CAPT. J. P. RUMMEL.
Before I left him he had volunteered to let me out, give me a horse, saddle and bridle, inform me as to names and locations of different rebel regiments and furnish me with an expired furlough. I was not inclined to be friendly to the horse idea, although I could see the ease and celerity of my escape if all went well, for I knew that it would be sure death to be discovered as an escaped prisoner with a horse and equipments in my possession; but the guard was so enthusiastic over the matter that I promised to think it over, after thanking him heartily for his kindness.
When I explained the plan to some of my former companions in escape they tried to discourage the idea of escape altogether, saying that we would soon be exchanged, and that another failure would keep us from exchange when the time came. I had no hope of release before the end of the war, and so I sought other companionship, believing that the guard could be induced to help more than one of us.
Capt. J. B. Rummel, of the 120th Ohio, had impressed me as a man of the right sort, and I approached him on the subject. He was readyand willing to try an escape, but he confirmed my own impression about the risk of trying it with horses, and we finally concluded to devise a scheme and try it on foot. He suggested that we take Capt. B. F. Miller, of the same regiment, and we decided to do so, after finding that Miller was as anxious to go as we were to have him do so.
When I saw our friend the guard, he was mad because we would not adopt his scheme, but he showed his desire to help us get away by agreeing to let us out when we got ready, even while insisting that the safest and best way would be to take horses. He said:
"Why, man alive, you can start early in the evening, and the horses will not be missed until late the next day. Then if the stable-door is left open they will not dream that prisoners have taken the horses—at least until you are missed from the stockade. By that time you will be so far away that they can't possibly catch you before you reach the Federal lines on the lower Red River."
I was too timid, however, to risk my life in this way, as I considered the chance of suspicion and apprehension too great, and regarded it as certain death to be caught with a stolen horse. Notwithstanding the risk, I can now see that the guard proposed the plan most likely to insure a successful result.
We determined to try it on foot, but, while we were preparing for a start, another opportunity presented itself, and we took advantage of it rather than risk getting our guard or ourselves into trouble.
Miller, being a turner, manufactured a rude lathe and made numerous articles likely to be purchased, chessmen being the principal of these, being the most salable. We realized some cash from the demand for just such novelties.
Having some flour, we bought some meat on the outside, made some bread, jerked the meat, and thus had provisions and a little money for our enterprise.
We sent out the provisions, little by little, and had them taken to the hospital and concealed until such time as we were ready to start.
Captain Fee was in the hospital at the time, just recovering from an attack of illness, and the day before we were ready to start he came in to see us, on a pass. As we were talking together, I asked to see his pass, and read as follows, on a rough scrap of paper:
"Pass Capt. Fee in and out of stockade, with soap. McCANN, Adjutant."
I was a very good imitator of handwriting, although I had never been guilty of using my gift for unlawful purposes, and, as I read this pass, the manner of our escape was settled, all being fair in war.
After some little effort on my part, Rummel, Miller and myself were each provided with a pass similar to the one on which Fee had been admitted to the stockade. We told no one of our intentions, but decided to leave the next evening, it being understood that I was to go out just before the change of guards at the gate, and that Miller and Rummel should follow a little later, after the change, in order to avoid the presentation of too many passes to one guard.
At the appointed time, after much mental bracing up, I walked quietly to the gate and presented my pass for inspection. The guard looked it over in a hasty manner and silently opened the gate. As I passed out I saw that several hundred men were watching me, and I concluded that in some way our scheme had become known. The colonel and some other officers were sitting on the porch at headquarters when I passed, and Icoollysaluted him, saying:
"Good evening, Colonel."
He responded politely, and I walked on to our meeting place at the hospital.
My comrades waited until the guards had been changed, and then, with inward tremor and a bold, confident exterior, they walked in a business-like way to the entrance and submitted their authority for departure, which was duly acknowledged without a question. They soonjoined me, in high spirits over the ease with which the departure had been accomplished.
We had $4 in greenbacks between us, and felt quite wealthy. Securing our provisions as soon as darkness came, we quietly slipped over into the woods, thence to the road, and went on our way rejoicing, full of hope and with bright thoughts of home and dear ones.
The date of my second escape was the 23d of December, 1864.
We met one solitary horseman in the early part of the night, and we avoided him by having a skirmisher out ahead, who saw the rider in time for us to get out of sight in the woods without being seen, the traveler being a white man, and to be avoided for that reason.
About midnight we met a negro and learned that we were on the Shreveport road instead of the Gilmore road, which latter we wanted to follow. The darkey sized us up correctly in short order, but, as usual with the negroes, the fact that we were escaped prisoners only seemed to make him the more eager to help us, and he asked us if we would not "accommodate"himby allowing him to show us a short cut through the woods to the Gilmore road.
We were in a very accommodating mood just then, and we cheerfully allowed him to lead the way. He guided us for what seemed to be a very long distance over a rough piece of wooded country, and finally led us into a broad,well-traveled road and informed us that we were now on the right track.
The darkey was so voluble in hisexpressionsof gratitude for the honor of being "accommodated" that I had half a notion of presenting him with a bill for services rendered, but we let him off easy by allowing him to thank us profusely, and he seemed to be entirely satisfied, while we did not complain.
We trudged along all night without any incident worthy of mention to break the monotony of our tedious tramp, and at daylight we went off from the road to secure retreat in the woods, and camped for the day.
After a comfortable sleep, we ate sparingly of our provisions and started again at dusk for the North and liberty.
Again we traveled monotonously most of the night, seeing only the stars above us and the weird shadows and forms of silent things about. Occasionally one of us would speak, but it was in a low tone, and only when necessary, for our thoughts were far away, and the solemn stillness of the night impressed us with a keen sense of the danger which at any moment might mean recapture or possibly death.
In the very early hours of the morning we reached the Sabine river and the problem of how to get across. It was dark in the river bottom, but the stream was wide enough to let thestarlight and the sheen of the water give a fair amount of illumination on the river.
Miller could not swim, and was afraid to trust to our support; so that means of crossing was out of the question.
We could see a canoe fast to the bank on the opposite side, but we could not call up anyone to bring it over and thus take chances of discovery and betrayal.
