POSTAL AFFAIRS.
The Postmaster, Hiram J. Williams—A life that was a reality, but reads like a romance.
The north side of the court-house square at Decatur is intersected by a public road leading to North Decatur, Silver Lake, the Chattahoochee River, and points beyond. On the eastern corner of this intersection stands the well-known Bradbury House. The house itself is an unsightly object, being almost untenable through age and neglect, but occupying a most desirable location. From its site lovely views of the surrounding country may be obtained, as the eye sweeps the circle of the horizon which is bounded on the north by distant hills, and on the northwest by the blue peaks of the Kennesaw. In the west is a near-by plateau, crowned with oaks and pines, beautiful in the morning when covered with a filmy mantle of faint purple mist—gorgeous at evening, when overhung by sunset clouds.
In 1860 the lower part of the Bradbury House was occupied as a store and postoffice, the proprietor and postmaster being Mr. William Bradbury. His assistant was Hiram J. Williams, then a lad of fourteen years. When Mr. Bradbury enlisted in the DeKalb Light Infantry in 1861, Hiram became in reality the postmaster. At that early age he manifested the same traits which have characterized him to thisday—unwearied attention to the business before him, unvarying courtesy, beautiful modesty, calm unbroken serenity of manner, and an unswerving honesty.
During the four years of the war, the mail received and sent out from Decatur was enormous in its quantity, and all the while it was handled by this youth; for when, in 1862, Mr. Bradbury resigned and Mr. John N. Pate was appointed postmaster in his place, Hiram Williams was retained in the office, Mr. Pate simply bringing over the mail from the depot. So great was the quantity of mail matter that sometimes Hiram had to call to his assistance his young friend, John Bowie.
During those war years, there were but few postoffices in DeKalb County, and the people for miles around had their mail sent to Decatur. The soldiers, unless writing to young ladies, rarely ever paid postage on their letters, but left it to be done by their home folks. This unpaid postage had to be collected and kept account of. Often a poor wife or mother, after trudging weary miles to the postoffice, would receive a letter from husband or son and, unwilling to return without answering it, would request Hiram to answer it for her, which he always did. With every package of letters sent out, a way-bill had to go, showing the number of letters, how many were prepaid, how many unpaid, etc, etc. Imagine the work this entailed! Imagine the great responsibility! Imagine the youth who bore this labor and responsibility for four years! Small of stature, quiet in manner, but with an undaunted spirit looking out from his steady but softly bright brown eyes. How bravehe must have been, and how his good widowed mother and only sister must have doted on him.
In July, 1864, when the booming of the Federal guns is heard from the banks of the Chattahoochee, the postoffice is closed and for several months thereafter letters, if sent for at all, are sent by hand.
Our brave little postmaster now hies him away to Augusta, and there acts as mailing clerk for “The Constitutionalist,†and, after the surrender, for “The Evening Transcript.†In 1866 he returns to Decatur and engages in mercantile business with Willard and McKoy, but soon after opens a store of his own.
Early in 1867, Mr. Williams, now arrived at the age of twenty-one, is appointed postmaster at Decatur by Samuel W. Randall, postmaster general of the United States Government. In 1869 Mr. Williams was elected clerk of the Superior Court of DeKalb County, still retaining the office of postmaster, but having an assistant in each position.
In 1871, he was re-elected clerk of the court, and again in 1873. All this time he continued to be postmaster, and was re-commissioned by Postmaster General Jewell in 1875, holding the office up to 1880.
Mr. Williams continued to be Clerk of the Superior Court until 1884, when Mr. Robert Russell, a Confederate veteran, was elected. Mr. Williams then returned for a while to mercantile pursuits. But while pursuing the even tenor of his way, was called to a responsible position in Atlanta (which he still holds) with the G. W. Scott Manufacturing Company, now known as the Southern Fertilizer Company.
From 1870 to 1886, Mr. Williams was a specialcorrespondent of “The Atlanta Constitution,†thus preserving the history of Decatur and of DeKalb county during that period.
So much for a business career of remarkable success. But is this all? What of the higher and nobler life? This has not been neglected. In 1866 Mr. Williams united with the Decatur Presbyterian church. In 1868 he was appointed Librarian of the Sabbath school, an office he still holds. In 1894 he was elected to the office of Deacon, and also appointed church Treasurer. When the Agnes Scott Institute, for girls, was founded in 1891, he was made Secretary and Treasurer.
Mr. Williams has been twice married—in his early manhood to Miss Jennie Hughes, who lived but a short while. His present wife was Miss Belle Steward, who has been a true help-meet. They have a lovely and hospitable home on Sycamore street, where her sweet face, ever beaming with cheerfulness and loving kindness and sympathy for all, must be to him as a guiding star to lead and bless him with its light, as he returns at evening from the city and its business cares and toils, to the rest and peace of home.
If any one should say that this is not strictly a war sketch, I would reply, “no, but who could resist following up at least the salient points of such a life—a life that exemplifies the main elements of success.†Dear young readers, have you not seen what they are:—perseverance, fidelity to trusts reposed, punctuality, courtesy, honesty and conscientiousness—in other words, adherence to right principles and to Christian duty.
THE TRAGIC DEATH OF SALLIE DURHAM.
The closing days of the war—A sketch of the Durham family—The death of Sallie.
On the 9th of April, 1865, at Appomattox Court House, Lee had surrendered his army of twenty-five thousand men to Grant with his four-fold forces. One after another of the Confederate Generals had been forced to yield to superior numbers, and by the last of May the war was over.
“The North had at the beginning of the strife a population of twenty-two millions; the South had ten millions, four millions of whom were slaves. The North had enlisted during the war two million six hundred thousand troops—the South a little more than six hundred thousand. Now the North had a million men to send home—the South but one hundred and fifty thousand.â€
Jefferson Davis had been captured, and imprisoned in Fortress Monroe. Our worn and ragged soldiers had returned to a devastated country. Our entire people were to begin life over again in the midst of poverty, uncertainty, and under the watchful eye of the conqueror. The war was over, but military rule was not.
It was in these transition days, between the fall of “the Lost Cause†and the more stirring events of“Reconstruction,†that there occurred in our little village a most appalling tragedy. To understand it fully, my readers should know something of the young lady’s family. Let us pause here and take a backward glance.
About a hundred years ago Lindsey Durham, a Georgia boy of English descent, graduated from a Philadelphia Medical College and located in Clarke county, in his native State. Drugs were expensive, as they could not be obtained nearer than Savannah, Charleston or New York. Being surrounded by frontiersmen and Indians, he could but notice the efficacy of the native barks and roots used by them as medicines. He was thus led to adopt to a large extent the theories of the Botanic School. He began to cultivate his own medicinal plants, and to prosecute with much zeal his botanical studies and researches. He even went to Europe and procured seeds and plants of medicinal value, until finally his garden of medicinal herbs and plants contained thirteen acres. So great was his fame that patients began to come to him from adjoining States, and he had to build cottages on his plantation in order to entertain them. His marvellous success brought to him ample compensation. He became a millionaire, and lived in all the old-time splendor. Once, by a loan of money, he rescued the Athens bank from utter failure.
