the
rank of this officer was I am not sure, but I think he was a Major, and
that he was from the state of Georgia. It was a common thing for
southern men to carry dirks, especially during the war. This officer had
one, and for something the boy displeased him in, he drew the knife and
made a fatal stab between the boy's collar bone and left shoulder. As
the victim fell at the brutal master's feet, we negroes who had
witnessed the fiendish and cowardly act upon a helpless member of our
race, expected an immediate interference from the hand of justice in
some form or other. But we looked and waited in vain, for the horrible
deed did not seem to have changed the manner of those in authority in
the least, but they rather treated it as coolly as though nothing had
happened. Finding that the Confederates failed to lay the hand of
justice upon the officer, we, with our vague ideas of moral justice, and
with our extreme confidence that God would somehow do more for the
oppressed negroes than he would ordinarily for any other people,
anxiously waited a short time for some token of Divine vengeance, but
as we found that no such token as we desired, in the heat of our
passion, came, we finally concluded to wait God's way and time, as to
how, and when this, as every other wrong act, should be visited with his
unfailing justice.

But aside from this case we fared better on these fortifications than we
had at home on the plantations. This was the case at least with those of
us who were on Sullivan's Island. Our work in general on the
fortifications was not hard, we had a great deal of spare time, and
although we knew that our work in the Confederate service was against
our liberty, yet we were delighted to be in military service.

We felt an exalted pride that, having spent a little time at these war
points, we had gained some knowledge which would put us beyond our
fellow negroes at home on the plantations, while they would increase our
pride by crediting us with far more knowledge than it was possible for
us to have gained.

Our daily rations from the Commissary was a quart of rice or hard-tack,
and a half pound of salt pork or corn-beef.

The change from the cabins and from the labor on the old plantations so
filled our cup of joy that we were sorry when the two months of our stay
on the island was ended.

At the end of about two months, I, with the rest of my fellow negroes of
that group, was sent back to the plantation ag