"Dere's nobody knows de trouble I see."
"Dere's nobody knows de trouble I see."
"Dere's nobody knows de trouble I see."
"Dere's nobody knows de trouble I see."
sung in melodious negro voices. There certainly never was a musical number more appropriate to the occasion.
We made a good night's march, of at least twenty miles. At daylight we again sought the cover of a thicket and were soon asleep. It would seem, that after our experience of the day before, we ought to have been satisfied to remain quiet that day; and probably we should have been, had it not been that about noon we heard the baying of hounds. Were they after us? We listened. They certainly were trending in the direction of our trail. What should we do? Remain and test the question as to whether the dogs were after us or other game; or should we risk traveling by daylight, and, if they were indeed after us, give them a long race. We decided on the latter course, and, taking our direction from the compass, we started on through the forest, running where the ground would admit of it, and again plunging through the most impenetrable thickets, to delay horsemen should they attempt to follow us.
About four o'clock in the afternoon, we came into the open, cultivated country. Here thegreatest caution was needful. We were beside a fence, with a cornfield on one side and on the other an open, uncultivated space. Skulking, so as to keep our heads below the top of the fence, we were passing it.
We had nearly reached the end of the field, when on our right, in the cornfield, in a hollow that had concealed them from our sight, we came upon about twenty negroes of both sexes, two white men and one white woman, engaged in husking corn. They saw us about the same time we saw them; so, straightening ourselves up, we walked by them, trying to look as unconcerned as possible.
We passed the field and on into the woods beyond. At the first opportunity we halted, and one of our number skulked back to see what effect our sudden appearance had had upon the people in the cornfield. It took but a moment to satisfy ourselves on that score. They had scattered like a covey of quails at the approach of the hunter; all were running, some in one direction, some inanother. It was very plain that the whole country would be aroused, and we should have the hunters upon our trail, if they were not already following us.
Now then, for it, boys! We must gain on them all we can. A short run brought us to a stream of water, and into it we went without a moment's hesitation. Turning our heads down stream, we floundered along—now over huge boulders, then into holes up to our chins, now through shallow rapids, and again through deep, still water. We were profiting by the lesson taught us by the South Carolina man-hunter in the swamps. The stream was rapid most of the way, and would carry our scent down with its turbulent waters.
We must stick to the stream as long as possible. Stop. What is this? A bayou putting into the stream, and overhung with willows on its banks. Here is our refuge. Wading out into the bayou and behind the willows, we are at least safe from observation. We have left no track since reaching the stream, and unless the hounds are sagacious enough to catch the scent from the airor water, they will be baffled. At all events, it is our only safety.
Hark! Do you hear it? Listen! Yes, here they come! Away up the creek, at regular intervals, the baying of the hounds can be distinctly heard. Now then, for it! Will they be able to discover our retreat? Listen. Do you hear them? No. They have ceased their infernal howl.
A long pause, and then the notes of the horn. Soon a noise along our side of the creek is heard. The hunters are upon us. The bayou is reached and crossed. On and on down the creek, out of sight and hearing. Thank God! Thank God! We are safe.
Hark! Not so fast! They are coming back. Nearer and nearer the sounds of the hunters come, on the other side of the creek, going up again. They have passed us, and again the sounds of the chase die out, and are heard no more.
We remained in the water, shivering until night, and then, exhausted as we were by cold, hunger, and excitement, traveled through the entire night, this time making twenty-five miles.
Just before daylight it commenced to rain: nota drizzling mist, but a regular, pouring rain, as though the clouds had a day's work to perform, and meant to get the most of it done before noon; a rain that not only wet to the skin, but gave you a good pelting besides. The reader will recollect that this was in October, and even in South Carolina the weather was not as warm as it might be. The nights, especially, were cold and unpleasant. It was no pleasing prospect, that of crawling into a thicket and lying down in the beating rain, with neither shelter nor fire; but, disagreeable as it was, we hailed the storm with rapture. We remembered the lesson of the man hunter in the swamps: "The rain gits us; dogs can't keep the scent after a smart rain." We knew, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the hunters would be able to get on our track in the morning; without this merciful rain, sent, as it seemed, by kind Providence, we should probably be overtaken before night.
Shivering, and nearly exhausted by fatigue and want of food, we crawled into a thicket, some twenty rods from the highway along which we had been traveling. Throwing ourselves down, we drew over us our one blanket and the oldcoverlid obtained from our black friend, and sought, by lying close to each other, to preserve enough of the natural heat of our bodies to prevent perishing from the cold. How we did suffer! It required all the force of will of which we were possessed, to prevent us from stirring around. It was only by keeping constantly before our minds the fact that if we attempted to travel or even to move among the wet bushes, it would be a very easy matter for the hounds to get our scent again, that we could keep still. So, with aching bones and chattering teeth, we lay there in the rain and waited.
The sun was up, but his rays could not penetrate the dense rain cloud. What a blessing to have been, if only for a few moments, warmed by his beams. We had the material to build a fire and relieve our sufferings; but to build a fire would have advertised our exact locality for miles around. Thus the tedious hours slowly passed.
About noon we were rewarded for our self-denial by seeing two horsemen and five hounds pass along the road. It required no stretch of imagination to determine their business. The men were armed with carbines, and were evidentlysearching for somebody, and we were strongly of the opinion that we knew who it was.
In the afternoon the sun came out once more, and, throwing off our wet blanket, we sunned ourselves in his cheering beams. But still we did not dare to stir around much. Our only safety consisted in keeping down the scent. If we started on then, through the wet bushes, we could easily be followed, for after our impromptu bath of the day before and our subsequent thorough drenching from the rain, it would not require a very sagacious dog to find us. We were nearer the road than we thought thoroughly safe; but we were afraid that if we attempted to put more distance between us and the road, we would run more risk of creating a scent that could be caught by the dogs than if we remained where we were.
About five o'clock in the afternoon we saw the same men and dogs returning. As they were about opposite us, one of the dogs, probably the leader, stopped, threw up his head, and snuffed the air for a moment as though there were some game near. Fortunately, the men did not notice him. After snuffing around for a while, hedropped his head and followed the other two brutes on horseback—on, and out of sight.
Hurrah! We were saved! Not by any skill of our own, but by the merciful interposition of Divine Providence, in sending the rain, and thus depriving our enemies of their only means of tracing us.