Miller would not risk a log, although we explained to him how easily we could push him across upon it. If he could have mounted the log and ridden over it would have been all right, but he would not trust himself in the water unless he had to do so, and we, therefore, retired to the brush for a consultation.
We found a thick clump of trees and bushes just a little way up stream, and pushed our way into them until we stopped in alarm at the greatest racket, it seemed, that we had ever heard. It was a minute or two before we realized what it meant, and then it was all we could do to keep our laughter within proper bounds, despite the fact that we feared the noise about us would alarm the people who, we knew, must be upon the other bank of the river. We had walked into a place which was apparently a roosting spot for all the pigeons in Texas, and our entrance had caused a racket in that still night which would have to be heard to be realized.
We were so startled by the unexpected noise that we were well scared until we learned its cause, and then we quietly stole away to a spot on the river bank where our presence would be no intrusion.
While sitting down, discussing the chances for getting across the river and securing the canoe on the opposite side, Rummel and I drew lots to see who should swim over and borrow it, and the pleasure of so doing was thereby allotted to him. He secured a log, to prevent any accident, straddled it, and in due time reached the canoe and brought it over to us. The carrying capacity of the vessel was limited, and, in fact, it was doubtful whether all three could cross in her at once, but we decided to try it.
Miller was fussy and nervous, as he had had no experience in canoe navigation, and this particular canoe did not have an appearance calculated to inspire confidence in one unused to boats and afraid of the water.
We drew the boat along the bank to a low place, where Rummel and I seated ourselves carefully in the canoe, instructing Miller how to enter and sit down without upsetting our calculations and ourselves, but he was too painstaking and careful. He got both feet into the canoe, but that was all. In being exceedingly careful to place his feet in the proper place he forgot about the perpendicular necessities of the case,and about the time his second foot touched the bottom of the boat his head struck the water.
We reached the bank in safety, pulling Miller after us, but the canoe was then a good distance away.
All desire to censure poor Miller for his awkwardness passed away, as he ruefully asked:
"How in thunder do you expect a man to walk a tight-rope in the dark?"
Remembrances of our own first attempt to keep a canoe under us came to our minds, and the tone in which our friend spoke caused a convulsion of laughter which threatened to betray our presence to any persons within rifle range.
We now drew off to a safe place and built a fire to dry our clothes, a few of our matches, that were in a safe place, not having been entirely ruined.
After we had thoroughly dried out, we recollected our pigeons, and concluded to go back and gather in a few for a feast. It was no trouble to locate them, as they were still keeping up their clatter in a jerky sort of way, partially quieting down for a few minutes and then breaking out again as some disquieted bird would sound a new alarm. The difficulty was to catch some, and we exhausted our ingenuity, patience and vocabulary without being able to bag a pigeon, even though the trees and bushes were fairly loaded with them. Dark as it was, they seemed to see us before we could see them,and would fly away just in time to avoid us, with a total absence of regard for our feelings in the matter.
As the day dawned it turned colder, and a breeze sprang up which had a very prominent "edge" to it.
We discussed the situation, and organized for the coming campaign by electing Rummel as guide of the expedition, Miller as man of all work and myself as minister plenipotentiary and envoy extraordinary for all cases requiring diplomacy.
This day was Christmas, as we discovered by accident, Rummel remarking that he intended to make a note of the date of our baptism, and asking what day of the month it was.
There was no Christmas for us, however, and we banished all thoughts of roast turkey or pigeons and of home comforts by taking up the all-absorbing question of how to cross the river.
Rummel suggested that Miller should be made to cross on a log in tow of ourselves, inasmuch as he had shown a greater fondness for the water than he had professed, but we decided to walk a short distance up stream in an effort to find a ford before trying to swim the river.
About half a mile beyond the scene of our upset we found a riffle, and I was appointed to investigate the character of the bottom and find the best place to cross.
Divesting myself of my clothes, and leavingthem to be brought over by my companions after I should have picked out a course for them, I entered the cold water and proceeded to investigate. At almost the first step I slipped from a smooth rock into a pool and went in over my head. As I came up, Miller remarked that I need make no report on that locality, and I tried a little farther down. This time I struck a straight course in a depth varying from my knees to my armpits, and reached the opposite shore, after a struggle to keep my feet at the points where the water was deepest.
When I emerged from the water the keen wind nearly took my breath away, as its cold was made more intense by my recent immersion. Hastily getting under the lee of a big tree on the bank, I shouted for my companions to come over, and be lively about it, but they were engaged in a discussion, and I could see that Miller was hanging back.
My teeth were now chattering and I was shaking as if with the ague; so I yelled spasmodically to Rummel to come on and bring my clothes if he did not want to see me lose all my teeth.
Rummel undressed and started, carrying his clothes and mine above his head, and Miller followed when he saw that he was to be left behind. Both got over in safety and without wetting the clothing, but I was so cold when they arrived that it took over an hour for me to get over my shivering fit.
Captain Miller was in many respects one of the finest characters I ever knew, and I liked him more as I knew more of him, but he was the most apprehensive individual imaginable. He was more afraid of a river than of the whole Confederate army, and was continually imagining all sorts of possible contingencies, trying to decide in advance what was to be done in each case, and losing sight of the fact that we could not foresee any of the surrounding conditions of a probable contingency, and hence could not meet the emergency until it and all its phases could be clearly seen. He bothered me half to death at times by his questions as to what I would do if such and such a thing occurred, and when I told him that I could not tell until it happened he would look as serious as if we were in immediate danger.
I never could make a success of trying to anticipate details, for I always found that my action turned upon some unforeseen thing, and I never worried about such things, having found that the proper action for an emergency always suggested itself to me when I stood face to face with the necessity for doing something.
As we proceeded on our way we came to a bayou, which we waded, and a little later we reached one which was too deep to be forded. We seemed to be in a section cut up by a network of these streams, and we concluded that by a little extra walking we could probablydodge around bends in the streams so as to preserve our general course without recourse to the swimming which Miller so dreaded. We could see no signs of a curve in this bayou, and it was a question of luck as to whether we went right or wrong in our first attempt to get around the obstruction.
