[447]
was not, it would seem, as courageous as some of his colored brethren, though decidedly a philosopher:
Upon the hurricane-deck of one of our gunboats, an elderly darkey, with a very philosophical and retrospective cast of countenance, squatted upon his bundle, toasting his shins against the chimney, and apparently plunged into a state of profound meditation.
Finding, upon inquiry, that he belonged to the Ninth Illinois, one of the most gallantly behaved and heavy-losing regiments at the
Fort Donelson battle, and part of which was aboard, the “war correspondent,” began to interrogate him on the subject:
Were you in the fight?
“Had a little taste of it, saa.”
“Stood your ground, did you?”
“No, saa, I runs.”
“Run at the first fire, did you?”
“Yes, saa, and would hab run soona, had I knowd it war comina”
“Why, that wasn't very creditable to your courage.”
“Dat isn't my line, saa — cookin's my profeshun.”
“Well, but have you no regard for your reputation?”
“Reputation's nuffin to me by de side ob life.”
“Do you consider your life worth more than other people's?”
“It's worth more to me, saa.”
“Then you must value it very highly?”
“ Yes, sa, I does, more dan all dis wuld, more dan a million of dollars, saa, for what would dat be wuth to a man wid de bref cut ob him?
Self-preservation am de fust law wid ne.”