We had now been without food for about twenty-four hours. Our bodies were cramped, and our joints stiffened, by cold and exposure to the rain; yet we hailed the friendly darkness that closed around us, shielding us from observation, with feelings of gratitude to the Great Giver of All Good. We could endure hunger and fatigue vastly better than we could our forced inaction.
At the earliest practicable moment, therefore, we were again upon the road. Our greatest need just then was food. We were growing weak, and we knew that unless we could soon get relief our strength would entirely fail. We also knew that it would not do for us to attempt to visit negro quarters to procure supplies—the country was roused, and undoubtedly we were watched for.The negro quarters would of course be placed under surveillance.
We therefore concluded, to supply our pressing need, to depend upon our own resources, or rather upon our ability to forage upon the resources of the enemy. It was late at night, however, somewhere in the neighborhood of twelve o'clock, before we reached a plantation. Reconnoissance was made, and the location of the house and of the negro quarters ascertained. Avoiding the dwellings, we commenced a search for food. Sweet potatoes are usually abundant on Southern plantations at this time of year, but we were unable to find any. We found plenty of corn, but it was as hard as flint. We also found a quantity of the peas before described; and this was all that we could raise in the way of a supper. Skirting the plantation, we finally reached the highway beyond it. A consultation was held, and all the pros and cons of the situation discussed.
After due deliberation, we decided that it would not be safe to build a fire, as the light would betray us. We must do the best we could, with the raw material. So, dividing it between us, wemunched the dry corn as we walked. We were our own millers, cooks, and bakers, but while our primitive repast served to maintain life and to a certain extent relieve us from the cravings of hunger, I cannot recommend it as a steady diet. It is open to very serious objections: first, want of variety; second, difficulty of mastication—one can grind corn with his teeth for an hour or two, but after that one's teeth get sore; thirdly, although hygienists tell us that to preserve health we should eat slowly, the process of masticating corn is altogether too slow for comfort. In fact one must eat all the time or go hungry, and if the mill be ever so much out of order, the grinding must still go on, or the baker and cook will be out of employment.
We were now near Savannah River, about two miles south of Abbeville, South Carolina. Since our adventure at the church, detailed above, we had been obliged to devote all our energies to saving ourselves from recapture. We had necessarily made many divergences from our line of march, so that while we had traveled a long distance we had gained but little, so far as reaching Sherman'slines was concerned. But we again took up our regular line of march, and there was but one obstacle in our way that caused us much uneasiness. The Savannah, a deep and rapid stream, was to be crossed. But two of our party could swim—Spencer and myself. Hatcher must be got over the stream in some way, but how? We had studied upon this difficulty for several days, and concluded, if we could do no better, to make a raft and float him over, provided we could find the materials with which to construct one. We did not dare take a boat, because if we left it on the opposite shore from which we got it, the enemy would certainly get on our track; while if we turned it adrift, after crossing, the fact that the boat was missing would serve the same purpose. After our success in getting rid of the hounds, we were determined not to have them again on our track if we could avoid it.
Slowly the long night passed away. I say slowly, because we were getting wretchedly tired and faint. Long exposure and excitement were beginning to tell upon us. It was only by the stern exercise of will that we were enabled to move atall. Under ordinary circumstances none of us would have believed himself capable of marching an hour. Daylight at length admonished us that we must again seek shelter for another twelve hours. It so happened that daylight overtook us in an open, cultivated country, and the best we could do was to crawl into a thicket in the midst of an open field, where we lay all day, alternately dozing and munching corn.
At length darkness again closed around us. Exhausted, footsore, and almost disheartened, we once more started upon our tedious journey. Discovering a road not very well traveled, and evidently neither a turnpike nor a public highway, but running in the direction we wished to go, we concluded to follow it. This road, unfortunately as we then thought, led us to a plantation, and directly through the negro quarters. The planter's house was but a short distance from the quarters. It seemed a fearful risk to run, to attempt to pass at so short a distance from the house and through the quarters, so early in the evening.If we had not been so nearly exhausted, we certainly should not have attempted it; but to make a detour would have involved additional travel through the forest. We were just in that state of mind and body that, rather than incur any extra travel and add to the bruises and scratches on our already blistered feet and lacerated limbs, we preferred to take the extra risk, so we boldly pushed on. It was Sunday evening, and the cabins of the negroes were all closed, with one exception, and no one was stirring without. In passing the last cabin, I saw, through the only open door of the row, an old negro, apparently alone, sitting before the fire. Instantly I determined to appeal to him for help, and whispered this intention to my comrades. They hid in an angle of the fence while I boldly entered the cabin, closed the door, and locked it.
Those familiar with the construction of negro cabins, will at once understand how this was done. To those who are not, I will explain. Nearly all of the cabins are provided with a wooden bar, running across the door; so all that I had to do,was to take the bar standing near the door jambs, and drop it into the hasps.
The sudden apparition of a gaunt, unshaven man, clothed in rags, with famine stamped in every lineament, thus abruptly entering his hut, evidently startled the old man. Rising to his feet, he exclaimed: "Who is you?"
Walking up to him, I placed my hand on his shoulder and looking him in the eye, asked: "Old man, if I place my life in your hands, will you betray me?"
I shall never forget the appearance of that man as I asked this question. He was, I should think, between sixty and seventy years of age, and his head white as snow. In his prime he must have been a fine specimen of a man, physically. Straightening his tall form he looked me over from head to foot.
"Who is you?" he asked again.
"I am a Yankee officer, escaped from a Rebel prison, and I am trying to reach the Yankee army," I replied; and again I asked, "Will you betray me?"
"No, sah, and dar ain't a nigga in Souf Car'lina dat would betray ye!"
I have seen some of our most gifted and celebrated orators, when they have seemed almost inspired; but never in my life did I see more dignity of deportment or a countenance display more nobility of soul, than did that old man's as he uttered this sentence.
While we were talking, a young negro woman, who had been lying on a bed at the back part of the room, and whom I had not observed before, got up, unbarred the door, and left the cabin.
In less than ten minutes, the room was filled with negroes of both sexes. Notwithstanding the assurance of the old man, I became uneasy. "For God's sake," I said, "don't let any more in."
Some one inquired, "Why?"
"I am afraid some of you may betray me," I replied; "and I would rather die than to be recaptured."
It was evident that the girl had told them who I was, from the remarks dropped by one and another.
