SCOUT TO WOODBURY—PLAYING REBEL SENTINEL—NARROW ESCAPES.
When I got back to Murfreesboro it was necessary to know how many rebels were at Woodbury, and I went from General Rosecrans, under the direction of Captain Swaine, chief of scouts. I left our lines at Readyville, and went a mile or more, when I got an old woman to hide me in her house in a back room, where I slept till the moon went down; and then taking up a branch of Stone river, I slipped into the rebel lines without raising the slightest alarm. It was only about seven miles by the high road, but it was more than ten by way of the creek to my point of destination. I kept constantly in the creek bottom, until I was nearly opposite Woodbury, when I struck off to the hills which surround the town, and from which a full view could be had. I got to a good position on a hill, but could not see all that was going on. I waited till day light, in the hope that I could then see plainer; but I was disappointed in that, and at once resolved to change my quarters to another hill. To do this, I had to go down into a valley and walk across it, and then ascend the other elevation, in plain view of the reserve picket. I had a small glass, and was so near them that I could see the lint on their coats very distinctly, and I discovered they were eyeing me closely. I walked quickly out into the road, took a position, and began to walk a beat, as though I was standing sentinel. Presently a spruce looking old farmer came walking along, and supposing himself inside the pickets, he moved carelessly, and did not stop till the second "Halt," and an unmistakable motion of my gun claimed his attention. He seemed very much surprised to see a guard there, saying: "Nobody stopped me here yesterday."
"Well," said I, "I belong to a regiment which just came inlast night, and the officer of the guard put me on this beat and told me to stop all persons going into the town unless they had proper papers." He at once showed me a pass from John Morgan's provost marshal, and I told him he was all right, and could go on. He was highly tickled at the eulogies I bestowed upon him, and before I let him go I managed to draw from him all that he had seen in Morgan's camp on the day before.
When he left, I told him it was probable that I might be relieved before he came back, but that he would find our camp just over the hill there, and pointed in an opposite direction from that I intended to go. I then resumed my walk upon the beat for a minute or two, when I affected to see something suspicious on the hill, which I started to go to, and raising my gun as though I intended to fire, I aimed at a fancied object; then lowering my piece, I pushed rapidly up, while the pickets watched me intently.
When on the top of the hill, I stopped again, and looked intently in the direction of the picket, and then passed around the summit with my carbine raised, as though I expected to see the object every instant; till, in a few minutes I turned the point of the hill, so they could see me no more, when I ran along the side for about half a mile; then climbing nearly to the top, I doubled my track and ran back, till nearly opposite the picket again; then getting down on my hands and knees, I crawled up the hill cautiously, and concealed myself in a hollow log which lay on the top.
I was now enabled to see the rebels in part of their encampment, and everything that passed, either on the Readyville road, or in Woodbury. It was very early in the morning of a tolerably cold day when I got in the log, and by night I was nearly frozen. During the day, I heard something running on the dry leaves outside, and I immediately prepared for a defense, thinking, perhaps, it might be a man who had seen me secrete myself. Suddenly, however, it sprung lightly upon the log and dropped itself through the opening right over my face; it was a coon, but it saw the place was occupied, and politely withdrew. Possibly Iwas intruding myself into its quarters, but as it did not wait to demand any apologies, I offered none. It was large and fat, and would have made a famous roast; but I had to lay still, for my neighbors on the hill were vigilant, and had they seen me for a second, they would have been after me with a sharp stick, which they would have applied without mercy.
That night I left my log, and took the back track for Readyville. I went across the country till I had passed the last of their picket fires, of which there appeared to be several lines, these being formed by Morgan's men, who was conscripting every man he could find. I passed very close to some of the posts—so near that I could hear the men talking in a low tone. At one place I chased two soldiers out of an old log house, who were inside talking to some females. As soon as I discovered they were in there, I secreted myself behind the chimney, and began "peeping" through the cracks. The fellows seemed to be on very friendly terms with the old man and his three daughters, the latter being very pretty, and at that time, putting on their sweetest smiles. I felt a little anxious to change places with the Johnnies about that time; or, if I had felt entirely assured that they would not have became "unlawful," I would have been content to talk to the odd girl; but that I knew was an impossibility, and I dismissed the idea.
