The Peck's Bad Boy Megapack

by George W. Peck

  When I quit they were all laughing except the chaplain, and there was a quiet smile around his mouth, as he thought of his experience on the spotted horse. The colonel asked the chaplain, if he had anything to say, and he said he had just been thinking that he could go over to a New Jersey regiment and trade that spotted horse to the chaplain of that regiment, and if he could, he would be willing to drop the case. He said that chaplain played a mean trick on him once, and he wanted to get even. The court martial acquitted me, and while we were all taking a drink with the colonel, the chaplain went out, and pretty soon we saw his servant leading the spotted horse over towards the camp of the New Jersey regiment, and later the chaplain sauntered off in that direction on foot, as though there was some weighty subject on his mind. The weighty subject was the spotted circus-horse.

  I do not suppose any incident ever caused so much talk as did the chaplain’s circus. The boys were talking and laughing about it in every company all that afternoon, and when it was found that I had not been punished, for trading the horse to him, the boys were wild. They wanted to show their appreciation of the fun I had given them, so a lot of them got together to give me a sort of reception. They sent for me to come over to Co. D., and when I got over there they grabbed me and carried me off on their shoulders. I felt proud to see them so joyous and friendly, until they put me in a blanket and tossed me up into the trees, and caught me in the blanket as I came down. Of all the sensations I ever experienced, that of being tossed up in a blanket was the worst. I tried to laugh, at first, but it became serious, as I went into the air twenty feet, let loose of the air and came down, expecting to be crushed maimed, killed. My breath forsook me, I was dizzy, but I struck the blanket easy, and after being sent up a dozen times they let me go, and my reception was over.

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  Mingled Reminiscences-I Relate a Mississippi River Steamboat Experience.

  Long before this I should have related a little experience I had on my first journey south, when I was a fresh recruit. After leaving Wisconsin, in the winter, a lot of us recruits were corralled at Benton Barracks, St. Louis, and for six weeks we had a picnic. There were about fifty of us, that belonged to the cavalry, our regiments being down the Mississippi river, and the commanding officer of the barracks seemed to be waiting for a chance to send us to our regiments. I have often wondered what he waited six weeks for, when we were not doing any duty in camp, and were making him trouble enough every day and every night to turn his hair gray. He was a Colonel Bonneville, if I remember right, a regular army officer of French extraction. Anyway, he always swore at us in French. The camp was run in a slack sort of a way, and it was easy for us to get out and go down town, or wander off into the country, and, as we had plenty of money, and were dressed better than soldiers in active service, we were welcome to all the saloons, and painted old St. Louis all the colors of the rainbow, returned to the barracks at unseasonable hours, crawled through the fence and went to our quarters howling, waking up the old general, who invariably ordered the provost-guard to arrest us, which the provost-guard invariably didn’t do, for some reason or other. The old colonel was fast aging, in trying to lead a quiet life in the vicinity of “dose damned cavalry regruits,” and he said he “would order them all shot if they didn’t behave.” Benton Barracks was the greatest place for the breeding of rats that I ever saw. In every house there were millions of them, and at night they were out in full force. One night our crowd of recruits, about forty in number, had been down to St. Louis on a painting expedition, and it was midnight when camp was reached. Every recruit had a revolver, and it was decided that if the rats insulted us, as they had often done before, we would shoot them. It was a beautiful moonlight night, as still as death, and we could almost hear the snoring of the excitable colonel in his house across the parade ground. As we came near our barrack, a few thousand rats crossed our path, and I drew my revolver and fired at a large one that seemed unusually impudent, and the rest of the crowd opened fire, and there was a battle in no time. A bugler got out and blowed some call that I did not know, a drum sounded a continuous roll, men rushed out and formed in line, and before we had fired the six charges from our revolvers, the Invalid Corps came hobbling across the parade ground, the colonel behind them with his shirt on, his pants in his hand, and swearing in French, and ordering the troops to arrest the whole crowd of recruits. We went right in the barrack, and retired, as soon as the troops showed up, and were snoring, with smoking revolvers under our pillows, when the guard entered.