"I'd jes' like to see the nigga as would do dat," said a young, stalwart negro.
"Pears to me dat you do'no who your frien's is," said another.
It took but a very few minutes to convince me that I had nothing to fear from that party, at all events. I then told them of my companions in the fence corner, and they were called in.
"Now, den, Massa," said the old man, "jest you tell us wot we can do for ye."
"We want something to eat, and we want to cross the Savannah River," I replied.
One motherly old woman, after peering into our faces, asked: "W'en did ye hab anyt'ing to eat las', honey?"
We told her.
"De Lord bress ye, honey, ye mus' be mos' starved!" she cried.
Here the old man broke in. He had evidently been revolving the matter in his mind.
"See here, Bob, you an' Jim take dese men out in de cornfield an' hide 'em. Mary, you go an' made dem some brof an' chicken fixin's. Ole Massa may come down heah, an' de debbil 'd beto pay, 'fore we know it. Den we'll see 'bout crossin' de ribber. I tell ye de Lord sent dese men heah to be took keer of, an' we're gwine to do it."
Following the directions of the old man, we were taken out into the middle of a large cornfield, where we remained while these good friends were preparing our supper.
Soon the old woman appeared, bearing a kettle of nourishing broth. Seating herself upon the ground, she commenced feeding us.
"Only tiny bit, Massa. Jes' tiny bit at a time. Lor' bress ye, honey, take yer time, dar's 'nough of it. I went an' killed some o' ole Massa's chickens, purpose fur ye. Specs he'd swear awful ef he knowed dat you uns was eatin' dem. When ye gits filled up wid some brof, I got de meat heah, an' sweet taters, an' hoe cake."
All the while she was talking, she kept the spoon busy, first ladling out the broth to one, and then to another of the party. At last she consented to let us have more substantial food, and the way the corn bread, sweet potatoes, and boiled chicken disappeared was wonderful.
"Ki-ki! 'Pears like ye was holler all de waydown, don't it, honeys?" exclaimed the kind old woman. "Does me good to see ye eat. You'll feel a heap bettah when ye gits yer stomachs full. Ya-ya!"
But even our appetites were at length satisfied. Meanwhile, three stalwart negroes reported for duty. They were detailed to ferry us across the river, distant only about a mile. When ready to start, young and old gathered around us, and with a hearty grasp of the hand and a fervent "God speed!" they bade us good-bye; but not before furnishing us with cooked rations sufficient to last us five days.
Upon reaching the Savannah, a ferry-boat was stolen, and we were safely landed on the Georgia side. While crossing, I asked one of the negroes what would be the result to them, if it were known that they had assisted us in this manner.
"Golly, Massa, dey'd hang us to de fus tree!" was the reply.
These faithful fellows were not only ready to feed and shelter us, but they willingly risked their lives for us. We also obtained from them accurate knowledge of the movements of Sherman's troopsonly five days previous; and this, too, a hundred and fifty miles from the scene of action. How they obtained it they would not tell; but it was plain they had means of conveying intelligence in some way, probably from one plantation to another, by means of runners.
In truth, traveling by the underground railroad, as we did, associating with and depending upon slaves, we were enabled to judge of them with far greater accuracy than it would have been possible for us to do under any other circumstances. After the lapse of eighteen years, I may be credited with speaking dispassionately when I say that in my opinion they were, as a class, better informed of passing events and had a better idea of questions involved in the struggle between North and South, than the majority of that class known as the "poor whites" of the South. In this opinion I venture to say that I will be sustained by seven-eighths of our soldiers who had opportunities for forming an intelligent opinion. They were faithful to every trust imposed upon them by us, even to the imperiling of their lives. They were not only willing to divide their final crust with us, but to give us thelast morsel of food in their possession. May my right hand wither, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, when I forget to be grateful to that people, or fail to advocate their cause, when their cause is just!
With our hearts overflowing with gratitude, we shook hands with our sable ferrymen, and bade them good-bye.
"Take keer ob yousel's, Massas; an' wen you comes back wid de army, don't forget Jake an' Tom, an' de res' ob us."
These were the last words we heard from the lips of our friends. We have not been able to hear anything from them since; but let the circumstances be what they may, those men and women who succored us in our great peril are my friends, and will be met and treated as such, wherever found, though their skins be darker, and their hair curl tighter than my own.
It was long past midnight before we were fairly upon our road again; yet we felt better able to travel twenty miles before daylight, than we didto travel five before finding friends and a supper. How changed our prospects from a few hours before! We were now buoyant and happy; difficulties that had seemed insurmountable had been met and conquered. We were invigorated with good food, and had enough more provided to last five days.
We were now in the county of Elbert. Shaping our course so as to flank the village of Elberton on the south, we started on in the direction of Carnesville. We had learned from the slave "telegraph line" that Sherman still held his lines between Atlanta and Chattanooga, but that our troops were falling back towards Tennessee. We made up our minds to strike the railroad at the nearest practicable point between Dalton and Atlanta.
A glance at the map will show the reader one of the many difficulties that beset our way. The country through which we were passing is well watered. Numerous small streams rise in the mountains and empty into the Savannah and Appalachicola rivers. Many of these were not bridged. Even when they were, we dared notattempt to use the bridges, for fear they might be guarded. Many of the streams are deep and rapid, and it was by no means pleasant fording them, for the nights were cold and frosty, even for that time of year. So, in shaping our course, we endeavored to keep as close to the heads of the streams as possible, without greatly increasing the distance to be traveled.
We were determined to use the greatest caution, to run no risks of being seen by a white man, and never again to get the hounds on our track, if we could possibly avoid it. We were satisfied that we had successfully baffled them this time, but our escape would be only by the merest chance should they again scent us. We also determined to husband our provisions, and, if possible, make them last us through. In fact, we were in such buoyant spirits over our good fortune in securing them and getting across the big river, that it seemed as though all difficulties were now cleared from our path; as though all we had to do was to march ahead in order to succeed—another evidence of the close affinity existing between the mind and stomach.
The time lost in the society of our black friends necessarily made our journey that night a short one. We had made no more than ten miles, when daylight again compelled us to seek safety in a thicket. The next night we traveled twenty-five miles, as nearly as we could judge, without an incident worthy of mention. The same may be said of the two or three nights that followed. We averaged about twenty-five miles a night, until we reached the vicinity of Gainesville.