On the table sat a wooden tray filled with cakes, a few of which I knew would do me an immense amount of good at that time, for I was hungry; and I determined, if possible, to have my fill. I, therefore, scrutinized the yard and out-buildings to satisfy myself there were no other men there, and glanced around to see if any picket fires were in that section; and finding all was right, I walked off a few steps, and fired off my gun. The Johnnies jumped out of the house, and as they did so, I screamed: "Run, boys, run; the Yankees are on us!" and away they went, as fast as their legs could carry them. I fired one shot at them as they appeared in the yard, when the women commenced shrieking fearfully, supposing themselves surrounded by those horrid Yankees—the terror of all the chivalry of theSouth, male and female. I was so near the rebel pickets that I dare not remain long for fear I would get myself into "business," so I put out for the low ground, and at three o'clock the next morning was once more in our lines, where I slept till daylight; after which I proceeded toward Murfreesboro.
When within about six miles of that town, I was walking along the high-road, inside our lines, when I saw a party of eight or ten men coming down from toward Murfreesboro. Thinking they were our own soldiers, I trudged along, confidently expecting a friendly chat when we met; but when they got nearer me, I discovered they were partly dressed in gray. I, however, still could not think they were other than Yankees—perhaps a detail of scouts on some breakneck expedition—and I was still expecting a friendly confab, when I noticed that they stealthily raised their guns. That was enough for me, for I knew that they could not mistake my character, as I was in full uniform, and under arms; and I sprang through the cedar brake as fresh as if I had just started out after a long rest; the sight of an enemy in one's rear generally has a magical effect on the gait even of a wearied man, and certainly it materially accelerated mine.
Running through the densest part of the brake, where they could not follow me on horseback, I felt confident of escape, as they could not see me before I saw them. I heard them crashing through the bushes only for a short time, when I stopped, after a mile heat in the cedars, exhausted. They were now no longer in hearing, and I, therefore, rested myself awhile, and then took a route through the brake, that I knew would bring me out at old Jack Dill's, within four miles of Murfreesboro. Jack was a fair specimen of a backwoods Tennessee Union man; large, sun-browned, and muscular—honest and patriotic. He invited me into the house with a hearty welcome, and told me of a brush he had had with the rebels the day before; and while the old man was recounting his adventures, his pretty daughter Jennie set me out a nice dinner, with fresh butter and new buttermilk, hot biscuits, and venison steak; and who could not enjoy a story undersuchcircumstances?
The rebels had thought to surprise him in his house, and drag him off to the army; but old Jack was roused by the barking of a faithful dog, and took to the brake near his house; and in pursuing him, the rebels exposed themselves to his unerring rifle, and went back unsuccessful—minus one of their men.
On returning to the house they vowed vengeance to his daughter; she told them to go and make their threats to her father himself; but they didn't go. Old Jack was very proud of his gun—a long, full-stocked rifle. Patting it affectionately, he said:
"You see she is so old and is worn so thin, that when I push a bullet down her, she strains and swells out her sides, like a snake swallowin' a toad; but, by hokey, I can knock the spots out of a secesh yet."
From Dill's I took the main road to town, and in an hour I was at headquarters making my report.
GEN. STANLEY'S GREAT RAID—PLAYING AID-DE-CAMP—SCOUTING AT HARPETH SHOALS.
The next duty I was on was when Gen. D. S. Stanley, chief of cavalry, made his dashing raid on the rebel camps near Middleton, Tennessee. It was a brilliant affair, and managed with consummate skill. Leaving Camp Stanley late in the evening, about the last of March, or first of April, 1863, he led a heavy column of cavalry down upon the camps in the vicinity of Middleton; the march being conducted in the night, the darkness and dust so impenetrable that a man could scarcely see his file-leader; indeed, the General had to station guides all along the route, at cross-roads, to prevent some of the columns from taking the wrong way. The Fourth Regular Cavalry had the lead, their advance-guard consisting of about twenty men, who behaved most gallantly, driving in the rebel pickets, and throwing the first camp into confusion, by an impetuous charge, entering it simultaneously with the flying pickets themselves.
The rebels being taken by surprise, leaped from their beds or blankets, without coats, pants or hats,—some, even, without drawers. Our men cut and hacked away as they advanced, until the rebels discovered that their assailants were but a handful of men, when they rallied, and drove the regulars out of camp, with a withering fire which caused our boys to suffer severely. But that was only for a moment; Gen. Stanley was almost immediately upon the enemy with his heavy column, and he swept everything before him, by one grand, irresistible, overwhelming charge. On and over the terror-stricken rebels, rode Stanley's daring men with their flashing blades; and the Spartan band of regulars, being thus relieved from bearing the whole burden of rebel fire, rallied again and dashed headlong into the thickest of the battle. On and on they sped, and so the first camp was carried,and the second brigade, under the gallant Col. Eli Long, rushed upon the foe, the ground fairly trembling beneath the mighty host of maddened horses, while the air was filled with the clash of steel, the rattle of sabers, the hurried fire of the enemy, the shouts of the victors, the hoarse commands of officers choked with dust, and the groans and shrieks of the wounded and the dying. Wo to the man, be he friend or foe, who fell on that field amid that impetuous charge. He sank only to be trodden under foot and crushed to death.
