CAPT. B. F. MILLER.
These conversations are related simply to show how easy it is to overcome many seemingdifficulties. We can figure and calculate all we will in advance, but it almost invariably happens that the details of our plans must be changed on the scene of action, either to surmount unexpected obstacles or to take the shortest and surest road to success. The best way to dispose of obstacles is to go at them. Many and most disappear before you reach them, while those which really have to be surmounted are usually ridden over on lines suggested at the time of meeting.
In crossing the river we had given the ferryman no time to ask questions, even had he been disposed to do so, and I had asked the way to Arkadelphia, learning the direction to take and that the distance was fifty-two miles, on a plain road.
As usual, after the river was crossed, Miller was jubilant and happy until he had time to begin worrying about the next river, which he soon did. If my friend worries as much about crossing the final river as he did about crossing earthly rivers in our travels together it may be that he will have to cross much sooner than he otherwise would.
It must not be understood that my illustrations of Miller's peculiarities are made in disparagement of the man. We all have our own peculiar traits of character, and it merely happened that this journey developed in Miller some phases of a disposition that in other thingswould have had more than compensating merits. He was simply more cautious than is usual in men, and so exceedingly honest that it was impossible for him to dissimulate. A tall, fine-looking gentleman, with dignified bearing, and the very embodiment of honor and conscientiousness, one to whom recapture was certain if lies were necessary to avoid it; this was Miller.
We were soon out of the river bottom, and then came the question as to whether we should keep or avoid the road. We decided to remain upon it, because of the fact that the ferryman would probably ask the first comer if he had met us, and a negative reply might cause questions and suspicions; so we trudged along, in hopes of a successful issue to our campaign.
Soon we saw an approaching horseman, and again our friend Miller became agitated. When a nearer view developed the fact that the rider was a rebel officer, we had hard work to keep Miller from throwing up his hands or running, we being entirely unarmed, but he calmed down and behaved nicely as the officer rode up and we saw that he was a major.
We saluted, said good morning, and passed on in a matter-of-fact way, while the officer gave us scarcely a look as he returned our salute and rode by; so Miller had a respite.
Having thus met somebody to report us at the ferry, we now left the road and went into the woods to lay up, taking pains to go a good milefrom the road in order to avoid any possible notice.
Finding a good, thick top of a felled tree, we sought the seclusion of its branches and indulged in a good sleep.
We were awakened along in the afternoon by a crunching sound like that of horses walking on gravel, and, when we realized what it was, the horses were so close to us that we fairly hugged the ground and trembled, feeling that it must be some people looking for us.
The sound passing by, we got out to investigate, and we had not gone fifteen paces through some bushes till we stopped and looked at each other quizzically. There was another road, evidently more traveled than the one we had taken such pains to avoid. As the joke was on all, we had nothing to say.
We were now out of provisions again, and, in prospecting around, we found that the two roads came together a short distance below.
The country in our neighborhood was a farming district, but it was now barren. The houses and buildings were deserted, the fences down and everything dilapidated. We could find nothing to eat, and again took to the road.
To show how run down and deserted that section was I state as a fact that we ransacked every stable, corn crib and vacant house in our path that night for a distance of about fifteen miles without seeing a soul or finding anythingeatable. But few houses appeared to be inhabited, and these were avoided.
Just before daybreak we came across an old stable, where we found some corn in the mangers—that is, the small kernels left on the ends of the cobs by horses when they eat. Of this we made a fairly good meal.
A little farther on we came to a corn crib which had in it about 150 bushels of corn, and here we had a feast, building a fire and parching the corn.
While we were eating we saw a cow coming toward the corn crib, and we welcomed her heartily, giving her some corn shucks to feed upon while we milked her and regaled ourselves.
We now proceeded with little or no trouble, making far better time than we had expected to make, and we felt almost as if at home when we came to a finger-board bearing the inscription: "2½ miles to Arkadelphia."
I had been in this place with our army on our way to Camden the spring before, and it now seemed as if we must soon meet some blue uniforms.
We passed on around the town to the Caddo river, which empties into the Washita four miles above Arkadelphia.
When we reached the river there were no signs of a ferry, and we walked up and down the river bank for about two miles each way before we found any chance to cross. There seemed tobe no ferry, and the chance of crossing was based solely upon the fact that we finally discovered a house on the farther bank, and a skiff tied to a tree near by.
We built our hopes on that skiff, but there was no way to get it at present, and we decided to drop down the river to a secluded place in the bottom and await developments.
Finding the desired place, we went into camp, building a fire, parching some corn, warming up well and getting a good sleep.
In the morning we again went over the ground, but found no better chance to cross, concluding that the owner of the skiff must be the ferryman.
We could not build a raft, as there were no logs lying about which were suitable for the purpose. The river was too deep to wade, and the water was so cold that we were afraid to risk an effort to swim over, especially on account of Miller's aversion to the element, and the necessity of towing him over on a log if we tried this method of crossing; so, after sizing up the situation in all its aspects, we decided to keep quiet until about sundown and then go boldly down to the water's edge at the road and hail the ferryman, taking our chances of results.
Accordingly we again sought our hiding place, and passed the day in sleeping and conversation, neither hearing nor seeing anything throughout the day.
At the proper time we emerged boldly from our secluded nook and sought the road, without any attempt at secrecy, having been all over the ground both in the morning and the night before, and having heard nothing since.
A short distance from the road we saw a man on the river bank, and kept right on, taking him to be some stray individual looking for a chance to cross the river, but we had not gone twenty paces after seeing him until we walked right into a picket post of nine men, or, rather, right into plain view of them, they being about fifty yards distant.
There was no help for it but to put on a bold front, and we walked right along about our business. Seeing them watching us, I broke the silence by addressing them and asking the way to the ferry.
They answered, and asked where we were going, to which I responded by saying that we had been hunting for the ferry for an hour or more and were going to cross, walking along in a business-like manner while talking.
The corporal in charge of the picket guard now called to us to come into camp, but we did not hear him, and kept on without hurrying. Then we got a peremptory order in a tone which meant business, and we concluded instantaneously to hear and heed this; so we stopped and asked what they wanted, and walked slowly intocamp when the corporal repeated his order, remonstrating against the delay as we did so.
