Escaping Prisoners fed by Negroes in their Master's Barn.Escaping Prisoners fed by Negroes in their Master's Barn.Escaping Prisoners fed by Negroes in their Master's Barn.Click for larger image.
Escaping Prisoners fed by Negroes in their Master's Barn.
Click for larger image.
I am not a Stephano, but a cramp.Tempest.
I am not a Stephano, but a cramp.Tempest.
I am not a Stephano, but a cramp.
Tempest.
Let every man shift for all the rest, and let no manTake care for himself; for all is but fortune.Ibid.
Let every man shift for all the rest, and let no manTake care for himself; for all is but fortune.Ibid.
Let every man shift for all the rest, and let no manTake care for himself; for all is but fortune.
Ibid.
The barn contained no fodder except damp husks. Burrowing into these, we wrapped our dripping coats about us, covered ourselves, faces and all, and shivered through the day, so weary that we drowsed a little, but too uncomfortable for any refreshing slumbers.
Rising at dark, with skins irritated by atoms of husk which had penetrated our clothing, we combed out our matted hair and beards—a very faint essay toward making our toilets. Hats, gloves, handkerchiefs, and haversacks, were hopelessly lost in the fodder. Hungry, cold, rheumatic, aching at every joint, we seemed to have exhausted our slender endurance.
A Cabin of Friendly Negroes.
But a walk of ten minutes took us to a slave-cabin, where, as usual, we found devoted friends. The old negro killed two chickens, and then stood outside, to watch and warn us of the patrols, should he hear the clattering hoofs of their approaching horses. His wife and daughter cooked supper, while we stood before the blazing logs of the wide-mouthed fireplace, to dry our steaming garments.
It was the first dwelling I had entered for nearly twenty months. It was rude almost to squalor; but it looked more palatial than the most elegant and luxurious saloon. There was a soft bed, with clean, snowysheets. How I envied those negroes, and longed to stretch my limbs upon it and sleep for a month! There were chairs, a table, plates, knives, and forks—the commonest comforts of life, which, like sweet cold water, clean clothing, and pure air, we never appreciate until once deprived of them.
Southerners Unacquainted with Tea.
We eagerly devoured the chickens and hot corn-bread, and drank steaming cups of green tea, which our ebony hostess, unfamiliar with the beverage that cheers, but not inebriates, prepared under my directions. Before starting I had taken the precaution to fill a pocket with tea, which I had been saving more than a year for that purpose. In commercial parlance, tea was tea in the Confederacy. The last pound we purchased, for daily use, cost us one hundred and twenty-seven dollars in Rebel currency, and we were compelled to send to Wilmington before we could obtain it even at that price.
It is an article little used by the Southerners, who are inveterate coffee-drinkers. All along our route we found the women, white and black, ignorant of the art of making tea without instructions. Captain Wolfe assured us that his father once attended a log-rolling in South Carolina, where, as a rare and costly luxury, the host regaled the workers with tea at the close of their labors. But, unacquainted with its use, they were only presented with the boiled leaves to eat! After this novel banquet, one old lady thus expressed the views of the rural assembly: "Well, I never tasted this before. It is pleasant enough; but except for the name of it, I don't consider tea a bit better than any other kind of greens!"
Experience on the great Plains and among the Rocky Mountains had taught me the superiority of tea over all stronger stimulants in severe, protracted hardships.Now it proved of inestimable service to us. After a two-hours' halt, refreshed by food and dry clothing, we seemed to have a new lease of life. Elastic and vigorous, we felt equal to almost any labor.
"May God bless you," said the old woman, bidding us adieu, while earnest sympathy shone from her own and her daughter's eyes and illumined their dark faces. To us they were "black, and comely too." The husband led us to the railroad, and there parted from us.
Walking Twelve Miles for Nothing.
At midnight we were twenty-three miles from Salisbury, and three from Statesville. We wished to avoid the latter village; and leaving the railway, which ran due west, turned farther northward. In two miles we expected to strike the Wilkesboro road, at Allison's Mill. We followed the old negro's directions as well as possible, but soon suspected that we must be off the route. It was bitterly cold, and to avoid suffering we walked on and on with great rapidity. Before daylight, at a large plantation, we wakened a slave, and learned that, since leaving the railway, we had traveled twelve miles circuitously and gained just one half-mile on the journey! There were two Allison's Mills, and our black friend had directed us to the wrong one.