On rolled another wing of the command under Gen. John Turchin, sweeping over all opposition, till it was suddenly fired upon from a third camp. But, even here, there was scarcely a momentary check. The doughty general raised himself in his stirrups, and shouted:
"Now, boys, ve makes von more scharge"—
And before the sound of his voice had died away, the column was sweeping pell-mell through the camp, among the tents and shanties of the enemy. Frightened beyond measure, the rebels almost ceased to fight, but threw down their arms, and thought only of escape. Our men rushed madly on, after resistance had ceased, until recalled by the bugle sound; after which they returned in triumph to Murfreesboro, leading with them five hundred of the rebels as prisoners of war.
Every regiment—the 7th Pennsylvania, the 4th Regulars, the 4th Michigan, the 4th Ohio, and 3d Indiana—all, all, seemed to be in their element that morning; and each member of those regiments must ever regard as a proud day in their history, that one on which they charged and cleared the rebel camps at Middleton. It was a glorious victory to them, and a withering defeat to the enemy.
The scene after the fight surpasses all description. The ground was strewn with arms and accouterments—guns, pistols, sabers, cartridge-boxes, belts, blankets, quilts, coverlets, torn tents, riddled with balls, cooking utensils, filled with food, mess pans, smoking hot, containing cow-peas and bacon; dead and dying men—some of them cleft, with the deadly saber, from crownto neck—wounded unfortunates staggering about,—some supplicating for mercy, and others begging to be relieved of their tortures by death—some with bodies so hoof-beaten as almost to defy recognition—these were the sights which met our gaze on every side, and startled and sickened the hardiest soldier, as he gazed at the result of his morning's work.
Here and there one of our brave boys had succumbed to the enemy's fire—but they were fortunately few—and these engaged our earliest attention; and while we were attending to these, the rebel infantry, encamped two miles away, having been aroused by the fighting, came upon us at a double-quick; but our worthy general was not to be caught napping; and, having accomplished his object, he recalled his men, mounted them, and returned in triumph to Murfreesboro; but not until the enemy's quarters—winter quarters at that—were committed to the flames; and with them were burned thousands of small arms, while hundreds of horses were killed, and as many saddles destroyed. This raid resulted in almost the complete destruction of the famous 8th Confederate Cavalry, which bore the brunt of our heavy charge. Hundreds of the bodies of men belonging to that command lay scattered over the field; while many more graced our triumph by being led away as captives. Our loss was small in numbers, but no man who fell there, could have been well-spared, as each was a hero—almost a host. We carried off our dead and wounded; not a strap or buckle fell into the hands of the enemy, when they returned again to their old haunts. We shot every horse that fell into our hands—even some of our own that broke down on the march
In this fight, I had little in the way of personal adventure, of an unusual character—perhaps not so much as occurred to hundreds of others on that day. One fellow fired a load of buck shot through the right knee of my pants, but in return, I worked a new button hole in his coat, with my rifle. Colonel Long sent me with an order to Major Dobb, who was in command of the 4th Ohio; and I "lit out," amid the dust, smoke, confusion and clatter, in search of the Major, but succeeded inrunning up to the wrong crowd, and did not discover my mistake till within fifty yards of the rebels themselves. I had reached the end of a lane which ran around a ten acre field, and come out into another that ran from a house, through a cedar brake; and coming to this last lane, I turned down it to a party of soldiers I saw close by. Our men were all covered with dust, and almost as grey as the rebels; and when I saw them, I hailed, but they refused to answer me. I hailed them again, thinking still that they were our men, and this time rode out from behind the fence, in full view of their lines, so that they could see my accoutrements; and instantly a volley from the cedar brake greeted me; and after discharging their pieces, five of the men nearest, charged out after me.
I was riding a very pretty little mare that I had taken from them, when we charged the first camp—my own horse having fallen headlong in the fight, and as I had no time to ascertain the cause, I seized the one I was then on, and saddling her in haste, mounted her—and she ran past the end of the lane I had come down, and then up into the other, so that I was nearly hemmed in; but I wheeled instantly, and dashing back again, gained the end of the lane I wanted to follow, about thirty feet ahead of them. My mare was as fleet as a deer, and I left them so fast that they soon ceased to pursue; but halting, they kept up a steady fire across the field, while I ran around three sides of it, and until I was out of their sight behind the friendly cedars. I at last found the regiment in another part of the field, up to their eyes in a fight, and delivered Colonel Long's order to the Major and then retired to the company ranks. It was my first attempt at playing aid-de-camp, and I readily reached the conclusion that as an occupation, it was not calculated to prolong the natural term of a man's life.