On reaching this point, we were in something of a dilemma in regard to crossing the Chattahoochee River. The stream was about eighteen rods in breadth at the point where we desired to cross. We could see that it was rapid, but we had no means of determining its depth. We were anxious to reach the river before daylight, so as to have the advantage of the light in reconnoitering and finding a safe place for fording; but daylight overtook us while still about five miles from the stream.
We were in a very dense forest, with heavy undergrowth. We again concluded to risk traveling to the river by daylight, and, if possible, selectinga crossing place. Pushing forward, we reached the bank of the stream without accident. Here we found several wild-grape vines, loaded with fine fruit, and differing from any other species I ever saw, in that the grapes grew singly instead of in clusters. They were large and luscious, although the skin was thick and tough; otherwise, there was nothing in the appearance or taste to distinguish them from the largest varieties of cultivated grapes. We soon stripped the vines, and converted Confederate grapes into a Yankee dinner.
We felt somewhat discouraged at the prospect facing us. The river was evidently too deep to ford at this point. We could discover no boat on our side of the stream. Opposite, a house was in sight; on our side, near us, a plantation. As far as the eye could reach, up and down the river, the country was under cultivation. We tried to find driftwood with which to construct a raft, but were unable to do so.
At night, we were no nearer accomplishing our purpose than we were in the morning. We concluded, however, to push on up stream, in the hopeof finding either a boat or a landing place; so, following the bank, we came at length to a place where a road led into the river, suggesting a ford, and made up our minds to attempt a crossing. Taking off our clothing, we started in.
Whew! But the water was cold! If the place was in reality ever used as a ford, I must say that the people who used it were not very particular about having a bottom for a good portion of the way; and where there was bottom, it was shockingly rough. The water averaged five feet in depth, varying from one foot to eight. Taking it in the night, with no knowledge of the river, was not only very unpleasant, but highly dangerous.
We hoped to save our clothes from getting wet, but in this most signally failed. In fact, each of the party, at different times, was under water, struggling for life; but we crossed at last. Wringing the water from our clothing as best we could, we dressed ourselves, and started on.
We had proceeded but a few rods, when lo! here was another river right before us. We consulted our map and compass. We were not mistaken in our direction. We wanted to go west.The map laid down only one river, running south. We had crossed from the east to the west bank; and yet, going west, we were confronted with another river, running north. What could it mean? I do not think I was ever so puzzled in my life. We retraced our steps to make sure we were not mistaken as to the direction of the first stream. There was no mistake; the river laid down on the map was the Chattahoochee. We had passed that; still within sixty rods, was another of about the same size, running north. Simple as was the solution of the problem, I do not believe any circumstance during the entire trip caused me more uneasiness for the time being. I began to distrust map and compass. We soon discovered that the river at this place merely ran in the shape of an ox bow. Afterwards we had many a hearty laugh over the matter, but at the time our perplexity was far from amusing.
It will be observed that our general direction was northwest; yet actually, for various causes—traveling in the night through a strange country, divergences when pursued by the dogs, andoccasionally losing our way—the route we actually followed was crooked and erratic. The distance we traveled was in the neighborhood of three hundred and fifty miles.
It would be tedious to narrate each day's experience; therefore I will confine myself to incidents that seem to me to be of special interest.
The provisions furnished by our black friends at the time we crossed the Savannah, were at length exhausted. We concluded again to recruit them at the first opportunity, but for some reason this seemed long in coming. However, early one morning, after crossing Etowah River, and secreting ourselves in the brush, we heard voices, and soon afterwards footsteps, which we discovered to belong to two young negroes. We at once made ourselves known, and asked them to supply our wants. This they promised to do during the day, and just at dark they appeared with some provisions, sufficient to fill our empty stomachs, and begged to be permitted to accompany us. This request we dared not grant, for this would unquestionably have put the man-hunters again upon our track. If caught under such circumstances, wewould be treated to a speedy passage to the celestial regions, without calling into practice the services of judge or jury. Selfish reasoning this, no doubt, but quite sufficient for three feeble and well-nigh exhausted fugitives.
We were now within some sixty miles of where we supposed our lines to be, and concluded to divide the distance that night, so as to be able to reach the army the following night. But after traveling until three o'clock in the morning, the supper of the evening before had served its purpose. We were like the nightingale in the fable of the "Nightingale and the glow-worm," beginning to feel the keen demands of appetite.
During all this time Spencer had saved a few spoonfuls of flour. We thought we should never need it more than we did just then. My old kettle was brought into requisition, a small fire kindled, and the flour converted into gruel. This consumed, we went on.
By the map, we were nearing Jasper, the seat of Pickens County, about forty miles from Calhoun, the point at which we were aiming to strike our lines. As we were winding along the side of ahill, at a turn of the road, there stood within a couple of rods of us a man with a gun in his hand. It was just in the grey of the morning.
A man was the last object we wished to see just then, unless he happened to be clad in Federal blue, and this fellow was in Confederate grey. If we could, we would have avoided his acquaintance. In truth, we could not have encountered a more startling object. Under such circumstances men think quickly. Avoid him we could not. If we ran, he would shoot, and it struck me quite forcibly that the gun was a thing to gain control of, so I jumped for him. To my astonishment, he exclaimed in startled tones: "Who is you, Mars?"
In appearance he was a white man; his dialect was that of a negro.
"Who are you?" I inquired.
"I'se Mars Jackson's boy."
"You don't pretend you are a slave?"
"Yes, Mars."
"What are you doing with that gun?"
"Mars tole me I might go out coonin'."
I knew negroes, as a rule, were not to be trusted with a gun for such purposes; this, together with the color of his skin, which was as white as ours, caused us to distrust his story, and we began to quiz him:
"See here. You don't look like a nigger. You're a white man. What do you want to deceive us for?"
"I'se not tryin' to deceib you. I'se tole you uns the truf, shore."
"Whose gun is that?"
"Dat gun? Dat—dat's Mars Jackson's gun."
"How long is it since your master trusted you with a gun? That story won't hold water."
"Sho' as you lib, Mars, dat's Mars's gun; he tole me to take it an' come out heah an'—an'—look fer coon."
"Yes, and you found three of them, eh?"
The fellow grinned. At length he asked, "Is you Jordan's men?"
We had heard of Jordan, a Confederate guerrilla said to infest the country near this point.
"No," I answered. "Are you?"
"No, Mars Jordan don't want no niggas in his band."