"Can you conceal us here to-day?" we asked in a whisper of the negro who gave us this information from his bed, in a little cabin.
"I reckon so. Master is a terrible war-man, a Confederate officer, and would kill me if he were to find it out. But I kept a sick Yankee captain here last summer for five days, and then he went on. Go to the barn and hide, and I will see you when I come to fodder the horses."
We found the barn, groped our way up into a hay-loft, under the eaves, and buried ourselves in the straw.
Every Black Face a Friendly Face.
V.Thursday, December 22.
The biting wind whistled and shrieked between the logs of the barn, and, cover ourselves as we would, it was too cold for sleep. The negro—an intelligent young man—spent several hours with us, asking questions about the North, brought us ample supplies of food, and a bottle of apple-brandy purloined from his master's private stores.
At dark he took us into his quarters, only separated by a narrow lane from the planter's house, and we were warmed and fed. A dozen of the blacks—including little boys and girls of ten and twelve years—visited us there. Among them was a peculiarly intelligent mulatto woman of twenty-five, comely, and neatly dressed. The poor girl interrogated us for an hour very earnestly about the progress of the War, its probable results, and the feeling and purposes of the North touching the slaves. Using language with rare propriety, she impressed me as one who would willingly give up life for her unfortunate race. With culture and opportunity, she would have been an intellectual and social power in any circle. She was the wife of a slave; but her companions told us that she had been compelled to become the mistress of her master. She spoke of him with intense loathing.
By this time we had learned that every black face was a friendly face. So far as fidelity was concerned, we felt just as safe among the negroes as if in our Northern homes. Male or female, old or young, intelligent or simple, we were fully assured they would never betray us.
Touching Fidelity of the Slaves.
Some one has said that it needs three generations to make a gentleman. Heaven only knows how many generations are required to make a freeman! But we havebeen accustomed to consider this perfect trustworthiness, this complete loyalty to friends, a distinctively Saxon trait. The very rare degree to which the negroes have manifested it, is an augury of brightest hope and promise for their future. It is a faint indication of what they may one day become, with Justice, Time, and Opportunity.
They were always ready to help anybody opposed to the Rebels. Union refugees, Confederate deserters, escaped prisoners—all received from them the same prompt and invariable kindness. But let a Rebel soldier, on his way to the army, or returning from it, apply to them, and he would find but cold kindness.
The moment they met us, they would do whatever we required upon impulse and instinct. But afterward, when there was leisure for conversation, they would question us with some anxiety. Few had ever seen a Yankee before. They would repeat to us the bugbear stories of their masters, about our whipping them to force them into the Union army, and starving their wives and children. Professing utterly to discredit these reports, they still desired a little reassurance. We can never forget their upturned, eager eyes, and earnest faces. Happily we could tell them that the Nation was rising to the great principles of Freedom, Education, and an open Career for every human being.
Starting at ten o'clock to-night, we had an arduous march over the rough, frozen ground. Hard labor and loss of sleep began to tell upon us. I think every member of the party had his mental balance more or less shaken. Davis was haggard, with blood-shot eyes; "Junius" was pallid, and threatened with typhoid fever; Wolfe, with a sprained ankle, could barely limp; I was weak and short of breath, from the pneumonicaffection. Charley Thurston was our best foot, and we always put him foremost. With his Confederate uniform and his ready invention, he could play Rebel soldier admirably.
Pursued by a Home Guard.
Toward morning we were compelled to stop, build a fire in the dense pine-forest, and rest for an hour. We were uncertain about the roads, and just before daylight Charley stopped to make inquiries of an old farmer. Then we went on, and, as the road was very secluded, were talking with less discretion than usual, when a twig snapped behind us. Instantly turning around, we saw the old man following stealthily, listening to our conversation. We ordered him to halt; but he ran away with wonderful agility for a septuagenarian.