Rummel was our guide, and we would have followed his lead had he started off, but he hesitated so long, and did so much guessing, that I started off to the left, saying that one way was as good as the other when we had nothing to point out the best course. Of course, Miller now wanted to go the other way, and we came as near having a row as we ever did in all our acquaintance. After some sarcasm and heated comments, we started off, finally, in the direction which I had chosen, and a few minutes' walking proved that I had by accident chosen correctly, as we saw a curve ahead of us which subsequently proved to be a bend in the bayou. Our passage around the curve opened up a good stretch of country ahead of us, and I could not help reminding Miller that we had lost more time in discussion than it would have taken to prove the case one way or the other. This was our only dispute, and it was not serious.
We had a rubber poncho and three blankets with us, and the country through which we had passed had seemed so sparsely settled that we were traveling by day and sleeping at night, getting our scarce and poor food as occasion offered and living upon anything but a generous diet.
About dusk on the day of our little difference we were looking for a safe place to camp, when we saw the figure of a man on the opposite side of an open space. He was evidently surveying us intently, as he stood stock still, and his appearance was not rendered more attractive to us by the fact that he held a gun in the hollow of his left arm.
We sank gracefully to the ground and waited for some hail which would announce to us the intentions of our friend. None coming, we concluded that he was as much afraid of us as we were of him, and I crawled to a spot where I could see, without rising, what had become of him. He still stood there, evidently awaiting our next move, and I slunk back to my companions.
We decided that the quickest way to learn who and what he was would be to approach him, and that he certainly would not shoot if we held up our hands. Accordingly we stood up, held up our hands, and stepped boldly out into the clearing, I calling out:
"We are unarmed and are friends."
Not a move did he make, but we fancied we could see the gun move a little, and we quickly halted, Rummel exclaiming:
"Don't shoot! we are unarmed and peaceable citizens."
As he said this, Miller burst into a loud laugh, and quickly ran toward the figure. We instantly comprehended the situation and followed him, arriving at the fantastic stump of a burned tree, to be saluted by Miller with:
"Would you unarmed and peaceable citizens kindly recollect this event when you are inclined to joke me about that canoe?"
We had nothing to say.
The next day we met a negro, who gave us our course for Dangerfield, describing a corner of the square in the town, from which a plain road led to a ferry across the Sulphur Fork of Red River.
This was the 27th of December, and we reached the outskirts of the town late in the afternoon, hiding in some bushes until night.
When it was late enough we started boldlythrough the town, found the corner described, and took the road at a rapid gait.
Just as the east was beginning to show signs of approaching day we struck what we took to be another bayou.
Miller was anxious to show that he could brave the water in some cases, so he pulled off his pants, handed them to me for safe keeping, and started right in to wade the stream. He took two steps and disappeared from view. We fished him out and concluded that we would wait for daylight before proceeding farther.
When day broke we found that we must have made better time from Dangerfield than we had expected, for this was certainly a river, and could be no other than Sulphur Fork. It was high, and running swiftly in the middle, the water being far above the banks and out into the woods on both sides, so that it must have been fully two miles and one-half across. No signs of a ferry were to be seen, and we hunted a good place for a camp in which to lay over until the river should subside or something turn up to decide us as to a way of crossing.
In building a fire I strained my instep by kicking a limb from a log, and it became quite sore before the day was over.
The next day the river was as high as ever, and my foot was so sore that I could scarcely step upon it. We lay over all day, as I could notwalk, and there seemed to be no prospect of crossing the turbulent stream.
On the following morning my foot was much swollen, but I could limp around, and the river seemed to be falling, so I insisted upon some action, and started off to look around a little, leaving my companions to await my return. They both wanted to go in my place, but we agreed that it was best for me to go, so far as the chance of having to deal with an emergency was concerned.
I hunted around for a while, but found nothing, and returned to my companions. Just as I reached them we heard a pounding in the opposite direction from which I had gone.
Rummel sneaked off, and soon returned with the report that he had seen a horse a short distance down the road.
Again I started to investigate our surroundings. The horse was soon found. He was hobbled, and close to him, in the woods, were two others. It was a certainty that we had neighbors, but I could see nothing of them, and, concluding that the owners had gone down to the river, I walked boldly toward the animals to discover by their trappings what I could about the riders. I had not proceeded more than a few yards before I came to a thick clump of bushes, and, in skirting around the edge of them, almost stumbled over three rebel soldiers, whowere stretched out comfortably on their blankets for a nap.
They looked up inquiringly at me as I suddenly halted and gave involuntary utterance to an exclamation of surprise.
To say that I was scared would but feebly express my feelings. The cold chills ran up and down my back, and I could not speak for an instant. However, I quickly recovered myself, before they had a chance to speak, and said to them:
"Hello, boys! I knew you were somewhere about, for I saw your horses and was looking for you, but I was not expecting to find you so near at hand, and I must confess that you startled me. How can a fellow get across this infernal river?"
They informed me that they had been pounding to attract the attention of the ferryman, who was on the other side, but they could not get near the river bank, and could not see the ferry-boat, so had concluded to take a nap.
Without giving them time to question me, I plied them with questions, which developed the fact that they were members of General Gano's command, and were despatch-bearers from Kirby Smith to General Magruder. They expressed a strong desire to cross the river in a hurry, and threatened to take forcible possession of the boat if the ferryman did not make another trip that afternoon.
I then informed them that two comrades were with me, that they were in camp a short distance back from the river, that we would join in capturing the ferry-boat, and that if they had no objections to offer I would go up and get the boys, so that we could cross and travel together.
They told me to go ahead and I went; but, after walking easily along until out of sight in the opposite direction from where my companions were I broke into a run, skirted around through the woods, joined Rummel and Miller, told them the facts, and we at once broke camp, running around the river bank a mile or more, and secreting ourselves on the top of the bank in a thick clump of bushes and timber, right alongside of the road, where they would not be likely to look for us if they wondered at my failure to return.
