New York Times
21 Dec. 1862
THE WAR IN THE SOUTHWEST.
The Expedition of Gen. Hovey into Mississippi.
From Our Special Correspondent.
MOUTH OF THE COLDWATER, MISSISSIPPI, Wednesday, Dec. 3, 1862.
The
place from which I date this, might, instead of the above, be termed,
"In the deepest mudhole, in the midst of the wildest swamp in the most
uncivilised portion of 'Mississippi"--it has all these characteristics
and many others equally undesirable. The particular point at which this
command is encamped is shown on a map at the spot where the Coldwater
River debouches into the Tallahatchee, some forty miles cast, or nearly
so, from the Mississippi River.
Some
eight days ago Gen. HOVEY received orders to leave Helena with a force
of -- cavalry, infantry and artillery -- with a view of making a
demonstration toward PRICE's left, while Gen. SHERMAN, from Memphis, and
Gen. GRANT, from La Grange, advanced upon his front. This was the
programme, but what has been done by the other two columns, I do not
know, as we are as completely isolated from the world here as if we were
in the centre of the Great Desert -- probably, however, ere this, you
have received the information that GRANT has moved upon PRICE's works
with the success that usually attends that gentleman's efforts.
Embarking
on steamers at Helena one sunny morning, we found ourselves the same
evening 20 miles below, at a point on the Mississippi shore called Delta
-- a point so named from a formation made by the Yazoo and Coldwater
rivers. The desolate bank of the river was soon after aglow with camp
fires, and an hour later a clear moon looked down upon the whole force,
wrapped in blankets and slumber.
At
daylight the next morning a heavy cavalry force pushed forward under
Gen. WASHBURNE, and soon after infantry and artillery and wagons were
creeping along slowly in their rear. As we left, the only residence at
Delta -- an immene flat-boat -- was fired, and from that time until we
reached the Coldwater, the flames that licked up the unpretending
flat-boat, were reflected along every mile of our march. A half mile
from the river we entered a swamp, from which we only emerged at rare
intervals, and in which we are still lingering. After the column was
well under way I rode ahead, and some ten miles from the river came to a
rise of ground upon which was a cotton plantation, owned by a Dr. HULL.
A fine residence, surrounded by negro quarters, stood in a pleasant
grove of trees, while the cleared land ran straight back for a distance
of two miles, by a half mile or so in width. So remote from the world,
it seemed the very birth place of the genius of quietness; although from
the appearance of the place, when I reached it, it seemed as if the
presiding spirit of the place had been ousted by desolation.
A
woolly-head or two peered timidly around the corners of the log
buildings; a large, stolid negress sat upon the door-step of her shanty,
and with her head leaning upon her hands, gazed without interest as I
rode up. The yard in front of the house was strewn with broken
furniture, fragments of clothing, bedding and small piles of cotton.
Inside the house I found no one. [???] feet had thronged each room,
while shattered trunks and bureaus with their contents scattered over
the floor told the objects of the visit. In the parlor were several fine
paintings and crayons, evidently the work of some school girl of more
than ordinary genius; an elegantly finished piano stood at one side of
this room, and upon it lay a book of bound music stamped with the
owner's name. The name upon the music book and that upon the crayons was
the same -- MARY T --.
"Who is MARY T ------?" I inquired of the negress.
"Dat was missus' name 'fore she married Mars' HULL," was the reply.
The
first night we camped at about 10 o'clock, twenty miles from Delta. Our
camping ground was exactly upon the road, with thick, impenetrable
canebrakes filling the gloomy recesses of the cypress swamp on both
sides. Dipping water from the mud-holes just stirred up by the wheels of
the heavy artillery and baggage wagons, we made some coffee, drank it
with the accompaniment of hard crackers, posted a few pickets in front
and rear, and then sought such sleep as the ground, tired nature and
freezing cold weather would admit.
There
is a silence about these swamps that is mournful. It does not seem like
repose, but is rather like the stillness that reigns over a graveyard.
Night here has no voices; day is as tongueless as a vault. No squirrel
chatters from some high limb; no birds rival with each other in song;
even the tall green canes do not break the stillness with a rustle, but
stand as void of motion and sound as the brown cypresses that surround
them.
The
next morning, more coffee and mud for liquids, and more "hard tack" for
solids, and then the column moved on. About noon we struck the bank of
the Coldwater, thirty miles from the Mississippi River, at a point
occupied, or formerly so, as a plantation, by a man named HILL. Here,
exactly upon the bank of the river, is a fine brick residence, and close
by it a wooden vault, surmounted with a cross, in which sleeps the late
owner of the three thousand acres, by which we had been passing for
miles.
I rode in the yard, and accosted a smart-looking, ringletted negro.
"Where's your master?"
"Dar he is," said he, pointing to the wooden vault.
"Where's your mistress?"
"Ain't got none, 'cept Miss MATTIE; Ole Mars' never had any wife."
"Who is Miss MATTIE?"
"Ole Mars' daughter. She's gwine down to her gardeen's, an' dais nobody at home but niggers."
Old
HILL, when a boy, was apprenticed to a tanner, served out his time,
went into business, worked and saved and speculated until he found
himself the owner of a fine residence and plantation, two hundred
negroes, and more gold and silver than he knew what to do with. He was
never married, but had an illegitimate child whom he educated, and who,
at his death, became sole heir to all his wealth. Two weeks ago he fell a
victim to a prevalent Southern complaint -- whisky -- died, and was
gathered to his mother dust.
The
house had been turned inside out. A fine bureau was broken to pieces,
$1,200 which it contained abstracted, and all the private papers of the
late owner scattered over the yard. While there the yard was filled with
soldiers, who amused themselves by pitching the bedding out of the
window, smashing in windows with the butts of their muskets, and driving
their bayonets into the carved panels of a costly canopied bedstead
that occupied the best room of the house.
When
we left there was not a thing that grunted, squeaked or bellowed left
alive on the plantation. Two miles further down I came to a log house
where the "Gardeen" lived, and I dismounted to pay my respects to "Miss
MATTIE." She was chatty, young and tolerably good-looking, took her
losses with a tolerably good grace, gave little alternations of sunshine
and showers as the mood ruled her, and avowed her determination never
to marry anything but a Secessionist.
That
night we encamped here, and since that time have amused ourselves
principally by devising ways and means to get dry as fast as we get wet;
which, considering the fact that it rains heavily twelve hours out of
every fourteen, is an operation of considerable magnitude.
The
cavalry force, under Gen. WASHBURNE, pushed forward, and the second day
after leaving struck the Mississippi Central Railroad at a point five
miles above Grenada. Here they found the enemy in force and fortified,
but before leaving they cut the track in three places, burnt two
bridges, and then fell back upon the railroad leading from Memphis to
Grenada, at a point called Hardee's Station, where they so effectually
disabled the track, that it will require six weeks to repair it. They
then fell back within twelve miles of this place, and yesterday
proceeded to Panola on the same road, where they burnt several hundred
yards of bridging and trestle work, and then fell back in safety to
their former position.
In
all this march -- one unexampled in length for this same time -- they
only had one skirmish with the rebels. This occurred at the crossing of a
tributary of the Tallahatchie called Loch-na-fra-ta-fa, where a small
squad of rebels attempted to dispute their passage. A few shots from a
light howitzer battery sent the chivalry into the canebrakes with a loss
to them of a few prisoners, and without any to us.
Dispatches
-- the first sent -- are about to leave for Helena, and I must close.
Will write more at length of operations as soon as possible.
GALWAY.
