A TERRIBLE RAILROAD CHASE.
We will now resume the direct narrative.
When Kingston was left behind, it was believed by our leader that,
notwithstanding all our vexatious delays, we still had a margin of at
least an hour's time. Our movements were arranged on that supposition.
The next considerable station, Adairsville, was about ten miles distant,
and the intervening country comparatively level. There were no
considerable bridges in this space, and the most we could do was to run
swiftly, and occasionally to obstruct the track. Our speed was increased
to about forty miles an hour, and this swift running, after our long
halt at Kingston, was exquisitely delightful. Looking out from the
crevices of the box-car, we saw the hills and trees gliding swiftly by,
and felt that each moment we were getting farther away from the foes who
had so long surrounded us, and nearer safety and triumph. While we were
actually under way our prospects did not yet seem very unfavorable.
There were yet one freight and one passenger train to meet, which we
would now encounter an hour farther south, because of our long
hindrance; but we felt confident of our power to deceive or overpower
them, and they did not embarrass our running because they were on the
regular schedule. The freight was now almost due at Adairsville, and we
expected the passenger train to overtake and go ahead of it from that
point. If they were both on time we would also meet them there, and then
have an absolutely open road to Chattanooga. It will show the tremendous
risks that encompassed our enterprise, when we reflect that so trifling
a circumstance as the delay or the misplacement of a train could
introduce an "if" into our most hopeful plans.
A short distance south of Adairsville we again stopped, and Andrews
called us to come forth and work with a will. No exhortation was needed.
John Scott, as usual, climbed the telegraph-pole, and the wire was soon
severed. Two or three rails were slowly and painfully battered loose
with our iron bar, which still constituted our only instrument for
track-lifting. These were loaded on the car to carry away with us. There
happened to be a large number of cross-ties lying near, and these we
also loaded up for future use. When all was done we moved on, feeling
that we had provided for the delay or destruction of any train that
might pursue. It was also probable that the first train which met us at
Adairsville would be wrecked. This was not our design, as we did not
relish wanton mischief; but there was no safe way of giving warning, and
a wrecked train would have been a considerable obstruction of the track.
We reached Adairsville before the expected freight, but had only just
taken our place on the side track when its whistle was heard. When it
came up, Andrews, who still personated a Confederate officer, and
exacted and received the obedience which in those days of conscription
and impressment was readily yielded to military authority, ordered the
train to be run past the station and back again on the side track behind
his own, to wait for the expected passenger train. The usual
explanations about the powder train were repeated to credulous ears.
Then came five minutes of suspense and waiting. The train was behind
time,--a trifling matter in itself, but, in our situation, each minute
might turn the scale between death and life. We could not afford to
repeat the experience of Kingston. Not one bridge had yet been burned,
and all we could show for our hazard, beside our captured train, were a
few cross-ties and lifted rails. After a whispered word of consultation
with his engineer, who was willing to assume the most deadly risks
rather than to lie still, Andrews remarked to the bystanders that a
government powder express must not be detained by any number of
passenger trains, and then gave the word, "Go ahead!"
We started quite moderately, but, as soon as the station was out of
sight, we noticed a wonderful acceleration of speed. The cars seemed
almost to leap from the track, and we whirled from side to side at a
bewildering rate. There was scarcely any slackening for curves or
grades, and our whistle rang out with scarcely a moment's cessation. In
the box-car we could retain no position for more than an instant, and
were jostled over each other and against the sides of the car much
oftener than was pleasant. No one of us had ever rode at such a rate
before. Though we had no means of measuring the speed, none of us
estimated it at less than a mile a minute. What was the meaning of such
a break-neck pace? Had Andrews discovered that we were pursued, and was
he making a desperate effort to escape from the enemy? Or was he simply
hurrying to the bridges we were to burn? Such questions were easier
asked than answered, for two cars and the tender intervened between us
and the locomotive, on which our leader was. At any rate, the moments
were rapidly carrying us towards our own lines, and a very few hours of
such running would see us delivered from the series of perils which had
so long environed us. We had learned that just beyond Calhoun, a station
only ten miles from Adairsville, there was a large bridge, which we knew
was marked for destruction. If that was passed without stopping, we
would be convinced that an enemy was on our track, and that the race was
simply for life. A few minutes would decide. But in the mean time, as an
enemy might be following us, it occurred to the writer that it would be
well to continue obstructing the track. This was accomplished by
breaking open the hind end of the last box-car, and shoving out one by
one the ties previously loaded. A part only of the ties on board were
thus employed, as we thought it possible that the remainder might be
more useful in other directions. Many of those sprinkled on the track
showed a perverse disposition to jump off, but we felt sure that enough
remained to make a pursuer cautious. Nothing more impressed us with the
fearful speed of our train than the manner in which these ties seemed
instantly to vanish when they touched the ground.