The moment he was out of sight, we left the road, and ran, too, in an opposite direction, fast as our tired limbs could carry us. It would be a very nice point to determine which was the more frightened, we or our late pursuer. We afterward learned that he was an unrelenting Rebel and a zealous Home Guard. He was doubtless endeavoring to follow us to our shelter, that he might bring out his company, and capture us during the day.
Long after daylight we continued running, until we had put five miles between ourselves and the road. The region was very open, and it seemed morally certain that we would be discovered through the barking dogs at some of the farm-houses. But about nine o'clock we halted in a pine-grove, small but thick, and built a great fire of rails, which, being very dry, emitted little smoke. There was danger that the blaze would be discovered; but in our feeble condition we could no longer endure the inclemency of the weather.
VI.Friday, December 23.
Help in the Last Extremity.
Hungry and fatigued, with our feet to the fire, we could sleep an hour at a time upon the frozen ground before the cold awakened us. When, after a waiting which seemed endless, the welcome darkness came at last, it lifted a load from our hearts; we no longer listened anxiously for the coming of the Guard.
Starting again, we toiled on with slow and painful steps. We were entering a region where slaves were few, and we could find no negroes. "Junius," in a high fever, was so weak that we were almost compelled to carry him, and his voice was faint as the wail of an infant. Again and again he begged us to go on, and leave him to rest upon the ground. We had sore apprehensions that it might become necessary to commit him to the first friends we found, and press forward without him.
About eight o'clock Charley entered a little tavern to procure provisions. He assumed his favorite character of a Rebel soldier, on parole, going to his home in Wilkes County for the holidays. An old man was spending the night there. While supper was cooking, he gave to Charley a recognizing sign of the Sons of America. It was instantly answered; and, stepping outside, they had an interview.
Then our new friend stealthily led his three mules from the tavern stable, through the fields to the road, placed three of us upon them, and guided us five miles, to the house of his brother, another strong Union man. The brother warmed us, fed us, and "stayed us with flagons" of apple-brandy; then brought out two of his mules, and again we pressed forward. They cautioned us not to intrust the secret of their assistance to any one, reminding us that it would be a hanging matter for them.
Carried Fifteen Miles by Friends.
So, on this cold winter night, while we were so stiffand exhausted that we could barely keep our seats on the steeds they had so thoughtfully furnished, these kind friends conducted us fifteen miles, and left us in the Union settlement we were seeking, fifty miles from Salisbury.
——WearinessCan snore upon the flint.Cymbeline.
——WearinessCan snore upon the flint.Cymbeline.
——WearinessCan snore upon the flint.
Cymbeline.
Montano.But is he often thusIago.'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep.Othello.
Montano.But is he often thusIago.'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep.Othello.
Montano.But is he often thus
Iago.'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep.
Othello.
Curious Confusion of Names.
It was now five o'clock in the morning of Saturday, December 24th, the seventh day of our escape. Leaving my companions behind, I tapped at the door of a log-house.
"Come in," said a voice; and I entered. In its one room the children and father were still in bed; the wife was already engaged in her daily duties. I asked:
"Can you direct me to the widow ----?"
"There are two widow ----s, in this neighborhood," she replied. "What is your name?"
I was seeking information, just then, not giving it; so avoiding the question, I added:
"The lady I mean, has a son who is an officer in the army."
"They both have sons who are officers in the army. Don't be afraid; you are among friends."
"Friends" might mean Union or it might mean Rebel; so I accepted no amendments, but adhered to the main question:
"This officer is a lieutenant, and his name is John."
"Well," said she, "they are both lieutenants, and John is the name of both!"
I knew my man too well to be baffled. I continued:"He is in the second regiment of the Senior Reserves; and is now on duty at ----."
"Oh," said she, "that is my brother!"
At once I told her what we were. She replied, with a wonderful light of welcome shining in her eyes:
"If you are Yankees, all I have to say is, that you have come to exactly the right place!"
Food, Shelter, and Hosts of Friends.