Miller was now so nervous that he scarcely knew on which end he stood, but he quieted down in appearance when I asked him to keep cool, let me do the talking, and back me up.
We were now asked to show our papers, but we had none to show, and by rapid questioning I learned that these men had been guarding the river at this point for some time, but had left the river bank for better quarters when the high water came, and had just camped again when we came up.
Asking the corporal his name, I learned that it was Ed. Rocket, and I then told him that we lived in Rockport, Hot Springs county, and were going home, being soldiers in Captain Stewart's Company A, of the 15th Arkansas, and having come from Magruder's headquarters at Washington.
He then asked for our passes, and I told him that he was too old a soldier not to know that we could not possibly have a pass, it being all that a captain's commission was worth to give leave of absence in those days, stating to him, in explanation of our absence from our command, that we had been in service for over two years without any leave; that when we had begged our captain to let us go home when it was so close he had told us that we could simply slip off, if we would promise to be back in tendays, and he would not report us absent unless that time elapsed before our return, and that we had taken chances on his word, because we wanted to get home so badly.
This seemed to satisfy Rocket that it was all right, and he hesitated for a few minutes before he answered that he would gladly let us go on, but that his orders were positive to letnobodycross the river without a pass or proper papers.
I again remonstrated at the delay and annoyance, and he sympathized with us, but was firm in his unwillingness to disobey positive orders which left no discretion. He finally said he would take us over to headquarters at Arkadelphia and do what he could to get necessary permission for us to cross the river.
There being no other course to pursue, we thanked him heartily and at once fraternized with him and his men.
They had just cooked supper, and we invited ourselves to eat with them, saying that we were almighty hungry, but that they would have to put up with it, inasmuch as we were not exactly willing guests.
We were quite hungry, and we demonstrated the fact by eating the entire quantity of food which the nine men had prepared for their meal, talking and chatting the while, with the party looking on with open-mouthed amazement at our appetites, as they waited for two of their number to prepare an additional supply, theextra quantity being increased as they proceeded, until they really cooked as much more as they had at first prepared for themselves.
Once, while we were eating, Miller inadvertently called me captain, and asked me to pass him something. Fortunately he did not speak loud, as he was close by my side, but I gave him a look which spoke volumes, and he kept silent thereafter.
After our hosts had finished their supper we started for Arkadelphia, and, while on the road, we learned that the object of guarding the river had been to catch refugee "Arkansaw" people and to head off such natives as might be en route to join the 3d and 4th Arkansas Cavalry, then being organized in Little Rock.
This was our twenty-first night out since leaving the stockade, and we were now 275 miles from Tyler, Texas, and fifty miles from Little Rock—"so near and yet so far."
On reaching Arkadelphia we were taken to the provost marshal's office, which was located in a two-room house in the centre of the town, and there we found a lieutenant at the desk in one of the rooms, while fourteen or fifteen men were gathered around an old-fashioned fireplace, telling stories and spending a pleasant evening. Some of these men were soldiers and some were not.
I shall never forget that little room in that old house. It was about twelve feet by sixteen, the walls were bare, the ceiling was low and smoke-stained, the floor was without covering, and the only furniture was the old table which served as a desk for the lieutenant, a number of more or less rickety chairs and the two huge old-fashioned andirons which supported the blazing logs in the enormous, ancient fireplace.
Rocket took the lieutenant aside and told him our story, the evident impression being that it was all right. He then left us.
They had a lot of cooking utensils, bedding, etc., in the second room, and soldiers were passing in and out of the rooms at intervals.
As we stood awaiting the termination of the interview between Rocket and the lieutenant, Ithought I recognized several of the men in the room, and I was certain as to two of them. It is needless to say that I avoided observation as much as possible, without seeming to do so, and I was not recognized.
As Rocket left, the lieutenant came up to us, and, evidently thinking it necessary, as a matter of form, began asking questions.
I told the same story that I had told to Rocket, while Miller and Rummel got into the crowd before the fireplace, adding that we were from Northern Missouri in the first place, that my wife was the sister of my two companions, that their name was Miller and mine Swiggett, and that we had had to leave Missouri when it had gotten hot up there, coming to "Arkansaw" and joining the 15th "Arkansaw."
While telling this story, which I did in response to questions asked, I could hear comments on the side between the men sitting around, and heard one say that Rockport was not in Hot Springs county, and then another say that it was and that I was right.
These comments disturbed Miller so much that he could not keep quiet to save his soul, and I nearly laughed out aloud as I got a side look at him and saw him shifting nervously from one foot to the other, now rubbing his hands together spasmodically, and then recollecting himself enough to hold them out to the fire as an excuse for the rubbing, every second or twocasting a "sheep's glance" over his shoulder at the lieutenant and myself.
His actions evidently excited suspicions, for, just as I was certain that the lieutenant was satisfied, and felt confident that all was well, he asked me whom I knew up around Rockport, and then commenced going back over the same ground again in a cross-questioning sort of way.
I told him that I knew no one up that way except our own folks, and, as I heard a side comment of "Damned strange," I turned on the speaker and said emphatically:
"No, it isn't 'damned strange,' if you will let me tell my own story, and not try to put words in my mouth."
"Well, go on," said one fellow, and I continued:
"When we left Missouri and joined the regiment we left our families behind in Northern Missouri. They were ostracized and misused because we had gone off and joined the rebels, and life became a burden to them. So, when Price made his last raid into Missouri, they were only too glad to come with him and take chances of starving among friends in preference to accepting the grudging charity of the Yankees. They were compelled to stop in Hot Springs county, five miles southeast of Rockport. We have never been in Hot Springs county ourselves, and have not seen our families since we left them in Northern Missouri."
The lieutenant now asked me if I had no papers at all.
Quick as a flash I said "Yes," and produced from my pocket a newspaper published in Washington the day before, which I had picked up on the road as we came in.
He looked at it, laughed, and said that he did not mean that sort of paper, but a pass or something to prove our identity.
I said that we would not be there if we had any pass, and that I did not see why he doubted a straight statement in accordance with facts.