By thus exerting the full speed of the engine Andrews hoped to reach
Calhoun before the belated passenger train should arrive. The engineer
stood with his hand on the lever ready to reverse his engine the moment
an opposing train was sighted. The open character of the country in this
part of the route permitted a good outlook. The whistle was also kept
sounding that an opposite train might be warned and checked. It was the
intention of Andrews, in case of meeting the expected train, to reverse
his own engine only long enough to escape the danger of collision, and
then to persuade or compel the other to back before him to the first
siding. This lightning-like run was bold and full of peril, but it was
wise. Had the same risk been promptly assumed at Kingston the whole
future of the enterprise would have been different. But we reached
Calhoun before any train was met. When we slackened speed, just before
arriving at the station, we shoved out one more cross-tie, and then
carefully concealed the hole in the car by piling other ties across it.
As we drew nearer, great was the satisfaction of Andrews and his
engineer when they saw the belated passenger train--our last
obstacle--lying quietly at the station. It had been just starting, but,
on hearing our whistle, it awaited our arrival. We ran down almost
against it; and, without getting off his locomotive, Andrews shouted
his orders to have the road cleared for an impressed powder train. The
news from the north and west--the panic caused by the rumored approach
of General Mitchel--made this sudden demand seem less unreasonable, and
it was unhesitatingly obeyed. The passenger train was switched out of
the way, and we glided smoothly by the last train we were to meet. Thus,
at length, we had reached the ground where bridge-burning was to begin,
and all obstacles were out of the way; what could hinder full and
decisive success?
Fuller and Murphy had not left Kingston many minutes before they became
conscious of the error they had committed in exchanging the "Yonah" for
the "Shorter." The latter was a weak engine with small wheels. It was
now forced to the utmost, oil being freely used with the wood in the
furnace; but they were unable to equal the tremendous speed with which
they had made the previous stage of their journey. Though they had but
two or three cars and the advantage of a level and unobstructed track,
they could not exceed forty miles an hour. They maintained a vigilant
lookout, but ran with the steam-valve entirely open, while Murphy and
Cain both grasped the lever, ready to use their combined weight and
strength in reversing the motion if any obstacle should be descried.
Their vigilance was soon approved. They observed the point at which we
had removed rails, and, by reversing, were able to arrest their motion
just on the edge of the break. But here they found themselves confronted
with a terrible obstacle. They had no rails to replace those that had
been carried off. Some instruments for track-laying were on board, and
it was suggested to tear up rails behind and place them in the break.
This double labor required too much time to suit the ardent temper of
Fuller and Murphy. At once they repeated the old tactics which alone had
given them any hope of success. They abandoned their engine and ran
ahead once more on foot. The remainder of their company remained behind,
and probably did, after a time, succeed in lifting rails behind their
engine and laying them down before, as a contemporaneous account
asserts; but they had no further real part in the chase.
Before the two footmen had gone far they encountered the regular freight
train that we had met at Adairsville. Thus their delay was reduced to a
very small amount. It seems that almost as soon as Andrews and his party
had left Adairsville for their rapid flight towards Calhoun, this train,
guided either by the decision of the conductor, or by a telegraphic
message from the management of the road, started southward, and were met
no more than a mile or two on their way by the dauntless pursuers. Great
was the amazement of the men on the freight train to learn that the
fine-looking Confederate officer with whom they had been talking five
minutes before was probably a "Yankee" engaged in the most daring
exploit of the war. But not much time was allowed for the indulgence of
any emotion. Fuller promptly took command of the train and backed it
with all possible speed to Adairsville. Its engine, the "Texas," was
known to Fuller as one of the largest and best in the State. While
backing and pushing the whole train of nearly twenty cars it made the
most rapid speed that they had yet attained.
