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<h2> Chapter 8. The Baby of the Regiment </h2>
<p>We were in our winter camp on Port Royal Island. It was a lovely November
morning, soft and spring-like; the mocking-birds were singing, and the
cotton-fields still white with fleecy pods. Morning drill was over, the
men were cleaning their guns and singing very happily; the officers were
in their tents, reading still more happily their letters just arrived from
home. Suddenly I heard a knock at my tent-door, and the latch clicked. It
was the only latch in camp, and I was very proud of it, and the officers
always clicked it as loudly as possible, in order to gratify my feelings.
The door opened, and the Quartermaster thrust in the most beaming face I
ever saw.</p>
<p>"Colonel," said he, "there are great news for the regiment. My wife and
baby are coming by the next steamer!"</p>
<p>"Baby!" said I, in amazement. "Q. M., you are beside yourself." (We always
called the Quartermaster Q. M. for shortness.) "There was a pass sent to
your wife, but nothing was ever said about a baby. Baby indeed!"</p>
<p>"But the baby was included in the pass," replied the triumphant
father-of-a-family. "You don't suppose my wife would come down here
without her baby! Besides, the pass itself permits her to bring necessary
baggage, and is not a baby six months old necessary baggage?"</p>
<p>"But, my dear fellow," said I, rather anxiously, "how can you make the
little thing comfortable in a tent, amidst these rigors of a South
Carolina winter, when it is uncomfortably hot for drill at noon, and ice
forms by your bedside at night?"</p>
<p>"Trust me for that," said the delighted papa, and went off whistling. I
could hear him telling the same news to three others, at least, before he
got to his own tent.</p>
<p>That day the preparations began, and soon his abode was a wonder of
comfort. There were posts and rafters, and a raised floor, and a great
chimney, and a door with hinges,—every luxury except a latch, and
that he could not have, for mine was the last that could be purchased. One
of the regimental carpenters was employed to make a cradle, and another to
make a bedstead high enough for the cradle to go under. Then there must be
a bit of red carpet beside the bedstead, and thus the progress of splendor
went on. The wife of one of the colored sergeants was engaged to act as
nursery-maid. She was a very respectable young woman; the only objection
to her being that she smoked a pipe. But we thought that perhaps Baby
might not dislike tobacco; and if she did, she would have excellent
opportunities to break the pipe in pieces.</p>
<p>In due time the steamer arrived, and Baby and her mother were among the
passengers. The little recruit was soon settled in her new cradle, and
slept in it as if she had never known any other. The sergeant's wife soon
had her on exhibition through the neighborhood, and from that time forward
she was quite a queen among us. She had sweet blue eyes and pretty brown
hair, with round, dimpled cheeks, and that perfect dignity which is so
beautiful in a baby. She hardly ever cried, and was not at all timid. She
would go to anybody, and yet did not encourage any romping from any but
the most intimate friends. She always wore a warm long-sleeved scarlet
cloak with a hood, and in this costume was carried or "toted," as the
soldiers said, all about the camp. At "guard-mounting" in the morning,
when the men who are to go on guard duty for the day are drawn up to be
inspected, Baby was always there, to help inspect them. She did not say
much, but she eyed them very closely, and seemed fully to appreciate their
bright buttons. Then the Officer-of-the-Day, who appears at guard-mounting
with his sword and sash, and comes afterwards to the Colonel's tent for
orders, would come and speak to Baby on his way, and receive her orders
first. When the time came for drill she was usually present to watch the
troops; and when the drum beat for dinner she liked to see the long row of
men in each company march up to the cookhouse, in single file, each with
tin cup and plate.</p>
<p>During the day, in pleasant weather, she might be seen in her nurse's
arms, about the company streets, the centre of an admiring circle, her
scarlet costume looking very pretty amidst the shining black cheeks and
neat blue uniforms of the soldiers. At "dress-parade," just before sunset,
she was always an attendant. As I stood before the regiment, I could see
the little spot of red out of the corner of my eye, at one end of the long
line of men; and I looked with so much interest for her small person,
that, instead of saying at the proper time, "Attention, Battalion!