He now led me into the next room and tried to coax me into confidence with him, but I stuck to my text, and could see that I had him on the run, so to speak, although he had apparently suspected us of being Arkansas Federals.
As we walked back to the office room I saw that poor Miller was as fidgety as a nervous man could possibly be, and his actions, as he quickly held out his hands to the fire and as quickly withdrew them to rub them together in an absent-minded way, caused the lieutenant to look at me sharply and again ask to what regiment we belonged.
This made me mad, and I answered shortly:
"The 15th Arkansaw, as I have told you three times before."
"What brigade?" now followed quickly.
"Thompson's," was the prompt reply.
"What division?"
"Molyneux's."
At this time we had been under fire for nearly an hour and a half without giving anything tangible on which the lieutenant could hang suspicion, but here he thought he had me, and he quickly responded:
"There are no Arkansaw troops in Molyneux's division."
Without an instant's hesitation, I came back at him with:
"If you know more about this thing than I do, perhaps you had better tell the story. I'm in the 15th Arkansaw, and Molyneux is our division commander."
The principle upon which I went in this examination was that these men were most likely as ignorant as myself about matters not of general importance, and I knew that they could only go on hearsay as to minor matters, such as what troops made up a division at a certain time when that division was widely scattered, and I therefore stood on my dignity and was positive.
My reply plainly staggered the lieutenant, and he fell back on what was apparently his last ground of argument, as he looked at our dress and asked how we came by our blue blouses and breeches.
I laughed carelessly, and looked over the crowd in a quizzical way as I answered:
"If you fellows had been chasing Steele'sarmy all summer as we have you would be wearing them too."
Then, turning to the lieutenant again, I said:
"Now, see here, Lieutenant, you know that there is no such thing as a leave of absence to be had in our army nowadays; we wouldn't have any army if there was; and when men have been in hard service for over two years without a chance to see their folks, it's blamed tough to keep them standing around answering fool questions when they have only ten days in which to go home and get back."
I saw in the lieutenant's face that our case was won, but, as he opened his mouth to say the words which would set us free, I heard the question from behind:
"Where was your regiment raised?"
Turning, I saw that it had proceeded from a bright-looking young fellow of about sixteen or seventeen, who sat near Miller and was looking up at him with a quizzled glance. My heart sank within me, but I answered promptly:
"In Clar—"
"Hold on, there! I didn't ask you," interrupted the young fellow; "I haven't a bit of doubt but that you can tell every township that furnished a man, and probably name every man in the regiment if necessary; but you have had to do a lot of talking for your crowd, and I would like to hear this man answer the question."
I now knew that we were caught, and I almostlaughed, even in my misery, at the picture before me.
Miller was almost paralyzed. He hemmed and hawed an instant and looked inquiringly at the lieutenant and myself.
"Answer the question," sharply said that worthy, as he at once caught the drift of the young fellow's remarks and had all his old suspicions awakened again by the pitiful uncertainty of Miller's actions.
"In—In—In Clar—Hem! In Clar—Hem! Hem!—H-e-m! Really, gentlemen—" he said, as he rubbed his hands and made all sorts of faces and turned all colors, while vainly trying to recall some names that he might safely use.
He finally stammered out:
"The adjoining counties to—to—in the northern part of the State."
His questioner then remarked quizzically:
"Well, I'll be ——, if here ain't a fellow that has been in the army over three years and can't name the counties in which his regiment was raised."
"Take these men to the jail," now ordered the lieutenant, and we were led off to that place of abode, hearing, as we left the room, various interesting comments and much laughter.
They put us in a cabin, which was lined throughout with sheet iron, and which had no opening in it except the door. A pine torch furnished the light. The floor was covered withfilth, and we had not been in there five minutes before the atmosphere had become almost unbearable.
I kicked loudly against the door, and soon a sergeant came to know what was wanted. He was told that we wanted to see the lieutenant at once, and he went away to call him.
When the officer came he was followed by a curious crowd, and, as they opened the door, I stepped forward and asked pleasantly if that was the way to treat Federal prisoners.
The lieutenant said that we were held as suspicious parties who could not account for themselves, and who were probably endeavoring to join the Yankee regiments now being organized in Little Rock, but that if we could satisfy him that we were Federal prisoners he would let us out and treat us as such.
Having made up our minds that our best course now was to be frank, we told him who we really were, and that we had escaped from the stockade at Tyler, Texas, and made our way so far north on foot.
As I told this I heard a remark in the crowd:
"Damned if they didn't deserve to get through."
The lieutenant turned, with a frown, and asked who made the remark, but he had a smothered grin on his face as he turned back and invited us out.
This remark seemed to be the sentiment of theentire outfit, although they now had to keep us, and intended to do so.
We were taken to a room in a neighboring house and a guard was placed over us, but we held a regular levee until far into the night, the whole town apparently coming to see and talk with us.
While we were chagrined and disappointed over our capture, we yet had enough sense to make the best of it, and I cannot remember a night when I had any more fun than that levee afforded.
The crowd ridiculed the lieutenant, praised the young fellow who had shown us up, mimicked poor Miller until he was nearly frantic, laughed and joked with us, asked us innumerable questions about ourselves, and generally made us feel more like being out for a lark than in confinement as prisoners.
During the evening we told them of our hard fare while en route, and described our appropriation of the picket post's supper, at which they all laughed. Then we suggested that we were even then quite hungry, and asked for something to eat.
After some delay they brought us a kettle of cooked fresh pork and some meal for a pone of bread. There was probably about four pounds of pork in the mess, and a goodly supply of bread, but we ate it all before bedtime, holding our informal reception meanwhile.
We remained at Arkadelphia for several days before we were moved to Magruder's headquarters at Washington, and during this wait we were treated more like guests than prisoners, excepting, of course, the being under guard. I do not think that there was an able-bodied personage in the place who did not come to see us, and there were several callers who were not able-bodied.
All the people were curious to see us, because we were Yankees, and more curious because of our successful escape to this point, while our almost successful effort to get through at the last was the occasion of much admiration, many jokes and friendly actions.
When we did not give ourselves time to think of our capture we really enjoyed our stay.