But still greater speed was necessary, and by throwing all but one or
two cars on the side track at Adairsville, the noble engine was relieved
and enabled to show all its fine qualities. No turn-table being at hand,
it had still to be run backward; but that position does not materially
lessen the power of an engine, though the risk of accident is somewhat
increased. This risk had been taken, however, in so many instances by
the desperate pursuers, and with perfect safety, that they were willing
to tempt fortune still further. The engineer of the captured train had
been left behind at the last break, but his place was ably supplied by
Peter Bracken, of the "Texas." Starting from Adairsville with a full
head of steam, the distance of ten miles to Calhoun was run in twelve
minutes, and even this tremendous speed would have been exceeded but for
the slight delay caused by the ties dropped on the track. When one of
these obstructions was seen, Fuller, who had stationed himself for that
purpose on the end of the tender which ran ahead, would jump off, remove
the tie, and be back to his place almost before the engine ceased to
move. The uniform mode of stopping to clear the track was by reversing
the engine. Aside from the time lost in these stops, the running must
have exceeded a mile per minute. This exceeding rapidity prevented any
loss of distance in this stage of the pursuit.
At Calhoun, Fuller scarcely made a full stop. He told his tale in a few
words and called for volunteers. A number came just as he was moving on
again; indeed, after the train was well under way, he secured a still
more valuable prize. The telegraph managers at Chattanooga had found
that the wires were broken, and were endeavoring to discover the source
of mischief. By telegraphing to different stations and asking for
replies, they could easily make an approximate estimate. But the
difficulty was coming nearer: they discovered that one station after
another was being cut off from communication with headquarters. South of
Calhoun they could get no reply at the time the passenger train reached
Dalton. They had, therefore, directed the only operator at that
station--a mere boy--to leave his post and go to Calhoun for the purpose
of discovering and remedying the mischief. Fuller recognized him on the
platform, and reached out his hand, shouting, "Come!" The boy took hold
and was lifted on the flying engine.
With no thought of our deadly peril we had stopped a short distance
above Calhoun to cut the telegraph and oil the engine. Several of us
were also engaged in battering out the spikes preparatory to lifting
another rail. As we expected to spend ten or fifteen minutes in burning
the large bridge which spanned the Oostenaula River, a little distance
from us, Andrews thought it better that we should have a rail up in
order to guard against the possibility of the train we had just passed
being turned back after us in time to interrupt our work. It might have
been better, as we were tempted to think afterwards, if we had begun on
the bridge directly; but it was absolutely necessary to cut the wire,
and the lifting of the rail would not take an additional minute.
The engine was inspected, and found to be still in perfect condition,
though both wood and water were running low; the wire was severed; and
eight of us had just taken hold of the loose end of a rail, out of which
the spikes had been battered, and were trying to pull the other end
loose also. But it was too firmly fixed, and we were about to release
it, and wait the taking out of a few more spikes, when, away in the
distance, we heard the whistle of an engine in pursuit! The effect was
magical. With one convulsive effort the rail was broken asunder, and the
whole party pitched in a heap over the low embankment. No one was hurt,
and we were on our feet in a moment.
It did not require many moments to realize the situation. Our enemies
were upon us at last! Their train was in plain sight. We could even see
that they were well armed. There seemed to be no resource but flight.
But from whence came this train? The facts with which the reader is
already familiar were all unknown to us, and the apparition of the
pursuers all the more terrible on that account. We knew the difficulties
against which we had struggled, and little thought that our pursuers had
encountered nearly equal obstacles, over which they had so far been
marvellously victorious. Greater surprise would not have been created
in our ranks had the locomotive, to whose scream we unwillingly
listened, dropped from the sky! One plausible conjecture only presented
itself as to the presence of this train, and, if this one was correct,
it could be but the earnest of speedy defeat and death. Possibly a
telegraphic message from the other side of Big Shanty had traversed the
wide circuit of more than two thousand miles past Atlanta, Richmond,
Chattanooga, and back again to Calhoun, reaching the latter place just
before the wire was cut, and inducing them to start back the train we
had just met at full speed after us. All this was possible,--at least it
seemed so to those of us who were not in the secret of the wide-spread
system of military operations,--unless, indeed, the foresight of our
government had provided at this very time for the severing of the
telegraph on the Carolina coast, at which place alone this circuit came
within striking distance of the Union lines.
