THE ESCAPED PRISONERS' STORY.
"I tried my level best to induce the Yanks to let Tom Randolph go free,
and so did mother," continued Ned, slipping the bridle over his horse's
head and seating himself on the steps at Rodney's feet, "but they
wouldn't hear to it. The worst of it is, they scared the life out of
Tom and made him confess everything."
"I am sorry to hear that," replied Rodney, who had leisure, while Ned
was speaking, to gather a few of his wits about him. "If Tom told how
he persecuted unarmed Union men in this settlement he's a goner sure
enough, for there isn't a soldier in the world who will stand such work
as that."
"I don't believe he said a word about it," exclaimed Ned.
"Then what in the name of sense did he have to confess?"
"About fighting those gunboats, you know."
"He never fought any gunboats," declared Rodney impatiently. "What do
you suppose possesses him to stick to that lie every chance he gets?
One would think he'd get tired of it after a while."
"I asked him that very question when the Yanks permitted me to have a
little private talk with him," said Ned, "and the reason he gave was
this: he had heard that brave men respected brave men, and he hoped his
captors would treat him with a little more courtesy if they knew that
he was a valiant soldier."
Rodney Gray was utterly confounded.
"Valiant sol—— Great Scott! There isn't a bigger coward in the
Confederacy than Tom Randolph!" he exclaimed.
"But you see the Yankees don't know that, and Tom has stuffed them so
full of his ridiculous stories that they imagine they have got hold of
a second Mosby or Morgan, and that he is worth keeping."
"Did you tell them all this?" inquired Rodney.
"Of course I did; but, although they know that I am a Union man and
down on everything that looks like secession or rebellion, they would
not believe me, and you will have to go up and try what you can do;
that is, if you feel like helping one who has always done his best to
injure you."
"I'd like to take Tom Randolph right out there in the carriage road
and punch his head for him this minute," replied Rodney, "but I am not
coward enough to take vengeance on him in any other way. I'll go, of
course, but I don't imagine they will pay any more attention to me than
they did to you."
"Yes, they will; for they know you."
"Know me?" cried Rodney, opening his eyes wide with amazement. "I
reckon not. I don't know a living Yank."
"Well, they know you, and Dick Graham as well," insisted Ned. "They
remember perfectly of reading your names on the discharges you showed
when they captured you between here and Camp Pinckney."
Rodney Gray had got upon his feet, but when he heard these words he sat
down again. He stared hard at Ned as if he were trying to understand
something that was too hard for him, and shouted:
"Rosebud!"
"What are you going to do?" asked Ned, when in response to the summons
the darkey came tumbling out of the kitchen with a slice of bacon in
one hand and a chunk of corn pone in the other.
"I am going to ask you to come into the house and tell your story to
Dick and the folks from beginning to end," answered Rodney. "Give your
horse to Rosebud and come on."
Ned Griffin followed his conductor with some reluctance, for he did not
know what a man who had fitted out half a dozen partisan rangers, and
who was a large slaveholder besides, might think of an overseer who
gave aid and comfort to Union soldiers and abolitionists without saying
a word to him about it. The quick-witted Rodney must have known what
he was thinking about, for after placing Ned in a chair and carefully
closing all the doors that gave entrance into the dining room, he
walked up to his father and whispered:
"Those escaped prisoners were up to Ned's last night, and he is afraid
you will think hard of him for giving them a bite to eat."
"And loaning them blankets too, Mr. Gray," chimed in honest Ned, who
meant that his employer should know the full extent of his offending.
"They had blankets enough first and last, but were so hard pressed by
the dogs that they had to throw away everything except their guns."
"Well, I assure you that I don't think hard of you for giving hungry
men something to eat and a bed to sleep on," said Mr. Gray. "I should
have done the same thing myself if they had applied to me; but I trust
you exercised due care while you were doing it."
"I know what you mean, sir," answered Ned, "and there isn't a white
person living who knows what happened on that plantation last night
except my mother and Tom Randolph."
A shell from one of the gunboats in front of Baton Rouge could scarcely
have created greater consternation in that room than Ned Griffin's
last words. Mr. Gray thought that Ned's doings might as well be
published in Richmond at once, and was about to say as much, when
Rodney took a great load from his mind, and astonished him almost
beyond measure at the same time, by quietly remarking that Tom was a
prisoner in the hands of the Yankees, who were bent on taking him to
Baton Rouge. Then he requested Ned to tell them just what had happened
on his plantation the night before, and the latter gave the particulars
substantially as follows:
The first Ned and his mother heard of the escaped prisoners was
through one of the house servants, who declared with much earnestness
that she could not remember just who told her the news, but it was in
everybody's mouth, and some of the field hands, she didn't know who,
had seen and talked with white men who had seen and talked with the
Confederate soldiers who were following the trail of the fugitives.
