Craney Island Jany29th

Dear home folks;

Having given my word, that our Contraband Society should hear from me, and having very little time at my command, I must ask Charles to lend the Society my last letter, and this also. I find these old fashioned sheets admirable incentives to my pen, which would, except for the inspiration of space, gladly end its labors at the foot of a sheet of [?] paper.

I must tell you at the outset, on the authority of Dr Brown, what Sarah and I are not doing. In reply to Mrs Viele’s inquiry if we were sensible, the Dr said, “Oh, yes, I have not caught either of them trying to give a lesson in Music or Drawing yet.” A fine commentary that on adorning the mind while the body is yet unclothed. By the way, we hear, from all directions that Gen. Viele and his lady will speedily call upon us. I recd today, a letter from Dr. Russell. He said Genl. Viele wrote to him that he regretted not seeing us when we were in Norfolk. He said he had made arrangements for us to pass a few days at the hotel in Norfolk while he came to Craney Island and [?] arranging pleasant quarters for us. He also wrote that he should come soon to see us. He has made the same statement to Dr. Brown twice, since he heard of our arrival. I felt that it was discourteous in us to come to cal upon him. But, as I felt unauthorized to bid the steam-boat Captains await our pleasure, I could not command the necessary time.

You, of course, feel assured of our safety, we also feel assured that we dwell in the midst of alarms while we reign in this horrible place. Again, in the Dr’s office, I heard two sea-captains and one pilot report a renewed excitement and anxiety in Norfolk, on account of the Monitor having been tugged into port, and that, too, soon after a supposed conflict reported by the sound of guns. We heard the guns here, and one of the Captains declared he saw the flashes of the guns. But no harm came to us and I believe to no one from that direction. Sarah and I still find work for our hands to do in the clothing room. We feel irresistibly impelled to work early, and late, until every refugee upon the Island has tasted one day of comfort, at least, in the shape of clothes. Hundreds are yet to make their first visit to the clothing-room. We have already distributed the large quantity of valuable material which came from Phila, and it is, even now, warming those it was sent to bless. We have not yet found one woman who cannot sew but fearing ingenuity might not be universal, we have cut the cloth before distributing it. I gave a long strip of gingham to one of Col Lee’s slaves (from the whitehouse) the other day, supposing she would make from it an apron with a waist; but she appeared with a short, fancy apron and I asked her what it meant, she replied, "Oh, aprons with waists are out of fashion now." One of Col. Lee's slaves, bemoaning her isolation here, said, "If I say on Craney Island all my days, I shan't have a chance to wear out my clothes, and I know I shall keep coming back after I die to see after em!! I can't help being so fond of my clothes, twas born in me." Dresses made from bed-ticking are favorite week-day garments with the women. The Dr says, "Poor things, we can't blame them for cutting up their bed ticks, they are so comfortless." Mrs. Brown says, when the negro-women come here they almost universally wear upon their heads either Tubs or Boilers, whether their bodies are clothed or unclothed. I have just now given Dr. Brown the letter to read, and he continually exclaimed, Excellent! Capital! Pretty-good!" Your brother must know a great deal about these people" He expressed amazement when I said he did not, and said "Well, then he has a great deal of common sense." (I helped him to that conclusion by a remark I made.) The Dr repeated a proffer he made us a few days ago; he will give either of my brothers, who will come to see us, a free pass from Baltimore. He thinks if Tho's would speak two or three times to the negroes "He would do them a great deal of good." He was delighted with the potato-illustration, exclaiming, after reading it, "That's true, that's true!" And, as I also was satisfied with it, Alice is left in a cold minority.

A perfect mania for thread rages among our Islanders. "Please Maam give me some strands of thread," said woman after woman when she handed us her finished bed-tick. A man, too, who went as a messenger to our sewing-women, begged us for thread; saying, "I live all alone, and I have no one to take a stich for me." He pronounced himself a good sewer. Some-day I hope we can have a woman-overseer of the wardrobes of the solitary.