And, in exuberant joy, she bustled about, doing a dozen things at once, talking incoherently the while, replenishing the fire, bringing me a seat, offering me food, urging her husband to hurry out for the rest of the party. At last her excitement culminated in her darting under the bed, and reappearing on the surface with a great pint tumbler filled to the brim with apple-brandy. There was enough to intoxicate our whole party! It was the first form of hospitality which occurred to her. Afterward, when better acquainted, she explained:
"You were the first Yankee I ever saw. The moment I observed your clothing, I knew you must be one, and I wanted to throw my arms about your neck, and kiss you!"
"You were the first Yankee I ever saw. The moment I observed your clothing, I knew you must be one, and I wanted to throw my arms about your neck, and kiss you!"
We heartily reciprocated the feeling. Just then the only woman who had any charms for us was the Goddess of Liberty; and this, at least, was one of her handmaidens.
We were soon by the great log fire of a house where friends awaited us. Belonging to the secret Union organization, they had received intelligence that we were on the way. Our feet were blistered and swollen; mine were frostbitten. We removed our clothing, and were soon reposing in soft feather beds. At noon, awakened for breakfast, we found "Junius" had been sleeping like a child, and was now hungry—a relief to our anxiety. After the meal was over, we returned to bed.
Loyalty of the Mountaineers.
Our friends were constantly on the alert; but the house was very secluded, and they were not compelled to watch outside. There, two ferocious dogs were on guard, rendering it unsafe for any one to come within a hundred yards of them. Nearly all the people, Loyal and Rebel, had similar sentinels. Along the route, we had been anathematizing the canine race, which often prevented us from approaching negro-quarters on the plantations; but these were Union dogs, which made all the difference in the world.
At dark, we were conducted to a barn, where, wrapped in quilts, we passed a comfortable night.
VIII.Sunday, December 25.
Our resting-place was in Wilkes County, North Carolina, among the outlying spurs of the Alleghanies—a county so strong in its Union sentiments, that the Rebels called it "the Old United States." Among the mountains of every Southern State, a vast majority of the people were loyal. Hilly regions, unadapted to cotton-culture, contained few negroes; and where there was no Slavery, there was no Rebellion. Milton's verse—
"Themountainnymph, sweet Liberty,"
"Themountainnymph, sweet Liberty,"
contains a great truth, the world over.
A Levee in a Barn.
Our self-sacrificing friends belonged to a multitudinous family, extending through a settlement many miles in length. They all seemed to be nephews, cousins, or brothers; and the white-haired patriarch—at seventy, erect and agile as a boy,—in whose barn we remained to-day, was father, grandfather, or uncle, to the whole tribe. His loyalty was very stanch and intense.
"The Home Guards," said he, "are usually pretty civil. Occasionally they shoot at some of the boys whoare hiding; but pretty soon afterward, one of them is found in the woods some morning with a hole in his head! I suppose there are a thousand young men lying out in this county. I have always urged them to fight the Guards, and have helped to supply them with ammunition. Two or three times, regiments from Lee's army have been sent here to hunt conscripts and deserters, and then the boys have to run. I have a son among them; but they never wounded him yet. I asked him the other day: 'Won't you kill some of them before you are ever captured?' 'Well, father,' says he, 'I'll be found a tryin'!' I reckon he will, too; for he has never gone without his rifle these two years, and he can bring down a squirrel every time, from the top of yon oak you see on the hill."
The barn was beside a public road, and very near the house of a woman whose Rebel sympathies were strong. There was danger that any one entering it might be seen by her or her children, who were running about the yard.
But we held quite alevéeto-day. I think we had fifty visitors. We would hear the opening door and stealthy footsteps upon the barn-floor; then a soft voice would ask:
"Friends, are you there?"
We would rise from our bed of hay, and come forward to the front of the loft, to find some member of this great family of friends, who had brought his wife and children to see the Yankees. We would converse with them for a few minutes; they would invariably ask if there was nothing whatever they could do for us, invite us to visit their house by night, and express the warmest wishes for our success. They did this with such perfect spontaneity, with such overflowing hearts, that it touched usvery nearly. Had we been their own sons or brothers, they could not have treated us more tenderly. This Christmas may have witnessed more brilliant gatherings than ours; but none, I am sure, warmed by a more self-sacrificing friendship.
Visited by an Old Friend.