Dr. Lindsey Durham left several sons, all of whom were physicians. The eldest of these, and the most eminent, was Dr. William W. Durham, who was born on his father’s plantation in Clarke county, in 1823. After a collegiate course at Mercer University, hegraduated from the Jefferson Medical College of Philadelphia, taking high honors, spending five years in the hospital there, and perfecting himself in surgery. This talented gentleman married Miss Sarah Lowe, of Clarke county, and, four years after her death, he married Mrs. Georgia A. Allen, whose maiden name was Wood, and who was a native of Franklin, Georgia.
With the children of his first marriage and their fair young step-mother, Dr. Durham came to Decatur in 1859. Well do I remember the children; two handsome sons, John and William—two pretty brown-eyed girls, Sarah and Catherine. It is needless to say that a large practice awaited the skillful physician, whose eclectic methods were then comparatively new.
William, the eldest son, went into the Confederate service at the age of sixteen, remaining the entire four years, suffering severely at the siege of Vicksburg, fighting valiantly at the Battle of Atlanta, and coming out of the war the shadow of his former self, with nothing but an old army mule and one silver dollar.
Sarah Durham, called Sallie by her family and friends, was a lovely girl of seventeen. She was tall and graceful; bright, and full of enthusiasm; kind, loving and generous. She had just returned from her grandmother’s plantation, for her father had not sooner dared to have his daughters return, such was the insolence of the straggling Federals.
On the morning of September 1st, 1865, this dear girl arose early and noiselessly with a scheme in her kind heart. The former servants were all gone; her mother was not well, and she would surprise the householdby preparing for them a nice breakfast. In fancy we see her, as she treads lightly, and chats softly with her tiny half-sister Jennie, and with a little negro girl who in some way had remained with the family.
The Durham residence, which was on Sycamore street, then stood just eastward of where Col. G. W. Scott now lives. The rear of the house faced the site where the depot had been before it was burned by the Federals, the distance being about 350 yards. Hearing an incoming train, Sallie went to the dining room window to look at the cars, as she had learned in some way that they contained Federal troops. While standing at the window resting against the sash, she was struck by a bullet fired from the train. (It was afterwards learned that the cars were filled with negro troops on their way to Savannah, who were firing off their guns in a random, reckless manner.) The ball entered the left breast of this dear young girl, ranging obliquely downward, coming out just below the waist, and lodging in the door of a safe, or cupboard, which stood on the opposite side of the room. (This old safe, with the mark of the ball, is still in the village.)
The wounded girl fell, striking her head against the dining table, but arose, and walking up a long hall she threw open the door of her father’s room, calling to him in a voice of distress. Springing from bed, he said:
“What is it, my child?â€
“Oh, father,†she exclaimed, “the Yankees have killed me!â€
Laying her upon a small bed in the room, her father cut away from her chest her homespun dressand made a hasty examination of the wound. Her horror-stricken mother remembers to this day that awful scene in all its details. But we will draw a veil over the grief of the smitten family, as they stood half paralyzed at this sudden calamity, and looked upon the loved one whom they were helpless to save. Mrs. Durham recalls the fact that the first person who came in was Rev. Dr. Holmes, and that throughout this great trial he and his family were very sympathetic and helpful.
Every physician in the village and city, and her father’s three brothers were summoned, but nothing could be done except to alleviate her sufferings. She could lie only on her right side, with her left arm in a sling suspended from the ceiling. Every attention was given by relatives and friends. Her grandmother Durham came and brought with her the old family trained nurse. Sallie’s schoolmates and friends were untiring in their attentions. Some names that have appeared in previous sketches, will now appear again, for they watched with anxious, loving hearts by the couch where the young sufferer lay. Tenderly let us mention their names, as we tread softly in memory’s sacred halls. Among the constant attendants at her bedside were Mrs. Martha Morgan, Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Morton, Miss Laura Williams (Mrs. J. J. McKoy), Lizzie and Anna Morton, Mrs. H. H. Chivers, Dr. Jim Brown and John Hardeman. During the week that her life slowly ebbed away, there was another who ever lingered near her, a sleepless and tireless watcher, a young man of a well-known family, to whom this sweet young girl was engaged to be married.
Writes Mrs. P. W. Corr, of Hampton, Florida, (formerly Miss Lizzie Morton): “Never can I forget the dreary night when Willie Durham, Kitty Durham and Warren Morton left Decatur with Sallie’s body, which was to be buried in the old family cemetery in Clarke county. Mrs. Durham, who was in delicate health, was utterly prostrated and the doctor could not leave her.†So Dr. Charles Durham managed the funeral arrangements, chartering the car, and Sallie was buried from the old church her grandfather Lowe had built on his own plantation in Clarke county, and laid to rest in the Durham cemetery near by.
Sallie was shot on Friday at 7:30A. M., and died the following Friday at 3:30A. M.While she had suffered untold agony, she was conscious to the last. Throughout her illness she manifested a thoughtful consideration for the comfort of others. Especially did she show tender solicitude for her step-mother, insisting that she should not fatigue herself. While anxious to live, she said she was not afraid to die. In her closing hours she told her friends that she saw her own mother, her grandfather Durham, and her uncle Henry Durham (who had died in the Confederate service), all of whom she expected to meet in the bright beyond.
General Stephenson was in command of the Federal Post at Atlanta. He was notified of this tragedy, and sent an officer to investigate. This officer refused to take anybody’s word that Sallie had been shot by a United States soldier from the train; but, dressed in full uniform, with spur and sabre rattling upon the bare floor, he advanced to the bed where thedying girl lay, and threw back the covering “to see if she had really been shot.†This intrusion almost threw her into a spasm. This officer and the others at Atlanta promised to do all in their power to bring the guilty party to justice, but nothing ever came of the promise, so far as we know.
As a singular coincidence, as well as an illustration of the lovely character of Sallie, I will relate a brief incident given by the gifted pen already quoted from: “One of the most vivid pictures of the past in my memory is that of Sallie Durham emptying her pail of blackberries into the hands of Federal prisoners on a train that had just stopped for a moment at Decatur, in 1863. We had all been gathering berries at Moss’s Hill, and stopped on our way home for the train to pass.â€
Dr. W. W. Durham lived for nearly twenty years after Sallie’s death. During the war he had enlisted as a soldier, but was commissioned by Dr. George S. Blackie, a Medical Director in the Western Division of the Confederate Army, to the position of Inspector of Medicines for the Fifth Depot. This position was given him because of his remarkable botanical knowledge and power of identifying medicines. After the war he was prominent in the reorganization of the Georgia Medical Eclectic College, but refused to take a professorship on account of an almost overwhelming practice. He was a quiet, earnest, thoughtful man; and highly sympathetic and benevolent in his disposition. His widow, Mrs. Georgia A. Durham, and their daughter, Mrs. Jennie Findley, still reside in Decatur.
Dr. W. M. Durham is a successful physician in Atlanta. He holds a professorship in the Georgia Eclectic Medical College, and edits the Georgia Eclectic Medical Journal. Kitty is Mrs. W. P. Smith, of Maxey’s; and John L. Durham is a physician with a large practice, and a large family, living at Woodville, Georgia.