2d day Morning. We are, today, practicing homeopathically in the distribution of needles pins and thread. A quarter of a spool of cotton, one needle; and two pins! to a full grown woman! rolling no one in riches, but enabling the community to be shareholders in our limited stock of necessaries for neatness. Such work, may seem to you more insignificant than measuring long lines of tape behind a counter, but based on such a course of action the closest calculation how to best meet the needs of the many, vital needs, too, it is surely, in my eyes, a noble work. A work, too, which would be beyond the ability of all to execute. When the good Dr. & Friends have given us our Meeting-house, School-house and work shop (in one) we can delegate some of the minor menial duties which now fall upon us.

Many long shawls have found their way here, and I have found five backs for each shawl. The colored women call each other "Ladies," but in the mouth of one who inquired our whereabouts, we were "the women who do the sewing." Dr. Brown expresses his anxiety lest we should overwork ourselves. He thinks we stand a "right smart chance" "to suffer, bleed and die" an end ardently desired by a good lady from Bridgeport, who left her husband and her house-keeping, and went as a nurse to Newport News (when the Dr. was in charge of a hospital there.) But, if our expectations are like hers, I trust we may like her be disappointed, though not in the same way:-- sickness sent her home.

The negro marriage-question puzzles the Dr. A negro man here wishes to retain, for his wife, a woman with whom he has lived happily for a year or more; but another woman upon the Island claims him for her husband, and does not give her consent to a separation; while he declares that his first. wife is very ill-tempered and that it is impossible to live with her. The Dr. intends to invite some clergyman to visit the Island to marry all who wish to be married, and to make legal the relation between those who have already married themselves. He wishes to impress the Negroes with the sacredness of the relation. A few nights ago, we had a wedding in our dining-room; perhaps not a “sure enough” wedding. Indeed, the Dr doubting its legality, pronounced them man and wife “By virtue of the authority assumed by me.” And, also sent with them to Norfolk, from whence the groom came, note suggesting the propriety of retying the knot. The bride was a very handsome mulatto, elegant and stately in her bearing. She is a great loss to the Island, having been its most ornamental animated feature. Her dress was always neat and brilliant, and she was always accompanied by a beautiful in child in beautiful colors.

A few nights ago, a negro man and two women stole the grave-diggers boat from the hospital, and then stole them selves away; and a few days ago five or six women stole some sheets from a box in a hall; and I was forced to aid in the examination of the culprits. Upon one I found a very suspicious looking petticoat but I could not identify the sheet. Two witnesses testified to the guilt of the accused, but neither the guard-house nor hunger brought the sheets to light. The women protested their innocence in the strongest terms. "If I was as innocent of my sins, as I am of those sheets, I should be sure I should go right home when I die,” said one. The guard with their guns brought the women into the office where the Court-Martial was held. One of the guards said “The poor women have been knocked about so long with the army, their honesty is frequently challenged. Many will steal but there are others who would die from want rather than steal.”

We were door-way visitors, not long ago, at a dress-ball where bare necks, and arms shone resplendent with their drapery of jewels and ribbons. There we saw a real Virginia Break-down, on Virginia soil. It made us breathless, to watch the flying movements of the unwearied feet of man and maid. A song, like the sound of buzzing wings, accompanied their feet. “I wish I was a little fly, uh sitting by my sweet-hearts eye. I wish I was uh little bee, uh sittin on my sweethearts knee. I wish I was uh little mouse uh sippin kisses from her mouse” (mouth). As mouse and mouse do not rhyme, I suggested to Sarah the peculiar fitness of the substitution of Louse for Mouse. From the party, we went to a meeting, where we again saw dancing, after the Shaker fashion. At Dr Brown’s suggestion Sarah sang “Joyfully, joyfully.” She sang the sweetly, exultant air admirably; the negroes caught the air very quickly, and joined in the chorus. The negro who fell in prayer was very fluent and earnest. He prayed for black and white, for rich and poor, for bond and free. He also prayed that his brethren might not “pull down vengeance upon their naked souls.”