From the moment when my eyes had rested upon the figures of those three soldiers I had forgotten my sore foot altogether, and never felt it during my run and our subsequent movements. The strangest part of this incident of my injured foot is the fact that I never afterward felt soreness or a twinge of pain in it. I leave it for others to explain. I simply state the facts.
After we had settled down in our hiding place we saw a number of people coming up the road, evidently from the ferry, and our three soldiers were among them. From their talk as theypassed us we gathered that the ferry-boat had come over, but would not go back again before morning, and we concluded that the three soldiers were going to some place to stay over night.
After these people had passed, I set out to hunt up some negro who could help us get over the river. As I crossed the road I saw a darkey driving a wagon toward the ferry, and I stopped to speak to him. Before I had a chance to say more than a few words the man's master rode into view, and I had to go on talking to avoid casting suspicion by sudden disappearance.
When the master rode up I talked with him, telling him what I had told the soldiers, and saying that we had given up seeing the boat until we had seen the people coming up from the ferry, when I had left my friends, to see if we could cross that evening.
We all traveled down the road together, and the negro's master showed me where the ferryman lived, a little way off the road, and went up to the house with me. He and the ferryman were acquainted, and, while they talked, I went coolly up on the piazza of the house and sat down, turning over in my mind the question of what I should tell that ferryman.
If I stuck to my story, as told to the soldiers, I had no excuse for a special crossing, which I wanted to urge, and we should run great risk ofdiscovery if we waited and crossed with the others. As I studied the face of the ferryman I decided upon my course of action, and when the old gentleman who was talking to him had left to arrange for the care of his wagon and animals for the night I gave the ferryman no chance to think or question, but took him around to the side of the house, where we could not be overheard by anyone in the building, and transfixed him by saying:
"I am an escaped Yankee prisoner from Camp Ford, Texas, and have been water-bound on the river for two days. I have come to have you either ferry me over the river or capture me."
The man seemed to be dumbfounded, and he stared at me in perfect amazement, without speaking a word.
I told him that I had no honeyed promises to make, that the only inducement there had been for me to attempt such a hazardous trip in the dead of winter was my intense longing to see my wife and children in Iowa, who did not know whether I was alive or dead, and had not known since my capture on the 25th of the previous April, and that, after seeing them, I expected to return to my regiment and remain until the war ended, if I was not sooner killed. Keeping up this line of conversation, I completely magnetized the ferryman, either by my nerve or the apparent confidence I had in his disposition tolet his humanity instead of war's inhumanity control his actions.
The first words uttered by him were:
"Well, all I ask is for you to pay your fare and take your chances. The boat is loaded at each trip, and you may be suspected by the passengers. The fare is five dollars in Confederate, or a dollar and a-half in Federal money."
After he had recovered from his surprise sufficiently to agree to this, I told him that I had two companions with me, when he exclaimed:
"Oh, h——l But d——d if I don't help you fellows anyhow. I can't understand why I agreed to help you, for I'm as rank a rebel as they make, and if I am caught at it, and you give me away, I'll be shot, sure as h——l."
I promptly declared that I would submit to being hung myself before I would give him away, and this seemed fully to reconcile him to his undertaking, for he replied:
"D——d if I don't believe you, young man."
We had but $4 in greenbacks, which I told him, together with the fact that we wanted some bread, and we compromised by my giving him $3 for our fare across the river and $1 for a supply of corn bread.
He would not make a special trip that night, as it might get him into trouble if we were discovered, but he agreed to put us over the river in the morning, do the best he could for us, and keep his mouth shut about us.
I returned to my companions to report progress, and it would have been hard to find two happier men than Rummel and Miller; they were simply delighted with the result of my mission.
After a meal upon the corn bread bought from the ferryman, we turned in for the night.
At an early hour the next morning we were on hand at the boatman's house.
When we reached the boat we found our friend with the wagon and negro driver, together with several other parties, already there, and I was much relieved to see that the three soldiers had not arrived.
The ferryman told us to go to the bow of the boat and avoid questioning, which we did.
Just as we had shoved off, and were being hauled along through the trees to the river bank where the ferry wire was tied, we heard a shout, and, looking back, saw three horsemen approaching on a gallop. The ferryman did not stop, and one of the riders yelled out fiercely, and fired his gun to show that they would make us stop if we did not choose to do so, whereupon the boat was stopped and slowly pushed back to the water's edge.
Our relief can be imagined when I discovered that the riders were not our soldier friends.
As we emerged from the trees into the river channel the current was very strong, and theheavy load seemed too much for the ferryman and his helper.
This helper was an old man of an inquisitive nature and appearance, and I was afraid that he might say or ask something which would attract more attention to us than was necessary for our comfort or desire for prominence; so I got up and went over to him, taking hold of the rope and helping him with the boat, while I plied him with questions so thick and fast that he only got the opportunity to ask me two questions, both of which were easily answered.
As we reached the farther shore we had to pull and push the boat among the trees for nearly half a mile before we reached the ground, and my old friend was anxious that my friends and myself should be assisted over the marshy bottom, which extended for some distance, by riding behind the three horsemen.
He proposed this to the riders, but the visible reluctance of these gentlemen enabled me to get out of this disagreeable situation with credit to ourselves, and we struck off through the swamp on our own hook, after hearing the following remark of the ferryman, made as one of the riders offered to pay him with a $5 bill of an issue which the Confederacy had recalled, with a notice that they would not be redeemed by exchange or otherwise after the coming 1st of January:
"My God, man! I would as soon have a notch on one of them trees as one of them bills."
After a short walk through the swampy bottom, we struck what was then an island, and on which were camped about 150 refugees from Missouri. They had their live stock and all belongings with them.
These people had been too friendly to the South, when Price was in their State, to make it healthy there for them after he had been driven out, and they had come to Texas and were living as best they could. From them we learned that Price's army was at Spring Hill, and we told them that we were members of his "walking company," as the rebels called Price's infantry.
As our feet were wet from our walk through the marsh, we got away from this crowd as soon as possible and went over to the camp of an old woman for the purpose of getting permission to dry our clothes and shoes. The favor wasgrantedon application, and we sat there chatting with the woman and her sons until we were thoroughly dried out. During this talk we learned that these refugees were disposed to be quite bitter toward the Texans for the lack of sympathy and hospitality which they thought should be forthcoming on account of the abuse and persecution which they had suffered for their Southern sympathies.