The Durham residence still stands in Decatur, though not upon the same spot. For years a great stain of blood remained upon the floor, as a grim and silent reminder of this most awful tragedy which so closely followed the horrible and cruel war.
THE DEATH OF MELVILLE CLARK.
The lamented death of Miss Durham was not the only one in our community to be traced to the results of the war.
The period of reconstruction, forcing upon the Southern states the obnoxious Fourteenth Amendment, so humiliating and so unjust, especially at that time, had intensified the prejudices of the negroes against the white people—prejudices already sufficiently aroused by previous abolition teachings and the results of the war.
Several times in this little volume mention has been made of Rev. William Henry Clarke, the staunch patriot and well known Methodist preacher. At this period he had become a resident of Decatur. His son, Melville Clarke, a noble, promising boy, while attempting to rescue a small white child from the abuse of an overgrown negro youth, received wounds from which he died. Memory recalls many other instances of like character, perpetrated at this period, the most disgraceful in the annals of American history.
The subjoined resolutions, passed by the Methodist Sabbath school of which Melville was a beloved scholar, attest the many good traits of his character, and the affection accorded him in the community:
“The committee appointed to draft resolutions onthe death of Melville Clarke, one of our scholars, beg leave to submit the following:
“In the wise dispensation of Him that doeth all things well, we are called to pay the last tribute to departed worth. Melville Clark is no more. The vacant seat says he is no more. The hushed voice says he is no more. Yes, the impressive, solemn silence of this moment whispers that another light which shone brightly the brief space allotted it here has flickered out. The body which encased the spirit of the noble Christian boy has been laid away in the silence of the grave, and his spirit, as we trust, escorted by a convoy of angels, has gone to that bright and better world above.
“Therefore, Resolved, That as we gather around the new-made grave and drop a sympathetic tear (which speaks more eloquently than any words mortal lips can utter), we deeply feel the loss of one so full of promise and usefulness—that noble spirit just bursting into manhood, with a mind that would grasp in a moment things that men have passed through life and never comprehended—and a heart lit up with the love of God, and drawn out by the tenderest cords of affection to do little acts of kindness. Language fails us to give utterance to the anguish we feel at sustaining so great a loss. But he has gone. No more shall we hang upon the eloquence of his gentle, kind words, or see that face which was so often lit up with an expressive sweetness that we could but recognize as the reflex of the lamb-like Christian spirit that reigned within. He has gone, and as we turn from the sad, solemn scene in that faith which ‘hopeth all things,believeth all things, endureth all things,’ we can but exclaim: ‘The Lord gave—the Lord hath taken away—blessed be the name of the Lord!’
“Resolved, That in the death of one of our members, so young, we recognize an admonition that the young, as well as the old, are swiftly passing away, and that we should pause and reflect seriously upon this important subject.
“Resolved, That as a school, our warmest sympathy and condolence be tendered to the family of our dear deceased friend in this, their great bereavement, and that a copy of these resolutions be furnished them.â€
August 30th, 1868.
THE MORTON FAMILY.
Incidents thrilling and affecting.
In several previous sketches references have been made to the Misses Morton. Not only they, but the whole family, bore an interesting and heroic part in the scenes of the war. Mr. Edward L. Morton hoisted the first Confederate flag that ever floated on the breeze in DeKalb county. This he did as soon as he heard that Georgia had passed the ordinance of secession. A few miles from Decatur there was a large mill known as Williams’s Mill, situated on Peachtree Creek. At the terminus of the bridge that spanned the creek, near the little hamlet, there grew a tall, graceful Lombardy poplar tree. The flag had been made by Mrs. Morton, Mrs. James Hunter, and other ladies who lived in the neighborhood, and was hoisted by Mr. Morton from the top of the lofty poplar. When the Federals came in they cut down the tree, but another has grown from its roots.
Mr. Morton enlisted with the first company that went from DeKalb, but returned and organized one of his own—Company F, 36th Georgia. From this command he was sent home on account of lung trouble, and placed on special duty. When Hood fell back to Atlanta, Captain Morton joined White’s Scouts, a picked band of men. He was also at one time Morgan’s guide.
After Mr. J. W. Kirkpatrick refugeed, his home on Atlanta street was occupied by Captain Morton’s family. Here some stirring incidents occurred. Says one of his daughters: “Pa tried to avoid coming within the Yankee lines, but did several times get caught at home, owing to his extreme weakness. Finally, after the 23d Army Corps was sent back to Tennessee, a raiding party of Federals went out toward Stone Mountain, were fired on a few miles from Decatur, and several killed. They were furious when they got to our house (on their return). Here they found one of ‘White’s Men’ (Pa) ill in bed. They held a court-martial and sentenced him to be hanged as soon as they finished eating dinner. Meanwhile they left a guard in his bed-room. Ma asked the guard to sit in the parlor and leave them alone the short time he had to live. The guard was a kind-hearted man, the house surrounded, the whole detachment eating and feeding their horses on all sides, and Pa was very feeble; so the guard sat in the parlor.†Captain Morton then disguised himself, armed himself, and, passing out a side door, went unchallenged through the crowd of soldiers, by Woodall’s tan-yard and out into the woods. Continues his daughter: “But when the guard thought he had better see the prisoner, it was discovered that he was gone. They talked of burning the house and made many other threats. For a long time we did not know whether he had escaped or died in the woods. * * * No man that served in the Confederate army more truly laid down his life for the cause than did my father. He never recovered from the lung trouble brought on andaggravated by the exposure and hardships he endured between ’61 and ’65.â€
Warren Morton went into the army at the tender age of fifteen, as a private in his father’s company. He was in the siege of Vicksburg—was paroled, and re-entered the army in Cumming’s Brigade—and was shot at Kennesaw, near Marietta, while acting as Sergeant-Major on Hood’s retreat. The ball struck the bone of the outer angle of the left eye, cutting away the temple plate, and came out just over the ear, cutting off the upper half of the ear. The torn nerves and arteries have always caused him pain. The bullet, while it did not touch his eye-ball, paralyzed the optic nerve on that side. The hardships endured when a growing boy, the long marches in Kentucky, the starvation rations in Vicksburg, and the horrible wound, ruined his constitution. Yet he has been an energetic man, and is living now on a farm near Newnan.
The young ladies—girls they all were at the time of which I write—were Lizzie, Anna, Kelly, Fannie and Eddie.
On the day that Wheeler’s Cavalry routed the Federal wagon train at Decatur, Lieutenant Farrar of the 63d Ohio Regiment was killed on a meadow near Mrs. Swanton’s residence, just opposite Mrs. Morton’s. There was also another Federal, a mere lad, who was mortally wounded. In some way I discovered the dying boy, and, after carrying him some water, I left him to the care of the nearer neighbors. Mrs. James Hunter, Mrs. Morton and her daughters cared for him as best they could, and sat by him until he died.Miss Lizzie Morton cut from his head a lock of hair and wrote some verses, which Mrs. Swanton kindly sent to his people in Dayton, Ohio. In some way this became known to the Federal officers, and future developments showed that this tender act was much appreciated by them.