"When he saw his noble brigade break, he drew his blade and rushed upon the enemy, but only to yield up his life, a precious sacrifice, upon the altar of Liberty—dying, as he had lived, for his country."—Page316.
Aftermy return to Murfreesburro, I went to Harpeth Shoals, on special service. Van Dorn was then foraging in that region; and the country was overrun with marauders. I went about leisurely, and called on all the famous guerrillas in that section, at their homes. They were chiefly De Morse's men, and I spent ten days rambling about with them, scouting the country daily, from Indian creek to Harpeth Shoals, and back to some of the many little streams which flow past into the Tennessee. I was disguised as a Texas Ranger, and was violently secesh, of course; and in this character I was stopping at the house of a notorious guerrilla, named Tom Couch. I grew patriotic during our interview, and boasted of the prowess of the Rangers, and expressed my opinion of those who favored the Yankee cause, in no very flattering terms; extolled the devotion of those who proved faithful to the South, and abused the black hearted Abolitionists of the North, till I got old Tom's "Southern heart" thoroughly "fired," and he could no longer retain himself, and he spoke unreservedly:
"The people of this section have always stood true to the South, sir; we can never be conquered;never!NEVER!NEVER! This is Dixie, and a Yankee has neverdaredto put his foot on these hills, although we are only sixteen miles from Nashville. If we should even catch one here we would hang him instantly. They dare not give us a chance, but keep far enough from us. They never can take this rough country; our hills are all free from them, thank God!"
Old Tom lived on Pond creek, and there was a Tennesseean, an officer in our army, with whom I was personally acquainted, whose family were next neighbors to him; and I told him that I was on secret service for Gen. Polk, and that I was authorized to give five hundred dollars for the capture of that officer—Dave Knight—and his delivery to me on the spot; and he was delighted to know that the General was after the Lincolnites with such earnestness, and promised me every assistance in his power. He told me that Gen. R. B. Mitchel had arrested a great many men and women, too, and confined them in the penitentiary at Nashville, to be sent South, or punished as was thought best; and Couch told me very confidentially that Dave Knight's wife was to be arrested and taken South, to be held for retaliation, along with many others. This was news to me, and I asked him if I couldafford any assistance, and told him if Icould, it should be cheerfully given. He then told me that the duty had been committed to De Morse's men, and that about three hundred of them had crossed Harpeth river, and encamped on Dog creek. Telling him that I would go down to their camp, I jumped on my horse, and put out. I had been in that region the day before, but of that Couch knew nothing; and I was aware that there was a high, steep ridge, that I could travel a mile or so on, and see everything on Dog creek. I reached the hill, and, sure enough, there were the camp fires of the Johnnies.
After dark I went up the country again, and warned Mrs. Knight of her danger, caught her a horse, and took her to Nashville for safety; and this I had barely time to do, as the rebels were ahead of us, picketing every avenue of escape for several miles around, in order to catch as many Union people as possible; but had not yet visited her house. She was a very brave woman, and buckled on her navy revolver without hesitation, and when within a few hundred yards of the rebel pickets she showed me a by-road, which she said she knew perfectly, and that it would take us through the hills to Nashville without going on the Charlotte pike; and this path we followed, and reached our place of destination about twelve o'clock, in the midst of a terrible storm.
Returning to Murfreesboro, I found orders to report for duty in Ohio, and I left camp on the 3d of June, 1863, and arrived in Columbus on the 10th of the same month.
AFTER JOHN MORGAN IN OHIO—WAKING UP THE WRONG PASSENGER.
