_James Lawson.--His Bravery.--Rescue of his Wife and Children.--He is
sent out on Important Business.--He fights his Way Back.--He is Admired
by Gens. Hooker and Sickles.--Rhett’s Servant.--“Foraging for Butter and
Eggs.”_
I spent three weeks at Liverpool Point, the outpost of Hooker’s
Division, almost directly opposite Aquia Creek, waiting patiently for
the advance of our left wing to follow up the army, becoming, if not
a participator against the dying struggles of rebeldom, at least a
chronicler of the triumphs in the march of the Union army.
During this time I was the guest of Col. Graham, of Mathias-Point
memory, who had brought over from that place (last November) some thirty
valuable chattels. A part of the camp was assigned to them. They built
log huts, and obtained from the soldiers many comforts, making their
quarters equal to any in the camp.
They had friends and relatives. Negroes feel as much sympathy for their
friends and kin as the whites; and, from November to the present time,
many a man in Virginia has lost a very likely slave, for the camp
contains now upwards of a hundred fat and healthy negroes, in addition
to its original number from Mathias Point.
One of the number deserves more honor than that accorded to Toussaint
L’Ouverture in the brilliant lecture delivered by Wendell Phillips. He
is unquestionably the hero of the Potomac, and deserves to be placed by
the side of his most renowned black brethren.
The name of this negro is James Lawson, born near Hempstead, Virginia,
and he belonged to a Mr. Taylor. He made his escape last December.
On hearing his praises spoken by the captains of the gunboats on the
Potomac, I was rather indisposed to admit the possession of all the
qualities they give him credit for, and thought possibly his exploits
had been exaggerated. His heroic courage, truthfulness, and exalted
Christian character seemed too romantic for their realization. However,
my doubts on that score were dispelled; and I am a witness of his last
crowning act.
Jim, after making his escape from Virginia, shipped on board of “The
Freeborn,” Flag-gunboat, Lieut. Samuel Ma-gaw commanding. He furnished
Capt. Magaw with much valuable intelligence concerning the rebel
movements, and, from his quiet, every-day behavior, soon won the esteem
of the commanding officer.
Capt. Magaw, shortly after Jim’s arrival on board “The Freeborn,” sent
him upon a scouting tour through the rebel fortifications, more to test
his reliability than anything else; and the mission, although fraught
with great danger, was executed by Jim in the most faithful manner.
Again Jim was sent into Virginia, landing at the White House,
below Mount Vernon, and going into the interior for several miles;
encountering the fire of picket-guards and posted sentries; returned in
safety to the shore; and was brought off in the captain’s gig, under the
fire of the rebel musketry.
Jim had a wife and four children at that time still in Virginia. They
belonged to the same man as Jim did. He was anxious to get them; yet it
seemed impossible.
One day in January, Jim came to the captain’s room, and asked for
permission to be landed that evening on the Virginia side, as he wished
to bring off his family. “Why, Jim,” said Capt. Magaw, “how will you be
able to pass the pickets?”
“I want to try, captain: I think I can get ‘em over safely,” meekly
replied Jim.
“Well, you have my permission;” and Capt. Magaw ordered one of the
gunboats to land Jim that night on whatever part of the shore he
designated, and return for him the following evening.
True to his appointment, Jim was at the spot with his wife and family,
and was taken on board the gunboat, and brought over to Liverpool Point,
where Col. Graham had given them a log-house to live in, just back of
his own quarters. Jim ran the gauntlet of the sentries unharmed, never
taking to the roads, but keeping in the woods, every foot-path of which,
and almost every tree, he knew from his boyhood up.
Several weeks afterwards another reconnoissance was planned, and Jim
sent on it. He returned in safety, and was highly complimented by Gens.
Hooker, Sickles, and the entire flotilla.
On Thursday, week ago, it became necessary to obtain correct information
of the enemy’s movements. Since then, batteries at Shipping and Cockpit
Points had been evacuated, and their troops moved to Fredericksburg.
Jim was the man picked out for the occasion, by Gen. Sickles and Capt.
Magaw. The general came down to Col. Graham’s quarters, about nine in
the evening, and sent for Jim. There were present, the general, Col.