In discourse of time the guards who had captured us were detailed to take us back, and they were given a leave of twenty days in which to do so, Rocket now being a sergeant.
Our start was made after a farewell that showed far more friendship than enmity, and wemade the fifty miles to Washington in four days, taking it easy.
Of the nine men who composed this squad eight were positively disloyal to the Confederacy, but were forced to fight for it because of their homes and families.
Each one of the eight, at different times, talked very freely to me when the others were not around, and each one told me that they would never have held us at the river if the others could have been certainly depended upon not to report the matter. We got to be very friendly with these guards, and we were really sorry when it came time to part from them.
One of our guards was an old man whom his companions called Captain Payne. He rode a sorry-looking specimen of a horse and was evidently only a private. Wishing to be friendly, he offered to let me ride his horse if I would allow him to hold the halter, which offer I promptly accepted, informing him that he was welcome to hold the halter and the horse's tail as well if he so desired. As an apology for the limitation of my actions with his horse, he informed me that he had positive orders to let us have no chance of escape, and to shoot us without notice if such an attempt was made.
In the course of conversation I asked him why he was called captain while being under orders of a sergeant. His reply was that he had been elected captain of 500 men who had organizedto resist the draft and afterwards joined the Federal army; that they had been informed upon and the scheme frustrated, he having been forced to compromise between his neck and the halter by enlisting in the Confederate army as a private.
We were taken up behind on the horses of our guards during part of the trip, and in one of these rides behind Sergeant Rocket I learned that he had been in Missouri with Price, but had disliked the job very much, as had most of his companions. When Price had commenced his retreat he had simply broken ranks and ordered the men to fall in again at Boggy Hollow. They had all been forced to shift for themselves, and for three days he had had nothing to eat. After that they had lived almost entirely on fresh meat, without salt, for twenty-four days, and the organization had been largely broken up.
Rocket told me that most of the people in his part of the country would hail with joy the approach of the Federal troops. He was married to the daughter of a planter, who was a Union man, though a slaveholder, and had joined the Confederate army to save his family. His father-in-law lived on the road ten miles north from Washington, and he described the location and gave directions so that I could find the house if I had another chance to run away, saying that if I ever reached there and made myselfknown I would certainly get to Little Rock in safety.
SERGEANT E. B. ROCKET.
Captain Payne, also, gave me directions how to find the home of his people, telling me how to find Dooley's ferry, in the neighborhood, and how Dooley would know me, set me across the river and see that I reached the right place. He also told me that a neighbor of theirs had three sons in the Federal army at Little Rock, and that I could easily get horses and guides to that place.
When we reached Washington, and Ed. Rocket bade us good-bye, he told me that he had never been so sorry for anything in his life as that he had been obliged to capture and hold us.
Ed. Rocket is now a poor Baptist preacher in Arkansas.
We were turned into a guardhouse that was about sixty by twenty feet in size and so full that all could not lie down at once. It was far from being pleasant.
The prisoners confined in this building were three spies and a large number of Confederates, the latter being held for crimes ranging all the way from chicken-stealing to murder, and in this agreeable society we spent ten days.
We got acquainted with a good many of the prisoners, and had considerable fun in various ways, but we were glad to leave.
Cornmeal was the only food served to us during our stay, but the rebel prisoners weretreated the same as the others, and we had an extra allowance as officers—by purchase; so we could not complain of any unfair distinctions.
There was one old skillet in the guardhouse, and all the cooking had to be done with this one article. It was never cool. We took turns in its use, and the call of "Next!" was as orderly and regular as in a barber shop.
By common consent the Yankees were given the first turn with this skillet, as preferred guests, and we thereby had our meals at ordinary meal hours.
There were crowds coming in and going out of the guardhouse all the time, as there was a regular system being carried out of securing cavalry horses for other sections.
In this part of the country they had more cavalry than infantry, while in other sections much of the veteran cavalry was dismounted for want of horses. So they would put these cavalrymen under arrest for chicken-stealing or any offense whenever possible and appropriate their horses for service elsewhere. Infantrymen were let off for the same offenses.
One of the rebel officers in charge offered to let us out if we would join his company, but we declined, with thanks.
There was plenty of money among the prisoners, and much poker-playing to kill time.
I had a toothpick, made of bone and representing a woman, for which I got fifty cents in silver.With this amount I bribed one of the guards to get us four dozen eggs. Some of these we ate ourselves, but we sold the most of them to the prisoners for $1 apiece in Confederate money. These eggs were procured by the guard from some paroled Federal prisoners on the outside.
On the day following our egg deal I got permission to go outside with a guard for some water, and then secured permission to buy some supplies and take them inside. After some hunting around we found a nigger who had a lot of turnips, and I bought a bushel for $10 in Confederate money, having a good margin left. We ate all the turnips we wanted, and then got $1 apiece for the balance. Everything went at $1 a unit in Confederate money. Keeping this thing up, we fed ourselves well during our stay, and when we left we had $400 in Confederate money.
Two of the spies mentioned were named Honeycut and Masterson, and the latter was kept in irons. They had money, and secured extra food from the outside, of which we got a share.
Masterson had been captured with a lot of drugs in his possession, and he had claimed to be from Georgia, to which part of the country he was returning after having run the blockade with his drugs from the North, but he had forgotten to make all his stories agree, and they had arrested him as a spy and put leg-irons uponhim. Later on, he joined the Confederate army to save his neck.
Honeycut claimed to have been a Copperhead in Ohio, and that he had been drafted and had furnished a substitute, but had then been drafted the second time, when he had sworn that he would not stand it. He claimed to have sent his family to Matamoras, and that he had gone to New York to join them by steamer, but had been unable to get a passport. He had then made his way to New Orleans, and had again failed to slip through. As a last resort he had gone to Arkansas and secured a pony, with the intention of riding through to Mexico, but had been captured and lost the horse and his money.
The provost marshal, Colonel Province, was a very clever gentleman, and he was kind to us in several ways. One of his courtesies was to grant us a parole within the city limits.