After we had dried ourselves sufficiently, weborrowed a brand from the fire and went off to make a camp of our own.
On our way to a choice spot we met a sick soldier, who was on a furlough and who had a canoe. He offered to take us with him across the balance of the swamp, but we declined, because we did not wish to cultivate his acquaintance and because of our friend Miller.
We waded into the swamp and went at least a mile before we found dry land, when we picked out a secluded spot, lit a fire and again dried ourselves thoroughly, going off to some tangled oaks for a sleep while we waited for night.
Our location was now about ten miles from Boston, and I knew the road; so we dozed off, in the confidence of apparent security.
I was awakened by a sound which startled me, and as I listened, it proved to be a rustle in the underbrush, heard at intervals, and the sound of a bell. The others were called by me, and we hid more securely, as the footsteps of a man were now to be heard. Soon we saw a most cadaverous, tall and poverty-stricken looking individual approaching in an erratic manner, and we could now hear his low-toned mutterings as he darted here and there. As the lower portion of his body came into view we saw that he was driving an old sow, with a bell attached to her neck, and that he carried an old rifle, with its stock tied on with strings. He seemed to be one of the refugees who had beenafter his stray hog, and we arose from our concealment and approached him.
He was literally dressed in rags, and was inclined to be scared at our appearance, but we soon pacified him, and had an interesting conversation, during which we learned his whole history.
The interest in this incident exists in the fact that, although I had seen many Southern men with Northern sympathies, this was the first out and out rebel I had seen who talked "lost cause."
When night came, we made our way to Boston and passed through the town in the silence of the deserted streets, the hour being that of very early morn. The fact that I had spent so many days here, after having been recaptured on my previous runaway trip, made the spot interesting to both my companions and myself, and I pointed out to them all the various points of note. Had we had any chalk with us I should certainly have left my card, in the shape of some notes, on various doors; but, as it was, we passed through and on. We went about five miles beyond the town and camped for the day.
The next night we proceeded without interruption or incident worthy of note, and reached a deserted cabin about daylight, in which we slept soundly all day, lying on a few boards in the loft, close to the eaves, where we were securely hidden. The hut had been used by sheep for shelter, and it was not excessively clean, butthe weather was cold and threatening when we turned in, and we were not sticklers about trifles like that.
Our pants were all wet from crossing "slues" and watercourses during the night, and we were too tired to sit up and dry them out before going to sleep. When we awoke they were frozen stiff and we were chilled through.
I was awakened by hearing a woman singing as she passed by the old hut, and as we lay there, rubbing our limbs to restore the circulation, we heard a splashing and squealing near the hut, which had awakened my companions and now caused me to go outside to investigate, when it was found that an enormous rat had tumbled into an old, abandoned well at the corner of the house. We put him out of his misery and took a run down a ravine, where we built a good fire and got thoroughly warmed up.
After a scanty meal, we again took to the road and tramped all night, meeting with no mishaps and making good progress.
In the morning we profited by experience, and went into a ravine, built a fire and dried out before turning in for the day.
The next night we came to a bayou, about 11 o'clock, and crossed on logs. Finding a bad road beyond, we sought a retired spot and turned in to wait for daylight.
In the morning we skirmished around for something to eat, and found it in the cabin of anold negro, whom we nearly scared to death as we took possession of his hut. From him we learned that we were in the Red River bottom, and he directed us how to proceed on our course, telling us to turn to the right at a certain point, which he described.
After eating heartily of our corn bread and sow belly, we started off in high spirits, and soon found the spot where we were to turn to the right, which direction we followed out until the road turned into a cow-path and finally led us to the bars of a fence across the road at the edge of a thick wood.
We knew that we were lost and had come a long distance since taking the right (?) direction. Knowing that we had obeyed the instructions given us, we were inclined to be wrathy, and we sat down for greater ease and support while we cussed that nigger "up hill and down." Rummel and I did the cussing, while Miller watched for a chance to break in upon our monopoly of the conversation, when he mildly suggested that, as the nigger was standing with his face to us when he told us how to proceed, and as we were facing in the direction which we were to take, it was likely that the darkey had meant his right and not ours, which plausible explanation only made us the more wrathy, because the nigger had been stupid instead of having willfully misled us, as we had taken it for granted he had.
When we had vented our spleen and rested up, we struck out, at a venture, in preference to retracing our steps. After a tedious struggle through the underbrush and a thorough wetting in the bayou we had to cross we at length came upon a large field in which about 100 negroes were burning stumps and clearing ground. Selecting a hiding place, we lay in wait to single out some darkey who could be entrusted with our management until we could cross the Red River and again get started on our way.
After some little time spent in a study of the various faces which came near enough to be seen plainly, I selected two men who walked together and seemed to be brothers. It took a good deal of patience to await a chance to see them alone, and we talked over all sorts of schemes for securing a private interview with these darkeys. About the time when we gave up all scheming and decided to trust to chance, the question was settled for us by the two men starting off in our direction, with an evident intention of leaving the field.
In my capacity of diplomat I was sent to waylay them at a proper spot and negotiate for what we needed in the way of food and assistance. By a little manœuvring the darkeys were intercepted at a suitable spot, and I found them to be very intelligent men, who were only too glad to help us all they could. They were slaves on a plantation located on the banks of the RedRiver, of which the field was a portion, and they were on their way to the outbuildings, near at hand, for some tools. They left me, to get the articles needed in the field, and soon returned, bringing with them a liberal portion of their day's allowance of food, which they gave to me. Before returning to the field they gave me explicit directions how to find the river bank after night at the proper place, where they agreed to meet us and set us across the river. They gave their names as Taylor and Sam Jeans, and promised to bring us some more provisions when they met us as agreed.
I returned to Rummel and Miller, and we had a hearty meal, watching the negroes at work while we ate, and continuing to watch them until they quit work and went home.