Graham, and myself. Jim came into the colonel’s.
“Jim.” said the general, “I want you to go over to Virginia to-night,
and find out what forces they have at Aquia Creek and Fredericksburg. If
you want any men to accompany you, pick them out.”
“I know _two_ men that would like to go,” Jim answered.
“Well, get them, and be back as soon as possible.” Away went Jim over to
the contraband camp, and, returning almost immediately, brought into our
presence two very intelligent-looking darkies.
“Are you all ready?” inquired the general.
“All ready, sir,” the trio responded.
“Well, here, Jim, you take my pistol,” said Gen. Sickles, unbuckling it
from his belt; “and, if you are successful, I will give you $100.”
Jim hoped he would be, and, bidding us good-by, started off for the
gunboat “Satellite,” Capt. Foster, who landed them a short distance
below the Potomac-Creek Batteries. They were to return early in the
morning, but were unable, from the great distance they went in the
interior. Long before daylight on Saturday morning, the gunboat was
lying off at the appointed place. As the day dawned, Capt. Foster
discovered a mounted picket-guard near the beach, and almost at the same
instant saw Jim to the left of them, in the woods, sighting his gun at
the rebel cavalry. He ordered the “gig” to be manned, and rowed to the
shore. The rebels moved along slowly, thinking to intercept the boat,
when Foster gave them a shell, which scattered them. Jim, with only one
of his original companions, and two fresh contrabands, came on board.
Jim had _lost the other_. He had been challenged by a picket when some
distance in advance of Jim, and the negro, instead of answering the
summons, fired the contents of Sickles’s revolver at the picket. It
was an unfortunate occurrence; for at that time the entire picket-guard
rushed out of a small house near the spot, and fired the contents of
their muskets at Jim’s companion, killing him instantly. Jim and the
other three hid themselves in a hollow, near a fence, and, after the
pickets gave up pursuit, crept through the woods to the shore. From the
close proximity of the rebel pickets, Jim could not display a light,
which was the signal for Capt. Foster to send a boat.
Capt. Foster, after hearing Jim’s story of the shooting of his
companion, determined to avenge his death; so, steaming his vessel close
in to the shore, he sighted his guns for a barn, where the rebel cavalry
were hiding behind. He fired two shells: one went right through the
barn, killing four of the rebels, and seven of their horses. Capt.
Foster, seeing the effect of his shot, said to Jim, who stood by, “Well,
Jim, I’ve avenged the death of poor Cornelius” (the name of Jim’s lost
companion).
Gen. Hooker has transmitted to the War Department an account of Jim’s
reconnoissance to Fredericksburg, and unites with the army and navy
stationed on the left wing of the Potomac, in the hope that the
Government will present Jim with a fitting recompense for his gallant
services.--_War Correspondent of the New-York Times_.
On Thursday, beyond Charlestown, our pickets descried a solitary
horseman, with a bucket on his arm, jogging soberly towards them. He
proved to be a dark mulatto, of about thirty-five. As he approached,
they ordered a halt.
“Where are you from?”
“Southern Army, cap’n,” giving the military salute.
“Where are you going?”
“Coming to yous all.”
“What do you want?”
“Protection, boss. You won’t send me back, will you?”
“No, come in. Whose servant are you?”
“Cap’n Rhett’s, of South Carliny: you’s heard of Mr. Barnwell Rhett,
editor of ‘The Charleston Mercury’? His brother commands a battery.”
“How did you get away?”
“Cap’n gove me fifteen dollars this morning, and said,
‘John, go out, and forage for butter and eggs.’ So you see, boss (with a
broad grin), I’se out foraging! I pulled my hat over my eyes, and jogged
along on the cap’n’s horse (see the brand S.C. on him?) with this basket
on my arm, right by our guards and pickets. They never challenged me
once. If they had, though, I brought the cap’n’s pass. And the new
comer produced this document from his pocket-book, written in pencil,
and carefully folded. I send you the original:--
_“Pass my servant, John, on horseback, anywhere between Winchester and
Martinsburg, in search of butter, &c., &e._
_“A. BURNETT RHETT, Capt. Light Artillery, Lee’s Battalion.”_
“Are there many negroes in the rebel corps?”