She did not try to conceal her joy when she informed Mrs. Griffin that
"dem Yanks was boun' to get safe to de ribber, kase dey had done pass
Mooreville de night befo', and de houn' dogs had done been heared
givin' tongue in de woods ten miles from Baton Rouge." Being intensely
loyal to the Old Flag and friendly to those who wore the blue, Ned
hoped from the bottom of his heart that this report was true; but
understanding the negro nature as well as he did, he could not believe
more than half of it. He told his mother that there was a conspiracy
among the slaves to shield those four men, and that they might be
concealed on the plantation for a month, and no white person would know
a thing about it. Consequently he was not prepared for what took place
about an hour after dark.
He was in the act of blowing out his lantern after seeing that
everything was snug for the night. He had been the rounds of the
quarter to make sure that the darkeys were all in their cabins where
they belonged, had shaken the padlocks on the corn-cribs and smoke
house, assured himself that his yellow-legged chickens were all
roosting high, and, being entirely satisfied with his day's work, was
preparing for a quiet evening with his mother, when there came a knock
at the back door. Ned opened it, and saw his negro foreman standing
there.
"Cæsar," he exclaimed, "didn't I leave you at your cabin not more than
ten minutes ago? You ought to be in bed by this time."
"Oh, yes, sah; I was dah," replied Cæsar with a chuckle, "kase I knowed
mighty well dat you'd be around to see if I was dah. But I—— Step out
hyar a minute, please, sah."
Ned went out, closing the door behind him, and was surprised as well
as startled to find himself confronted by two men who carried guns in
their hands. The night was so dark that he could not see their faces
or clothing, and his first thought was that some of the Home Guards
had come to pay him what their commander humorously called a "visit
of ceremony." If that was the case Ned knew that the house in which
he lived would be ransacked and robbed, and he himself given notice
to quit the country at once, or take such a whipping as the old time
overseers used to give their negroes. But Cæsar's next words reassured
him, although they did not lessen his astonishment.
"You know dem Yankees what's runnin' loose in de woods?" he said in a
low tone. "Wal, sah, Moster Ned, dem's um."
"We hear that you are Union, and so we have made bold to come here and
ask if you can give us a little help," said one of the men; and Ned
noticed that he did not speak like one who begged a favor. There was
a ring of defiance in his tones, which under the circumstances was
perfectly surprising.
"Who told you that I am Union?" said Ned at length.
"The darkeys. We know the name and politics of every man between here
and the place where we were captured. Just now we are looking for
supper and lodging."
"But I care more for a pair of shoes than I do for eating and sleeping,
although I am so tired that I could drop down where I stand and sleep
for a week," said the second man. "The hounds have driven us hard
since we got away, and I have worn out all the footgear I could get or
steal."
"We had some blankets and quilts yesterday," added his companion, "but
we had to throw them away this morning in order to make light weight
through the thick woods. We would have been in rags if it had not been
for our good friends, the darkeys."
"I can supply your wants, and shall be glad to do so," said Ned
promptly. "But you must never mention my name where any of my neighbors
can hear it. Come into the house, and Cæsar will stand outside to see
that no one slips up on you. There ought to be four of you. Where are
the other two?"
"We left them in the woods at the end of the lane, keeping guard over
a prize we gobbled this afternoon," replied one of the blue-coats;
and when they were conducted into the room in which Mrs. Griffin was
sitting they removed their remnants of hats respectfully, and dropped
with something like a sigh of satisfaction into the chairs that Ned
pulled up for them; but they held fast to their guns.
It took but a minute's time for Ned to explain the situation to his
mother, and scarcely longer to provide for the immediate wants of the
two fugitives; for when Mrs. Griffin said that they were welcome to
everything there was in the house, the half a dozen black heads that
filled one of the doors were quickly withdrawn, and in less time than
it takes to tell it a plate filled with cold bread and meat was handed
to each of the hungry blue-coats.
"I'se mighty sorry I aint got some store coffee for you, honey," said
one of the women, who by virtue of her age and position took it upon
herself to act as mistress of ceremonies. "But I isn't got none."