When the appointed time drew near we broke camp and proceeded to the designated spot on the river bank, which we found without much trouble. We waited and waited, but no negroes appeared. It was now nearly midnight, and a bright moon began to illuminate our surroundings with the ghostly light that proceeds from a combination of the moon's rays with the darkness and shadows of a timbered river bottom. We waited until we could no longer hear a sound from the plantation houses in the distance and for at least an hour after total silence reigned all about us. Then we began to fear that the negroes had forgotten us, and I was despatched to see what I could find.
Now comes a part of my story which I must leave to wiser heads than mine for explanation. I simply state the facts as they occurred and leave the reader to satisfy himself or herself as to the controlling influence which prompted my actions. I cannot satisfactorily explain them to myself.
I did not know a single foot of the ground over which I was to travel, and my only guide as towhere I wanted to go was the remembrance of the direction in which we had heard the sounds of plantation life in the early evening.
I started off through a field and came upon a narrow road on the other side, evidently a cross road. Down this I turned, in a direction which did not accord with my memory of the proper course, and yet I seemed to be impelled that way. I soon came to a turnstile in the fence on one side, and through this I passed without a moment's hesitation, although there was nothing in sight except a narrow path. Some distance down the path I came to a double row of negro cabins, about twenty on each side of a narrow street, facing each other. I did not know what I was to do, and to find a particular negro in that array of cabins without arousing the whole outfit was a problem beyond me, yet, without any consideration, doubt or even a halt, I passed across the end of the street to the rear of the farther row of cabins, and down the back of that row until I reached the nearest corner of the next to the last house. Here I halted and stood still. Why, I do not know, but I did, and it was my first halt since I had left my companions. Shortly after I halted I heard a voice that I recognized say:
"Lay over dar, you Taylor!"
Here I was, right where I wished to be, and in a very short time I had aroused the sleeping darkeys, to learn that they had lain down to restuntil the time appointed for the meeting, naturally falling fast asleep. They reproached themselves for their neglect, and we were soon on our way to the river bank, with a plentiful supply of food.
They asked me how I had found them, and I truthfully replied that I did not know, at which they rolled their eyes and looked at me in a peculiar manner, when I added that I was walking around the cabins in the hope of finding someone awake, and heard Sam tell Taylor to roll over. This satisfied them, but it has never satisfied me, for, while I heard the voice almost as soon as I halted, I could have passed the cabin in the short interval had I kept on, and in such event I could not have heard what I did.
My going directly to the cabins may be attributed to the instinct which sometimes leads men, and my passing to the rear of the farther cabins first to an accident of direction, but I never could account, on any theory of chance or instinct, for the coincidence of my halt at the proper place at the only instant in which I could have heard the call of Sam to Taylor.
We reached Rummel and Miller in so short a time after my departure from them as to cause an inquiry from them as to how I had managed to find the darkeys so quickly. I postponed explanation until later, and we proceeded to business.
The negroes had cooked us a goodly amountof hog meat and a pone of corn bread, but the meat was only such as they could procure in a hurry, and consisted of the livers, lights, noses and such portions of the animal as would not be used by the planter and his family.
The skiff of the darkeys had been lodged, during high water, behind a tree, and when we got it down and afloat it looked like a sieve. We caulked it as best we could with leaves and some old rags, but the thing was a failure, and none of us cared to risk it.
Sam offered to pilot us to Little Rock himself, crossing the river lower down and then going across the country, but this offer we declined, because of the almost certainty of death if runaway prisoners were caught with a runaway negro. Sam still insisted, however, saying that he had a rifle and seven rounds of ammunition, and that we could fight if we had to, but we positively refused to take him with us, and the man was actually inclined to be angry. The matter was settled by Taylor giving us directions to follow the river down stream until we found a cabin in a certain spot, which he described, and we set off in high glee, Taylor further informing us that his name would make everything right with the owners of the cabin, and that we would find a willing and able ferryman there.
It was now nearly morning, and we hastened on our way; but, when we came to the spot where Taylor had told us we would find a pathto the cabin, we found that a large force of cavalry had recently been camped there, and all signs of any regular path were completely obliterated by the trampled condition of the ground and the many trails leading in all directions, while an immense quantity of corn shucks were strewn all about the place.
We made a circuit of the camp, and finally struck off on a path which looked as if it might be the one meant by Taylor, but we had not gone a great ways when it became a blind lead, and we were soon lost in the canebrake. The cane made it too dark to proceed farther, and we went into camp.
When daylight came we found ourselves in a great bend of the river, and a little feeling around showed us a number of cavalry horses turned loose. We therefore kept quiet, in a part of the bottom where the cane was so thick that we once heard a man rounding up the horses without our being able to see him. As Rummel expressed it, "We couldn't have found a cow right there if we had had hold of her tail."
After a while we stole out to where we could see without being seen, and discovered a tent and big fire not far away, while in the distance was a band of music moving away with an escort of rebel cavalry. Around the tent and fire were a lot of men and cavalry horses, and we concluded to adjourn.
After a long search through the cane we found a road and started off, keeping a sharp lookout.
We had gone but a short distance down the road when we almost ran into another cavalry camp, and we had to swallow our hearts to keep them in their proper position, while we hastily executed a flank movement to avoid the soldiers. We succeeded in passing around them without being discovered, and again went on our way in peace for a time, but soon had another scare.
It was now nearly evening, and as we reached the river bank we heard some men approaching. It was a close shave, as we barely had time to conceal ourselves before they came out of the woods on the opposite side of the road and started for the camp we had just passed.
As soon as they had disappeared we started to follow the river bank, and as we proceeded down stream, with the timber on our right and the river on our left, we had not gone far when some men were heard coming in our direction. Dodging into the brush for concealment, we lay there until several men and their dogs had passed. They turned into the wood not far from us and began cutting down a tree in which they had located a coon. The tree was soon felled, and then occurred a lively skirmish between men, dogs, clubs and coon, in which the coon finally got the worst of it.
When the battle was over and thecoon-hunters had gone, we crawled out of our hiding place and started down the river again.
In less than a mile, and about 12 o'clock, we came upon another lot of soldiers, camped in the road on the river bank and apparently sound asleep, our evidence of the latter fact being the unmusical sounds proceeding from them.