First day Sarah and I took two oarsmen and a boat and crossed the river to go to church. After landing, we inquired the way at a house near the shore. We were obliged to knock a great many times, before any-one would wait upon us. And then, when a poor unfortunate, for whom Nature had done Oh! so little! came to the door, and with vinegar pouts and vinegar glances, waited our will. I said to myself Lo! a poor white! We were so sweetly oblivious of her evident ill-will that she finally thawed enough to ask us to walk in. But we were church-bound and turned "down our lane," as she directed us to do. We were enraptured with the novelty and beauty before us. Close by home, we were but at home was desert barrenness; here the same June-like sunshine which made us bless the morning when we woke at home, but June with its birds in every bough, with midsummer songs in the air, and a luxuriant vegetation around us as beautiful as it was novel. The "china tree," sunny with its clustering, ?, cream-colored berries; the holly, beautiful = cheerfully gloriously beautiful, whether modestly dwelling with the shrubs, or towering in stately companionship with the Gum tree and the Hickory. Now green with very summer greeness; and again, glowing with yellow-green leavage. The "brambly-brian" tangled its way along, its blue-berries mocking the luscious little grapes which Cousin Oliver loves to set before us, and gracing every shrub by which it passed with its leaves, rarely beautiful in forms, and rich in "Autumn colors." The beautiful "Jefferson-vine." The laurel in bud. The gold "Salve-berry" (bright fairy-orange!) And the "What is it"--here there and everywhere. We walked, harried by the heat, for a mile and a half, and then, learning that we had yet two and a half miles to walk, and could not reach the church before the close of the services, we turned reluctantly on our steps, meeting now then one or more colored men, each of whom declared himself to be free.We had a good deal of talk with three colored men, who told us that a good many slaves still remained with their masters in the neighborhood. Drake, (the hospital steward,) who was with us, Said, “You tell them they are fools to stay.” The men seemed satisfied with their own freedom, and indifferent to the condition of their fellows; but, as to seem and to be are not necessarily one and the same in this latitude it was not safe to judge by appearances. We found one very social and interesting free-negro, living on a small farm, for which he pays $100 a year rent. As figs grow round about us, I have a desire to get some, and so I asked the man if he could tell me whether any of his neighbors had put them up in sugar. “There you’re too hard fer me,” he replied.

The roseiest of summer sunsets reflected in the many lakelets left by the tide, with the wooded shores at hand, the James River fleet (The Minnesota, Galena, and two or three other gun-boats) within very near view, and our own beloved little village at our feet, made a picture of surpassing beauty. The shaded trees on shore, with the burning lakes on the flats, and the burning-sky above made me dream of the tropics. The Dr & Mrs Brown went to Norfolk when we were over the river, in the morning, and saw a “butternut” prisoner freshly brought in. The Dr was quite excited when we returned, saying it would have been very unsafe for us to have attempted to enter the church. He said where there was an army hospital upon the Island the wife of the Surgeon had the door of the church locked in her face, and missiles thrown at her. “That, too, when we were much less hated than we are now.” The Dr said if he had not found us here on his return from Norfolk, he should have hurried after us. He is willing we should go, after be has opened a safe way for us, by letting some of his well-wishers across the river know that we are going.

Jumping rope and swinging were the favorite amusements last first day, but when we were going the rounds in the evening, the Dr stopped all games, and told the sergeant of the guard to allow no playing on Sunday. All play or no play, even on week days, seems to be the theory African. Our handsome and lady-like Custis house-servants said to me, “We never went to a party in our lives. Mother would not let any of her children go to parties. We were as genteelly brought up as white people. Our mother would not let us go with bad company.” And one of our sewing-assistants said the other day, “What a very good man Dr Huckins must be, he almost never says anything; I think he must be praying all the time.” The contrabands are very mindful of the courtesies due each other. Good day and good health are their daily wishes; given to those they meet; and they are singularly respectful to white-people. Too respectful to fawn and cringe, but ready and expectant to save the whites from all manual labor. A broom in my hand brings them to their feet, they are amazed if I pick up a spool, and most of them show sadly wills unused to will. Yet, with all their willingness, they are slow indeed! Southern women have often begged Northern abolitionists to sympathize with them, instead of with the slaves and (while the oppressed are still nearer my heart than ever.) I am fast learning to sympathize with the depressed.