Among others, we were visited by a conscript, who had been one of our guards at Salisbury. While at the prison, his great portly form would come laboring and puffing up the stairs to our quarters; with flushed face, he would sit down, glance cautiously around to assure himself that none but friends were present, then question us eagerly about the North, and breathe out maledictions against all Confederates.
The Rebels, suspecting him, determined to send him to Lee's army. But he was just then taken with rheumatism, and kept his quarters for six weeks! At last, the day before he was to start for Richmond, he obtained permission of the surgeon to visit the village. He hobbled up the street, groaning piteously; but, after turning the first corner, threw away his crutches, plunged into the woods, and made his way home by night. He now related his experiences with a quiet chuckle, and was very desirous of serving us.
He was able to give me a pair of large boots in place of my own, which lacerated my sore and swollen feet. The sharp rocks, hills, and stumps, compelled me to have the new boots repaired seven times before reaching our lines. Two nights' traveling would quite wear out the ill-tanned leather of the stoutest soles.
To-day, our friends brought us twice as much food as we wanted, and we wanted a great deal. At dark, alarmed by a rumor that the suspicions of the Guard had been excited, they took us several miles into a neighboring county, to a very secluded house, occupied by thewife and daughters of an officer in the Confederate army. Here we spent the night in inviting beds.
A Day of Alarms.
IX.Monday, December 26.
Our hostess, a comely lady of thirty-five, was a second Mrs. Katie Scudder—the very embodiment of "Faculty." Her plain log house, with its snowy curtains, cheap prints, and engravings cut from illustrated newspapers, was tasteful and inviting. Her five daughters, all clothed in fabric spun and woven at home—for these people were now entirely self-dependent—looked as pretty and tidy to uncritical, masculine eyes, as if robed in silk and cashmere.
Our pursuit of a quiet refuge proved ludicrously unsuccessful. The day was diversified by
"More pangs and fears than wars or women have."
"More pangs and fears than wars or women have."
But the lady bore herself with such coolness, and proved so ready for every emergency, that we enjoyed them rather than otherwise.
Early in the morning, while standing a few yards from the house, I saw her and her daughter suddenly step into the open doorway, quite filling it with their persons and skirts, and earnestly beckon me to go in out of sight. Of course, I obeyed. A woman of questionable political soundness had called; but they attracted her in another direction, keeping her face turned away from the door, till I was lost to sight.
Ready Wit of a Woman.
Several parties of Rebel cavalry passed down the road. Breckinridge's army, in the mountains above, had recently dissolved in a great thaw and break-up, and these were the small fragments of ice floating down toward Virginia. A squad of a dozen stopped and entered the house, which was of one story, the length of three largerooms. But the lady kept them in the kitchen, while we were shut in the other end of the building.
Next, the barking dog warned us of approaching footsteps. At her suggestion, we went up into the corn-loft, above our apartment. The new visitor was a neighbor, to whom she owed a bushel of corn, and who, with his ox-cart, had come to collect it. With ready woman's wit, she said to him:
"You know my husband is away. I have no fuel. Won't you go and haul me a load of wood, as a Christmas present?"
Who could resist such a feminine appeal? The neighbor went for the wood, while she came laughing in, to tell us her stratagem. We descended from the corn-loft, and went into a back room, where there were two beds, one large and the other small, with an open door between them. Four of us crept under the large bed, one under the small one; and here we had an experience, ludicrous enough to remember, but not so pleasant to undergo.
Danger of Detection from Snoring.
One of our party was an inveterate snorer. Whenever he took a recumbent position, with his head upon the ground or the floor, he would begin snoring like a steam-engine. Like all persons of that class, when reminded of it, he steadfastly vowed that he never snored in all his life! For a time, he regarded our awakening him, with rebuke and caution, as a sorry practical joke.
Thus far, I believe our danger of detection had been greater from this source than from any other. We had always traveled in single file, almost like specters, with our leader thrown out as far ahead as we could keep him in view. Whenever he thought he saw danger, he raised a warning hand; every man passed the sign back to those in his rear, and droppedquietly behind a log, or stepped into the bushes, until the person had passed or the alarm was explained. We walked with softest footsteps, no man coughing, or speaking above his breath. During the day we were often concealed in very public places, only a few feet from the road, where, the ground being covered with snow, we could not hear approaching footsteps.