"We're sorry for that, aunty; not on our account, but on yours," said
one of the soldiers; "but it seems to me that you white folks ought
to be able to get such things as coffee out here. There was lots of
trading going on with country people when we left Baton Rouge."
"We've had a few things through the kindness of my employer," replied
Ned, "and we hope to have more when I get a permit to trade myself. Mr.
Gray thought it wasn't best to trouble the provost marshal for too
many permits, for fear that he would shut down on all of them."
"Well, the marshal will not shut down on you, nor on any other Union
man whose name we have on our list," said the soldier confidently. "We
are not going to forget our friends, I assure you." And then he almost
made Ned jump out of his chair by adding: "You spoke Mr. Gray's name
just now; I suppose he is Rodney's father, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is," cried Ned. "But what do you know about him?"
"Not much, that's a fact; but we met Rodney once when he wasn't at all
glad to see us. If we had been a different lot we might have put him and
his comrade to some trouble, just to show what vigilant scouts we were."
"Do you mean to tell me that you belonged to the squad that captured
Rodney and Dick Graham a few days ago?"
"We're two of them, and the others are in the woods, if our pursuers
haven't found and gobbled them up. But I don't think they have, or
we'd have heard the sounds of the fight."
"Well, you'll not go away without seeing Rodney and Dick, will you?"
"That depends," answered the soldier, with a smile. "We are not on a
pleasure trip and can't say beforehand just what we will do. The first
thing for us to find out in the morning is whether or not our pursuers
have placed themselves between us and the river. If they have, it might
be well for us to remain in hiding a few hours, and give them time to
get out of our road. But if they are still behind us, we ought to push
on without loss of time. I don't suppose those two rebs would go back
on us if they knew where we were. They said they wouldn't."
"Rodney and Dick!" exclaimed Ned indignantly. "While they were in the
army they fought you Yanks the best they knew how; but I know what I
am talking about when I say that you haven't better friends in your
regiment or company than Rodney Gray and Dick Graham."
"I believe it," said the soldier earnestly. "We are not afraid to
trust any man who met us in open battle; but the Home Guards we _are_
afraid of."
"You'd better be," exclaimed Ned. "The most of them are sneaks and
cowards, and disgrace the uniform they wear."
"I believe that, too; and now let me tell you why we are afraid of
them. When we met your two friends Gray and Graham, we belonged to a
squad of twenty men who were under orders to scour the country between
the river and Camp Pinckney, so that we could give timely notice to
General Williams if we discovered any considerable body of Confederates
in that direction. The general has information that the enemy is going
to try to open the river again, and, of course, he means to be ready
for any rebs who come this way. After we told Rodney and his chum to
go home and see their mammies, we rejoined our command, which we found
about three miles down the road, and reported that we hadn't seen any
graybacks and no signs of any; and the very next day we were surprised
and routed by a mixed body of veterans and Home Guards which some good
rebel had put on our track. We gave them a lively fight, but they were
too many for us, and those of us who were not killed or captured were
scattered far and wide.
"I hadn't much of an idea of being taken prisoner, I tell you, and I
have still less now. I'd rather be shot and have done with it. I had
talked with some of our boys who had had experience as captives, and
the stories they told were enough to make one's hair rise on end. They
did not have a word of fault to find with the rebel soldiers, who,
so they said, always treated them well, but they gave it to the Home
Guards good and strong, and declared that in future they would shoot
every one that crossed their path. I could easily tell the Home Guards
from the soldiers in that fight, both by their dress and the way they
behaved under fire; and when I saw one of our boys killed after he had
given up his gun, and saw that there was no possible chance for me to
get away, I just avenged the death of my comrade by tumbling that Home
Guard out of his saddle with the last cartridge I had, and hunted up
an old soldier and surrendered to him. My three comrades did the same,
and that's the way we happen to be alive to-day.
"We were kept with the main body about two hours, and during that time
were used like white men. The veterans divided their grub with us,
patted us on the back, and said we were good fellows for driving them
out of Corinth and licking them on the river as we had been doing, and
we had nothing in the world to complain of; but I tell you we shook in
our shoes when we learned that nine of us prisoners were to be sent to
Camp Pinckney under a strong escort of Home Guards, while the soldiers
kept to the road to hunt for more Yankees. And right there is where I
blame the officer in command of the Confederate detachment," said the
blue-coat, now beginning to show such signs of anger and excitement
that Ned Griffin would have been alarmed if he hadn't known that his
loyalty to the flag was beyond suspicion, "and if he ever falls into
the hands of my regiment he will have cause to regret that act of his.