But we had no time for idle conjectures. The fact was patent that a
train was bearing down upon us at full speed. "Shall we stand and fight?
Shall we attack them now?" were questions eagerly asked.
But Andrews still hesitated to depart from the course pursued so far. We
had the rail broken which would arrest the enemy, and probably give us
time to fire the bridge ahead. Then all might yet be well,--that is if
the stations ahead were not warned, and the track obstructed before us.
Should that prove the case, then to stand and sell our lives as dearly
as possible, or, abandoning our engine, to fly on foot across the
country, were all the alternatives. The crisis of our fate drew near,
and our hardest and sharpest work lay just ahead.
Influenced by such considerations, which were then mainly confined to
his own mind, Andrews, without a moment's hesitation, gave the signal,
which was as quickly obeyed, for mounting the train. The engineer threw
the valve wide open, and, with a spring that threw us from our feet, the
noble steed was once more careering forward. To his companions on the
locomotive Andrews said, quietly, as he ever spoke in times of deepest
excitement, "Push her, boys; let her do her best. We must lose no time
in getting to the bridge above." Some of the engine oil was thrown into
the furnace, and the already fiery pace sensibly quickened. The problem
seemed perfectly simple. If we could reach the bridge, and get it well
on fire in less time than our enemies could piece out the broken rail,
we had still a chance of life and success. If not, more desperate means
became necessary. The speed of the engine might save us a precious
half-minute, and on such a narrow margin everything turned. Nobly did
our good old locomotive respond to the call! Rocking, whirling,
bounding,--it seemed a marvel that some of the box-cars were not hurled
from the track. Inside these cars all was action. Though we could
scarcely keep one position a moment, idleness could not now be indulged.
We knew that the time for concealment had passed, and we wrought with
flying fingers in preparation for our incendiary work. The forward end
of our box-car, and both ends of the others, were knocked out by
employing one of the heavy cross-ties as a battering-ram, and the
greater part of the sides were loosened in the same manner, and torn
into fragments for kindling. This destruction of barriers also opened a
way of communication with the engine. Andrews approved what we had done,
and told us frankly that our lives probably depended on the number of
seconds we consumed in getting the bridge on fire. Just then an
exclamation of wonder and dismay from our keen-sighted fireman, Alfred
Wilson, drew attention. He declared positively that he saw the smoke of
the pursuing engine still following us! It was scarcely credible, but he
was so positive, and it was so important to know the truth, that our
speed was slackened to ascertain. In a moment a whistle, clear and
unmistakable, rang out from beyond a curve we had just passed. All doubt
was at an end; but our surprise and consternation were as great as when
the train was first discovered in pursuit. There had been no time to lay
again the rail we had taken up, and the broken half of which we still
had with us. It seemed a miracle wrought against us. But Andrews'
resources were not yet exhausted. He ordered another effort, which might
yet give us time to fire the bridge ahead, that he was most unwilling to
pass without destroying. The locomotive was reversed, and our
kindling-wood, with most of the ties, carried forward, and the moment we
began to move backward the hindmost car was uncoupled. The pursuing
locomotive was then in fearful proximity. We could see that it was
running backward, and that a number of men were crowded on it. Almost at
the same moment its machinery was reversed and ours turned forward. As
we left them at lightning speed we could just see that their velocity
was well checked before they touched our abandoned car.
But this was not yet sufficient. As we came to the next slight up-grade
the same manoeuvre was repeated, and our second car flung back at the
enemy in like manner. The time lost in doing this brought them again
near us, and we saw that they were pushing our first car before them.
But how had they passed the broken rail? For years I could get no
satisfactory information on this subject. Some Confederate accounts
spoke of a rail being taken up behind and laid down before the engine.
But the time was too short to permit such an action. That a stop could
be made, a rail taken up, spiked down again, and our engine, running
faster than the wind, overtaken,--all of this well inside of five
minutes,--was incredible. Very probably this course was adopted in the
case of the next train which was pursuing not far behind. Other
Confederate accounts say nothing about this rail, while a few assert
that it was not broken at all, but only loosened and left in its place.