Now, our musical companion chanced to go under the small bed, and in three minutes we heard his trumpet-tongued snore. At first, we whispered to him; but we might as well have talked to Niagara. If one of us went to him, there was danger that the neighbor, who stood upon the front porch, would see us through the open door; but if we did not, that fatal snore was certain to be heard. So I darted across the room, crept in beside my friend, and kept him well shaken until the danger was over.
At night, the lady told us that more people had come to her house during the day than ever visited it in a month before; and we were marched back through the darkness, to our first place of concealment.
X.Tuesday, December 27.
In the barn through the whole day. A messenger brought us a note from two late fellow-prisoners, Captain William Boothby, a Philadelphia mariner, and Mr. John Mercer, a Unionist, of Newbern, North Carolina, who had been in duress almost three years. They were now hiding in a barn two miles from us. They escaped from Salisbury two nights later than we, paying the guards eight hundred dollars in Confederate money to let them out.
Thurston at once joined them. During the rest of the journey, we sometimes traveled and hid together for several days and nights; but, when there was special danger, divided into two companies, one keeping twenty-fourhours in advance—the smaller the party, the less peril being involved.
Now, for the first time, we began to have some hope of reaching our lines. But the road was still very long, and fraught with many dangers. We examined the appalling list of dead, which I had brought from Salisbury, and talked much of our companions left behind in that living entombment. Remembering how earnestly they longed and prayed for some intelligent, trustworthy voice to bear to the Government and the people tidings of their terrible condition, we pledged each other very solemnly, that if any one of us lived to regain home and freedom, he should use earnest, unremitting efforts to excite sympathy and secure relief for them.
Promises to aid Suffering Comrades.
It may not be out of place here to say, that upon reaching the North, before visiting our families, or performing any other duties, we hastened to Washington, and used every endeavor to call the attention of the authorities and the country to the Salisbury prisoners. Before many weeks, all who survived were exchanged; but more than five thousand—upwards of half the number who were taken to Salisbury five months before—were already buried just outside the garrison.
Those five thousand loyal graves will ever remain fitting monuments of Rebel cruelty, and of the atrocious inhumanity of Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary of War, who steadfastly refused to exchange these prisoners, on the ground that we could not afford to give the enemy robust, vigorous men for invalids and skeletons, and yet refrained from compelling them to treat prisoners with humanity, by just and discriminating retaliation upon an equal number of Rebel officers, taken from the great excess held by our Government.
Blind and Unquestioning Loyalty.
To-day, as usual, we saw a large number of the Unionmountaineers. Theirs was a very blind and unreasoning loyalty, much like the disloyalty of some enthusiastic Rebels. They did not say "Unionist," or "Secessionist," but always designated a political friend thus: "He is one of the right sort of people"—strong in the faith that there could, by no possibility, be more than one side to the question. They had little education; but when they began to talk about the Union, their eyes lighted wonderfully, and sometimes they grew really eloquent. They did not believe one word in a Rebel newspaper, except extracts from the Northern journals, and reports favorable to our Cause. They thought the Union army had never been defeated in a single battle. I heard them say repeatedly:
"The United States can take Richmond any day when it wants to. That it has not, thus far, is owing to no lack of power, but because it was not thought best."
They regarded every Rebel as necessarily an unmitigated scoundrel, and every Loyalist, particularly every native-born Yankee, almost as an angel from heaven.
How earnestly they questioned us about the North! How they longed to escape thither! To them, indeed, it was the Promised Land. They were very bitter in their denunciations of the heavy slaveholders, who had done so much to degrade white labor, and finally brought on this terrible war.
They had an abundance of the two great Southern staples—corn-bread and pork. They felt severely the absence of their favorite beverage, and would ask us, with amusing earnestness, if they could get coffee when our armies came. The Confederate substitutes—burnt corn and rye—they regarded with earnest and well-founded aversion.
They were compelled to use thorns for fastening theclothing of the women and children. We distributed among them our small supply of pins, to their infinite delectation. Davis also gladdened the hearts of all the womankind by disbursing a needle to each. A needle nominally represented five dollars in Confederate currency, but actually could not be purchased at any price.