"Who do you belong to, then? Come, you might as well tell the truth!"
"I tole you, I'se Mars Jackson's nigga."
It would be tedious to follow out a conversation that occupied the better portion of an hour. Suffice it, that after a time the man convinced us that he was in reality a slave. Then we told him truthfully who we were. At this he seemed filled with terror, and evidently did not believe us. Finally we sat down and talked with him until we convinced him of our character. We showed him the compass, but he could comprehend nothing of its uses; it excited his curiosity, but nothing more. Then we showed him our map, and explained to him how we used it: showed him our route from Branchville, and at last, when we came to the place where we had crossed the river (Etowah), he laughed outright.
"Golly, Mars! De ribber is more'n so fah from heah," marking on his finger-nail the space indicated on the map.
We explained to him that the map was drawnon a certain scale, representing certain distances, etc. After a while we told him that just before we had left Charleston, Spencer had received a letter from his home in Wisconsin. This letter Spencer read rapidly aloud. The negro, for such he really was, pondered on this for awhile, and finally said: "I blieb you couldn't make up dat so fas' as dat."
At last convincing him of our truthfulness, we began to question him as to the road, the chances of getting provisions, etc., when he said: "Ef you uns is Yankees, you is all right, foh it's jes a little way to the camp of de Home Geards."
Supposing that this was of course a Confederate organization, I asked how we should get past them.
"You doesn't want to git past 'em," he replied. "Go right in dar, and dey'll gib you somet'ing to eat. Dey's Union men, dey is, an' has got a camp an' geards, an' all dat. Dey's fightenin' Jordan's men ebery day mos'."
This information was startling, and it took thesentinel, for such he proved to be, a long time to convince us he was telling the truth. At length we agreed to the following conditions for accepting his guidance: One of us was to carry the gun, the two others were to carry clubs, and he was to pilot us to the camp of the Home Guards. On the first evidence of his having deceived us, we were to kill him.
To this he assented, and under his leadership we started forward. Soon we reached a log house, and he went to the door and knocked. There was considerable delay about opening the door; so much, that our suspicion was aroused. At length the door was partly opened, and a woman's face appeared. She recognized our guard and he briefly informed her who we were. She hardly trusted him, but after a brief parley we were admitted. We told her frankly who we were, and she supplied our wants as well as she could from her own limited resources, at the same time informing us that her husband was in the house when we arrived, but that he had hastily taken himself to the brush. We afterwards learned the cause.
We had proceeded but a short distance from thehouse when we discovered in the road ahead of us, a mounted picket, dressed in Confederate grey.
To describe our feelings at the sight, is impossible. My first impulse was to turn and fly. I grasped my club with fierce energy, with the mental vow that if that negro had betrayed us into the hands of our enemies I would send him to his long home, if my life paid the forfeit. Not a word was spoken until the picket challenged, "Who goes there?"
"Friends," replied Spencer.
"Advance, friends, and give the countersign."
"We have no countersign," I replied.
"Who are you?"
My voice trembled as I replied, "Escaped Union prisoners."
"All right. Come in."
"Wait a moment. Are you a Union man?"
"I just am that. I belong to the Home Guard."
"Well, who are the Home Guard?"
"Union men, belonging around here. Come along. We will take care of you."
"All right," we replied, and under his guidance we moved forward.
We soon reached the camp, more properly the rendezvous, of the command. We found perhaps a dozen men, all armed, in and around a small but comfortable log house. The guard reported us to one whom he saluted as Major, who immediately put us through a thorough questioning. We told him who we were, and the rank and regiment of each. We showed him our letters, and, among other things, our compass and map.
After undergoing a rigid examination, we were successful in convincing our new-found Union men that we were in very truth Yankees and escaped prisoners, and we were permitted to go where we pleased, being cautioned, however, that it was highly dangerous to stray far from camp. Immediately after our examination was closed, one of the men came up to us and said, "Did you uns stop at a house back here, this morning?"
"We stopped there, certainly," I replied; "and the woman gave us a good breakfast. Why do you ask?"
"I only wanted to be sure that you were the ones stopped there. That was my house. I madetracks out of the back door and took to the brush, when you went in at the front."
"Why did you do that? Why were you frightened at our approach?"
"Well," said he, "I'll just tell ye. We're mighty scary 'bout strangers comin' to our houses, jest now. 'Taint more'n a month since one of Jordan's Band came to the house of my neighbor, not more'n a mile from heah, an' let on he was a Union man, an' wanted to join the Home Guards, and his wife sent to the bush an' had her husband come in. But afore he got clar into the house a dozen of Jordan's men come out'n the bush, an' they just took an' tied him hand an' foot, mutilated him in the most horrid manner, an' then, bleeding as he was, they hung him to a tree right in sight of his own house. I tell ye, stranger, it stan's a man in hand to look out for himself these times. If I'd knowed who you was, I wouldn't have run into camp, as I did."
While we were talking, a little group of men gathered around us, listening to the conversation. Our looks must have expressed incredulity. In fact it was hard, soldiers as we were, used to scenesof blood and brutality upon the battlefield, to believe it possible that such hellish deeds could have been enacted in a Christian land.
"Reck'n that's a pretty tough yarn to believe, now, ain't it?" said a tall, gaunt specimen of a North Georgia man. "But I tell you it's true, every word of it. I seed it with my own eyes. I helped to cut him down and bury him—and he ain't the only one that's been served that way."
Looking around, a little later, we saw in the field at a short distance, three or four men at work digging sweet potatoes—each man with a musket strapped to his back.
I had read in histories of the early settlement of the Eastern States, and of pioneering in the West, incidents corresponding in some respects with this. There was, however, one radical difference between the cases of our pioneers and the Georgia Unionists. The former were compelled to defend themselves against the North American savages, in a war prosecuted without regard to the lawsgoverning civilized nations; but this was in the interior of Georgia, one of the older States, in the noon-tide of the nineteenth century. These men were not warring with savages, but with their fellow men of the same race, with their neighbors, their former friends and acquaintances.
Here were about a hundred men banded together for mutual protection—Union men, who had voted against secession, who had refused to join in that fratricidal step, and who were in sympathy with the North in desiring to maintain and preserve the Union. When conscripted into the Confederate army they fled to the mountains, and were there hunted like wild beasts, and when pressed like them, stood at bay. Their wives and little ones had tilled the soil, and managed to raise enough corn and sweet potatoes to maintain life, and to send to the hiding places of their husbands and fathers and brothers, supplies from this meagre store, as occasion required.