My mission to Ohio was a purely military one; but I had only one personal adventure, and that was in connection with the Morgan invasion. When the famous and fugacious John was making his raid, I happened to be at my home in Highland county; and as the rebels passed within fifteen miles or less of Hillsboro, of course, I sallied out to see what big things I could do. Everybody and his son were after him, and why shouldn't I go? Mrs. John A. Smith, a patriotic lady in Hillsboro, kindly furnished me a spirited little pony to ride, and in company with several of the young men of the town, I started for the scene of action, supposed to be near Sardinia. When we had passed Mowrytown some distance, we found where the rebels had thrown the fences down, as if to accommodate mounted skirmishers, though it might have been to favor their horse-thieves, but which of these things I do not pretend to say; but this put us on the alert for straggling parties of the enemy. Sure enough, not far from Sardinia, after passing a large body of timber, I espied a number of men, about three hundred yards off; two of them standing in the road, talking to a man in his shirt sleeves, while several others were in the timber. It seemed as though all of them had horses, but some were dismounted. Well, it was a suspicious case. Eyeing them for some moments, I made up my mind that it was a rebel picket post, and so I raised my gun, and blazed away. How they jumped! but they started right toward me. At this time the citizens who accompanied me were a little way behind; so throwing up my hand as a signal for them to stop, I turned my horse, and started back on the jump, attempting to reload my gun at the same time. The motion with the gun gave the pony a scare, and with acouple of quick side-jumps to the right, the little rascal flounced me out of the terrapin-shell saddle, and the next thing I knew, he was making his best time back to Mowrytown. Jumping to my feet, badly "stove up" by the fall, I called out to my comrades: "Stop that horse! stop that horse!" but the more I hallooed, the faster they went, until in a short time they were lost in a cloud of dust.
Thinking the Johnnies were still coming, I bounced over a fence, and off through the woods, to a house, and borrowed a two year old colt to ride back Mowrytown; and at the next place I came to, I borrowed a saddle of a woman, telling about the scrape; and in due course of time I arrived at Mowrytown, where I found my pony, but my comrades, having succeeded in stopping their runaway horses, had again pushed on after Morgan. Hurrying after them, I overtook them at Sardinia, and learned that I had fired on—a lot of citizens; and that, too, within fifteen miles of home. We scoured around till long after night, when I and comrade named McKee, succeeded in overhauling them. A couple of darkies, belonging to Morgan's command, with horses and equipments, had wandered into a settlement of blacks in that neighborhood, and some of the citizens thought they had been sent as spies, and that some of Morgan's men intended to make a raid on the village and carry off some of our black folks into slavery. Not caring to have our black folks reduced to servitude, we started after the supposed spies, and after a sharp chase, caught one of them, and got both horses; and the other afterward came in and gave himself up. The horses belonged to Captain Thorpe, of Morgan's command; and one contraband was his servant. We thought we ought to be allowed to keep the horses, which were fine Kentucky stock, and so stated our claims to Governor Tod; but that honest functionary failed to get the matter before his obtuse official optics in that light, and so we had to give them up. McKee couldn't see the profit of the chase; but I told him that must consist in glory; that the credit of fighting to save the Union, was pay enough for any man. He admitted thatpoint, but said, dolefully, that it waspoor pay. After all my running around, however, I did not get to see a Morgan man, except in the distance. It will hardly be necessary for me, after this story, to say that mine was not the party that captured John and his command; but we were willing souls, nevertheless.
OFF TO THE HIAWASSE IN SEARCH OF STEAMBOATS—A FAMILIAR NEIGHBORHOOD—FEARFUL LEAP—AFFECTING INCIDENT.
Having performed the duties assigned me in Ohio, to the satisfaction of my superiors, I was ordered back to my regiment, and on the 7th of August, 1863, I reached it, and reported for duty. I found the boys in high glee over the Tullahoma campaign, which had just been gloriously terminated; but at the same time all were busily engaged in making preparations for the advance on Chattanooga.
I was at once detailed as a scout, to act under Gen. Stanley, chief of cavalry; and under his directions I went up the mouth of the Hiawasse river, while the army lay at Winchester. The rebels had some steamboats, which Gen. Stanley was anxious to get possession of, before they had time to destroy them; and he knew they were laid up somewhere along the river, between Chattanooga and Knoxville.
Starting out afoot from Winchester, I took a road in the direction of Cowan's station, and followed it for several miles; and when I thought I was far enough up the country, I crossed over on Little Coon, and passed near where I had been taken prisoner the year before. On Little Coon I stopped one day to get dinner, and was not long in discovering that the people were "secesh," and thinking it might be of some advantage, I concluded to secede for a few minutes too. As soon as I had established the belief that I was a rebel, I inquired for old man Terry, and asking if he was still alive; and the woman of the house answered that he was well, adding that he was her brother-in-law.
"Let me see; didn't he catch a Yank at his house about a year ago?" I asked, carelessly.
"Why, no," she said, "he didn't catch him, himself, but hesent word to Colonel Stearns' men, who were camped close by, and they went over to Terry's house and got him."
"Did you see him, yourself?" I asked.
"No, I didn't see him, for I was a milkin' when they rid by, but the gals all seed him; they said he was a savage lookin' feller."
"Pretty hard case," I remarked.
"Yes, the gals sed he had a real "hang-dog" face."