When Magruder's chief of staff saw us on the street and learned of our parole he ordered Colonel Province to return us immediately to prison. The colonel pleaded for us, saying that he knew us to be gentlemen, and that he felt easier in regard to us while we were on parole than he would if we were in the insecure guardhouse, even while he knew that the parole was contrary to orders, for the guardhouse was filthy and crowded with criminals. This plea in our favor had no effect, and the colonel received peremptory orders to place us in prison at once, underpenalty of being reported to Magruder for disobedience.
Three guards were sent to take us to the colonel's headquarters, where he told us of his talk with the chief of staff, and expressed his regret that he was compelled to obey, closing his remark with:
"But I want to tell you, gentlemen, I am an original rebel from South Carolina, while that —— —— of a staff officer is from Chicago."
The colonel evidently thought that being a Northern man and a rebel would account for most any kind of meanness.
While defeated in his good intentions in the matter of parole, the colonel tried to make up for it in other ways. He gave me a pair of shoes which had been given to him by the Yankees while he had been a prisoner at Johnson's Island, and which I sold to Masterson for $250, for the purchaser could not wear his boots and leg-irons at the same time.
Our stay at Washington was prolonged on account of a lack of provisions to furnish the extra supply needed for a guard and ourselves on a journey. When it seemed certain that provisions were not to be forthcoming we were started off for Magnolia, Ark., which point we had to make without any supplies save what we could gather as we went along.
When we left Washington we stopped in front of the provost marshal's office, and ColonelProvince came out to bid us good-bye and express his regrets that he had been prevented from according us the same kind treatment which he had received at Johnson's Island.
The first night out we reached Spring Hill, which was then a courier station, and were confined in an old church. One of the soldiers killed a hog, which proceeding was an outrageous violation of orders, as well as of the rights of the owner, but we had to eat. A guard and myself went to a neighboring house to get a kettle in which to cook the meat.
The difference between pork and beef in that country was about the same in those days as the difference between greenbacks and Confederate money.
The guard found a negro woman in the house, and he asked for something to eat. She gave us some beef and corn bread, but had no pork when asked for it. In the course of the conversation the guard told her who I was and about the escape of my companions and myself, when the darkey remembered that there was some cold pork in an outhouse, and produced it.
We got the necessary kettle and cooked our meat before we went on our way.
After we had again started, the guards paroled us, and several of them went home, appointing a meeting place and promising us more pork and some biscuit when they returned, which promise they kept.
When we reached Magnolia we found a camp of about forty badly wounded Federal prisoners there, who were the remnants of Steele's fight at Jenkins' Ferry.
We were put in jail for several days to await a move of this camp to Shreveport.
When all were ready the convalescent cases were loaded on wagons and we started.
During this trip our rations were salt beef and corn bread, but the latter was unfit to eat, and I refused all rations, preferring to take the chances of foraging until we reached Shreveport.
On the first day out we made about twelve miles. At dusk it commenced to rain, and we camped in an old church at a cross roads. The wounded men and ourselves were placed in one end of the building, they on one side and we on the other, while the other end was used by our guards. They piled up all their equipments in one corner, and spread their blankets in the vacant space, then going off to a stillhouse in the neighborhood, where they got gloriously drunk, and leaving only a sentinel at the door.
When leaving Washington our party had been increased by three more runaways, who bore the names of Robinson, Fenton and Stanton, so that we were now six in all.
The guard at the door excited my envy, soon after his companions had left, by coolly drawing from his haversack a lot of biscuits and the ham of a shote. As he drew out his huge knife andbegan slicing off tempting bits of lean meat my envy overcame any timidity I may have had, and I determined to have some of that meat by fair means or foul.
Stanton came up to me as I came to this conclusion, and I remarked to him that I was about to take supper with the rebel. His curiosity spurred me on, and I walked out to the sentinel and asked if I could have some of his meat and biscuit. Much to my surprise and pleasure he promptly said: "Tub ber shure," and sliced off for me a liberal allowance of ham, giving it to me with some biscuits. My success led Stanton to follow suit, and we both had a fair meal with the generous fellow.
It was now getting dark, and the rain kept coming down. We had full possession of the room, and as Stanton and myself walked back to our companions, we saw Fenton eating. Inquiry developed the fact that he had been plundering the piled-up haversacks while we had been outside, and when we learned that there was a supply still unappropriated we promptly set out to empty the haversacks of everything desirable. During our talk together the sentinel had added his haversack to the pile, and the first thing to which we came was the balance of the ham from which we had just dined, together with fourteen biscuits. We felt awfully mean about it, but "self-preservation is the first lawof nature," and we cleaned that bone, throwing it and the haversack behind the wainscoting.
This food was sufficient for our wants, and we would have been satisfied but that we found Rummel on one side eating some light bread, which he had purloined from another haversack. This made us ambitious again, so we went back and took all the desirable stuff we could find in the pile for future use.
We got a lot of light bread, about a pound and a half of butter and some sweet potatoes.
The wounded men had a kettle for cooking, and I borrowed this, built a fire in the stove and cooked our sweet potatoes.
About this time some of the guards came back, and one of them came to me to borrow the kettle, saying that he had some sweet potatoes to cook.
I told the man that he would have to wait until our stuff was cooked, and he sat down quietly and waited, chatting with us to pass away the time. When our potatoes were cooked we gave him the utensil, which he filled with water and put on the fire before he went for his potatoes. Then there was a row, as his potatoes happened to be those boiled by us.
Of course he could not identify the property, and I was indifferent, but to my surprise, instead of accusing us, he did not seem to suspect anyone save his comrades, and his accusation against them caused the rest to investigate ontheir own hook. The row that now ensued took a direction which we had not calculated upon, and we finally got well scared. The men were all more or less drunk, and their denunciations and reproaches of each other caused a row among themselves. The rest of the party came back, and there was more investigation, more row and much confusion. There were two classes of men in this crowd. About half were poor whites, of the ignorant, malicious sort, and the balance of a better class.
The question finally settled down to a denunciation of us by the first-named portion, and accusations against them by the others. At this stage of the game they began to talk of searching us, and we got scared, for we had too much on hand to be able to "bluff" them off in a general search, and their condition of excitement would not give us much chance for argument.