Shoulder arms!"—it is a wonder that I did not say, "Shoulder
babies!"</p>
<p>Our little lady was very impartial, and distributed her kind looks to
everybody. She had not the slightest prejudice against color, and did not
care in the least whether her particular friends were black or white. Her
especial favorites, I think, were the drummer-boys, who were not my
favorites by any means, for they were a roguish set of scamps, and gave
more trouble than all the grown men in the regiment. I think Annie liked
them because they were small, and made a noise, and had red caps like her
hood, and red facings on their jackets, and also because they occasionally
stood on their heads for her amusement. After dress-parade the whole
drum-corps would march to the great flag-staff, and wait till just
sunset-time, when they would beat "the retreat," and then the flag would
be hauled down,—a great festival for Annie. Sometimes the
Sergeant-Major would wrap her in the great folds of the flag, after it was
taken down, and she would peep out very prettily from amidst the stars and
stripes, like a new-born Goddess of Liberty.</p>
<p>About once a month, some inspecting officer was sent to the camp by the
general in command, to see to the condition of everything in the regiment,
from bayonets to buttons. It was usually a long and tiresome process, and,
when everything else was done, I used to tell the officer that I had one
thing more for him to inspect, which was peculiar to our regiment. Then I
would send for Baby to be exhibited, and I never saw an inspecting
officer, old or young, who did not look pleased at the sudden appearance
of the little, fresh, smiling creature,—a flower in the midst of
war. And Annie in her turn would look at them, with the true baby dignity
La her face,—that deep, earnest look which babies often have, and
which people think so wonderful when Raphael paints it, although they
might often see just the same expression in the faces of their own
darlings at home.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Annie seemed to like the camp style of housekeeping very much.
Her father's tent was double, and he used the front apartment for his
office, and the inner room for parlor and bedroom; while the nurse had a
separate tent and wash-room behind all. I remember that, the first time I
went there in the evening, it was to borrow some writing-paper; and while
Baby's mother was hunting for it in the front tent, I heard a great cooing
and murmuring in the inner room. I asked if Annie was still awake, and her
mother told me to go in and see. Pushing aside the canvas door, I entered.
No sign of anybody was to be seen; but a variety of soft little happy
noises seemed to come from some unseen corner. Mrs. C. came quietly in,
pulled away the counterpane of her own bed, and drew out the rough cradle
where lay the little damsel, perfectly happy, and wider awake than
anything but a baby possibly can be. She looked as if the seclusion of a
dozen family bedsteads would not be enough to discourage her spirits, and
I saw that camp life was likely to suit her very well.</p>
<p>A tent can be kept very warm, for it is merely a house with a thinner wall
than usual; and I do not think that Baby felt the cold much more than if
she had been at home that winter. The great trouble is, that a
tent-chimney, not being built very high, is apt to smoke when the wind is
in a certain direction; and when that happens it is hardly possible to
stay inside. So we used to build the chimneys of some tents on the east
side, and those of others on the west, and thus some of the tents were
always comfortable. I have seen Baby's mother running in a hard rain, with
little Red-Riding-Hood in her arms, to take refuge with the Adjutant's
wife, when every other abode was full of smoke; and I must admit that
there were one or two windy days that season when nobody could really keep
warm, and Annie had to remain ignominiously in her cradle, with as many
clothes on as possible, for almost the whole time.</p>
<p>The Quartermaster's tent was very attractive to us in the evening. I
remember that once, on passing near it after nightfall, I heard our
Major's fine voice singing Methodist hymns within, and Mrs. C.'s sweet
tones chiming in. So I peeped through the outer door. The fire was burning
very pleasantly in the inner tent, and the scrap of new red carpet made
the floor look quite magnificent. The Major sat on a box, our surgeon on a
stool; "Q. M." and his wife, and the Adjutant's wife, and one of the
captains, were all sitting on the bed, singing as well as they knew how;
and the baby was under the bed. Baby had retired for the night, was
overshadowed, suppressed, sat upon; the singing went on, and she had
wandered away into her own land of dreams, nearer to heaven, perhaps, than
any pitch their voices could attain. I went in, and joined the party.