To wait and wait, and still to wait, is our lesson of every day. A man has come to the office window for a pass to Norfolk. The Dr is particular in his inquiries when a pass is wanted, fearing a runaway may help himself off with a pass. “What is your name? ““Has that always been your name?” “No, my name used to be, but I married my mistress, and now it is (so & so).” All the officials use many precautions before registering names, as the negroes often give false names. Perhaps, after all, no false motive influences them, as they may bear many names in a life-time. They usually need to be asked, repeatedly, for their surnames. They are Judith or John, and nothing more. North Carolina has been sewing lately for Mrs Brown. A woman has this moment gone from me, who wished me write to her sister that another sister died in her tent yesterday “half an hour of the sun.” A letter from the one to whom I wrote addressed to the dead has just arrived. The author offered to furnish her sister with money if she needed it, and also begged her to go to Fort Hamilton to visit her. A letter from a woman to her “Dear husband” (who is not here) has been opened, and the woman is discovered to have told her husband that if he does not come to join her, she shall be obliged to get another “Bough”—Boy, I supposed she meant, but the Dr says “No, Beau.”

It has rained gently all day. I see two boys whipping a mud-puddle furiously into their faces. Lizzies Eliva's & Pliny's letters are very welcome. Lizzie can dispense with the useless cypher which she added to my twelve acres, as the extra acres are O, the cypher may as well be not The Dr thinks there may be fourteen acres ("A neighbor was my authority")

The Monitor has just passed the Island, but Sarah and I were in the clothing-room and knew nothing of its being within sight. We are frequently reminded of Eagleswood here. Very homely and very handsome people, you know often look alike. An old-man and a young maiden, whose marriage we shall witness this evening, have just visited our clothing-rooms, and been clad in bridal array. The maiden alone won our sympathy at the outset, but when we had freshened her, her companion said, “I don’t want to be a laughing stock, and I don’t look fit to stand up along uh her.” We agreed with him in opinion, and made his outside worthy of his brides. Among the slave-holders who, impelled by their needs, often come to the Island is one who says he has not sold one dollars worth of produce since the war began, and that all his negroes have left him. Another has the pleasure of seeing one of his runaways here. The whites rival the negroes in talking of what happens “Heeugh.” One of the neighbors told the Dr that since the state of war women-field-hands can be hired for 20, 25, or 30 dollars a year, and men for 40 or 50. A negro who made a nice basket for the Dr, came with it to the office, and told the Dr there was a very disagreeable woman going about the camp who called herself by his name! “Now Dr,” the man said, “I don’t want her tangled onto me. But I have a daughter at Newport News, and if you ‘U give me a pass to go fer her, I shall be so glad for she’s very anxious to get learning.” Every day’s tidal ebb, and flow sends solemnly into our presence now the negro stranded on our shores by the war, who forces our sympathies to meet his wants; then the slave-owner either in person or estate, now begging at our hands, now uttering a complaint; and now, Woe ‘s him! houseless and homeless with our faces reflected in his mirrors, our tables heavy with his books, and our wearied heads resting in his easy-chair.

A fine horse and a rockaway just came into our stable from a large farm taken possession of by the Dr a day or two ago. Negroes from here, are already at work preparing our estate! for planting. “It is quite time to put in some seeds,” say the farmers about here. As none of the farmers in Vir can send “Truck” to N.Y. except by government aid, Dr Brown hopes to have control of the boats, that the expenses of forwarding his “truck” may be covered by his receipts from the farmers he will accommodate. We expect to be flooded, in a few days, with the furniture from our new house. And, tomorrow, another large farm, will fall into our hands. This too, is war! Savage, and cruel! The Dr acts of course under orders. He would consent to the inmates of the houses remaining in their homes; but he says it would be impossible for them to do so. They would provoke the negroes, and the negroes would provoke them. Room in their houses must be found for our overseers, and their furniture would be unsafe. So it seems best to remove them from their estates, if we take possession of their soil.