The situation was rather on the critical order, but it was light enough for us to see any movement of the enemy. We made a careful movement by the right flank, and were soon around them, fortunately without discovery.
Proceeding on our way, we would have felt quite happy had Miller been less miserable, but he could not forget that we had not as yet crossed the river, and it was impossible for him to be comfortable while on the wrong side of a stream of water.
Coming to an opening in the timber on our right we saw a plantation. A high fence was built along the road in front of it. Just as we had gotten fairly started away from the timber and in front of this fence the sounds of a horse galloping in our direction caused us to make a sudden choice between an unwise meeting and a slide down the steep river bank. We slid.
The horsemen reined up in front of the farmhouse, just abreast of where we were hugging the slippery bank, and we heard him call out some inmate of the house and ask the way toRondo, where, it seemed, they were having a dance.
The danger to result from meeting with undesirable people was considerable, and we had quite a scare on account of our narrow margin of time for evading this fast rider, but we soon became glad of the forced tumble over the river bank.
As soon as we were recovered from our scare and momentary confusion we found that our slide down the bank had landed us within easy reach of a canoe, the very thing most needed by us at that time. In fact, if we had gone down the bank with more momentum either the canoe or the water under it would have stopped our descent.
This discovery seemed providential, and we regarded it as a good omen of our success.
An investigation proved the canoe to be a poor affair, but we concluded that we could cross two at a time, and Rummel and Miller started, I keeping pace with them on the bank as the canoe carried them down. They got over all right, and Miller landed, Rummel coming back for me. Both Miller and myself now walked down stream, as the canoe made as much distance that way as across, and when Rummel had finally picked me up and landed me we met Miller at least a mile down stream from where we had started the movement.
During this operation Miller and I had to keepclose to the river in order that we might not lose sight of each other or the canoe, and, by thus being unable to choose the best places for a convenient walk, we were pretty well scratched by the briers and other impediments that seemed to exist in profusion just where we had to go.
Having no further use for the canoe, we upset it and let it go. Then we started across the river bottom.
We had no trouble until we struck a bayou, which the moonlight showed to be quite wide. We could not tell how deep it was, but we found that it had a soft bottom, and we did not venture to wade the sluggish stream. After a long search up and down the edge, during which we got tangled up in some brush and made a row which started up some dogs in the neighborhood, we found a fence which crossed the bayou. I shall never forget the sight of Miller and Rummel "cooning" that fence.
The moon shone down through the gathering clouds with a dim light, and when we reached the fence we could see that it was built clear across the water in our front; so I mounted it at once and was soon on the other side. My companions had a discussion as to who should go first, both hanging back, for the fence looked frail and the top rails were sharp. When I got over and turned around to look, Rummel was just making a start.
The fence had not been used as a bridge, andsome of the rails were rotten, while most were slippery.
I had had some vexatious experiences myself in crossing, and I was in a position to enjoy keenly the sight of the others going through the same experiences; so I stood in the moonlight, encouraging my friends and laughing heartily as a slip on a broken rail caused suppressed comments or grotesque contortions on the part of the fence-riders. They finally got across, and we soon found the main road, but our troubles were not yet ended, for the soil was "gumbo" of the meanest kind, and we soon had to camp and rest up, while to add to our cheer and comfort it began to rain.
We spent the balance of the night in the rain and "gumbo," praying for daylight and sunshine.
The next morning we started on our way and had a routine march for several days, with no incidents worth mentioning until we began to meet a stray soldier now and then. Our growing confidence in ourselves made it easy for us to tell a satisfactory story in each case, and we learned from these men that we were approaching Washington, where Magruder had his headquarters.
From some negroes we got a full description of the town and a complete line of directions as to what course to pursue in order to avoid undesirable observation.
We had to be very careful, but boldness was an essential part of the policy of being careful, and we walked through the outskirts of the town as if we owned it, avoiding the traveled streets, but being as free and as easy as possible.
It was impossible for Miller to be free and easy at any time in anything partaking of deception, as he was too conscious and conscientious. No amount of successful evasion of difficulties could make him forget for a moment that we were escaped prisoners and should be locked up—fromthe standpoint of the rebels; so he was continually imagining that he saw detection in the eye of every person we met.
We were all nervous, but, with the exception of Miller, we made a fair show of being self-possessed and independent. We walked through the town as if traveling on eggs; every sound made him start; every person we saw gave him a shock of dread and uncertainty, and if we had met anyone of a suspicious nature we should have been closely questioned, at least. As it was, we finally skirted the town and got into the main road again, beyond, but we had to pass right through the soldiers' quarters to do it. We went on the principle that they were ignorant as to us, and would have no suspicions unless we created them by our actions, but only good luck in not being observed closely saved us from capture, for poor Miller scarcely touched the ground, and showed his effort at restraint so plainly that anyone with half an eye would have known that he was doing something wrong. We "herded" him between us as best we could, and, not being critically surveyed, succeeded in passing on our way.
The next night we came to a blacksmith shop, where we had to take refuge on account of a heavy rain. This shop was one of those old-fashioned country forges, built by the roadside near some farmer's house, where he or his neighbors tried their hands at smith work as occasiondemanded. The building was an old "shack," with a leaky roof, but it gave some shelter, although we had to sleep on the forge as best we could, to keep out of the puddles and mud on the earthen floor.
I know of no word better thanexcruciating, to describe the comforts of that night. The forge was large, and we could lie upon it after cleaning it off, but we had to squeeze together. The edges were rough stones, and our feet hung over. If my readers will take the first opportunity afforded them to occupy a similar position for several hours they will appreciate my use of the above word. To enjoy fully the situation, aside from the pains thereof, they should have a friend stand by with some cold water and occasionally let fall a drop, or succession of them, upon the face, neck or ears of the victim. As a choice of two evils it was an admirable selection; as a matter of comfort it was a failure.
We were not awakened by the daylight, for we were already awake, and, when we could see that the rain had turned to snow, we started off again, preferring the snow and mud in daylight. Coming to an open piece of woods, and seeing a large tree which had been felled, we went to it and found what protection we could in its thick top for the balance of the day, the monotony of the stay being relieved by exchange from snow to rain and from rain to snow every now and then.