“Heaps, boss.”
“Would the most of them come to us if they could?”
“All of them, cap’n. There isn’t a little pickanniny so high (waving his
hand two feet from the ground) that wouldn’t.”
“Why did _you_ expect protection?”
“Heard so in Maryland, before the Proclamation.”
“Where did you hear about the Proclamation?”
“Read it, air, in a Richmond paper.”
“What is it?”
“That every slave is to be emancipated on and after the thirteenth day
of January. I can’t state it, boss.”
“Something like it. When did you learn to read?”
“In ‘49, sir. I was head waiter at Mrs. Nevitt’s boarding-house in
Savannah, and Miss Walcott, a New-York lady, who was stopping there,
taught me.”
“Does your master know it?”
“Capt. Rhett doesn’t know it, sir; but he isn’t my master. He thinks I’m
free, and hired me at twenty five dollars a month; but he never paid
me any of it. I belong to Mrs. John Spring. She used to hire me out
summers, and have me wait on her every winter, when she came South.
After the war, she couldn’t come, and they were going to sell me for
Government because I belonged to a Northerner. Sold a great many negroes
in that way. But I slipped away to the army. Have tried to come to you
twice before in Maryland, but couldn’t pass our pickets.”
“Were you at Antietam?”
“Yes, boss. Mighty hard battle!”
“Who whipped?”
“Yous all, massa. They say you didn’t; but I saw it, and know. If you
had fought us that next day,--Thursday,--you would have captured our
whole army. They say so themselves.”
“Who?”
“Our officers, sir.”
“Did you ever hear of old John Brown?”
“Hear of _him?_ Lord bless you, yes, boss: I’ve read his life, and have
it now in my trunk in Charleston; sent to New York by the steward of
‘The James Adger,’ and got it. I’ve read it to heaps of the colored
folks. Lord, they think John Brown was almost a god. Just say you was a
friend of his, and any slave will almost kiss your feet, if you let
him. They sav, if he was only alive now, he would be king. How it did
frighten the white folks when he raised the insurrection! It was Sunday
when we heard of it. They wouldn’t let a negro go into the streets.
I was waiter at the Mills House in Charleston. There was a lady from
Massachusetts, who came down to breakfast that morning at my table.
‘John,’ she says, ‘I want to see a negro church; where is the principal
one?’ ‘Not any open to-day, mistress,’ I told her. ‘Why not?’ ‘Because a
Mr. John Brown has raised an insurrection in Virginny.’ ‘Ah!’ she says;
‘well, they’d better look out, or they’ll get the white churches shut
up in that way some of these days, too!’ Mr. Nicholson, one of the
proprietors, was listening from the office to hear what she said. Wasn’t
that lady watched after that? I have a History of San Domingo, too, and
a Life of Fred. Douglass, in my trunk, that I got in the same way.”
“What do the slaves think about the war?”
“Well, boss, they all wish the Yankee army would come. The white folks
tell them all sorts of bad stories about you all; but they don’t believe
them.”
John was taken to Gen. McClellan, to whom he gave all the information
he possessed about the position, numbers, and organization of the rebel
army. His knowledge was full and valuable, and is corroborated by all
the facts we have learned from other sources. The principal features of
it I have already transmitted to you by telegraph. At the close of the
interview, he asked anxiously,--
“General, you won’t send me back, will you?”
“Yes,” replied the general, with a smile, “I believe I will.”
“I hope you won’t, general. If you say so, I know I will have to go; but
I come to yous all for protection, and I hope you won’t.”
“Well, then, I suppose we will not. No, John, you are at liberty to go
where you please. Stay with the army, if you like. No one can ever take
you against your will.”
“May the Lord bless you, general. I _thought_ you wouldn’t drive me out.
You’s the best friend I ever had; I shall never forget you till I die.”
And John made the salute, re-mounted his horse, and rode back to the
rear, his dusky face almost white with radiance.
An hour later, he was on duty as the servant of Capt. Batchelor,
Quartermaster of Couch’s Second Division; and I do not believe there
was another heart in our corps so light as his in the unwonted joy of
freedom.--_New York Tribune._