrived within the lines, I ascertained that an
attack was expected. The most stringent orders had been issued against
allowing any person to pass out. Ten minutes later a scout arrived,
saying that a force of Rebels was advancing to attack the post. The
gun-boat commenced shelling the woods in the rear of Waterproof, and
the artillery on land joined in the work. The Rebels did not get near
enough to make any serious demonstration upon the town. The day passed
with a steady firing from the gun-boat, relieved by an occasional
interval of silence. Toward night the small garrison was re-enforced
by the arrival of a regiment from Natchez. On the following day a
portion of General Ellet's Marine Brigade reached Waterproof, and
removed all possibility of further attack.

In the garrison of Waterproof, at the commencement of this fight,
there was a certain officer who could have sat for the portrait
of Falstaff with very little stuffing, and without great change of
character. Early in the war he belonged to an Eastern regiment, but on
that occasion he had no commission, though this fact was not generally
known. Nearly as large as Hackett's Falstaff, he was as much a gascon
as the hero of the Merry Wives of Windsor. He differed from Falstaff
in possessing a goodly amount of bravery, but this bravery was
accompanied with an entire absence of judgment.

In the early part of the fight, and until he was too drunk to move,
this _preux chevalier_ dashed about Waterproof, mounted on a small
horse, which he urged to the top of his speed. In one hand he
flourished a cane, and in the other a revolver. He usually allowed the
reins to lie on his horse's neck, except when he wished to change his
direction. With his abdomen protruding over the pommel of the saddle,
his stirrups several inches too short, one boot-leg outside his
pantaloons and the other inside, a very large hat pressed nearly to
his eyes, and a face flushed with excitement and whisky, he was a
study John Leech would have prized. Frequent and copious draughts of
the cup which cheers and inebriates placed him _hors de combat_ before
the close of the day.

From the crest of the levee, he could at any time discover several
lines of battle approaching the town. Frequently he informed the
commandant that the Rebels were about to open upon us with a dozen
heavy batteries, which they were planting in position for a long
siege. If the enemy had been in the force that this man claimed, they
could not have numbered less than fifty thousand. When unhorsed for
the last time during the day, he insisted that I should listen to the
story of his exploits.

"I went," said he, "to the colonel, this morning, and told him, sir,
to give me ten men, and I would go out and feel the enemy's position.
He gave me the men, and I went. We found the enemy not less than a
thousand strong, sir, behind Mrs. Miller's gin-house. They were the
advance of the whole Rebel army, sir, and I saw they must be driven
back. We charged, and, after a desperate fight, drove them. They
opposed us, sir, every inch of the way for two miles; but we routed
them. We must have killed at least a hundred of them, sir, and wounded
as many more. They didn't hurt a man of us; but the bullets flew very
thick, sir--very. I myself killed twelve of them with my own hand,
sir. This is the way it was, sir. This revolver, you see, sir, has six
barrels. I emptied it once, sir; I reloaded; I emptied it again, sir.
Two times six are twelve, sir. I killed twelve of them with my own
hand. Let it be recorded.

"On my way back, sir, I set fire to the gin-house, so that it should
no more be a shelter for those infernal Rebels. You yourself, sir, saw
that building in flames, and can testify to the truth of my story."

In this strain the warrior gave the history of his moments of glory.
The portion I have written was true in some points. He found three
men (instead of a thousand), and pursued them a few hundred yards. He
discharged his revolver at very long range, but I could not learn
that his shots were returned. He fired the gin-house "to cover his
retreat," and gained the fortifications without loss. I do not know
his locality at the present time, but presume he remained, up to the
close of the war, where storms of shot and shell continually darkened
the air, and where lines of battle were seen on every side.

The siege being raised, I returned to the plantation. From Waterproof,
during the fight, I could see our buildings with perfect distinctness.
I had much fear that some Rebel scouting party might pay the
plantation a visit while the attack was going on. I found, on my
return, that Colburn had taken the matter very coolly, and prevented
the negroes becoming alarmed. He declared that he considered the
plantation as safe as Waterproof, and would not have exchanged places
with me during the fight. The negroes were perfectly quiet, and
making preparations for plowing. While the fight was in progress, my
associate was consulting with the drivers about the details of work
for the ensuing week, and giving his orders with the utmost _sang
froid_. In consideration of the uncertainty of battles in general, and
the possibility of a visit at any moment from a party of Rebel scouts,
my partner's conduct was worthy of the highest commendation.