We now did what might seem to be a very mean thing, but it was done on the principle that, while our conviction of the robbery might, in their present state, mean death to us, they might curse and swear mightily, but would not harm anyone if they found the balance of their stuff where we put it—among the wounded men. We hid it around as best we could and awaited developments with much interest, but the row finally quieted down and we all went to sleep.
We were up very early in the morning, as we had to dispose of the plunder in some way, andwent to work, for it was work. We ate all we possibly could, including the butter, and stuffed the remainder inside of our shirts. I had a butter taste in my mouth for a week afterward, and it was a good while before I could eat the article with my former relish.
Our guards made a partial search before we started, but they did not attempt to be too personal, and we evaded the discovery of any of the purloined food. It was plainly to be seen that we were now suspected, but they rather regarded the thing as a good joke, now that they were sober, and the search was for something to eat rather than to prove anything.
We now had several days of travel and similar scenes, but the robberies were now joint expeditions against the potato holes on the line of our road, where the surplus of the crop was stored for the winter, and the guards and ourselves shared alike in the guilt and proceeds.
When we reached Shreveport, we were taken through the town to Four Miles Springs, where I had been before, and here we were kept for six weeks.
A stockade and quarters had been built since my former visit, and things were much more comfortable.
We soon built a comfortable cabin in partnership with some other captured runaways who had just been brought to this stockade, and one of these, Lieutenant Bushnell, of the 120thIllinois, became my berthmate when lots were cast to see who should occupy the several rude bunks erected in our mansion.
Sweet potatoes at this time were $10 a bushel in Confederate money, and my supply of cash came in so handy that we were enabled to refuse all rations and to live on the fat of the land; but we did not risk the gout by so doing. The fat of the land in those days was so well streaked with lean that everyone had to take much lean in order to get any fat, and the rebels themselves did not live in luxury.
There were about 250 prisoners now at this point. The rations served to them were brought in on a board. In order to get the privilege of doing our own cooking we asked and obtained special permission to have our rations served raw, and so we managed to have what we wanted.
There was a "greaser," from Mexico, on the outside, who made and sold potato pies. I would get five for a $5 bill and give Bushnell two. At the next pie meal he would reverse the order of things.
We made the acquaintance of a squad of men from the 16th Regiment of Indiana Mounted Infantry, their leading spirit being a Captain Moore.
At roll-call the guards made the prisoners stand out in line, and Moore was frequentlyprodded with a sword for hanging back and delaying matters.
One day we made an excellent dummy from an old log and some clothes, and carefully deposited it in Moore's bunk, covering it naturally with what bedclothes we had. At next roll-call Moore was not to be found, and the guards, after much swearing, went up to his cabin and found him, apparently, in bed and asleep. After several calls and shakes, accompanied by some artistic profanity, one of them prodded him gently with his sword. A little harder punch followed, when he still slept, and then a vicious one, when they threw back the covers and discovered the deception. A crowd had followed them, and they were now well laughed at, but they took it good-humoredly, only swearing at Moore for his deviltry. When we went back to roll-call Moore was in his place in line, and, as he gave a good excuse for absence and disclaimed all knowledge of any joke, the guards had to be satisfied with some general cussing.
The rebel prisoners were also kept in this stockade—men who, as at Washington, were imprisoned for various crimes and offenses.
One rebel prisoner complained of a theft. Moore hunted around, found a suspect, convened a court-martial, had the man tried, found guilty and sentenced to receive ten lashes, which were duly administered.
The court-martial and punishment areworthy of note. All the preparations for the trial were made in due and ancient form, as formally as if it had been ordered by the regularly-constituted authorities in military life. The army (the prisoners) was well represented by a judge-advocate, and the culprit by "learned counsel." The offender was placed on the stand, and then witnesses for both sides were thoroughly questioned and cross-questioned. Being found guilty in usual form, the prisoner was sentenced as solemnly as if before a regular court. The punishment was given by causing the thief to be bent over a stump, with his hands and feet held by Confederate prisoners, while the ten stripes were laid on with a halter strap in the hands of another, who did not spare the victim. The rebel prisoners endorsed the proceedings as being perfectly legal and just.
The feverish desire to escape was constantly present with every man in the stockade, but there seemed to be little chance for getting away. We were allowed to go out after wood, but there was a guard for each prisoner when we went.
One rebel guard talked to me, and made a proposal. He was a rebel from principle, he said, but had lost everything, and was now over forty years old. What the outcome was to be he did not know, but he did know that he wanted to make some money for himself andfamily, and had a chance to do so if he had some help.
He told me of two steamboats, loaded with cotton, then lying tied up on Red River, not over five miles away, and kept in readiness for a run up some secluded bayou if the Yankees approached, calling my attention to the fact that, as only two guards protected each vessel, the fires kept in the furnaces made it a comparatively easy job to capture and get away with one of the boats and its load. He said that he had contemplated the capture of one boat for the purpose of taking it to New Orleans and selling the cotton, but had given up the idea of trying it as originally intended, fearing that the cotton and boat would be confiscated at New Orleans, because he was a rebel, even if he succeeded in getting there.
The suggested scheme struck me as being a good one, and in several trips made outside for wood with this man as my guard we perfected our plans for making the attempt.
I was to select a pilot and crew from the prisoners, and he agreed to arrange for our exit from the stockade. We kept up daily communication with each other until all was in readiness.
I had found a pilot and crew to man the boat. The capture seemed an easy job, as we would most likely find the guards asleep. We had accumulated some rations for the trip, and it wassettled as to what night the start would be made.
The stockade was made with two-inch planks, twelve feet long, placed on end on the ground and strongly braced. The soil was sandy.
When the appointed time came our party quietly went to the place which had been selected for the work, and we were busily digging our way out, under the fence, when someoneinsideof the stockade reported us to the sergeant at the gate, who yelled out:
"Sergeant of the guard! Prisoners escaping!"
The sentinel on whose beat we were to escape could do no less than fire his gun, which he promptly did, and the bullet came through the fence at about the proper distance above the ground to perforate the body of anyone not lying down. It seemed almost a miracle that no one in our party of eight was hit.
