THE IMMORTAL SIX HUNDRED
Monroe Harbor, bound for Charleston Harbor, S. C, under escort of two United States gunboats. This looked strange, yet little attention was paid to it by our men. In fact, in rounding Cape Henry, all our men were seasick, and we did not take much heed if there was one or a hundred gunboats guarding us. The heat of the ship's boilers, the heat of the weather, and the seasickness made our condition a veritable orthodox hell, a regular sheol in miniature form. Notwithstanding all this torture, our men suffered in silence, and there was no complaining. We believed we were going back home, and we would not let the Yankees see that we suffered.
Late in the night I had pushed my way through the darkness to the stepladder that led up to the deck above, awaiting my turn to go on deck. In the dark some one spoke to me, and I recognized the voice of Col. Abe Fulkerson, 63d Tenn. Inf. I said, "Colonel, we have fallen into hard lines, but it will
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