Before leaving Waterproof I had arranged for a steamer to call for our
cotton, which was lying on the river bank. Waterproof lay at one side
of the neck of a peninsula, and our plantation was at the other side.
It was two miles across this peninsula, and sixteen miles around it,
so that I could start on horseback, and, by riding very leisurely,
reach the other side, long in advance of a steamboat. The steamer came
in due time. After putting our cotton on board, I bade Mr. Colburn
farewell, and left him to the cares and perplexities of a planter's
life. I was destined for New Orleans, to sell our cotton, and to
purchase many things needed for the prosecution of our enterprise.

On my way down the river, I found that steamboat traveling was not an
entirely safe amusement. The boat that preceded me was fired upon
near Morganzia, and narrowly escaped destruction. A shell indented her
steam-pipe, and passed among the machinery, without doing any damage.
Had the pipe been cut, the steam would have filled every part of the
boat.

I was not disturbed by artillery on the occasion of my journey, but
received a compliment from small-arms. On the morning after leaving
Natchez, I was awakened by a volley of musketry from the river-bank.
One of the bullets penetrated the thin walls of the cabin and entered
my state-room, within two inches of my head. I preserved the missile
as a souvenir of travel.

On the next day the Rebels brought a battery of artillery to the spot.
A steamer received its greeting, but escaped with a single passenger
wounded.

A gentleman who was on this boat had a very narrow escape. He told me
that he was awakened by the first shot, which passed through the upper
works of the steamer. He was occupying the upper berth in a state-room
on the side next the locality of the Rebels. His first impulse was to
spring from his resting-place, and throw himself at full length upon
the floor. He had hardly done so, when a shell entered the state-room,
and traversed the berth in the exact position where my friend had been
lying.

Having narrowly escaped death, he concluded not to run a second risk.
He returned to St. Louis by way of New York. Wishing to visit New
Orleans some time later, he sailed from New York on the _Electric
Spark_, and enjoyed the luxury of a capture by the pirates of the
"Confederate" steamer _Florida_. After that occurrence, he concluded
there was little choice between the ocean and river routes.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

IN THE COTTON MARKET.

New Orleans and its Peculiarities.--Its Loss by the Rebellion.--Cotton
Factors in New Orleans.--Old Things passed away.--The Northern
Barbarians a Race of Shopkeepers.--Pulsations of the Cotton Market.--A
Quarrel with a Lady.--Contending for a Principle.--Inharmony of the
"Regulations."--An Account of Sales.

The first impression that New Orleans gives a stranger is its
unlikeness to Northern cities. It is built on ground that slopes
downward from the Mississippi. As one leaves the river and walks
toward the center of the city, he finds himself descending. New
Orleans is a hundred miles from the mouth of the Mississippi and only
six miles from Lake Pontchartrain, which is an arm of the sea. The
river at the city is ten feet above Lake Pontchartrain, so that New
Orleans is washed by water from the Mississippi and drained into the
lake. The water in the gutters always runs from the river, no matter
what may be its height. The steamers at the foot of Canal Street
appear above the spectator, when he stands a mile or two from the
landing.

There is no earthy elevation of any kind, except of artificial
construction, in the vicinity of New Orleans. The level surface of
the streets renders the transportation of heavy bodies a work of the
utmost ease. The greatest amount of merchandise that can be loaded
upon four wheels rarely requires the efforts of more than two animals.
The street-cars, unlike those of Northern cities, are drawn by a
single mule to each car, and have no conductors. The cemeteries
are above ground, and resemble the pigeon-holes of a post-office,
magnified to a sufficient size for the reception of coffins. There is
not a cellar in the entire city of New Orleans.

Musquitos flourish during the entire winter. In the summer there are
two varieties of these insects. The night-musquito is similar to
the insect which disturbs our slumbers in Northern latitudes. The
day-musquito relieves his comrade at sunrise and remains on duty
till sunset. He has no song, but his bite is none the less severe. He
disappears at the approach of winter, but his tuneful brother remains.
Musquito nettings are a necessity all the year round.