All was confusion in short order, and it is needless to say that our party left for a better neighborhood. When a file of soldiers ultimately appeared on the scene they found almost everyone up and asking questions; but the parties who had drawn the fire of the sentry were among those sleeping peacefully in their quarters and dreaming of a home without rebel guards.
Added to the keen disappointment which we experienced over the frustrated effort to escape,we had the usual regrets incident to the failure of a business operation, for that boat and cargo in New Orleans would have meant a snug little pile to divide, and in this respect my own regrets were above the average felt by the crowd, for it had been agreed upon by the party that the rebel manager and myself should have an extra share of the spoils if the plan should be a success. By the law of compensation, or of force, he and I now had the lion's share of the disappointment.
With the sentinel a party to our escape and one of us as well, the thing had seemed so easy that, speaking for myself at least, we had in imagination seen ourselves, with bulging pockets, at home with our loved ones.
Our feelings can better be imagined than described.
It was always one of the mysteries of life to me how any prisoner could deliberately betray his comrades, and almost as much of a mystery how schemes of escape became known to others.
While we were in Shreveport my regiment was exchanged, and marched through on its way home. I tried very hard to be allowed to go with them, but Captain Burchard, who was in charge, refused to allow it. I had quite a row with him after pleadings and diplomacy had failed, but nothing did any good. It was decided that I must go back to Tyler on account of my two attempts to escape.
Shortly after this bitter disappointment the stockade got too full, and a lot of us were sent to Tyler under a heavy guard, Captain Rummel being left behind on account of sickness. These guards had special orders to shoot me if I tried to escape, evidently the result of my row with Captain Burchard. This fact was told to me by one of the guards, but I joked about it and professed not to believe it.
One of the guards was a boy, who seemed more inclined to general conversation than the rest. He walked and talked with me a good deal. In one of our talks he mentioned that he was from "Kasseder," in Davis county. As I knew several people in the place, having stoppedthere on my former return to Tyler, I at once surprised him by airing my knowledge. As I desired to amuse myself by quizzing him, I was mysterious and non-committal. He was puzzled considerably, and went off and told his captain.
The officer rode up to my side a little later and entered into a conversation. I treated him the same as I had treated the boy, and when he left me he was almost overpowered with curiosity.
I now discovered that one of the guards was the man whom I had met with a wagon when we crossed the Sulphur Fork of Red River. We talked together, but he did not recognize me. At first I claimed to have seen him before, but he thought not. After bothering him to my heart's content, I reminded him of our having crossed Sulphur Fork together, when he said that he had been suspicious of us at the time. This was so much of the "I-told-you-so" order that I had a good laugh at him for his "hindsight."
The other officers kept dropping back to interview me, and I got their curiosity inflamed to a high degree by talking familiarly of different places and of an imaginary plan of an underground railroad. This caused the officers to become agitated, and I saw that they suspected me of something serious. When a detail was finally sent to take me before the officer in command I concluded that the matter had gone far enough, and, when questioned, I explained howI had become acquainted, on a previous runaway trip, with the people and places spoken of so familiarly. The matter ended in much laughter and some jokes.
During the rest of the march I talked negro suffrage and equality, at times nearly driving our captors wild by picturing the pleasures to come to them when these liberties should prevail. They got mad at times, but seemed to like hearing me talk, and evidently saw that I said more than I meant in some ways; yet I told many truths—which made them mad—about the actual practice by Southern whites of equality with negroes, as evidenced by the thousands of mulattoes among them.
Another source of amusement to me was to bother the guard at night by sleeping away from my companions and as near the guard line as I could. The guards would remonstrate and get mad, but I would blarney them a little and say that I had money on my person which I was afraid my companions would steal, and that I wanted to keep close to them for protection. They could not reasonably object to this, but it made them keep an eye on me in particular, and the various characteristics of the different men were a constant source of study and amusement.
My feelings on this journey were of a kind that kept me constantly on the "qui vive" for something to divert my mind from reflections.To have escaped twice and been recaptured each time was bad enough, especially when one venture had been so nearly a success, and the failure through treachery of the last attempt to get away had seemed to cap the climax at the time; but to see all my regimental comrades file before me on their way to home and friends, while I was sent back to confinement, was the proverbial last straw—only, in this case, it did not break the camel's back; but it was a close call.
I had no interests in Camp Ford that I was not entirely willing to sacrifice for the sake of being at home or with my men, and the Confederacy was welcome to my rations if they would dispense with my presence; but, while my residence in Texas, with free board and lodging, was insisted upon so strongly as being necessary for the good of the country, I really could not leave the good people, not even for the sake of personal pleasures.
Talking to myself in this way when reflections crowded upon me, and by seizing every opportunity to amuse myself at the expense of the guards, I got the camel's back in pretty fair shape again, and resigned myself to the inevitable.
We finally reached the familiar stockade at Tyler, and about 250 of us were in line when we fell in for roll-call. Each man entered the stockade alone as his name was called.
As before described, the entrance of prisonerswas a noisy occasion, and one scene was very much like another; but, when I stepped into the enclosure, there was a movement of surprise and then a dead silence. Most of the men knew me, and their knowledge was communicated quickly to the rest. Seeing me come in after my long absence, and after my regiment had been exchanged, caused a sympathy that brought about silence almost as if by command.
I was not feeling particularly joyful anyway, and had had hard work to keep up my spirits on the road, so that this evidence of sympathy nearly caused me to break down altogether.
Soon after my return to the stockade I gained the title of Exchange Commissioner. I was familiar with the forms of all passes, furloughs, etc., and, as before stated, I could imitate almost any handwriting. As the new men in the place became acquainted with me and my accomplishments I was besieged with requests for different papers that would facilitate egress or escape.
The older prisoners were not as anxious for escape as the younger, or, rather, newer ones, as they had seen so many failures and punishments that they wanted a pretty sure thing before they risked an attempt.
Men even went so far as to ask me to get them out of the stockade, but I told them that I would give any papers they wanted, leaving to them the getting out.