Presently the music stopped, and another officer was sent for, to sing
some particular song. At this pause the invisible innocent waked a little,
and began to cluck and coo.</p>
<p>"It's the kitten," exclaimed somebody.</p>
<p>"It's my baby!" exclaimed Mrs. C. triumphantly, in that tone of unfailing
personal pride which belongs to young mothers.</p>
<p>The people all got up from the bed for a moment, while Annie was pulled
from beneath, wide awake and placid as usual; and she sat in one lap or
another during the rest of the concert, sometimes winking at the candle,
but usually listening to the songs, with a calm and critical expression,
as if she could make as much noise as any of them, whenever she saw fit to
try. Not a sound did she make, however, except one little soft sneeze,
which led to an immediate flood-tide of red shawl, covering every part of
her but the forehead. But I soon hinted that the concert had better be
ended, because I knew from observation that the small damsel had Carefully
watched a regimental inspection and a brigade drill on that day, and that
an interval of repose was certainly necessary.</p>
<p>Annie did not long remain the only baby in camp. One day, on going out to
the stables to look at a horse, I heard a sound of baby-talk, addressed by
some man to a child near by, and, looking round the corner of a tent, I
saw that one of the hostlers had something black and round, lying on the
sloping side of a tent, with which he was playing very eagerly. It proved
to be his baby, a plump, shiny thing, younger than Annie; and I never saw
a merrier picture than the happy father frolicking with his child, while
the mother stood quietly by. This was Baby Number Two, and she stayed in
camp several weeks, the two innocents meeting each other every day, in the
placid indifference that belonged to their years; both were happy little
healthy things, and it never seemed to cross their minds that there was
any difference in their complexions. As I said before, Annie was not
troubled by any prejudice in regard to color, nor do I suppose that the
other little maiden was.</p>
<p>Annie enjoyed the tent-life very much; but when we were Sent out on picket
soon after, she enjoyed it still more. Our head-quarters were at a
deserted plantation house, with one large parlor, a dining-room, and a few
bedrooms. Baby's father and mother had a room up stairs, with a stove
whose pipe went straight out at the window. This was quite comfortable,
though half the windows were broken, and there was no glass and no glazier
to mend them. The windows of the large parlor were in much the same
condition, though we had an immense fireplace, where we had a bright fire
whenever it was cold, and always in the evening. The walls of this room
were very dirty, and it took our ladies several days to cover all the
unsightly places with wreaths and hangings of evergreen. In the
performance Baby took an active part. Her duties consisted in sitting in a
great nest of evergreen, pulling and fingering the fragrant leaves, and
occasionally giving a little cry of glee when she had accomplished some
piece of decided mischief.</p>
<p>There was less entertainment to be found in the camp itself at this time;
but the household at head-quarters was larger than Baby had been
accustomed to. We had a great deal of company, moreover, and she had quite
a gay life of it. She usually made her appearance in the large parlor soon
after breakfast; and to dance her for a few moments in our arms was one of
the first daily duties of each one. Then the morning reports began to
arrive from the different outposts,—a mounted officer or courier
coming in from each place, dismounting at the door, and clattering in with
jingling arms and spurs, each a new excitement for Annie. She usually got
some attention from any officer who came, receiving with her wonted
dignity any daring caress. When the messengers had ceased to be
interesting, there were always the horses to look at, held or tethered
under the trees beside the sunny <i>piazza</i>. After the various couriers
had been received, other messengers would be despatched to the town, seven
miles away, and Baby had all the excitement of their mounting and
departure. Her father was often one of the riders, and would sometimes
seize Annie for a good-by kiss, place her on the saddle before him, gallop
her round the house once or twice, and then give her back to her nurse's
arms again. She was perfectly fearless, and such boisterous attentions
never frightened her, nor did they ever interfere with her sweet,
infantine self-possession.</p>
<p>After the riding-parties had gone, there was the <i>piazza</i> still for
entertainment, with a sentinel pacing up and down before it; but Annie did
not enjoy the sentinel, though his breastplate and buttons shone like
gold, so much as the hammock which always hung swinging between the
pillars. It was a pretty hammock, with great open meshes; and she
delighted to lie in it, and have the netting closed above her, so that she
could only be seen through the apertures. I can see her now, the fresh
little rosy thing, in her blue and scarlet wrappings, with one round and
dimpled arm thrust forth through the netting, and the other grasping an
armful of blushing roses and fragrant magnolias. She looked like those
pretty French bas-reliefs of Cupids imprisoned in baskets, and peeping
through. That hammock was a very useful appendage; it was a couch for us,
a cradle for Baby, a nest for the kittens; and we had, moreover, a little
hen, which tried to roost there every night.</p>
<p>When the mornings were colder, and the stove up stairs smoked the wrong
way, Baby was brought down in a very incomplete state of toilet, and
finished her dressing by the great fire. We found her bare shoulders very
becoming, and she was very much interested in her own little pink toes.