The public walks of New Orleans are justly the pride of the
inhabitants. Canal Street is probably the prettiest street in America.
Along its center is a double row of shade-trees, a promenade, and the
tracks of the street railway. These shade-trees are inclosed so as to
form a series of small parks for the entire length of the street.
On each side of these parks is a carriage-way, as wide as the great
thoroughfare of New York. Canal Street is the fashionable promenade of
New Orleans. In the days of glory, before the Rebellion, it presented
a magnificent appearance.

Among the prettiest of the parks of New Orleans is Jackson Square,
containing a fine equestrian statue of General Jackson. The pedestal
of the statue is emblazoned with the words:

"THE UNION--IT MUST AND SHALL BE PRESERVED."

The French element in New Orleans is apparent on every side. The
auctioneers cry their wares in mingled French and English, and the
negroes and white laborers on the levee converse in a hybrid language.
In the French quarter, every thing is French. The signs on the shops
and the street corners, the conversation of the inhabitants and the
shouts of the boys who play on the sidewalks, are in the vernacular of
_La Belle France_. In Jackson Square, notices to warn visitors not to
disturb the shrubbery, are posted in two languages, the French
being first. On one poster I saw the sentence: "_Ne touche pas a les
fleurs_," followed by the literal translation into English: "Don't
touch to the flowers." I was happy to observe that the caution was
very generally heeded.

Before the war, New Orleans was a city of wonderful wealth. Situated
at the outlet of the great valley, its trade in cotton, sugar, and
other products of the West and South, was immense. Boats, which
had descended from all points along the navigable portion of the
Mississippi, discharged their cargoes upon its levee. Ships of all
nations were at the wharves, receiving the rich freight that the
steamers had brought down. The piles of merchandise that lay along
the levee were unequaled in any other city of the globe. Money was
abundant, and was lavishly scattered in all directions.

With the secession of the Gulf States, the opening of hostilities,
and the blockade of the Mississippi at its mouth and at Cairo, the
prosperity of New Orleans disappeared. The steamers ceased to bring
cotton and sugar to its wharves, and its levee presented a picture
of inactivity. Many of the wealthy found themselves in straitened
circumstances, and many of the poor suffered and died for want of
food. For a whole year, while the Rebel flag floated over the city,
the business of New Orleans was utterly suspended.

With the passage of the forts and the capture of New Orleans by
Admiral Farragut, the Rebel rule was ended. Very slowly the business
of the city revived, but in its revival it fell into the hands of
Northern men, who had accompanied our armies in their advance. The old
merchants found themselves crowded aside by the ubiquitous Yankees.
With the end of the war, the glory of the city will soon return, but
it will not return to its old channels. More than any other city of
the South, New Orleans will be controlled by men of Northern birth
and sentiments. The day of slave-auctions in the rotunda of the St.
Charles has passed away forever.

New Orleans has a class of men peculiar to the South, whose business
it is to sell cotton for the planters. These gentlemen are known
as "factors," and, in former times, were numerous and successful.
Whatever a planter needed, from a quire of paper to a steam-engine,
he ordered his factor to purchase and forward. The factor obeyed the
order and charged the amount to the planter, adding two and a half per
cent, for commission.

If the planter wanted money, he drew upon the factor, and that
individual honored the draft. At the end of the season, it often
occurred that the planter was largely in debt to the factor. But the
cotton crop, when gathered, being consigned to the factor, canceled
this indebtedness, and generally left a balance in the planter's
favor.

The factor charged a good commission for selling the cotton, and
sometimes required interest upon the money he advanced. In the happy
days before the war, the factor's business was highly lucrative. The
advances to the planters, before the maturity of the cotton crop,
often required a heavy capital, but the risk was not great. Nearly
every planter was considerably indebted to his factor before his
cotton went forward. In many cases the proceeds of the entire crop
would but little more than cover the advances which had been made.

In New Orleans nearly all cotton is sold "by sample." Certain men are
licensed to "sample" cotton, for which they charge a specified sum per
bale. A hole is cut in the covering of each bale, and from this hole
a handful of cotton is pulled. Every bale is thus "sampled," without
regard to the size of the lot. The samples are taken to the sales-room
of the commission house, where they are open to the inspection of
buyers. The quality of the cotton is carefully noted, the length of
the fiber or staple, the whiteness of the sample, and its freedom from
dust or fragments of cotton-stalks. Not one bale in twenty is ever
seen by the buyers until after its purchase. Frequently the buyers
transfer their cotton to other parties without once looking upon
it Sometimes cotton is sold at auction instead of being offered at
private sale, but the process of "sampling" is carried out in either
case.