"How did he behave himself?" I asked, for I now remembered the place perfectly well; and also of having seen a couple of buxom girls standing in the door, who enjoyed my fallen condition hugely, and laughed at my being tied on the horse.
"Why, the gals said he was a sassin' of our men as far as they could hear him; and the gals said ef they had a been in our men's place, they wouldn't a took it, for he was as black as any nigger."
"Did the Yanks ever find out that Terry had him captured?"
"Oh, la, yes; and they sent a power of their men thar, and took off nigh about everything the old man had."
"What did our men do with the Yank?" I asked.
"Why, we did hear," said the garrulous old woman, "that our men took him off down to Chattanooga and hung him; and then we heard again he had got away from our folks; ever since Terry heard that, he's been mighty oneasy, for the Yankee soldiers that took his truck away, said our men couldn't keep him, and if ever he got back, he would be jest as sure to kill Terry as ever he set eyes on him again."
"Well, I reckon the old man would rather he hadn't have had anything to do with it, in that case," said I.
"Oh, la, yes; for the Yankees liked to have broke him up for it; they driv off every cow and every hoss creetur he had, besides he's afeared the feller will git back some time."
"How far does Terry live from here?" I asked.
"About two miles and a half," she replied, adding in the same breath; "La, it would be mighty bad ef he should happen to git killed off and leave all them pore little children without anybody to take keer of them."
"Do you remember that Yankee's name?" I inquired.
"Well now, soldier, I did hear it, but raily I have forgot it; gals—Virginny—does ary one of you gals remember what that Yankee's name was that got taken over at your uncle Terry's, last spring, a year?"
"Virginny" now appeared in the door of the sitting room, and no sooner did her eyes light on me, than she gave a sort of terrified start, and retreated to the innermost recesses of the kitchen.
"La, gal, why don't you tell a body!" said the old woman; "Virginny, do you hear?"
Thinking I would see a little fun with the old woman, I said, solemnly: "Madam, I am the man."
"La, bless my soul an' body," she said, and sinking into a chair, she burst into tears.
"Don't be alarmed, madam," I said, "I don't intend to hurt any of you; and you may tell Terry for me, that he need not be afraid that I will hurt him, although he caused me six long months of imprisonment, and I nearly lost my life by it. You can tell him that I will spare him for his children's sake, and not because I do not think he deserves punishment. Tell him to stay at home and take care of his children, and I will see that the Federal soldiers do not molest him."
The young ladies made their appearance at this time, to soothe their mother's agitated feelings, when I bowed to them, and with excessive politeness said:
"Ladies, I wish you a very good day."
Finding that there was a considerable force of rebel cavalry on Little Coon, I concluded to go back on top of Cumberland mountain, and travel along it until I got out of danger of falling in with them, and I accordingly changed my route.
Not a great distance from Cowan's station I was going down through a long, narrow, and very crooked pass in the mountains, when I heard ahead of me a great deal of chopping. None of our men were in the country, so I concluded, as there were too many axes going for the chopping to be citizens, that the enemy must be up to some "dirt." Clambering to the top of themountain, I followed along it till I came to a projecting spur, which I followed out and presently stood on the edge of the bluff, almost over the cause of my alarm. At the foot of the mountain was a party of rebel cavalry—home guards, as I supposed—who had about fifty darkeys chopping down trees across the road, thus effectually blockading the gap at a place where it could not possibly have been seen until turning this short spur that projected into it. It didn't require much soldier sense to tell what that meant. They were fixing a trap for our cavalry, or some other body of troops that they were perhaps expecting to pass that way. The thing had been well considered, and would have been a serious obstacle to any body of troops, at that point, for a few sharp-shooters deployed along the sides of the mountain could have then defended it against a large force. There were about twenty rebs guarding, and fifty darkeys at work. The Johnnies were scattered about among the choppers, urging them to their utmost exertions; while right at the end of the spur were their pickets—three in number—but I was now behind them. After surveying the condition of things, I saw that I was perfectly safe from them, for the sides of the mountain were very steep, and I could kill every white man there before they could climb up to me; and as for the blacks I did not fear them. They had not fallen many trees up to that time, so I thought I would file my objections to the whole proceedings, and selecting a good position behind a huge, craggy rock, I picked out the most prominent man, who was a portly fellow, in his shirt sleeves, riding about among the darkeys, whip in hand. He rode a fine, light gray horse, and was a splendid target. He was about four hundred yards off and "down hill," and knowing that a "down hill" shot is apt to carry over, I pulled right on the horse's rump, as he was going straight from me. A puff of wind raised the smoke from my rifle, and I could see when the ball struck. It must have missed the man entirely, for the horse reared almost straight on his hind feet, and gave a terrific bound, which tumbled the rider out of his little old "terrapin shell" saddle upon the rocks soviolently, that he must have been severely injured, for some of the negroes ran to him and helped him up, while several of the white men caught and brought back his horse, which was bleeding profusely from a point in the middle of the right hip. While this was going on, every thing was in the highest state of excitement. The soldiers ran together, looking in every direction, in the wildest alarm, and every darkey ceased chopping instanter. One fellow, who was much closer to me than the others, bawled out at the top of his voice:
"Who fired that shot?" But he received no answer save the echo of his own voice; but determined to know, he raised himself in his stirrups, and bawled louder than ever:
"I say, who fired that shot?" but he still received no answer.