My exchange or furlough business was conducted about as follows:
A man would come to me for the means of escape, or, rather, the means of avoiding recapture after escape. I would make out a written application from him to his captain for a leave of ten, twenty or thirty days, in which was stated the necessity for his going home to Upshur county, Texas, to procure clothing, which all Confederate soldiers then needed. On the back of this application would appear the approval of his captain, colonel and brigade commander, as well as the final and effective endorsement of Kirby Smith's adjutant, General Boggs, all the endorsements being made by me, except that of General Boggs, which was completely counterfeited by the adjutant of the 77th Ohio. Thus being fortified with legal authority to return to his regiment on an expired furlough, the prisoner would endeavor to appear as a dutiful Confederate soldier going to the front, get out as best he could, after receiving careful instructions as to his route and actions, and take his chances of success.
My escapes and experiences were talked over, and the men seemed to think that I could do most anything desired, the accidental character of our captures not being regarded as any reflection upon my ability in the attempts to escape.
A Colonel Jamison was now the commander of the stockade, and the officer who brought usin related to him some of my talks about negro suffrage and equality, which amused him very much.
One day he sent for me to come to him in order that he might hear some of my talk on these subjects. I evaded the topics as well as I could, but made so good an impression upon him that he gave me a pass to go in and out at will, with twenty men, upon my promise that I would not take advantage of it to escape myself or let any of my companions do so. My excuse for asking it was that we wanted to swim in the stream near by, gather wild greens and take proper exercise.
A few days later, as ten men and myself were in swimming under this pass in a creek about half a mile from the stockade we saw a couple of young negro boys watching us. I told the men to go ahead with their fun while I talked with the boys. One of these youngsters was about fourteen years old and the other nineteen. They knew who I was and all about my escapes, and were anxious to see me get away, urging me to break away right then, as there was no guard around, but I told them that I was out on parole and could not. They then told me that they had charge of the horses of the major at headquarters, and that I could at any time have a horse and uniform to help me get away, showing me the cabin where they lived and where I could come for this assistance.
I told the boys that I would take the first chance I had to get out without breaking parole, and they left me. I was greatly excited at the prospect, for I now knew the country so well that I had little fear of not being able to make my way to Little Rock with such assistance as I knew I could get along the road.
When we went back to the stockade I prepared some despatches from Kirby Smith to Gano, and planned the whole route and system which I would follow in general. My plan was simply to get out at night, get my uniform and horse, and ride for Dooley's Ferry despatch-bearer, taking my chances on my presence of mind being sufficient to carry me through in any emergency.
Recollecting all that had been said to me by Captain Payne—the guard who had let me ride his horse just after leaving Arkadelphia on the return trip—I figured that I could make Little Rock in about five days by hard riding, stopping here and there on the way to feed and rest, and having an easy time after reaching Dooley's Ferry.
The negro boy promised to keep the loss of the horse covered as long as possible, by pretending that the animal had gotten loose and strayed away, so that it was reasonable to assume that enough time would be spent in hunting the animal to render futile any pursuit from the stockade after my leave of absence became known tothe guards. My despatches should take care of any ordinary obstacle in my way to the river, and, with my ability to "bluff" the average person or persons likely to be met, I felt confident that only an accident or extraordinary stoppage could upset my plans. Dooley would know me when I referred to Captain Payne, and my passage of Red River was assured if I reached that point, while he would also direct me to the captain's place, some ten or fifteen miles away, where I would be certain of concealment and assistance. The captain's neighbor, who had sons in the Federal army, would find a way to get me within our lines, with the assistance of horses from Payne's corral. Altogether, I could almost see myself at home again.
The thing was feasible, and I was anxious to try it, scarcely being able to sleep at nights for thinking about it.
The men about me all tried to dissuade me on account of the risk of capture with a horse in my possession, and because Lee had surrendered and the war could not last much longer, saying that I was foolish to take any risks at such a time.
There was much talk at this time, among the rebels, of Kirby Smith's holding out in the Southwest and being heavily reinforced by the scattered remnants of other armies. This had an appearance of being reasonable, as matters then looked to us, and I would listen to noarguments against my proposed scheme; so a day was set for my departure, and I fully intended to go.
When I was sufficiently well supplied with food and really ready to start, my companions begged and pleaded with me so hard not to risk it till we were more certain of continued imprisonment that I compromised by postponing the date.
This thing went on for several weeks, I making postponement after postponement, until I finally settled it decidedly that I would go on such a day unless we got some favorable news.
Before the fixed time came around we saw Captain Burchard ride by the stockade and go to headquarters. Knowing that he was after some more prisoners for exchange, we sent out a man to learn who were to be the favored ones. The messenger came back, all in a flutter of excitement, and announced that all were to go.
The scene of confusion and excitement which ensued cannot be described. The men simply went wild. For myself, I had to sit down to quiet my nervousness.
The guards began to leave for home as soon as the news became known. Twenty-four hours after Captain Burchard arrived there were no guards to be seen anywhere, except the higher officers, and we could have broken out any time after that. We were not silly enough to do this, however, as it would have relieved the rebelstoo much, for they were bound to feed and escort us if we stayed.
We were kept three days in the stockade, awaiting the arrival of rations, and during this time we had no regular food, as the mill which the rebels had used to grind grain had broken down just at a time when they seemed to need it most.
The citizens flocked in to see us, and brought us food, or we should have gone hungry during this interval. They came to trade for the things which we would leave behind us, and we sold off the pots and kettles belonging to the Confederacy, until the authorities learned the fact and placed a guard at the gate to prevent any further depletion of their stock of cooking utensils. As the prisoners now had nothing to cook, they commenced to break up and throw into the cesspools all that was left of the cooking outfit, and before long there was not a pot or skillet to be found.
By this time the stockade was broken in several places, and we could pass in and out at will, but it was more the desire to feel that we could do so which prompted any egress than any desire to go anywhere, as we were all anxious to get home, and did not want to go by ourselves when all were going so soon.
An irrepressible Zouave prisoner got into the headquarters room one day, and, filled with enthusiasm and the conviction that the Confederacywas busted, nearly destroyed the records in the office before he was discovered and kicked out.
Finally, the rations not coming, the rebels got an ox-team with which to haul the sick men, and we made a start for Shreveport.