On the morning of the 22nd of July, 1864, Mrs. Morton sat on the front steps watching for an officer to whom she might appeal for protection. “Very early General McPherson and his staff rode by. Mrs. Morton ran out and called. General McPherson alighted from his horse, heard her story, bare-headed, with his hat in hand, wrote an order and dispatched it, and then mounting, rode away to his death.†That order was to station a guard at the house, and it was never disregarded as long as the Federal line was near. This the family have always attributed to their caring for the dead, and to the kind order of General McPherson.
On the night of the 21st, Mrs. Morton had been badly frightened by some Federal soldiers coming to her house with the accusation that her young daughter “had given information that had led to the capture of their wagon train.†Threats of burning the residence were made by the Federals on several occasions. The family feel persuaded that Bill Pittman, a faithful negro, a sawyer who had lived many years at Williams’s Mill, prevented these threats from being put into execution.
Soon after the close of the war Captain Morton and his family went to Mississippi. Here he died, and one after another four of the girls, Anna, Kelly,Fanny, and Eddie. Most touchingly Lizzie (Mrs. P. W. Corr) writes: “When my sister and I were little girls in Decatur, we were very fond of private literary entertainments. Anna’s favorite declamation (which always brought down the house) was:
‘They grew in beauty side by sideAround one parent knee;Their graves are scattered far and wideO’er mountain, plain, and sea.’
“Anna sleeps alone near an old church in Scott county, Mississippi; Kelly, alone at Pickens; Pa, Fanny and Eddie side by side at Shiloh, in Holmes county.†Anna married Mr. Kearney; Kelly, Mr. W. S. Cole. Mrs. Morton is still living in the home of her daughter Lizzie, who married Rev. P. W. Corr, of Hampton, Florida. Mrs. Corr is very happily married, being fond and proud of her husband, and her children filling her heart with comfort and pleasure. To crown her earthly blessings, her mother has been spared to her in all life’s changing scenes.
Here in her happy Florida home we leave our erstwhile lassie of the war times—now an earnest wife and mother, busy ever with home duties, and also a true helpmeet to her husband in his ministerial and editorial labors.
This sketch, with its incidents, both heroic and pathetic, cannot be more appropriately concluded than by the touching words of Mrs. Corr in a recent letter: “What you say of the ‘empty places’ is full of suggestiveness. I think I never could have borne my losses and still have moved about among the ‘emptyplaces.’ But going always among strangers after every loss, being removed at once from the scene of death and not passing that way again, my sisters live in memory as part of the past, always merry, happy girls, never to grow heart-weary, never to fade. We, wandering among strangers in strange and unfamiliar scenes, have kept the memory of our old Decatur home and friends intact. There are no empty places there for us.
“It seems sweet to me to think that in that home to which we are all traveling, we shall find that those dear ones who have preceded us have carried with them that same bright and precious picture, which, however, is not there a picture of memory, but a reality of which the earthly circle was only a shadow or prophecy; and the only empty places there are those which shall be filled when we get home. Something there is in the friendships, even, of other days, that has never died—something that will live again—a root planted here that there blossoms and fruits eternally. How much more true is this—it must be so—of those who were heart of our hearts, our own loved ones. I doubt not that for one sad longing thought of ‘brother, mother, nephew,’ all that you have loved and lost, they have had many sweet and loving thoughts of you, and joyful anticipations of your coming home ‘Some Sweet Day.’â€
HON. JOSEPH E. BROWN’S PIKES AND GUNS.
(This chapter, and the succeeding one, were not placed in the chronological order of events, because they would have broken the continuity of personal experiences).
After an appeal to physical force, as the only means of redressing our wrongs, was fully determined upon, we made many important discoveries, chief of which was that we were not prepared for war. This fact had often been impressively and earnestly set forth by our greatest statesmen, Alexander Hamilton Stephens and Benjamin Harvey Hill, who, though reared in different schools of politics, were fully agreed upon this point, and who urged, with all the eloquence of patriotism and profound understanding of existing facts, the importance of delaying the act of seceding from the United States until we were better prepared for the mighty consequences—either beneficial or disastrous. In no way was the wisdom of this advice made more apparent than by our utter want of the appliances of warfare on land and on sea.
The ordinance of secession having been enacted, Georgia found itself confronted by the scarcity of guns and other munitions of warfare. Hon. Joseph E. Brown, our war Governor, finding it impossible to secure even shot-guns to equip the many regimentseager for the fray, conceived the idea of arming them with pikes; and, undaunted by the Herculean undertaking, put a large force of the best blacksmiths at the W. & A. R. R. shops to making these primitive weapons. To whose fertile brain belongs the honor of evolving the plan or diagram by which they were to be made, has never been revealed to the writer. The blade of the pike was to be about 16 inches long and 2 inches wide, with a spur of about 3 inches on either side, all of which was to be ground to a sharp edge. The shank was to be about 12 inches long, and arranged to rivet in a staff 6 feet long.