By this time my gun was loaded, and I took good aim at him, and fired, just as the word "shot," "shot," "shot," was echoing among the hills; and without waiting to see the effect of it, I sprang upon the rock, in plain view of them, and began to order an imaginary comrade to "run back and tell the regiment to 'hurry up,'" and then turning, with my gun loaded, I sent another shot whizzing among them, at the same time ordering some skirmishers to come down from the opposite ridge, and close in with the rebels, accompanying my speech with a violent gesture, as though pointing right at my supposed friends. I then fired a third shot and raised a loud "hurrah boys, and we'll surround 'em," when the Johnnies fled in the wildest confusion, hardly taking time to help their comrade to mount his wounded horse, which was almost unmanageable. As the cavalry was speeding down the pass, and the darkeys were shuffling after them, I ran back up the mountain, and descending it, climbed the opposite side and kept on my journey, following the top of the ridge the rest of that day, and also on the following night and the next day until about nine o'clock in the morning, when I was suddenly startled by the sound of horses' feet coming behind me. I stepped behind a tree and listened, and discovered there were several of them.
A spur put out ahead of me from the main mountain, and Ithought if I would run out on this, they could not see me, and would ride past. The timber was very open, and I was disappointed; for, in coming around a bend in the road, they observed me just as I arrived on the brink of the mountain, which was very steep. There was about a dozen of them, well-mounted; and they came upon me as fast as they could run through the timber; but they necessarily had to run up to the place where I turned off to gain the top of the spur, to follow me, and this gave me time, and I improved it by scrambling down the steep sides of the mountain, very fast; but I presently came to the top of a cliff, about three hundred feet high. This looked like a bad chance for escape, but, turning along it to the right a few hundred yards, I again found a place where I could descend some distance; but was then once more stopped by another cliff which projected out like a shelf. Below the right-hand end of this cliff, a huge hickory tree was growing, and its shaggy top just reared itself above the shelf on which I stood, the trunk being about eight feet from the edge of the cliff. There was no time to lose, for already I could hear my pursuers clattering over the rocks above me, and once I heard a saber jingle; therefore, running to this tree, I looked over the giddy hight, then slung my rifle across my back, and leaped out headforemost with all my strength. I grasped the body of the tree with my arms and succeeded in holding, although the weight of my heavy accouterments almost jerked me loose again. Sliding rapidly down the tree, I lit on another bench in the mountain, from which I made my way down into the bottom of a deep ravine.
When I got down to the foot of the tree, my clothes were badly torn, and great slivers of hickory-bark were sticking through them in every direction. My hands, arms, and breast were bleeding profusely from several wounds, cut by the rough bark. When I struck the tree the breath was nearly knocked out of me, and it required all my strength to hold on. I was now safe, and never saw nor heard of my pursuers again. I followed this, to the bottom of the mountain, and just as I got to the mouth of the ravine, I saw a man raise his head up frombehind a log, so that I could just see the rim of his hat. Supposing, of course, that no one but a bushwhacker would be caught in such a suspicious place, I pulled down on him with my Spencer-rifle and took a careful aim right on the center of his hat. I was not more than fifty yards from him, and was just closing my finger on the trigger, when I saw a woman's bonnet raise up beside the hat, when I noiselessly lowered my gun, and stepped behind a tree and waited to see what this could mean. Presently, a fine, athletic man raised up, as straight as an Indian; though he seemed to be laboring under the most intense excitement. His hands were clenched, and his eyes were fiercely glaring with passion. The next moment, a woman stood up beside him, and set a little bucket on the log, at the same time weeping bitterly; and as she strove to restrain her tears with her little white hands, her bonnet fell back upon her shoulders, and exposed a beautiful face of dazzling fairness, and features of perfect regularity. The man raised his right arm in an excited manner, and, instinctively, I clutched my trusty rifle, and the thought flashed through my mind, "if you strike that woman you are a dead man;" but, before I had time to give it utterance, the woman, throwing her arms around his neck, fell sobbing upon his breast, locked in his loving embrace. Great God! how deeply my soul was agitated as I remembered how nearly I had come to rashly firing, when the man first raised his head from behind the log! What an escape from shedding innocent blood, and bringing a blighting, overwhelming sorrow upon that beautiful woman, who was now clinging so affectionately to him! While I was thanking God that I had not fired, the woman's voice broke upon the still mountain solitude, and she save utterance to her frantic grief:
"Oh, Henry, my love, you must not, shall not go. They shall not take you from me, and drag you away to fight a people who have never harmed us; perhaps to be killed, or thrown into a cruel prison! No, no, you shall not go; I will feed you here in these mountains as long as I live, before they shall take you from me," and she nestled closer to his manly bosom.