To this class were added those who were so unfortunate as to have been captured—forced into the Southern service by conscription, and who had subsequently escaped and returned to their homes.So soon as they were in sufficient numbers to warrant it, they had left their places of concealment and formed an organization for mutual protection. They were armed with muskets, carbines, revolvers, shot-guns—anything that would shoot.
They had made one or two raids on the planters in the lowlands, known to be prominent Confederates, and had supplied themselves with provisions. The exigencies of the Southern cause had compelled that government to put into the field every available man. The theatre of activity being so far removed from here, however, had, to a certain extent, protected these mountaineers from attack by any detachment of the Confederate army.
There was, however, a guerrilla company, known as Jordan's Band, used by the Confederates as scouts, whose business it was to give information of the movements of Sherman's forces, which were located on the railroad. They waylaid foraging parties, bushwhacked pickets, etc. Well armed and mounted, they outnumbered the Home Guards nearly two to one. With this band the Home Guards were constantly fighting.It was a war of extermination between them. No prisoners were taken by either side. When we arrived in camp they were momentarily expecting an attack. The men were stationed where they could overlook the different roads, with orders, if attacked, to fall back slowly to camp, sending in information to the commander, Major McCreary, so that he might put his men in the best possible position to receive the enemy.
The Home Guards were outside any regular military organization, but were most desirous of entering the United States service. They were not so anxious for the pay they would then be entitled to draw, as they were to procure good arms and clothing, and to be entitled to the protection of the government, as regularly-organized soldiers. They begged of us to represent their case to our government, and see if this could not be accomplished. I may as well state right here, that information concerning their case was promptly filed in the War Department, but I could never learn that it was acted upon.
With few exceptions, these were rough, unlettered men, without even the rudiments of aneducation. But they were generous, hospitable, brave, and Union men to the core; men who would suffer privations, and death itself, rather than array themselves in strife against the Stars and Stripes, the emblem of the country they loved. All the power of the Confederate government could not compel them to fight against it. Uneducated though they were, under their homespun jackets beat hearts pure as gold, and stout as oak.
These were the men to whom Providence had directed our steps. We were invited into the house, and after eating a good dinner and enjoying the luxury of a bath—more strictly speaking, a good, thorough wash from head to foot—we were provided with good beds. What a treat! Soft, clean beds, for men who for six months had thought a blanket a luxury, and who for the last twenty days had turned day into night and slept in the woods, with no kindly covering but the sky—depending upon the rays of the sun for warmth; all the time with a sense of danger hovering over us that would only permit brief and troubled rest, liable to be broken should a leaf fall, or a twig snap. Throwing ourselves into bed,we were soon lost in quiet, refreshing sleep, from which we did not awaken until long after daylight the next morning. We now felt like new men, and after a hearty breakfast were eager to take the road as soon as circumstances should permit, certainly by the time darkness should again make it prudent.
Our new friends would not for a moment listen to this proposition. We must stay and rest, they said, and when fit to travel some of them would accompany us to Sherman's lines. The roads were scouted during the night by Jordan's men, and the chances were two to one in favor of our being recaptured. They could not go with us that night, and perhaps not the next, because they were expecting an attack. So soon as the emergency had passed, and it was safe to proceed, they promised to take us on our way.
It was hard to act upon this prudent advice. Our patience was sorely tried. Only forty miles separated us from our lines, and from telegraphic communication with wife and home. One night or two at most, would finish the journey. It was hard to wait, but discretion and the urgent adviceof friends prevailed. We consented to remain, provided they would furnish us with any kind of arms, and permit us temporarily to volunteer in the Home Guards, and in case of a fight to participate in it. To this proposition they gave a cordial assent. I was furnished with a revolver, and Spencer and Hatcher with other weapons.
That night, word was brought in that some of Jordan's men had been on a certain road, and the probabilities were that we should be attacked before morning. The Major immediately took the necessary steps to put his force in the best possible position for defense. His plan was to ambush the enemy. Two mounted scouts were sent out, with orders to ascertain the Confederate strength, and then, after showing themselves, to fall back and if possible to draw them into our trap. We waited patiently for several hours, and at length the scouts returned. They reported having seen the enemy, who prudently refused to follow them in. It being apparent that no attack would be made that night, the usual precaution of posting pickets was taken, and all returned to camp.
The next morning, one of the men asked to see"that little thing" I showed the Major when I came into camp. It was some time before I could make out what he meant. I finally asked him if it was the compass; and he reck'ned it was. I took it out of my pocket and showed it to him. Finding him ignorant of its uses, I explained them as well as I was able, saying among other things that the needle always pointed to the north, unless attracted by some more powerful magnet. I took a piece of iron, and caused the needle to traverse by attraction. Some of the questions he asked, would have puzzled old Doctor Benjamin Franklin to answer. It is hard to believe that at this age of the world, in a civilized country, a man could be found so utterly ignorant of the uses of a compass.
Here could be seen the difference between educated freedom at the North, and uneducated slavery in the South. Without any system of free schools, the poor whites were unable to procure the means to educate their children. It was not to the interests of the slaveholders, the aristocracy of the South, to educate the masses. Slavery naturally created an aristocracy, to maintain which it wasnecessary to keep both negroes and poor whites in ignorance. There were no common interests between the rich and the poor whites, to induce the former to tax themselves to educate their neighbors' children. The result was, that while the children of the aristocrats were, generally, educated above the common standard at the North, the masses were left in deplorable ignorance.
By this time we were becoming impatient to resume our journey, and urged our friends, with all the eloquence of which we were possessed, to make the attempt to reach our lines that night. But the Major, although plainly desirous of accommodating us, was firmly convinced that the attempt could not be made with safety, and wisely, no doubt, overruled us. Much against our inclination, we abided by his decision, and concluded to remain another night. During the course of the day, we received an invitation to attend a wedding.
One of the members of the Home Guards was a reckless young fellow, a deserter from an Ohioregiment. Wild, yet generous-hearted, he had, he said, been grossly abused by his Captain, and had therefore left his command and joined the Home Guards. In less than a month, he had succeeded in captivating one of Jasper's fairest maidens, and we were invited to witness the ceremony that should make the twain one flesh.