  The colonel came in with the guard, and then put on his pants, after which he woke up some of us, and asked what was the cause of the firing. Every recruit swore that he had not fired a shot, but that he had heard some firing over the fence, on the outside, at a road-house and saloon, where bad men from St. Louis congregated and drank to excess. It seemed very hard to thus lie to so estimable a gentleman as the colonel, but as he was only half-dressed, and sleepy, and excited, it didn’t seem as though the lies ought to count. But they did. The colonel apologized for waking us up, when we were enjoying our much-needed rest, and he went away with the guard. Then we all got up and danced a can-can, in our army underclothes, passed a series of resolutions endorsing the colonel as one of the ablest officers in the army, recommended that he be promoted to brigadier-general at the first opportunity, gave three cheers and a tiger for the Union, and went to bed. That is one thing that we recruits always come out strong in, i.e., three cheers for the Union. We had enlisted to save the Union, and as there was no fighting that we could do, during our stay at St. Louis, whenever we got a chance we gave three cheers for the Union. Sometimes it was not appreciated, however. I remember one evening our crowd went into a saloon and ordered beer all around, and after we had drank it, I proposed three cheers for the Union, which we gave in a hearty manner, and went out without paying for the beer. You would hardly credit it, but the saloonkeeper, an Irishman named Oppenheimer, became offended, and wanted us to pay cash for the beer. The boys wanted me to reason with him, and I began by asking him if he was a loyal man, and he said he was. Then I asked him if he didn’t believe in supporting the Union. He said he did, but he couldn’t pay the brewer for his beer by giving three cheers for the Union. He had to put up cash. I confess that his remarks made quite an impression on me, as I had not thought of it in that light before. I proposed that we give three cheers for Oppenheimer, which was done, and I thought that would settle it, but he insisted on having cash. I told the boys, and they said he was a rebel. I told Oppenheimer, and he got out a wooden bung-starter, and said he could clean out the whole party. Finally we compromised, in this way. We had given two rounds of cheer, one for the Union and one for Oppenheimer, which were a total loss, so it was agreed that if Oppenheimer would give three cheers for the Union and three for us we would pay him for the beer, if he would agree to set ’em up for us, at his own expense. He agreed, and then we tried to get him to onset the beer he was going to give us, for the beer we had drank, and not pay him for that we had consumed. That, to any business man, we thought, would seem fair, but he wouldn’t have it. So, after he had returned our cheers to us, we paid him, and then he treated. I mention this to show the hardships of a soldier’s life, and the difficulties of inculcating business methods into the minds of the saloon-keepers. Oppenheimer meant well, but he did not appreciate cheers for the Union. He got so, after that when we came in his saloon, in a gang, he would say, “Poys, of you dondt gif any jeers fun dot Union, I set’em oop,” and we would swallow our cheers for the Union, and his beer.

  The next day after the battle of the rats, an order was issued for the recruits to board the steamer “City of Memphis,” and go down the river to join our several regiments, in the vicinity of New Orleans. In a few hours we had drawn rations to last a week, and were on board the steamer, and had started down stream. I think every soldier that is now alive will remember that when he took his first trip on a transport, as a recruit, during the war, he labored un
der the impression that he owned the boat, or at least a controlling interest in it. That was a very natural feeling. The opinions of the steamboat officials, it will be remembered, were different. I had never been on a large steamboat before, and after tying my knapsack and other baggage to a wood-pile on the lower deck, after I had vainly attempted to induce the proper official to give me checks for my baggage, I began to climb up stairs, and soon found myself on top of the Texas, beside the smoke stack, viewing the ever changing scenery of the grand old Mississippi. I was drinking in the scenery, and the fresh air, and wondering if it could be possible that there could be war, and killing, anywhere in this broad land, when all was so peace-ful and beautiful on the river, when I felt something strike me on the pantaloons most powerfully, and I looked around and a gentleman was just removing a large sized boot from my person. I was about to reprove him for kicking me, a total stranger, who had not even presented letters of introduction to me, when he said, in a voice that was deep down in his chest, “get down below.” I did not feel like arguing with a man of so violent a nature, and I went down the narrow stairs, after he had said he would throw me overboard if I did not hurry. I learned afterwards that he was the mate of the steamboat. I could see that he had mistaken me for a common soldier, which I would not admit was the case, but I went down stairs, probably looking hurt. I was hurt. I went into the cabin and sat down on one of the sofas, to think, when a colored person told me to get off the sofa. As he seemed to know what he was talking about I got on. I saw a bar, where officers of the army and passengers were drinking, and I went up and asked for a whisky sour, thinking that would relieve the pain and cause my injured feelings to improve. The bar tender told me to go out on deck and I could get plain whisky through a window where the negro deck hands got their drinks, but I could not drink with gentlemen. That was the first day that I realized that in becoming a soldier I had descended to a level with negro deck hands and roustabouts, and could not be allowed to associate with gentlemen. Soon the gong rung for supper, and I went into the cabin and sat down to the table for a square meal, the other seats being filled with army officers and passengers. I was going to give my order to a waiter, when he called an officer of the boat, who told me to get up from the table and go below, as the cabin was intended for gentlemen and not soldiers. My idea was to kick against being turned out, but I thought of the mate’s boot, and I went out, went down on the lower deck with the recruits, and eat some bread and meat. I was rapidly becoming crushed. I talked my experience over with the boys, and they all agreed with me that the way we were treated was an outrage on American soldiers, which we would not stand. We began to wonder where we were going to sleep, when I remembered seeing state-rooms on the deck above, with berths, and it seemed to me they must be intended for us, so we agreed to go up and go into the state-rooms from the doors that opened out on deck, believing that those who got in first would be allowed to occupy them. About fifty of us got into state-rooms, while the officers and passengers were playing poker in the cabin. I was asleep, when I heard a noise out on deck, and raising up in my berth I looked over the transom and saw about twenty of the recruits being driven along by officers of the boat, kicks and cuffs, and loud talking being the order. “I’ll teach you brutes to steal the beds of passengers on this boat. You dirty whelps, to presume to sleep in beds. Get down stairs and sleep on the wood-pile with the negroes,” shouted the captain.

  If there was going to be any fuss about it, I didn’t want to stay in the state-room. I didn’t want to be broke of my rest, of course, but if it was not customary for common soldiers to indulge in such luxuries, I would go out. Just then there was a knock at the door leading into the cabin, and I heard a female voice say, “Powtaw, I am afraid one of those dirty soljaws has got into my state-room,” and then I heard the mate’s voice say, “Wait till I get at him.” Of course, under those circumstances I could not remain. No gentleman would occupy a lady’s birth, and cause her to sit up all night. To be sure there were two berths, and I could remain in the upper one, and she could turn in below, and I would turn my face to the wall and not look, but I doubted if a lady, who was a perfect stranger, and whose opinion of soldiers was so pronounced, could compromise on such a basis, so when the mate knocked at the door I took my pants and shoes and went out the door leading on deck, and went below, without being discovered. I found my companions, who had been routed out of their beds, dressing themselves as best they could by the light from the furnace, when the stokers would put in wood, and they were about as mad as I was. The treatment we had received was not what we had a right to expect when we enlisted. We decided to set up all night, and growl and discuss the situation. Several of the recruits made remarks that were very scathing, and the officials of the boat were held up to scorn, and charged with inhumanity. We sat there till daylight, and then organized an indignation meeting, and appointed a committee to draft resolutions indicative of the sense of the meeting. I had been lightning on resolutions before I enlisted, having attended several county conventions, and I was appointed to draft the resolutions. As near as I can remember the following were the words:

  “Whereas, The undersigned, members of the army of the union, in the course of our duty as soldiers, have been ordered to proceed to our several regiments down the Mississippi river, on board of the ‘City of Memphis,’ and,

  “Whereas, We have been treated by the officers of the aforesaid boat more like animals than human beings, in being deprived of luxuries to which we have been accustomed, have been driven from the public dining-table, driven from our beds at the dead hour of night, that shoulder-strapped officers might be made comfortable, and kicked down stairs, therefore, be it

  “Resolved, That we demand of the captain of the steamer ‘City of Memphis,’ that we be allowed the same privileges on this boat that others enjoy. ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident,’ that one man is just as good as another, no matter what his rank. We demand that we be allowed to eat at the table in the cabin, to sleep in the state-rooms, to drink at the bar if we so elect, and to go to any place on the boat that other passengers are allowed, and that we be treated like white men, which we, have not up to the adoption of these resolutions.

  “Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be presented to the captain of the boat, that a copy be sent to the secretary of war, and that the resolutions be published in the newspapers.”

  When I read the resolutions to the boys they were passed unanimously, after a few amendments had been voted down. One of the boys wanted a resolution passed demanding that the mate be discharged, and one moved the captain be requested to apologize. I argued that if the captain received the resolutions in the proper spirit, and acceded to our demand, that would be an apology in itself, and in that case the mate would probably resign. I was appointed one of a committee of three to wait on the captain, and read the resolutions to him, after the boys had all signed them. I had rather some one else had been appointed, as I had been kicked once already, but the boys said it needed somebody that was equal to making a little speech, as it would be necessary to say something before reading the resolutions. They also said, it needed a man with plenty of gall, one that was not afraid to stand up be-fore the world and ask for our rights. I felt flattered at being selected, but I took the precaution to place a gunny-sack, nicely folded up, in the seat of my pants, because I didn’t know what might happen. After breakfast, I took the committee and the resolutions, and went up into the cabin, and told a colored man that he might tell the captain that a committee wished an audience with him. He was playing poker in the ladies’ cabin, and I have always thought he had an idea there was a committee of passengers who wanted to present him with a gold headed cane, a thing that was often done on the boats. Any way he came along smiling, and when the negro pointed me out, and the captain noticed that I had a large paper in my hand, he said, “What is it, gentlemen?” This was the first time I had been alluded to in that manner since I enlisted. I asked him to be seated, and h
e sat down on a lounge, and I proceeded. I forgot to make any speech, but went right at the whereases at once. I say the captain smiled when he came up. Of course, reading the resolutions, as I was, I could not see his face change, but afterwards one of the committee told me about it. I could not tell that a storm was coming. I noticed that quite a number of people had collected around the captain, from curiosity, I supposed. I had just got to the last resolution where it spoke of sending a copy to the secretary of war, when there was a howl. The captain got up and grabbed me by the throat, while somebody else took me by the hind legs. As we went towards the door, I noticed other men were carrying the rest of the committee. My idea was that they would throw us overboard, and as I could not swim, I closed my eyes and said, “Now I lay me.” The stairs leading to the lower deck were covered with brass. I remember that distinctly, because I rode down the stairs on the small of my back, and we had a committee meeting at the foot of the stairs. I brought up on top of the rest of the committee. We sat there a moment, and decided, unanimously, that we had been unceremoniously chucked down stairs, resolutions and all, and we picked ourselves up and limped back to where our companions were, and so reported. The expedition was a total failure, for in a short time a notice was tacked on the foot of the stairs, stating that all enlisted men were forbidden from occupying any portion of the boat except the lower deck, and if one was found above that deck, he would be turned over to the first army post, a prisoner. So we remained on the lower deck, and took it out abusing the officers, and hoping the boat would blow up. But the scenery was just as nice from the lower deck.