THE CIVIL WAR DIARY OF JOHN G. MORRISON 1861-1865

here and there an old tumbledown shanty propped up like an
old worn out stage horse on the verge of dissolution. The
river was studded with small islands whose green appearance
contrasted plesantly with the muddy yellow of the stream.
About sundown we tied up abreast of the mouth of the Ohio
river, famous only as having been the theatre of some of the
adventures of the once celebrated Davy Crockett. We were
followed down by a fleet of transports (loaded with troops)
[99] which looked like huge white ghosts as they loomed up against
the dark background of the Arkansas shore. Here the approach
of summer made itself rather severely felt in the shape of
severial 'skeeter'bites. I went on deck with the intention
of enjoying the soft spring evening, but it was no use, as
they drove me below. I turned in about 8 bells, but it
seemed as if they had followed me down as they made it
impossible for me to sleep. I then went on deck and staid
till 12 A.M. when I went below and slept.
Sunday, April 13th. All hands were turned out at 4 A.M. to
coal ship as were completely out of that article. Soon
after, a coal barge was brought alongside by the U.S. Steamer
Conestoga, but as the coal was covered with water, it was
slow work coaling. In the commander of Conestoga I found an
old shipmate, who five years ago was a green midshipman on
his first cruise. Now he has got an independent command. As
the morning mist lifted off the face of the river, a rebel
steamer could be described, apparently aground on the bend of
the river about a mile below us. She made no effort to get
off. After some time, we could see the smoke of several
other boats coming round the bend further below. They soon
have in sight to the number of four, when they all set to
work apparently to get the stranded one off. They plied and
ran around as carelessly as if there wasn't a yankee gunboat
on the Mississippi. After watching them for about three
hours, the commodore very leisurely [signalled] to get under
weigh and gave us orders to follow him. It took him about
half an hour to get turned around so that by the time that he
was fairly under weigh, the rebel boats were two miles on the
way to Fort Pillow. Before they left, however, they sent us
a few shell, which came a little nearer than was pleasant to
contemplate. We also sent them a few, which helped to hurry
them up. The whole flotilla was now running downstream as
fast as possible, the rebs ditto. We passed only one town on
the way, a poor, one-horse place named Osceola. It is in
Arkansas and eight miles from the fort. About two miles
above the fort we all came to. We lay still for a little,
when the commodore sent us orders to follow him. We then ran
down to the bend on which the fort is situated. As soon as
we came in sight, they began shelling us. We took a hasty
look and departed in short order. I could see several lines
of white tents and tiers of guns pointed threatningly at the
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