In '63 and '64, New Orleans could boast of more cotton factors than
cotton. The principal business was in the hands of merchants from
the North, who had established themselves in the city soon after its
occupation by the National forces. Nearly all cotton sent to market
was from plantations leased by Northern men, or from purchases made
of planters by Northern speculators. The patronage naturally fell
into the hands of the new possessors of the soil, and left the old
merchants to pine in solitude. The old cotton factors, most of them
Southern men, who could boast of ten or twenty years' experience, saw
their business pass into the hands of men whose arrival in New Orleans
was subsequent to that of General Butler. Nearly all the old factors
were Secessionists, who religiously believed no government could exist
unless founded on raw cotton and slavery. They continually asserted
that none but themselves could sell cotton to advantage, and wondered
why those who had that article to dispose of should employ men
unaccustomed to its sale. They were doomed to find themselves false
prophets. The new and enterprising merchants monopolized the cotton
traffic, and left the slavery-worshiping factors of the olden time to
mourn the loss of their occupation.

At the time I visited New Orleans, cotton was falling. It had been
ninety cents per pound. I could only obtain a small fraction above
seventy cents, and within a week the same quality sold for sixty.
Three months afterward, it readily brought a dollar and a quarter per
pound. The advices from New York were the springs by which the market
in New Orleans was controlled. A good demand in New York made a good
demand in New Orleans, and _vice versa_. The New York market was
governed by the Liverpool market, and that in turn by the demand at
Manchester. Thus the Old World and the New had a common interest in
the production of cotton. While one watched the demand, the other
closely observed the supply.

Some of the factors in New Orleans were fearful lest the attention
paid to cotton-culture in other parts of the world would prove
injurious to the South after the war should be ended. They had
abandoned their early belief that their cotton was king, and dreaded
the crash that was to announce the overthrow of all their hopes.

In their theory that cotton-culture was unprofitable, unless
prosecuted by slave labor, these men could only see a gloomy picture
for years to come. Not so the new occupants of the land. Believing
that slavery was not necessary to the production of sugar and cotton;
believing that the country could show far more prosperity under the
new system of labor than was ever seen under the old; and believing
that commerce would find new and enlarged channels with the return of
peace, they combated the secession heresies of the old residents, and
displayed their faith by their works. New Orleans was throwing off
its old habits and adopting the ideas and manners of Northern
civilization.

Mrs. B., the owner of our plantation, was in New Orleans at the time
of my arrival. As she was to receive half the proceeds of the cotton
we had gathered, I waited upon her to tell the result of our labors.
The sale being made, I exhibited the account of sales to her agent,
and paid him the stipulated amount. So far all was well; but we were
destined to have a difference of opinion upon a subject touching the
rights of the negro.

Early in 1863 the Rebel authorities ordered the destruction of all
cotton liable to fall into the hands of the National forces. The order
was very generally carried out. In its execution, some four hundred
bales belonging to Mrs. B. were burned. The officer who superintended
the destruction, permitted the negroes on the plantation to fill their
beds with cotton, but not to save any in bales. When we were making
our shipment, Mr. Colburn proposed that those negroes who wished to
do so, could sell us their cotton, and fill their beds with moss or
husks. As we paid them a liberal price, they accepted our offer, and
we made up three bales from our purchase. We never imagined that Mrs.
B. would lay any claim to this lot, and did not include it in the
quantity for which we paid her half the proceeds.

After I had made the payment to her factor, I received a note from
the lady in reference to the three bales above mentioned. She said the
cotton in question was entirely her property; but, in consideration
of our careful attention to the matter, she would consent to our
retaining half its value. She admitted that she would have never
thought to bring it to market; but since we had collected and baled
it, she demanded it as her own. I "respectfully declined" to comply
with her request. I believed the negroes had a claim to what was saved
from the burning, and given to them by the Rebel authorities. Mrs.
B. was of the opinion that a slave could own nothing, and therefore
insisted that the cotton belonged to herself.

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