But having personally helped in the desperate pull, having fallen down
the bank with the party, and carried one end of the rail to put on our
car, besides having my left hand long suffer from being clasped under
the hand of William Campbell, the strongest man of our party, I
naturally cannot accept this explanation. Conductor Fuller gave another
solution of the mystery scarcely less strange, which I repeat as he gave
it to me. He said that when he saw our engine start on from this point
he could see no obstruction, and allowed the train to continue at high
speed. A moment after he noticed a short blank in one of the rails. A
terrible fear swept over him, for it was now too late to stop. But quick
as a lightning-flash he noticed another fact,--that the place of the
missing rail was on the _inside_ of a sharp curve. He explained to me
that a train at a very high rate of speed throws the most of its weight
on the outside rail of a curve, which is always made a little higher
than the other. Had an outside rail been broken the destruction of their
train would have been inevitable, but the break was on the inside. With
that rapid decision which the better class of railroad men learn to
exercise, he signalled to the engineer, "Faster; faster yet!" There was
a sharp jolt, and the locomotive and the cars attached were on the other
side of the obstruction with their speed not even abated. The next train
which followed was the passenger train that we had met at Calhoun, which
had also been turned back after us. This train had track-layers and
instruments on board, and did very quickly repair the damage; but if
Fuller had waited even that long the bridge over the Oostenaula would
have been wrapped in flames before his arrival.
Fuller saw the car we dropped, and by promptly having his engine
reversed, reduced the collision to merely a smart shock. It was
dextrously coupled fast and driven forward at full speed. The second
car we dropped was treated in the same manner, and the enemy's speed was
scarcely diminished. The time lost in dropping the cars was about as
long as that lost in coupling to them.
Thus in the short space between Calhoun and the Oostenaula River three
hindrances or perils, the greatness of which will be best appreciated by
railroad men, were overcome by the skill and daring of Fuller's band,
and in spite of them they attained a rate of running on this crooked and
irregular road which would have been most remarkable on a perfectly
smooth and unobstructed track.
Now the Oostenaula bridge was in sight, and we slackened speed for a
desperate attempt to burn it. But before we could come to a full stop
the pursuer was close upon us, and very reluctantly we steamed over the
bridge and continued our flight. The prospect was rapidly darkening
before us. It was certain that one of the trains we had met at
Adairsville or Calhoun was turned back after us and driven with the
utmost determination. Of all conjectures to account for this pursuit,
that of a telegram by the way of Richmond was most probable and most
portentous. If this was really the case, our fate was sealed. With a
relentless pursuer hanging upon our heels, and the towns ahead warned
and ready to dispute our passage, human bravery and foresight would
avail nothing. I have no doubt the mind of Andrews was weighed down and
perplexed by the uncertainty of our situation. Could we have known even
as much of the number and plans of our foes as they knew of ours--above
all, could we have known whether the road was open before us--the
problem would have been simpler. Yet we had but two hopes: to wreck the
train behind us, a task of no small difficulty now they were on their
guard; or, failing in this, to distance them in running far enough to
lift some rails or burn one of the bridges still ahead. If only one
bridge could be burned, it would stop the pursuit for the time and leave
us free to encounter the opposition before us.
Accordingly the jaded "General" was spurred to full speed. The load was
now lighter, and as much of the kindling as we thought it prudent to
spare was used in putting the furnace into a fiercer blaze. We also
resumed the practice of dropping cross-ties from the rear of the car.
These efforts had a marked effect in delaying the pursuers, for their
smoke and whistle soon ceased to disturb us. But while running at this
violent rate we had passed Resaca and thought it prudent to again cut
the telegraph. While stopping for this purpose the writer took a rail
which had been bent in lifting it, and placed it so that one end was
held firmly under the track, and the other projected at a little
elevation, towards the pursuing train. This was not more than
accomplished when that train was heard again, and we mounted our engine
and sped onward. As the rail was small and dark, the enemy ran right on
it before it was observed, and Fuller afterwards declared that if it had
been a little lower, it would have been sure to wreck them. But as it
was, the end struck the edge of the car, and it was knocked harmlessly
from the track.
Above Tilton we succeeded in getting a full supply of water from the
tank. This was most welcome, as the water was nearly exhausted. The
wood-station was at another place, and as our supply ran low we threw on
fence-rails or any other available fuel whenever stopping to cut the
wires.