After a very slow dressing, she had a still slower breakfast out of a tin
cup of warm milk, of which she generally spilt a good deal, as she had
much to do in watching everybody who came into the room, and seeing that
there was no mischief done. Then she would be placed on the floor, on our
only piece of carpet, and the kittens would be brought in for her to play
with.</p>
<p>We had, at different times, a variety of pets, of whom Annie did not take
much notice. Sometimes we had young partridges, caught by the drummer-boys
in trap-cages. The children called them "Bob and Chloe," because the first
notes of the male and female sound like those names. One day I brought
home an opossum, with her blind bare little young clinging to the droll
pouch where their mothers keep them. Sometimes we had pretty green
lizards, their color darkening or deepening, like that of chameleons, in
light or shade. But the only pets that took Baby's fancy were the kittens.
They perfectly delighted her, from the first moment she saw them; they
were the only things younger than herself that she had ever beheld, and
the only things softer than themselves that her small hands had grasped.
It was astonishing to see how much the kittens would endure from her. They
could scarcely be touched by any one else without mewing; but when Annie
seized one by the head and the other by the tail, and rubbed them
violently together, they did not make a sound. I suppose that a baby's
grasp is really soft, even if it seems ferocious, and so it gives less
pain than one would think. At any rate, the little animals had the best of
it very soon; for they entirely outstripped Annie in learning to walk, and
they could soon scramble away beyond her reach, while she sat in a sort of
dumb despair, unable to comprehend why anything so much smaller than
herself should be so much nimbler. Meanwhile, the kittens would sit up and
look at her with the most provoking indifference, just out of arm's
length, until some of us would take pity on the young lady, and toss her
furry playthings back to her again. "Little baby," she learned to call
them; and these were the very first words she spoke.</p>
<p>Baby had evidently a natural turn for war, further cultivated by an
intimate knowledge of drills and parades. The nearer she came to actual
conflict the better she seemed to like it, peaceful as her own little ways
might be. Twice, at least, while she was with us on picket, we had alarms
from the Rebel troops, who would bring down cannon to the opposite side of
the Ferry, about two miles beyond us, and throw shot and shell over upon
our side. Then the officer at the Ferry would think that there was to be
an attack made, and couriers would be sent, riding to and fro, and the men
would all be called to arms in a hurry, and the ladies at headquarters
would all put on their best bonnets and come down stairs, and the
ambulance would be made ready to carry them to a place of safety before
the expected fight. On such occasions Baby was in all her glory. She
shouted with delight at being suddenly uncribbed and thrust into her
little scarlet cloak, and brought down stairs, at an utterly unusual and
improper hour, to a <i>piazza</i> with lights and people and horses and
general excitement. She crowed and gurgled and made gestures with her
little fists, and screamed out what seemed to be her advice on the
military situation, as freely as if she had been a newspaper editor.
Except that it was rather difficult to understand her precise direction, I
do not know but the whole Rebel force might have been captured through her
plans. And at any rate, I should much rather obey her orders than those of
some generals whom I have known; for she at least meant no harm, and would
lead one into no mischief.</p>
<p>However, at last the danger, such as it was, would be all over, and the
ladies would be induced to go peacefully to bed again; and Annie would
retreat with them to her ignoble cradle, very much disappointed, and
looking vainly back at the more martial scene below. The next morning she
would seem to have forgotten all about it, and would spill her bread and
milk by the fire as if nothing had happened.</p>
<p>I suppose we hardly knew, at the time, how large a part of the sunshine of
our daily lives was contributed by dear little Annie. Yet, when I now look
back on that pleasant Southern home, she seems as essential a part of it
as the mocking-birds or the magnolias, and I cannot convince myself that
in returning to it I should not find her there. But Annie went back, with
the spring, to her Northern birthplace, and then passed away from this
earth before her little feet had fairly learned to tread its paths; and
when I meet her next it must be in some world where there is triumph
without armies, and where innocence is trained in scenes of peace. I know,
however, that her little life, short as it seemed, was a blessing to us
all, giving a perpetual image of serenity and sweetness, recalling the
lovely atmosphere of far-off homes, and holding us by unsuspected ties to
whatsoever things were pure.</p>
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