He knew what manner of men his Home Guards were—that they were, as
you say, sneaks and cowards, that they dared not go to the front, and
that their highest ambition was to shoot a Yankee without running the
risk of being shot themselves. But he told us to go, and when the order
was given for us to fall in, we had to obey it. Well, sir, you may
believe it or not, but I can prove it, we hadn't much more than got out
of sight of the soldiers before those Home Guards began laughing and
joking about losing us on their way to camp."
"Did they think you were going to try to escape?" asked Ned.
"They meant that they were going to shoot us," said the man fiercely.
Ned and his mother could hardly believe that their ears were not
deceiving them.
"Thank goodness, our Home Guards are not as bad as that," said the
former.
"Have they ever been put to the test?" demanded the fugitive. "I know
that they have fought gunboats and defeated some detachments of our
cavalry, but did they ever have a Yankee prisoner in their hands?"
Ned was greatly astonished to hear that the Mooreville Home Guards had
been in action with the Federal cavalry, but he managed to say that he
didn't think they had ever taken a prisoner. Before he could say more
the blue-coat continued:
"I shouldn't like to fall into their power, for I believe they would
make short work of me. The men who had been detailed to take us nine
prisoners to camp came from the Pearl River bottoms, and looked, acted,
and talked more like heathen than any men I ever saw before. Believing
that we did not understand their jokes about losing us in the woods,
they talked freely among themselves until we came to a place where the
road forked; and there they separated into two parties, four of their
number taking my three comrades and myself down one road, while the rest
of the escort went with the other five prisoners down the other road.
"Before this happened I had made up my mind that I wasn't going to be
killed by those long-haired Yahoos if I could help it, and that act
of separation was two points in favor of the plans I had formed in
my mind. It gave me as companions three men who enlisted at the same
time I did, who had served in my company and regiment all through the
war, and who I knew could be depended on to back me up in anything
I undertook, and it gave us four the smallest escort, the main body
having gone down the other road with the rest of the prisoners. And I
hope and believe that those five fellows got safely into camp, for the
men who went with them were not half as villainous or blood-thirsty as
those who guarded us. To show you what sort of men we had to deal with,
one of them remarked, as he drew a big knife from his boot to cut off a
chew of tobacco, that he wouldn't think any more of sticking that knife
into a Yank than he would of putting it into a pig.
"I have been in some tight places since I joined the service, but I
don't think I ever suffered as I did during the next fifteen minutes.
It makes me sweat now to think of it," continued the veteran; and as
he spoke he drew his crooked finger across his forehead and threw off
the perspiration which Ned saw had gathered there like big drops of
rain. "Being the only officer there was in our party—I was corporal,
you know—my fellows naturally looked to me to do something, and I was
fully aware of it; for I knew then as well as I do now that they had
one and all determined to escape from those Home Guards or die in the
attempt. I communicated with each of them by making the best use of my
eyes I knew how, and could have yelled with delight when I saw that I
made them understand me. Each of us selected a rebel and kept as close
to him as he could without exciting suspicion. I was impatient to get
to work, for I didn't know how soon they would begin work on us, but I
was afraid to do anything until I thought we were well out of hearing
of the party that had taken the other road. I was certain that there
would be some shooting done during the fight, and did not want to draw
their attention; but when I could stand it no longer I gave a yell, and
floored my man as easily as you would pitch a bundle of oats on to a
wagon. I had him out of his saddle before he could wink, and grabbed
his carbine just in time to help Ben here, who wasn't having as good
luck as I."
"Did you kill both of them?" inquired Ned, who was so deeply interested
in the narrative that he did not know whether he breathed or not.
"We laid them out," replied the veteran, "and as we were in something
of a hurry, we didn't wait to see how long it took them to come to.
It was all over in less than I have taken time to tell it, and there
wasn't a shot fired or another yell raised. The fight was carried on so
quietly that a person standing fifty feet away would not have heard it.
We did not waste any precious moments in congratulating one another on
our good fortune, but carried the bodies of our guards into the woods
out of sight, dragged some brush over one or two little pools of blood
there were in the road and over our footprints, thus concealing all
traces of the struggle as best we could, and hitched the four horses
among the trees where they would have plenty of leaves and twigs to
browse on until they were released; and then we struck out for the
bottom the best we knew how."
"Whew! you have had a time of it," said Ned, as the corporal settled
back in his chair, clasped his hands over his knee, and looked at his
empty plate. "Lucindy, bring some more grub, and pile on all the plates
will hold. When did you first become aware that the dogs were on your
trail?"