Dr Brown received a letter a few days ago, from a noisy secessionist from whose estate our negroes had taken wood. “Having frequently heard of your gentlemanly deportment—Mr Marcus did not know how to treat a lady—he would not have allowed the negroes to laugh in derision as I walked off. It is indeed hard having no one to cut my wood (Her slaves have all left her.) The driftwood on the shore, I can get myself more conveniently than from the woods, besides, I could have sold it several times, but preferred to keep it for my own use, believing that you will see the injustice of it, I leave it with you to do what is right. Very respectfully J. M. Wise.”

After taking possession of the farm I spoke of the Dr called a few men and women into his office to test their readiness to work in the field. He told them that what they raise shall be sold, and, after their expenses are met the surplus shall be their own. They were all eager to enter the field. One man went out to bring in a woman he said was an excellent field-hand but he returned with the report that “Ever since her husband went to Washington, she has been living with Commodore Perry! and she does not want to leave him.” One man who was anxious to go said, “Dr, there’s no probability of bein interrupted by them [rebels] Sah is there?” A very bright woman came to Sarah yesterday, and asked her if she would “Expound the Bible to her” saying, “I can read myself, but I am mighty desirous to have you read it to me. I am learning in a broken manner, now.” She has, for some-time, been teaching a large class to read. She told us “The white folks didn't think nothin of her after she left off dancing.” Mrs Brown said to a very dark girl a few days ago, “Is that very light girl your sister? Why she can’t be!” “Yes, she is,” replied the girl, “Mother played naughty then.” A girl who has been a very useful assistant to us, asked me to write a letter to a friend. She was very well, and hoped her friend was also, wanted her to come to see her, had “nothing more to say at this time present,” but, “I have just heard that Henrietta is sold!” ! ! !

It is very difficult to understand the negroes. South Carolina dialect is unlike that of South Carolina and Virginia claims little acquaintance with either. Our women tell us which “Bakk” they live in. Oh! how the women besiege us with entreaties! I don’t know but I shall fall into Mr. Coleman’s habit and pass about the Island with both hands extended and fluttering while I scream, “Shaw! Shaw! Get away from here.” I whispered to the Dr at the dance, “I cant afford to give out shoes to be kicked out in this way.” Sarah says she expects, the moment, she goes into the yard, tomorrow, to hear our Rockaway exclaim, “I have not had a single thing given me since I came on this Island!” “Move away, white folks are coming.” “Let the white folks in,” is the cry, when we put our faces within the negroes-doors. “Oh, you ‘r Secesh,” is a favorite insult with them. “Do you think I’ll marry any-body as black as you are? “is a very decided cut.

I was very much interested in hearing the Dr commission the “squad-men” to tell their people of his agricultural plans. He has been lecturing them seriously, lately; insisting upon their compelling their charges to keep their quarters clean, to chop their wood in their back-yards!! to hang their clothes there, and to do other seemly things. One old man, alluding to the life before his men, said, “It makes me feel proud. I think we can talk to them stronger now.” The Dr said to them all, “You ‘r improving, but there’s a great deal that ant as I want it, yet.” “Yaas, suh,” was murmured by many. “But we cant do it all at once,” said one man. One of the women ordered to the field said, “I’m so tired doin nothin, makes me no account. I had worked since I came here.” We have several dogs at our heels who barked through the perils of the seven days fights. And both our steam-boats served in those battles. One was shelled twice. Our German druggist Sarah found kindling his fire with Hawthorne’s “Mosses from an Old Manse.” He says he always kindles his fire with books he brought from Newport News. I have been enlarging our stock of threads by making three skeins from one spool of colored cotton, and four skeins from white cotton. Pliny will send to Thos, Pliny to Charles. Charles will keep.

Ever affectionately LUCY. Craney Island, Jan 29 ‘63

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