Raising his hand again, as before, he replied: "Suzie, Suzie, I will not leave you; no, I will not leave you; but I will hover around our home, and watch over you and Willie as long as I can; but if the worst comes, and I must fight, so help me God! I will fight for the Union of the States as long as God lets me live." His voice, although choked with emotion, was deep and manly, and sounded through the solemn stillness of the forest until the awakening echoes of the great mountain caught up and repeated the "patriot's vow."
His loud, excited tones seemed to rouse a little child, that had been sleeping behind the log; for pretty soon I heard "mamma," in childish accents, and then a little, bright-eyed, chubby-faced boy, about three years old, ran out from the log, and caught his father with infantile affection; and winding his little arms around his parent's knees, he looked wonderingly up at his mother, and said, in a pleading voice: "O, papa, don't go!" The man laid one hand fondly on the child's head, and the woman raised herself from his breast, and taking the child up, said to it: "Willie, kiss papa."
As the child stretched out its arms, and put up its little mouth, I stepped from behind my tree, and advanced toward the group. At first they were startled at my footsteps; but when they saw it was a Yankee soldier, they were reassured, and gave me a cordial greeting. The man then told his wife it was time for her to go home; and bidding her to "take the soldier to the house, and give him his dinner," he turned up in the mountain gorge, while the woman led the way out into the valley to her dwelling—a neat little log house; and in a few minutes she laid before me an elegant supper; and although it was the last of August, the heat was scarcely felt in this cool retreat.
I have forgotten this man's name; but, if I remember rightly, he was a son-in-law of old man Russell, who lived in the head of Dorin's Cove, where I staid that night. He had been compelled to hide out in the Cumberland mountains for several months, to keep from being dragged away to the rebel army;and his wife told me how she had to take his provisions to him, and that even her steps were watched. That she often carried his food to the mountains in the back of her bonnet, and laid it in some place where he could find it; but that sometimes he would be two or three days without food.
I was once almost tempted to ask the old man Russell if he didn't want another son-in-law, for he had a second good looking daughter, whose admiration for Yankee soldiers was only exceeded by her devotion to the cause of the Union. She complained bitterly that their part of the confederacy was not able to afford her a pair of shoes, although she had offered fabulous prices in gold for them, and I, therefore, promised to bring her a pair the next time I came that way; but this is not the only promise of this sort that I have left unfulfilled in that country. Of course, at the time they would be made, I would mean it; but I seldom saw the parties a second time.
After passing a pleasant night at Russell's, I made my way to Bridgeport just as Gen. Lytle arrived there. He had some important service to do in scouting through the mountains after some bushwhackers, who were harboring in the country from Little Coon up to Widow's creek. Having been in that region before, I knew just where their hiding-places were, and, of course, we soon routed them, and I pursued my tedious journey in quest of steamboats. While scouting for Lytle, I was introduced to Gen. Sheridan, who was then a division commander; and he then told me that the service was for him, and that he would see me handsomely rewarded; but the General, I suppose, has never had a chance to fulfill his promise, for I have not seen him since.
However, it makes no difference, for soldiering, like virtue, must be its own reward. The rebels having taken all the water craft to their side of the Tennessee, General Lytle made a detail of men to dig out a canoe in which I could cross the river. It was made in the night, and early next morning I put it to a good use, running over to the island opposite Bridgeport, and catching a Johnny for the General.
The reprobate, not knowing that the Yankees had a boat of their own, had paddled defiantly down the river before Lytle's headquarters, when the General said: "Pike, go and fetch that man to me; can't you catch him in your boat?" "You just watch the race if you don't believe it," said I, and away I went, and soon had the Johnny standing in the presence of the General; and like all the rest of the secesh clan that ever I caught, he exhibited the most abject humility.