We more than suspected that the desire to witness this ceremony had influenced, if not the Major, at least a large proportion of his men, to delay our journey. We put the best face on the matter, however, and inasmuch as we were compelled to wait, decided to attend.
Just before the time arrived for the invited guests to assemble, Major McCreary made a detail of a sufficient number of his command to secure us from surprise, and posted them upon all the approaches to the place; the balance attended the wedding in a body, taking with them their arms and equipments.
Like a majority of the homes of Georgia mountaineers, the house in which the ceremony was to be performed was about sixteen feet square, and constructed of logs. A large fireplace,extending nearly across one end of the building, was piled with wood that crackled and roared as the ruddy blaze encircled and devoured it. It sent back into the room a delightful glow, lighting up the dusky nooks and corners of the old cabin, now flickering up to the ceiling and again dying away, leaving the inmates in the dancing shadows. A bed occupied the opposite side of the room. Opposite the only entrance was one small window. The other furniture consisted solely of a rough pine table and a few chairs.
The assembled company composed a group that if faithfully drawn would insure to any artist the reputation of a first-class caricaturist. The guests, numbering between thirty and forty persons of both sexes, filled the room to overflowing. Immediately in front of the fireplace stood the bride and groom, hand in hand.
The costume of the bride was not such as Paris would have prescribed for such an occasion. Durability and comfort rather than a desire for artistic effect, had evidently been the ruling considerations in its selection. The material was calico, bright colors predominating, and it was made up withoutany of the furbelows and jimcracks called "trimmings." No unsightly hoops (then everywhere in vogue) concealed the outlines of the girl's well-developed form. Upon her feet were worn good, substantial leather shoes and woolen stockings. Her "waterfall" was made up of her own luxurious hair, held in place by a horn comb. No ornament of any kind or description, not even a sprig or flower, was permitted to relieve the chaste simplicity of her costume. Standing there by the side of her chosen husband, she looked substantial and durable, rather than beautiful.
The groom, resplendent in all the glories of a white shirt and clean homespun jacket and trousers, seemed to be as happy as is often permitted to mortals.
Grouped around the room, in various grotesque attitudes, were the members of the Home Guards. Some were standing, resting their chins upon hands folded across the muzzles of their muskets; others were standing in the position of a soldier at ordered arms; others were squatted on the floor, with their guns lying across their laps. Sitting on the bed and on the few chairs, were some of thewomen, while others mingled with the soldiers, quite regardless of appearances.
Everything being in readiness, the clergyman took his place, and in a few words pronounced the marriage ceremony—which, whether performed in palace or hovel, is so fraught with good or ill, to both the parties concerned.
For a moment after he had concluded, all were silent. The grave deportment of the minister combined with the peculiar circumstances attending upon the marriage, acted like a spell upon the audience, compelling even the most reckless to yield to its influence. The silence was rudely broken by the young husband, who, taking his bride by the chin, by this means getting her face in position, gave her a rousing smack on the mouth, exclaiming: "Well, Mary, how do you like gitt'n' married?"
"I like it fust rate. I wouldn't mind gitt'n' married every day," was her reply.
The scene that followed beggars description—such pulling and hauling and kissing of the bride; such kissing of everybody who would submit to being kissed, and of some who wouldn't; suchscreaming and laughing; such jostling and mixing, surely never were seen before.
For an hour or more the carnival continued. At length they were tired out by their wild play and boisterous mirth. Quiet was restored. Songs were called for. Spencer, a good singer, gave them the song, "Who will care for mother now?" I followed with "Old Irish Gentleman" in my best style, my music resembling the notes of a jay bird alternated with those of a wild goose, with an occasional note resembling the filing of a saw. The songs, however, were received with applause about equally divided, although I heard a pretty widow remark that she thought Spencer the better singer, and I could not dispute her taste.
When the bride remarked that "It must be gitt'n' moughty late, hard on to one o'clock," the company dispersed; some to their homes, others to the picket line to relieve the guard and learn the signs of the night. Spencer, Hatcher, and I betook ourselves to the headquarters of the Guards, where we were soon soundly sleeping.
The next morning the Major despatched men in every direction to ascertain the whereabouts andmovements of Jordan's men. We were urgent in our request to start that night.
"Wait until I hear from my men," he said. "I sha'n't run the risk of having you recaptured, nor of unnecessarily sacrificing my men. I am just as anxious as you are to have you reach your lines in safety. We are in need of ammunition and supplies, and you can assist us in getting them. You can also establish the fact that we are Union men, and that we can be trusted. I want to accompany you myself, and we will start just as soon as it is safe to do so; but you must wait until that time comes. We have repeatedly tried to make your people understand our position, but they do not seem to trust us."
There was altogether too much good sense in the Major's reasoning to gainsay it, and we perforce submitted with the best grace possible.
In the course of the day, two members of Jordan's Band came into camp under flag of truce. Their ostensible object was to enter into a compact with the Home Guards, by the terms of which theprivate property of each should be respected. Major McCreary evinced good diplomatic ability in the conduct of the negotiation. He insisted upon the restitution of property taken by Jordan's men prior to the formation of the Home Guards. He detailed with great clearness and force the manner in which the houses of his men had been plundered by the guerrillas; how they had not only appropriated articles of value, but had destroyed furniture and clothing, with no other motive than that of revenge.
"When you restore to us the full value of what you have destroyed," he said, "less the value of what we have taken from you, then we will enter into an agreement to respect private property."
He greatly exaggerated his numerical strength, and I think was successful in impressing upon the minds of the envoys that in position and men he was far stronger than he really was. He also succeeded in worming out of them information of the utmost importance as to the location of the Band at that time.
When the interview was ended, the Major informed us that the news he had obtained, if substantiated by the scouts when they came in, would enable us to start that night. A little later we were told that the attempt would be made.
Ten men, under the command of the Major, were selected as an escort, and we started out in a state of high exhilaration. Our horses were fair roadsters, we were armed; and judging by our feeling at that moment, nothing less than a battalion would have seemed a formidable obstacle in our path. In fact, I believe some of us would have rather enjoyed the prospect of a skirmish that night. The Major had occasion to check our rather noisy demonstrations more than once during the first hour of our ride. The night was intensely dark. The rain came down steadily, and as our clothes became saturated, our exuberant spirits toned down to the level of reasonable men.