A number of the young men "lying out" desired to accompany us to the North. Some were deserters from the Rebel army; others, more fortunate, had evaded conscription from the beginning of the war. But their lives had been passed in that remote county of North Carolina, and the two hundred and ninety miles yet to be accomplished stretched out in appalling prospective. They saw many lions in the way, and, Festus-like, at the last moment, decided to wait for a more convenient season. It was not from lack of nerve; for some of them had fought Rebel guards with great coolness and bravery.
A Repentant Rebel.
Our friends feared that one slaveholding Secessionist in the neighborhood might learn of our presence, and betray us. He did ascertain our whereabouts, but sent us an invitation to visit his house, offering to supply all needed food, clothing, and shelter. He said he foolishly acquiesced in the Revolution because at first it seemed certain to succeed, and he wished to save his property; but that now he heartily repented.
Possibly his conversion was partially owing to remorse for having persuaded his two sons to enter the Rebel army. One, after much suffering, had deserted, and was now "lying out" near home. The other, wounded and captured in a "Virginia battle, was still in a Northern prison, where he had been confined for many months. The father was very desirous of sending to him a message of sympathy and affection.
Sanguine Hopes of Loyal Mountaineers.
But he was an index of the change which hadrecently come over Rebel sympathizers in that whole region. The condition of our armies then was not peculiarly promising. We were by no means sanguine that the war would soon terminate. But the loyal mountaineers, with unerring instinct, were all confident that we were near its close, and constantly surprised us by speaking of the Rebellion as a thing of the past. We fancied their wish was father to the thought; but they proved truer prophets than we.
Nay, but make haste, the better foot before.King John.
Nay, but make haste, the better foot before.King John.
Nay, but make haste, the better foot before.
King John.
On the evening of the eleventh day, Wednesday, December 28, we left the kind friends with whom we had stayed for five days and four nights, gaining new vigor and inspired by new hope. Their last injunction was:
"Remember, you cannot be too careful. We shall pray God that you may reach your homes in safety. When you are there, do not forget us, but do send troops to open a way by which we can escape to the North."
In their simplicity, they fancied Yankees omnipotent, and that we could send them an army by merely saying the word. They bade us adieu with embraces and tears. I am sure many a fervent prayer went up from their humble hearths, that Our Father would guide us through the difficulties of our long, wearisome journey, and guard us against the perils which beset and environed it.
Flanking a Rebel Camp.
At ten o'clock we passed within two hundred yards of a Rebel camp. We could hear the neigh of the horses and the tramp of four or five sentinels on their rounds. We trod very softly; to our stimulated senses every sound was magnified, and every cracking twig startled us.
Leaving us in the road a few yards behind, our pilot entered the house of his friend, a young deserter from the Rebel army. Finding no one there but the family, hecalled us in, to rest by the log fire, while the deserter rose from bed, and donned his clothing to lead us three miles and point out a secluded path. For many months he had been "lying out;" but of late, as the Guards were less vigilant than usual, he sometimes ventured to sleep at home. His girlish wife wished him to accompany us through; but, with the infant sleeping in the cradle, which was hewn out of a great log, she formed a tie too strong for him to break. At parting, she shook each of us by the hand, saying:
"I hope you will get safely home; but there is great danger, and you must be powerful cautious."
At eleven o'clock our guide left us in the hands of a negro, who, after our chilled limbs were warmed, led us on our way. By two in the morning we had accomplished thirteen miles over the frozen hills, and reached a lonely house in a deep valley, beside a tumbling, flashing torrent.
Secreted among the Husks.
The farmer, roused with difficulty from his heavy slumbers, informed us that Boothby's party, which had arrived twenty-four hours in advance of us, was sleeping in his barn. He sent us half a mile to the house of a neighbor, who fanned the dying embers on his great hearth, regaled us with the usual food, and then took us to a barn in the forest.
"Climb up on that scaffolding," said he. "Among the husks you will find two or three quilts. They belong to my son, who is lying out. To-night he is sleeping with some friends in the woods."
The cold wind blew searchingly through the open barn, but before daylight we were wrapped in "the mantle that covers all human thoughts."