"We found it out the first thing in the morning," was the reply. "Or
rather, that was the time we learned that the rebs were going to use
hounds to follow us up. We slept in the woods that night without a
fire or a bite to eat, and at daylight set out to find a negro cabin;
for we knew that the darkeys would befriend us if they could do so
without bringing themselves into trouble. We came to a plantation after
a while, and crept close enough to the quarter to discover a negro
working about one of the corn-cribs. We attracted his attention without
much trouble, but as soon as he made out who we were, he disappeared so
suddenly that we were sorry we did not shoot him on sight, for we were
certain that he meant to betray us. So we made a little detour and took
up another position in the field, from which we could watch the doors
of the great house; for there was where we knew danger would come from,
if it came at all. By that move we came near losing a breakfast and
missing some information that was of use to us, for that darkey had no
intention of going back on us. He slipped around to his cabin, gathered
up everything he had in the way of grub, and spent many valuable
minutes in hunting us up. He had a story to tell us, but was so badly
frightened that it was a long time before he could make us understand
that the news of our escape had reached Camp Pinckney, that all the
soldiers and Home Guards that could be spared from duty there had been
sent in pursuit of us, and that a big squad of men had passed the house
before daylight that morning vowing that they would never take us
prisoners if they found us. They would shoot us in our tracks to pay us
for what we had done to their comrades back there in the road."
"Then they were Home Guards," Ned interposed.
"Certainly; and that threat proved it. But that was not by any means
the worst news the darkey had to tell us," continued the corporal,
placing his gun on the floor by his side, and nodding to Lucindy as
she handed him a second plateful of bread and meat. "And the part he
hadn't yet told was what frightened him. After much questioning he made
us understand that there were six soldiers in the great house waiting
for the breakfast that the missus had promised them; and when they had
eaten it, they were going down the road about half a mile after a pack
of nigger dogs that were to be put on our trail. And then he assured us
that if those dogs ever got after us we would be gone up sure; for they
were smart at following a trail, having had lots of practice in running
down the unhappy conscripts who escaped from Camp Pinckney. That was
bad news for us, as I said, and the question at once arose, Should we
take to our heels and trust to luck, or would it be a better plan to
rush into the house and put it out of the power of the rebels to go
after those dogs?"
"But were you not afraid to attack them in the house?" exclaimed Ned.
"There were six of them and only four of you."
"A small difference in numbers to men who are working for life and
liberty," answered the corporal. "We talked the matter over very
quickly and decided, without a dissenting voice, that we would put a
stop to that hound business before it had gone any further. We would
take our chances on surprising the rebels while they were at breakfast,
and be governed by circumstances when we found who and what they were.
If they were regular soldiers we would simply parole them and let them
go; but if they turned out to be Home Guards——"
The fugitive did not finish the sentence, but shrugged his shoulders
and looked at Ned and his mother in a way that had a volume of meaning
in it.
"It did not take us many seconds to determine upon a plan of
operations," he continued, "and then we crept toward the house under
cover of the bushes and out buildings, telling our friendly darkey to
stay where he was till the trouble was over, and no one should ever
hear from us that we had exchanged a word with him. Everything was in
our favor. There wasn't a servant outside the house to run in and warn
the inmates that we were coming, and before those six Johnnies knew
that there was a Yank within 100 miles, we were in the breakfast room
where they sat at the table, and had them covered."
"And what did they turn out to be?" Ned almost gasped.
"Regular soldiers, I am glad to say, and we were saved a most
disagreeable piece of business. We told them they were in a trap, and
could take their choice between going to the bone-yard and signing a
parole not to take up arms against the government again until they were
regularly exchanged, and they thought they had better sign; and it
didn't take them a great while to say so, either."
"Had you any right to do that?" inquired Mrs. Griffin.
"Not the least in the world, madam," replied the corporal, with a
smile. "But as long as the rebels didn't know it, what was the odds? We
couldn't take them with us, we couldn't shoot them, seeing that they
were not Home Guards, and yet we had to do something. All we really
hoped to accomplish was to frighten them off our trail long enough to
give us a good start toward the swamp. We knew their officers would
tell them that their parole didn't amount to a row of pins, but by the
time they found their officers we might be miles away. There was one
thing we were sorry for, and that was that they did not have their dogs
in the house with them. They wouldn't have followed any more escaped
prisoners when we got through with them, I assure you."