Just before dark it cleared up, and we once more started on our way, meeting with no obstacle until we reached the Little Missouri River bottom, which was crossed by an old corduroy road, and then we had some more fun.
For two miles and a half we blundered along on this road, in a gloomy darkness, every few minutes coming to a spot where one or the other of us would slip through between the logs and sink up to our knees in the mud and water, which fact was generally communicated to the others by harsh criticisms upon the efficiency of the county commissioners.
When we reached the river we were about as tired as men can be and stand up, but we found that the ferry-boat was on the other side, and we had to seek some place in which to rest for the night and await daylight. Going back a short distance from the river we found an open space where there were signs of a former camp, and we tried to build a fire. Everything was soaking wet, and all our efforts ended in smoke, except a few sulphurous remarks. There was no shelter to be had; we had to sleep in the open, and the ground was too wet to be comfortable. After some discussion, we decided to try standing up, which means of rest we enjoyed for the balance of the night.
Did you ever try to find a place to rest when everything upon which you could possibly sit or lie was soaking wet? If so, you can understandwhy we chose to stand up. Did you ever try to sleep in a standing posture, or to rest in like position for any length of time? If so, you will appreciate the following:
Throwing my blanket over my head, I braced myself firmly against a tree, closed my eyes, and—the next thing I knew I was in a heap on the wet ground, wildly struggling with my blanket, my knees having relaxed as I became unconscious. Now fully awake, I took a walk around to find a better spot, but soon came back to my first location and tried it again. This time I remained awake long enough to realize, by the time that the comfortable feelings of drowsiness were again stealing over me, that the air inside of my blanket was not pleasant to breathe, and, in throwing the covering from my head, I became wide awake again. After another interval of wakefulness, during which I realized keenly how tired my limbs were, and after quietly enjoying some of the experiences of my neighbors, the demands of nature again became paramount, and I dozed off. With a sudden sense of a harsh scraping along the back of my head, and a dim realization of the fact that my knees had again refused duty, I came to myself just in time to keep from sitting on the ground, this time sliding down the tree instead of pitching forward. After a walk down to the river to view the situation again, I returned to my tree, adjusted my position, toguard as well as I could against former experiences, and gradually dozed off in the belief that I was this time scientifically and safely propped. Suddenly I realized that I was falling, and became conscious enough to make three or four rapid steps forward, to save myself, before I stumbled over a log and went head first to the ground. After this, I never went to sleep during the balance of the night, but I contented myself with a succession of nods between the intervals of knee-bendings and losses of balance. Try it and see how it works.
I have slept on the wet ground—slept soundly, and never taken cold from it, but not in a boggy location such as that was on that night, and we all stood up in preference, again a choice of the lesser evil.
It might be asked why we did not go back to the high ground instead of remaining in the bottom. No one who has ever tramped over such a miserable road as that by which we had reached the bottom—for two and a half miles in the dark—will be likely to question why we preferred to stay where we were. It is doubtful whether we would have undertaken to retrace our steps over the corduroy road even if we had known in advance just what our night's experience was to be.
The next morning when we went down to the river we found that it had risen several feet during the night.
The road reached the river at a point of land which projected some distance, and where the road had been comparatively dry the night before, behind the point, we now had to wade in order to reach the ferry landing.
It was useless to attempt hailing the ferry-boat, so we went back to our stamping ground and breakfasted upon what corn we could pick out of the ground around the spot where former campers had tarried. This corn was the scaled or wasted kernels left by horses at their feeding places.
While eating we heard a noise of men talking on the river, and at once assumed that the boat was coming over. We had no money with which to pay for crossing, and my companions, Miller especially, were very much excited over the question of what we were to do. Miller had a ring which he wanted me to take for the purpose of paying the ferryman, but I would not take it, and we nearly had a quarrel in consequence. My desire was to go to the ferry and be governed by circumstances as to what we should do, but the others wanted to have it all mapped out beforehand.
"What will you tell him, Swiggett?" asked Miller.
"How can I tell?" was my reply.
"But suppose he asks for money or is suspicious?"
"When he does or is I will meet him; but, boys, how on earth can you tell what to do or say till you know what you have to overcome? Let's go down there in a natural way and do what seems best when we get there. Come on!"
We went, my companions following me reluctantly, and Miller all in a flutter of nervous apprehension.
Reaching the landing, we found the boat nearly across, but the ferryman had all he could do to make any progress. The rise in the river had made a strong current along our shore. It was a hand ferry, and the rope was fastened in a poor line for ease in ferrying at that stage of the river.
Calling out to the man, I got in a good position to jump aboard, and said to my companions:
"Come on, boys! Can't you see that the man has his hands full? Let's jump aboard and help."
Hearing this, the fellow increased his efforts, the boat approached nearer, we made a big jump and got aboard, helping to haul the boat to the land. Then we learned that he had come over to shift the rope, and we helped him do this, after which he took us across.
Arriving on the other side I put my hand in my pocket as confidently as if I had had a roll of greenbacks at my command, and asked the ferryman how much we owed him. As Iexpected, he would not take a cent, but thanked us heartily for our assistance, and we went on our way rejoicing.
It is a fact worthy of note that the response of this man to my offer of pay was almost as well known to me before he made it as after. Not on the principle of natural results from given causes, as many men would have asked either all or part pay. Nor was it from any particular judgment of the individual, as I was unable to form any satisfactory idea of his inclination from what could be seen of him. I simplyfeltandknewthat he would refuse pay. Whether this was due to intuition, instinct or some subtle principle of mind communication, I do not profess to know and I do not say, but the fact was that I did not think or believe—Iknew, and those inclined to account for the fact will find this point of interest to them.
"What would you have said, Swiggett, if he had named a price?" asked Miller.
"But he didn't, Miller," I responded; "and he wasn't suspicious."
"But if he had been?"
"How can I tell? It would have depended on circumstances. My experience is that one can never, or very seldom, carry out imaginary conversation, and I never try to hamper myself unnecessarily by pre-arranged ideas."