XII.Thursday, December 29.
At dark, our host, leaving us in a thicket, five hundred yards from his house, went forward to reconnoiter. Finding the coast clear, he beckoned us on to supper and ample potations of apple-brandy.
Wandering from the Road.
With difficulty we induced one of his neighbors to guide us. Though unfamiliar with the road, he was an excellent walker, swiftly leading us over the rough ground, which tortured our sensitive feet, and up and down sharp, rocky hills.
At two in the morning we flanked Wilkesboro, the capital of Wilkes County. To a chorus of barking dogs, we crept softly around it, within a few hundred yards of the houses. The air was full of snow, and when we reached the hills again, the biting wind was hard to breathe.
We walked about a mile through the dense woods, when Captain Wolfe, who had been all the time declaring that the North Star was on the wrong side of us, convinced our pilot that he had mistaken the road, and we retraced our steps to the right thoroughfare.
We stopped to warm for half an hour at a negro-cabin, where the blacks told us all they knew about the routes and the Rebels. Before morning we were greatly broken down, and our guide was again in doubt concerning the roads. So we entered a deep ravine in the pine-woods, built a great fire, and waited for daylight.
XIII.Friday, December 30.
Crossing the Yadkin River.
After dawn, we pressed forward, reluctantly compelled to pass near two or three houses.
We reached the Yadkin River just as a young, blooming woman, with a face like a ripe apple, came gliding across the stream. With a long pole, she guidedthe great log canoe, which contained herself, a pail of butter, and a side-saddle, indicating that she had started for the Wilkesboro market. Assisting her to the shore, we asked:
"Will you tell us where Ben Hanby lives?"
"Just beyond the hill there, across the river," she replied, with scrutinizing, suspicious eyes.
"How far is it to his house?"
"I don't know."
"More than a mile?"
"No" (doubtfully), "I reckon not."
"Is he probably at home?"
"No!" (emphatically). "He isnot! Are you the Home Guard?"
"By no means, madam. We are Union men, and Yankees at that. We have escaped from Salisbury, and are trying to reach our homes in the North."
After another searching glance, she trusted us fully, and said:
"Ben Hanby is my husband. He is lying out. I wondered, if you were the Guard, what you could be doing without guns. From a hill near our house, the children saw you coming more than an hour ago; and my husband, taking you for the soldiers, went with his rifle to join his companions in the woods. Word has gone to every Union house in the neighborhood that the troops are out hunting deserters."
We embarked in the log canoe, and shipped a good deal of water before reaching the opposite shore. We had two sea-captains on board, and concluded that, with one sailor more, we should certainly have been hopelessly wrecked.
A winding forest-path led to the lonely house we sought, where we found no one at home, except three childrenof our fair informant and their grandmother. For more than two hours we could not allay the woman's suspicions that we were Guards. They had recently been adopting Yankee disguises, deceiving Union people, and beguiling them of damaging information.
As indignantly as General Damas inquires whether helookslike a married man, we asked the cautious woman if we resembled Rebels. At last, convinced that we were veritable Yankees, she gave us breakfast, and sent one of the children with us to a sunny hillside among the pines, where we slept off the weariness and soreness caused by the night's march of sixteen miles.
Among Union Bushwhackers.
At evening a number of friends visited us. As they were not merely Rebel deserters, but Union bushwhackers also, we scanned them with curiosity; for we had been wont to regard bushwhackers, of either side, with vague, undefined horror.
These men were walking arsenals. Each had a trusty rifle, one or two navy revolvers, a great bowie knife, haversack, and canteen. Their manners were quiet, their faces honest, and one had a voice of rare sweetness. As he stood tossing his baby in the air, with his little daughter clinging to his skirt, he looked
——"the mildest-mannered man,That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat."
——"the mildest-mannered man,That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat."
He and his neighbors had adopted this mode of life, because determined not to fight against the old flag. They would not attempt the uncertain journey to our lines, leaving their families in the country of the enemy. Ordinarily very quiet and rational, whenever the war was spoken of, their eyes emitted that peculiar glare which I had observed, years before, in Kansas, and which seems inseparable from the hunted man. They said: