Mary S. Peake | Page 4

they, master?"
"Yes, I tell you; why don't you leave the town, you rascal?"
"Oh, master, I don't know what to do. You an't a-going to leave us for the Yankees to catch; are you?"
"Yes, I'm off, and you better be off with yourself--if you don't I'll shoot you."
"Oh, master, don't shoot me--don't leave me!"
"There they come!"
"Where, master, where? where?"
"I can't stop--good by--you better be off!"
But Tony laughs in his sleeve, and says, with upturned eyes, "I'm not afraid of the Yankees! Bless God, old master's gone--hope he'll never come back any more!"
The Zouaves, on "double quick," approach nearer, and up rides one of the secessionists, in hot haste.
"What's the matter, master? What's the matter?" inquires an intelligent negro.
"Oh, matter enough, you villain. You brought all this trouble on us. I am disappointed in you; I thought you would stick by us; but you desert your best friends in extremity. You won't find those Yankees what you expect."
"Oh, master, won't you stay and protect us?"
"No; good by, you villain. I'm out of town, and so you had better be, very quick." And on he flies.
The Zouaves are now crossing the bridge,--now they enter the town,--and as they pass through street after street, with hats off, they bow politely to the colored people, who cheer them from doors and windows. Now every fear is dissipated. Colored knees are bent, and colored lips praise the Lord. The hope that had all along predominated over fear is more than met, and the town is full of gladness. The tidings spread, and the place is soon thronged with colored people from the country around.
But how different with the white inhabitants! Go with me to the Sinclair estate--a mile or two north of the town. One of the officers rides up to the house, and says,--
"Do you own this place?"
"Yes."
"Well, deliver up all your horses."
Sam Simpson, the colored foreman, says, "Boys, bring up the horses."
"Oh, sir, spare an old man!"
"Hurry out those horses!"
"Oh, Sam, stand by me! Oh, dear, I shall die! Don't leave me! Don't leave me!"
Poor old man! His ill-gotten riches are taking wings; the day of retribution has come upon him, and, in spite of a sense of its justice, we can not withhold our pity.
The colored people were soon set to work in constructing the battery in Hampton, under the superintendence of Mr. Pierce, of the Massachusetts regiment, since then superintendent of the Port Royal cotton culture. They worked with a will, so that he was obliged to suspend labor during the heat of the day, lest they should over-exert themselves. After a month had elapsed, the battle of Big Bethel was fought, and not won; and soon after, the disastrous defeat and flight of Bull Run occurred.
To re?nforce the army of the Potomac a large part of the troops at Fortress Monroe were ordered away. General Butler, concluding that he had not sufficient force to hold Hampton, ordered it to be evacuated. He gave a week's notice to the colored people to leave, and find refuge on the other side of the bridge. But many of them delayed too long, and were able to move but a part of their goods; in consequence of which they suffered serious loss.
Among these was Mr. Peake. He lost a large part of his furniture, as well as his two houses. The order of the rebel General Magruder to fire the place was a gross exhibition of vandalism, without the justifiable plea of military necessity. The incendiary work began on the west side of the village, and spread toward the wharves. Hemmed in by the conflagration on one side, and our firing on the opposite shore, many of the executers of the order fell dead or wounded, and were consumed by the voracious flames. Those who witnessed it said it was an appalling sight.
The evacuation took place on the 7th and the conflagration on the 8th of August. I arrived about a month afterward, and on visiting Hampton, in company with the provost marshal, Captain Burleigh, I found only about half a dozen houses that had escaped. One large house had had its floor fired, but the fire had mysteriously gone out, without doing much damage. A large new building, a little out of town, was also standing uninjured. But the most of the village was a charred ruin; the unsightly chimneys, and a few more or less dilapidated walls, surviving to tell the story of what had been.
Thus the place remained in abandoned isolation during the winter. But with the beginning of spring, the progress of our arms opened Hampton to reoccupation. It was thought proper that those who, during the winter, had been confined in large houses, overcrowded, should at once build up the ruins, and provide themselves homes. To this end, application was