In the memorable year, 1861, J. C. Peck owned a planing mill and general wood-working shop on Decatur street, Atlanta, Ga., on the grounds now occupied by the Southern (old Richmond and Danville) R. R. freight depot. There being no machinery at the railroad shops suitable for turning the handles nor grinding the pikes, Mr. Peck contracted to grind and supply with handles the entire number—he thinks ten thousand. Before he finished this work, Governor Brown called a meeting of the mechanics of Atlanta for the purpose of ascertaining if some arrangement could be made for the manufacture of guns for the army. This meeting was adjourned two or three times, and no one seemed willing to undertake the job. At the last meeting a letter was received from the Ordnance Department of the Confederate States, containing a “drawing†of a short heavy rifle to be supplied with a Tripod rest, and an urgent request that the Governor would encourage the making of twenty-five guns after this pattern, as soon as possible. A liberalpremium for the sample was offered by the Confederate Ordnance Department. The barrels were to be thirty inches long with one inch bore, and rifled with three grooves, so as to make one complete revolution in the thirty inches. As no one else would undertake this complicated job, Mr. Peck asked for the “drawing,†and announced his willingness to do so. He discovered that it would require iron ¾ by 4½ or 5 inches to make the barrels, and for this purpose he procured enough Swede iron at a hardware store on Whitehall street to make thirty barrels. He also discovered that the common Smith bellows would not yield a blast sufficient to secure welding heat on so large a piece, and it was suggested that it could be done at W. & A. R. R. shops; he therefore secured an order from Governor Brown authorizing this important work to be done there under his instruction. An old German smith, whom Mr. Peck found at the shops, rendered him valuable aid in the accomplishment of this portion of the work. As rapidly as the welding was done he had them carried to his shop, and a wood-turner, Mr. W. L. Smith, bored them on a wood turning lath. This was a difficult job, as the boring bits caught in the irregular hole and broke; finally he devised a sort of rose bit which steadied itself, and he had no further trouble. After successfully accomplishing this portion of the work, Mr. Peck found himself confronted by another difficulty. He had no way of turning iron, but his indomitable will shrank not from the task, and he threw out a search-light which enabled him to discern a Savage, who had been superintendent of Pitts & Cook’s gin factory, and heengaged him to turn it. Mr. Peck then employed an ingenious blacksmith, who did to his satisfaction all the smith work he wanted. He made his own taps and dies for fitting the breech pieces, putting in the nipples, etc., and forged the hammers, triggers, ramrods, etc. The brass mountings were cast by Gullatte Brothers, who at that time were running a brass foundry. The locks were purchased by Mr. Peck in Macon, but, as already intimated, had to be supplied with new hammers and triggers. As the plan called for the barrels to be rifled with three grooves, and to make one complete revolution in the length of the barrel, there was none in the employ of Mr. Peck who had any idea how it was to be done. Much perplexed he went to Mr. Charles Heinz, the gunsmith on Whitehall street, who explained the process of rifling done by hand. On this idea Mr. Peck constructed a machine which he attached to a Daniels planer. This was a wood machine, with a bed which traveled backward and forward, similar to the bed of an iron planer—in such a manner that the backward and forward motion of the bed gave, also, a rotary motion to the cutters. By this process each barrel was rifled precisely alike. Mr. Peck had thirty barrels forged, but some of them were defective and would not bore through without breaking, and some were burnt in testing. Only twenty-five of them were finished. He had an abundance of walnut lumber and did not have to contend with any obstacle in making the stocks, but some in clamping them to the barrels. The plan also showed the usual screw in the extension of the breech pin, and two bands similar to those on the old stylemusket. Mr. Peck forged iron bands, but with his best effort at finishing them they appeared clumsy. Opportunely he chanced to see a wagon on Pryor street containing a lot of hardware and other things, among which was a large brass kettle. Thinking he could make bands out of this vessel, he purchased it and cut it up into those indispensable parts of his famous job, but another obstacle to success presented itself to his patient vision. He could find no one to braze the joints. By reference to his “Mechanic’s Companion†he learned the art, and brazed the bands in a skillful style. This being, done, he gave his finishing touches to the rifles.
The balls were like minie-balls, one inch in diameter, and two and one-fourth inches long, and weighed four ounces. Mr. Peck made only one set of bullet moulds, which run two bullets at the same time, and he thinks he made only six of the tripod rests. They were—every lock, stock and barrel—tested by several persons expert in the handling of muskets, rifles, shot-guns, etc., among whom was Mr. Charles Heinz, still living in Atlanta, and who will vouch for the accuracy of this important item of Confederate history, and the utility of the shot emanating from these wonderful guns. To put it mildly, the effect was almost equal to that of a six-pounder. And the recoil! Well! Wonderful to relate! They must have had infused into their mechanism supernatural or national prescience, and peering through the dim vista of the future saw the beacon light of a re-united country, and disdained partiality in the Fratricidal Contest, forevery time one of them was shot at a “Yankee,†it kicked a “Rebel†down.
P. S.—Mr. Peck has the original “drawing†sent on from the Ordnance Department at Richmond, and also the receipt for the payment for the barrels. He also has a letter from the Chief of Ordnance at Washington, D. C., informing him that the identical guns described in the above sketch had been found in his department, and that two of them would be exhibited in the Government Building of the Piedmont Exposition, Atlanta, Georgia, in 1895.
THE PURSUIT AND CAPTURE OF THE ANDREWS RAIDERS.
Captain William A. Fuller and his comrades of the pursuit.—The race of the engines, “The General†and “The Texas.â€
In the early part of 1862 the army of the Cumberland and also that of the Tennessee had grown to gigantic proportions. The history of that memorable era establishes the fact that in the month of February of that year the army of the Cumberland, commanded by General Buell, had captured Fort Donaldson and several other strong strategic points on the Tennessee and Mississippi Rivers. Numerically the Federal Army was so much stronger than the Confederate that large detachments could easily be made for incursions into the interior and unprotected sections of middle and West Tennessee, while the main army steadily advanced down the Mississippi Valley. By the first of April, General Mitchell had occupied Shelbyville and other cities, including Nashville; and the larger towns and railroad stations in the neighborhood South and East of Nashville had been occupied by the Federals.
Recognizing the importance of saving to the Confederate cause everything necessary to sustain life both of man and beast, all that could be brought out of Kentucky and Tennessee had been sent South—toAtlanta and other important points—so that those States were literally stripped of all surplus food.
The army of the Tennessee, under the command of General Albert Sidney Johnston, sought to meet General Buell and dispute his further advance. Corinth, Mississippi, was selected by General Johnston as a point beyond which the army of the Cumberland should not go. This position commanded the Memphis and Charleston Railroad, as well as others running south of that point. By the fifth of April General Buell’s army had massed at Pittsburg Landing, and along a line reaching south and parallel to that of General Johnston. Relatively the armies stood about five to eight, the Confederate of course being the smaller. They met in battle on the 6th day of April at Shiloh, so-called by the Federals, but Southern historians call it the battle of Corinth. The fight was a long and disastrous one—disastrous to both armies—but the Federals, having an unbounded supply of everything needed in war, and being immediately strengthened by large reinforcements which literally poured in, were enabled to rapidly recuperate. The Confederates lost heavily in killed and wounded, and suffered irreparably by the death of General Albert Sidney Johnston. The loss of this noble man was deeply felt and regretted by the entire South. The week following this horrible carnage was mainly taken up by both armies in burying the dead, caring for the wounded, fortifying, receiving reinforcements and maneuvering for advantageous positions.
General Mitchell, as already stated, had occupied Shelbyville, and had a considerable force. Somecavalry had penetrated as far south-east as Chattanooga, and had several times dropped a few shell into that town.
After the death of General Johnston the Confederate Army at Corinth was put under the command of General Beauregard. There were small detachments of Confederate troops distributed along the Memphis and Charleston Railroad to Stephenson, and from there to Chattanooga; also from Chattanooga to Bristol, on the East Tennessee and Georgia Railroad, and on the Virginia and Tennessee. These were to guard the railroad bridges, depots, and government stores, etc. General Ledbetter was stationed at Chattanooga with about three thousand men. There was a tolerably strong guard at London bridge, where the East Tennessee railroad crosses the Tennessee river; and General E. Kirby Smith occupied Knoxville, with a sufficient force to protect that important point as against General Morgan in his immediate front with a strong force. East Tennessee was very nearly evenly divided between Federals and Confederate sympathizers. Neither side was safe from betrayal. Those who were true to the Southern cause distinguished themselves as officials and soldiers, and those who were recreant to it were a source of great annoyance and disaster; and this applies to Kentucky and West Virginia as well. During the month of April, 1862, Brownlow, and those of his opinion, were arrested, and imprisoned in Knoxville.
The strict rules of the passport system had not yet been adopted by southern army commanders, and it was no difficult matter for friend or foe to pass the lines.
Thus matters stood at that time. The reader, therefore, may be prepared to appreciate one of the most exciting, thrilling and interesting stories of the Civil Contest.