Once more, at a distance of about four miles from our starting point, we came to the outpost ofa guard. He reported that just before night he had discovered a man skulking in the bushes beyond.
The Major immediately detailed one of his men, with orders to reconnoitre a certain by-road, at a point known to be a rendezvous for Jordan's men when they were in that vicinity, and to report to us a few miles farther on. He then informed us that if we were attacked at all, it would be near the point where he had ordered his man to report.
The scout put spurs to his horse and in an instant was lost to view in the darkness. It was curious how suddenly our desire for a fight evaporated, when the probability arose that our wishes might be speedily gratified; especially when the chances were so decidedly in favor of an enemy lying in ambush, from which we should be compelled to dislodge him.
Quietly and unostentatiously the Major communicated his plans to his men, and everything being in readiness we resumed our march. When within a mile of the point where the scout had been ordered to join us, we heard a crackling and snapping in the brush at the side of the road. We halted and breathlessly listened.
Somebody on horseback was coming our way. If it was the scout, all was right; if not, it was certain the enemy was on the road. Silently we sat on our horses and listened. At length the Major challenged, "Who comes there?"
No answer. Again the Major challenged. I cocked my revolver, and the click-click running along our line sounded ominous.
"Halloo, boys, is that you?" came out of the brush.
We recognized the voice in a moment; it was the scout's.
"Why didn't you answer when I challenged?" demanded the Major.
"I reck'ned I'd just wait and see who you was, fust," was the cool reply.
"You ran a mighty narrow chance of being fired into."
"Yes, I calc'lated on that; but I thought I'd take the risk. It's mighty onsartain 'bout hitt'n' a feller in the brush, dark as it is now; and I'd ruther be shot at than fool along into Jordan's hands."
"I say," said Spencer to me,sotto voce, "that fellow is a cool one!"
And so he was. Think of a man's calmly calculating, rather than make a mistake and thereby raising a false alarm, the chances of a dozen shots being fired at him at a distance not exceeding ten rods—from a point he all the while intended to advance toward, until near enough to recognize voices. He was a specimen of the kind of men that made up the Home Guards.
The scout's report was favorable. He thought there had been no enemy around the old rendezvous for several days. This intelligence corresponded with that already obtained by the Major. Coupled with the state of the weather, it seemed nearly certain that we should have only the elements to contend with that night. Again we were off.
"We must push ahead, now, at double quick. We have no time to lose," said the Major.
Putting our horses into a gallop, we rushed into the darkness. Splashing through the mud, now fording creeks, now floundering through quagmires, our little band flitted like spectres. Every hour lessened the distance between us and the boys in blue. Daylight would find us within sight of thestars and stripes, if no misfortune overtook us. Our horses were reeking with perspiration. Up hill and down, on and on we galloped. At last a house appeared in sight.
"Halt! Dismount!"
"What is this, Major?" I asked.
"The house of a friend," was the reply. "We are within five miles of your picket lines."
Could it be possible that only five miles divided us from our old comrades—from the "boys in blue," from telegraphic communication with wife and children? Only five miles to liberty? We could hardly restrain our feelings within reasonable bounds. My heart fluttered and my limbs shook with excitement. My voice trembled so that I could scarcely articulate.
"Why do you halt?" I querulously asked the Major.
"We must wait till daylight. It is not safe to approach the picket line at night."
"But, Major, is there not another house nearer the line? Must we stop here? Would it not be safer to get as near the line as possible? Is therenot a possibility that we may be attacked even here?"
I poured these questions out without giving him a chance to reply. It seemed as if I could not stop.
"It seems like you were gitt'n' mighty uneasy just now. I reckon we'll have to stop a time, anyhow. You might as well come in and make yourselves comfortable. We will get warmed up, have something to eat, let the horses blow awhile, and then perhaps we will go on to the Widow H——'s. She lives right close to the line, but she's a Reb clean through, and I don't like to trust her any longer than is necessary."
The Major's cool, matter-of-fact way of disposing of the matter, made me ashamed of my excitement and petulance. I felt the more chagrined at the display of my feelings, because Hatcher and Spencer had exhibited so much more coolness and self-restraint, and I determined that thereafter I should act with more discretion. So, hiding my impatience as best I could, I dismounted and followed my companions into the house. We found the family asleep, but a good fire burningon the capacious hearth was a welcome sight to the drenched and shivering troopers.
The noisy summons of the Major aroused the sleeping inmates. When they found who we were that visited them at such an hour, they extended to us a hearty welcome. Fresh wood was piled upon the fire, around which we gathered in a steaming semicircle. The Major took our host aside. A few brief questions were asked and answered.
"It's all right," he said as he joined us. "The whelps have been around, but left yesterday. I reckon we'll stop awhile, get a bite to eat, and then shove on to Widow H——'s."
It was yet two hours or more to daylight, and our friends could not be blamed if they preferred their present comfortable quarters before the fire, to muddy roads, darkness, and pelting rain. As for myself and two companions, we were the very pictures of suppressed impatience. When our hospitable host passed around some food and home-made coffee, we were far too excited to partake. The sight of Major McCreary and hismen, coolly stowing away the bread and coffee, fairly made me grate my teeth with impatience.
At length the Major, taking pity upon us, rather than following his own better judgment, as I am firmly convinced, gave the order to remount. We were the first to obey.
The night was still very disagreeable. The rain continued to come down with pitiless violence, accompanied by a cold northeast wind, which, combined with the pitchy darkness, rendered traveling the reverse of pleasant. We were, however, too much excited with the prospect to mind the unpleasant state of the weather. We were living on anticipation. Our brilliant hopes overshadowed the uncomfortable present to such an extent that even now I look back to that night's ride as one of the most delightful episodes of a not altogether uneventful life.
An hour's ride brought us to the house of Widow H——, within half of a mile of our picket line. It was still very dark, and altogether unsafe to attempt to approach the pickets. We must wait for daylight. So, when the order to dismount was given, we acquiesced with the best grace possible.
Fastening our horses, we approached the house. A resoundingrat-tat-tatbrought the widow to the door. Finding the party headed by the leader of the Home Guards, she seemed the reverse of pleased, and was not inclined to accede to our moderate demands for shelter until morning; but finally, with a repugnance she took no pains to conceal, she permitted us to enter. We soon built up a good fire, and under the influence of its cheering warmth forgot the inhospitable conduct of our hostess. With many a jest and story we beguiled the tedious hour till daylight.