The Western and Atlantic Railroad (often called the State Road) at the time discussed in the preceding pages, was the only line of communication between the southern centre of the Confederate States and the Army of Tennessee. It was worthy of notice that this road was not paralleled by any of the roads now in existence. The Memphis and Charleston Railroad came into the Nashville and Chattanooga at Stevenson as now, and the latter road reached from Nashville to Chattanooga. The East Tennessee and Georgia Road also came into Chattanooga then as now, and also into Dalton. These three railroad lines were “the feeders†for the Western and Atlantic Railroad at Chattanooga and Dalton. At the south or Atlanta end of that line we had the old Macon & Western (now the Georgia Central), the Atlanta and West Point, and the Georgia Railroad, as feeders for the Western and Atlantic, which reached from Atlanta via Dalton to Chattanooga. As has been stated, the Army of Tennessee, under General Beauregard at Corinth, the army under General E. Kirby Smith at Knoxville, the army under General Ledbetter at Chattanooga, and all detailed men on duty along the whole front of the Confederates from Corinth to Bristol, depended upon this single line (the old reliable Western and Atlantic Railroad) for army supplies. There was no other road in the whole distance of eight hundred miles, reaching from Mobile, Alabama, toRichmond, Virginia, that ran north and south. These facts were well known to northern commanders, and it has always seemed strange that the road should have been so unprotected. The many bridges on the Western and Atlantic were guarded at the time under consideration, April 1862, by a single watchman at each bridge, and he was employed by the railroad authorities. The bridges were of the Howe Tress pattern, weatherboarded with common wooden boards, and covered with shingles. They were exceedingly inflammable and could easily have been set on fire.
One of the rules for the running of the trains was that “if any two trains failed to make the meeting point they would be considered irregular trains, and the conductor of each train should be required to send a flagman ahead, and thus proceed until the two flagmen met.†This cumbersome rule frequently occasioned great disorder, and sometimes many trains of all grades were massed together at one station. Railroad men will understand this condition of affairs. These things were known and understood not only by the Confederates, but by the Federals through their spies. J. J. Andrews especially understood them, as the sequel will prove.
It is beyond the scope of this article to discuss the plans adopted by Captain J. J. Andrews and his twenty-two auxiliaries, to descend into the heart of the South; suffice it to say, their plans were successful, and they passed the Confederate lines and entered the pretty town of Marietta, twenty miles north of Atlanta, unmolested and unsuspected. The solving of the mystery will appear at the proper time. Forpresent purposes it is enough to state that they not only entered the town mentioned, but boarded the north-bound train on the morning of April 12th, 1862. The well-known and intrepid Captain William A. Fuller was the conductor in charge of that train—the now celebrated “General†was his engine—and Jeff Cain his engineer. There was nothing suspicious in the environments of the occasion. In those days it was not unusual, even in a country town, for a large number of men to board a train, and they were coming in from all over the country to join the Confederate army.
There was a Camp of Instruction at Big Shanty, seven miles north of Marietta, and this fact, as well as many others more important, was known to Andrews, who from the beginning of the war had been “a commercial traveller,†“in full sympathy with the South,†and had ridden over this line many times. The conductor, therefore, took up the tickets as usual, some to one point and some to another, but the most of them to Big Shanty. The raiders were dressed in various styles and appeared like a good class of countrymen. They claimed to be “refugees from beyond the Lincoln lines.â€
Big Shanty was a mere station, having only one or two business houses, and noted by the traveling public as having a most excellent “eating-house†for the accommodation of the passenger trains. When Captain Fuller’s train arrived at Big Shanty, the passengers and train hands went into the hotel for breakfast. The absence from the table of the large crowd that got on the train at Marietta was noticed by theconductor, and just as he took his seat, which commanded a view of his train, the gong on the old “General†rang. It should be stated here that the train was as follows: “The general,†three freight cars, one second and two first-class coaches, a baggage car and express car. Andrews had detached the entire passenger train, put his surplus men into the three freight cars, and on “The General†he had with himself his own engineer and fireman.
The very moment the gong rang Captain Fuller sprang from the table, and with a swift run reached the main track and pursued the flying train, which was now fast disappearing around a curve in the road. As he ran out of the hotel Captain Fuller called to his engineer, Jeff Cain: “Some one who has no right to do so has taken our train!†Cain and Mr. Anthony Murphy joined in the race, but were soon distanced by the fleet-footed Fuller. The limestone soil between the tracks was wet and clung to his feet so that fast running was very fatiguing to Captain Fuller, but he ran with a determination that overcame all obstacles. Moon’s Station, a little more than two miles from Big Shanty, was reached by him in an incredibly short time. Here he found that the Andrews raiders had stopped and had taken all of the tools from the railroad section hands. They had climbed the telegraph poles, cut the wire, and carried a hundred feet of it along with them to prevent the repair of the line in time to thwart their plans. The track hands were amazed at their conduct, and hurriedly told Captain Fuller what had been done. Up to this time he had been in doubt as to the true character of theraiders. He had thought that possibly some of the Confederates at Camp McDonald, (the Camp of Instruction at Big Shanty), tired of strict discipline and confinement, might have taken the train in order to enable them to pass the environment of their camp. But from this moment there was no room for doubt. As quickly as possible Captain Fuller and two track hands placed upon the rails an old timber car used for hauling crossties, iron, and other heavy material. This was an unwieldy and cumbersome medium of locomotion, but it rendered good service, nevertheless. Captain Fuller knew that every moment of time was most valuable, as the raiders were speeding along up the road and his chances for overtaking and capturing them were very doubtful. While putting on the hand-car he debated with himself these questions: “Should he proceed immediately in the pursuit, or would it be best to push back and get his engineer?†He decided to push back for Cain, and when he had gone nearly a mile he met Cain and Mr. Anthony Murphy. They were taken on the hand-car and the pursuit of the raiders, now far ahead, was begun again. Captain Fuller says that if he had not gone back, as above stated, he would have captured the raiders at Kingston, as more than twenty minutes were lost, and he was quite that close to them at Kingston. He says, however, he is now glad he did not do so, as the run from that point furnished the most thrilling event of his life.
Murphy, Cain, the two track hands, and Fuller, pushed and ran, and ran and pushed, alternately, and each and every man on the old hand-car did his fullduty. Soon after passing Moon’s Station, where Captain Fuller got the hand-car, the pursuers came upon a pile of cross-ties, but they were soon removed from the track and the race resumed.
The intelligent reader will not for a moment suppose that Captain Fuller and his comrades entertained any hope of overtaking the raiders on foot, or even by the hand-car. Captain Fuller’s thoughts ran ahead of his surroundings, and he disclosed his plans to his comrades in these words: “If we can get to Etowah by 9:40, we will catch the old Yonah. This we can do by very hard work, unless hindered by obstructions.†This suggestion doubled the energy of every man, and they abandoned themselves to the task before them. It is difficult to write, with deliberation, a story so full of push and haste. This run of twenty miles with an old clumsy hand-car, under so many difficulties, is replete with interest. At length, after Captain Fuller and his comrades were thoroughly exhausted, standing on the turn-table at Etowah more than a mile away, “the old Yonah†was espied. A yell and cry of great joy went up from these gallant men; but, alas, their vision had extended beyond their immediate danger! The raiders had removed an outside rail in a short curve, and unexpectedly the whole party was thrown into a ditch full of water. This, however, was a small matter to men of resolute will and iron nerve. The car was soon carried across the break in the track and put upon the run again. One of the track hands was left to watch this break, to prevent danger to following trains—the other was left with the hand-car at Etowah. Although the oldYonah was standing on the turn-table at Etowah, her tender was on another track. Willing and eager hands soon had the engine and tender coupled together, and the Yonah was “pressed into service.†An empty coal car was taken on, and a few Confederate soldiers, who were at the station waiting for a south-bound train, volunteered to join in the chase. The engineer of the Yonah, Mr. Marion Hilly, and his own hands, ran the Yonah from Etowah to Kingston, and Captain Fuller gives them great credit for their loyalty and faithful service.
A more dangerous run was never made. The track was in a bad condition, and the line quite crooked; and the pursuers could not tell at what moment they might be thrown into a ditch by a removal of rails, or obstructions placed upon the track; but they were absolutely blind to all personal danger or considerations. The Yonah had only two drivers and they were six feet, and she had a very short strike. She was built for fast running with a small passenger train on an easy grade. Under all the difficulties by which he was surrounded, Hilly ran the Yonah from Etowah to Kingston, thirteen miles in fourteen minutes, and came to a full stop at Cartersvile, and also at Kingston. Several crossties had been put upon the track, but the pursuers said “they were literally blown away as the Yonah split the wind.â€
At Kingston, Captain Fuller learned that he was only twenty minutes behind the raiders. At this point, Andrews had represented himself as a Confederate officer. He told the railroad agent that he “passed Fuller’s train at Atlanta, and that the cars which hehad contained fixed ammunition for General Beauregard at Corinth.†He carried a red flag on “The General,†and said that “Fuller’s train was behind with the regular passenger train.â€
This plausible story induced the agent to give him his keys to unlock the switch at the north end of the Kingston railroad yard. Several heavy freight trains were at Kingston, bound southward. Those furthest behind reached a mile or so north of the switch on the main line. Owing to Andrews’s “fixed ammunition†story, the agent, being a patriotic man, ordered all trains to pull by, so as to let Andrews out at the north end of the yard. This was done as quickly as possible, though it was difficult to make the railroad men understand why the great haste, and why Andrews should be let pass at so much trouble when Fuller’s train would soon be along, and both could be passed at the same time. But Andrews’s business was so urgent, and so vitally important, as a renewal of the fight between Beauregard and Buell was expected at any hour, the freightmen were induced to pull by and let him out. This delay gave Captain Fuller an inestimable advantage, and but for the delay at Moon’s Station, Andrews and his raiders would have been captured at Kingston.
When Fuller arrived at Kingston on the Yonah, he was stopped by a flagman more than a mile south of the depot, on account of the trains that had pulled by to let Andrews out. He saw at once that he would have to abandon the Yonah, as he could not get her by without much delay. So taking to his feet again, he ran around those freight trains to the depot andheld a short conversation with the agent from whom he learned the particulars of Andrews’s movements and representations, etc. He then ran to the north prong of the Rome railroad “Y,†where that road intersected with the Western and Atlantic mainline. There he found “The Alfred Shorter,†the Rome railroad engine, fired up and ready to move. He hurriedly told Wyley Harbin the engineer of “The Alfred Shorter,†about the raiders, and he and his fireman, noble fellows, at once put themselves and their engine at his service. The pursuers were gone in thirty seconds. Captain Fuller says that Jeff Cain got into the train, but that Mr. Murphy who was in another part of the car yard, considering some other plan, came near being left; but Fuller saw him and held Harbin up until he ran up and got on.
Captain Fuller rode on the cowcatcher of the “Shorter,†that he might remove crossties and other obstructions that would probably be put on the track. Further down the road, when Andrews was running more at leisure, he loaded the three box cars with ties and other timber, and when he feared pursuit he punched out the rear end of his hindermost car and dropped obstructions in the way of his pursuers. The Alfred Shorter had drivers only four feet—6—, and could make only ordinary time; but Captain Fuller did not consider that of any great disadvantage, as she ran as fast as it was safe to do on account of the many obstruction dropped by raiders upon that part of the road.
Six miles north of Kingston, Captain Fuller found it necessary to abandon the “Shorter,†because atthat point several rails of the track had been taken up and carried away by the raiders. Knowing the schedule as he did, and seeing he could not get by in less time than thirty minutes, Captain Fuller decided that the best thing to be done was to go to Adairsville, four miles north, where he hoped to find a south-bound train, “tied up†because of the delay of his train. Possibly he might meet this train before reaching Adairsville. Leaving the “Shorter,†he called upon all who wished to join in one more effort to follow him, and started in a run on foot for another four miles. There were none to follow—all preferred to remain in the Rome passenger coach. (It is not amiss here to state that, at Kingston, Fuller took on one coach belonging to the Rome Railroad, and that some thirty or forty persons had volunteered and boarded the Rome car; but, when invited to join in a four-mile foot race, they preferred to remain in the coach.)
When Fuller had run about two miles he looked back and saw Murphy just rounding a curve about three hundred yards behind. When he had run about a mile further, to his great delight he met the expected south-bound freight train. Fuller gave the signal, and, having a gun in his hand, was recognized by the conductor, who stopped as quickly as possible. Fortunately Peter I. Brachen was the engineer of the freight, and had “The Texas,†a Danforth & Cook, 5 feet 10 driver, as his engine. Captain Fuller knew that Brachen was a cool, level-headed man, and one of the best runners that ever pulled a throttle. As soon as the train stopped, Fuller mounted and wasabout to back it, when, seeing Murphy coming, he held Brachen a few seconds until his comrade got on “The Texas.†Then the long train was pushed back to Adairsville, where Fuller changed the switch, uncoupled the train from the engine, and pushed in upon the side track. In the further pursuit of the raiders, Captain Fuller never changed his engine or his crew again.
From hence “The Texas†is after “The Generalâ€â€”both are new, both 5 feet 10 driver, with the same stroke—“The General†a Rogers, “The Texas†a Danforth & Cook. But “The General†was forward, while “The Texas†had to back.
Captain Fuller rode on the back end of the tender, which was in front, and swung from corner to corner, so that he could see round the curves and signal to Brachen. His only chance to hold on was by two hooks, one at each corner of the tender, such as were formerly used to secure “spark catchers.†Many times he bounced two feet high when the tender ran over obstructions not seen in time to stop the engine. The ten miles from Adairsville to Calhoun was made in twelve minutes, including the time consumed in removing obstructions. (Here it may be in order to state that when Andrews had met Brachen at Adairsville, on his south-bound trip before being met by Fuller, that he told him to hurry to Kingston, as Fuller would wait there for him. This Brachen was doing, when Captain Fuller met him a mile south of Adairsville. But if Fuller had not met and stopped him, he would not have gone on to Kingston, but would have plunged into the break in the railroadwhere the raiders had taken up the rails at the point where the “Shorter†was abandoned. This was one of Andrews’ best moves. He hoped to occasion a disastrous wreck, and block the road.)
As Captain Fuller with “The Texas†and her crew figure exclusively in the remainder of this wonderful chase, he thinks it eminently due them that the names of those actually engaged on the engine should be given. Federal reports of the affair have put under the command of Fuller a regiment or more of armed soldiers. Some illustrations show long trains of cars packed to overflowing with armed men.
From the time he stopped Brachen, a mile south of Adairsville, to the point where Andrews abandoned “The General,†three miles north of Ringgold, he had with him only Peter J. Brachen as engineer, Henry Haney, fireman of the engine (who, at the suggestion of Brachen, stood at the brakes of the tender, and had for additional leverage a piece of timber run through the spokes of the brake-wheel), Flem Cox, an engineer on the road, who happened to be along, and fired the “Texas,†and Alonzo Martin, train hand of the freight train left at Adairsville, who passed wood to Cox. Thus it is seen that Captain Fuller, Peter J. Brachen, Flem Cox, and Alonzo Martin were the members of the pursuing party in toto, during the last fifty-five miles of the chase.
As has been stated, Mr. Anthony Murphy, of Atlanta, rode on “The Texas†with Brachen from Adairsville to the point at which the Andrews raiders were caught, and there is no doubt he would haveaided in their capture at the forfeit of his life had he been called upon to do so.
As the pursuers ran past Calhoun, an enthusiastic old gentleman, Mr. Richard Peters, himself a Northern man, and who died an honored citizen of Atlanta, offered a reward of a hundred dollars each for all the raiders captured. Had this promise been fulfilled Captain Fuller would have received $2,300, which no doubt he would have divided with his comrades in the pursuit.
At Calhoun Captain Fuller met the south-bound “day passenger train,†delayed by his unexpected movements. He had his engine run slowly by the depot, and exchanged a few words with the excited crowd of people, who were amazed at the sudden appearance and disappearance of the runaway train which had passed there a few moments before. Here he also saw Ed Henderson, the telegraph operator at Dalton. Discovering that the line was down below Dalton, Henderson had gone down on the passenger train to try to repair the break in the wire. Seeing him, Fuller reached out his hand as he was running by and took the operator into the tender, and as they ran at the rate of a mile a minute he wrote the following dispatch:
“To General Ledbetter, Chattanooga:
My train was captured this morning at Big Shanty, evidently by Federal soldiers in disguise. They are making rapidly for Chattanooga, and will no doubt burn the Chickamauga bridges in their rear, if I should fail to capture them. Please see that they do not pass Chattanooga.
Signed,W. A. Fuller.â€
He handed this dispatch to the operator, and instructed him to put it through at all hazards when he should arrive at Dalton.
Just at that moment the pursuers came in sight of the raiders for the first time. They had halted two miles north of Calhoun and were removing a rail from the track. As the pursuers hove in sight, the raiders detached their third car and left it before Captain Fuller could reach them. Coupling this abandoned car to “The Texas,†Captain Fuller got on top of it and began the race again. The rails had only been loosened and the intrepid conductor took the chances of running over them. From this point the raiders ran at a fearful rate, and the pursuers followed after them as fast as “The Texas†could go.
One mile and a half further up, the raiders detached another car in the front of the pursuers. This was witnessed by Fuller, who was standing on the rear end of the car he had coupled to when the raiders were first seen. He gave Brachen the signal, and he advanced slowly to the abandoned car and coupled it to the first one obtained in this way. Then getting on top of the newly captured one he was off again in the race with scarcely the loss of a moment’s time.
Just in front of the raiders, and not more than a mile away, was an important railroad bridge over the Oostanaula river at Resaca. The pursuers had greatly feared that the raiders would gain time to burn this bridge, after passing over it. But they were pressed so hotly and so closely that they passed over the bridge as rapidly as the “General†could carrythem. The pursuers were, therefore, greatly rejoiced on their arrival at Resaca to see that the bridge was standing, and that it had not been set on fire. The two cars picked up as described were switched off at Resaca, and the pursuers again had “The Texas†untrammeled. The race from Resaca to Dalton has seldom been paralleled. It is impossible to describe it.
At Dalton the telegraph operator was dropped, with instructions to put the dispatch to General Ledbetter through to the exclusion of all other matter. All was excitement at this point. The unusual spectacle of a wild engine flying through the town with only one car attached was bewildering indeed; and when Captain Fuller arrived and ran through, slacking his speed just enough to put the operator off the train, the excitement became intense. The operator was besieged on every side for an explanation, but he knew nothing save that contained in the dispatch.
Two miles north of Dalton, Andrews stopped. Some of his men climbed telegraph poles and cut the wire, while others were engaged in an effort to take up the track behind them. The operator at Dalton had sent the dispatch through to Ledbetter at Chattanooga; but just as he had finished and was holding his finger on the key, waiting for the usual “O. K,†click went the key, and all was dead. He did not know until the next day that Captain Fuller’s dispatch had reached its destination. Had the raiders been thirty seconds earlier in cutting the wire, the dispatch would not have gone through. As it was Ledbetter received it, and not being able to hearanything further by telegraph or otherwise he had a regiment placed in ambush (some of the soldiers on either side of the track), and had a considerable part of the track taken up. This was about a mile from Chattanooga, so that by the intervention of the telegram Fuller had Andrews both front and rear.
Andrews was run away from the point where the wires were cut before any material damage was done to the track. The rails had been partially removed, but not so much as to prevent the safe passage over them of “The Texas†and her crew.
Now the last long race begins. The pursued and the pursuers are in sight of one another. In every straight line of the road, Andrews was in plain view. This tended to increase the interest and excitement, if, indeed, the thrilling scenes and incidents of the seconds as they flitted by could have been heightened. I say seconds, because minutes in this case would be too large to use for a unit of time. The experience, practice, and knowledge of machinery possessed by the engineers was brought into full play. “The Texas†was kept at a rate of one hundred and sixty-five pounds of steam, with the valve wide open. Brachen would appear a little pale sometimes, but he was encouraged by Fuller standing the full length of the tender before him, and watching around the curves. At every straight line in the road Andrews was sighted, and a yell went up from the throats of the pursuers, but they did not lose their wits. Their aim was forward, onward, at all hazards. They were now convinced that Andrews had exhausted his supply of obstructive material, and were not so uneasy onthat account. But as prudence is the better part of valor, and as they had so few men on board, they dared not approach too close, lest their little band should be fired upon; or what appeared to be a greater danger, Andrews might suddenly stop and give fight. Captain Fuller had only five person on “The Texas†besides himself, and all accounts heard by them at points below had placed Andrews’s party as high as twenty or twenty-five. Fuller knew that the fire-arms he had gathered up early in the race, such as “squirrel guns,†and most of them unloaded, would have but little showing in a hand-to-hand contest; so these things had to be considered as they sped along so swiftly. Another danger was to be feared—Andrews might stop, abandon “The General,†let her drive back, and thus force a collision with the pursuers.