Our condition was now widely different and more unfavorable than it was
a short time before. With only one car, and that almost torn to pieces,
even the magnificent coolness and self-possession of Andrews could
scarcely avert suspicion at any station where we might be driven to
halt. And with all our efforts we could never get much more than out of
sight of our pursuers. The time required for cutting wires and spent in
trying to take up track compensated almost exactly for the time our
pursuers spent in removing the obstructions we continued to throw before
them. With all their efforts they could not get within easy gunshot of
us; neither could we distance them far enough for the decisive operation
of burning a bridge. The relation of the two parties was peculiar and
well defined. Each party soon came to recognize the strength and
weakness which belonged to its own situation. With their better engine
it would have been comparatively easy for our pursuers to come near
enough to pick off man after man with their guns, while entirely out of
reach of our revolvers. But had they come up so close, any obstruction
we might have placed on the track would have been terribly efficient. As
long as we possessed cross-ties or anything large enough to wreck a
train they were bound to keep a respectful distance. The most favorable
position for them was just far enough in the rear to see when we stopped
or threw anything on the track, thus enabling them to check up in time.
They dared not come nearer than this while we were in rapid motion, but
they were often farther behind.
Mile after mile the terrible chase continued. Station after station was
passed without the least lessening of speed. The idlers about the
platforms started back in amazement and affright when they saw a train
dash by like a thunderbolt, closely followed by three others, the latter
screaming as loudly as their whistles were able. To us, who were looking
out from the baggage-car, houses and villages, groves and hills, flashed
by almost too quickly for distinct vision. Then, in the hottest speed,
the whistle would sound "down brakes," and the stop--usually made by
reversing the engine--would be so sudden that we needed to cling
convulsively to avoid being hurled from our places; then, in a moment,
we would spring to the ground and labor with the energy of despair at
destroying the telegraph and the track, or loading on ties, until the
signal,--usually from behind, given by the pursuing train,--when all
would rush on board, and the engine, putting its full strength into the
first leap, would dash on, jerking from their feet all who were not
braced for the shock. When under way we could not sit down because of
the terrible jolting of the springless car. If we attempted to stand we
fell over or were thrown against the little that remained of the sides
of the car, and had to be very watchful not to be thrown off altogether.
Our actual position was a rapid alternation of all possible attitudes,
the favorite being--judging from the frequency with which it was
assumed--that of bending over with the hands and feet resting on the
floor.
Those who were on the engine had a better opportunity of observing all
that was passing. Alfred Wilson, who acted as our fireman, gives a vivid
picture of the race from that point of view. He says,--
"Our locomotive was under a full head of steam. The engineer
stood with his hand on the lever with the valve wide open. It
was frightful to see how the powerful iron monster under us
would leap forward under the revolution of her great wheels.
Brown (the engineer) would scream to me ever and anon, 'Give
her more wood, Alf!' which command was promptly obeyed. She
rocked and reeled like a drunken man, while we reeled from side
to side like grains of pop-corn in a hot frying-pan. It was
bewildering to look at the ground or objects on the roadside. A
constant stream of fire ran from the rims of the great wheels,
and to this day I shudder when I reflect on that, my first and
last locomotive ride. We sped past stations, houses, and
fields, and were out of sight almost like a meteor, while the
bystanders, who barely caught a glimpse of us as we passed,
looked on as if in both fear and amazement. It has always been
a wonder to me that our locomotive and cars kept the track at
all, or how they could possibly stay on the track. At times the
iron horse seemed to literally fly over the course, the
driving-wheels of one side being lifted from the rails much of
the distance over which we now sped with a velocity fearful to
contemplate."
But swift running alone could not save us. In a mere trial of speed
between the two engines we were sure in the end to be worsted. To wreck
the pursuing train was our great object, and to that end we employed
every expedient we could devise. By this time we had a few more
track-raising instruments, which Andrews and Wilson had simultaneously
taken from some switch-tenders. Earlier in the race they would have been
worth their weight in gold, but it was now too late. Even with their
help we could take up a rail no quicker than the Confederates, with
ample supplies of rails, instruments, and trained workmen, could lay
another down. All the efforts we made in this direction were a mere
waste of time.
But the swiftness of pursuit was carrying both parties over long spaces.
The next station of importance that lay before us was Dalton, and this
place, twenty-two miles from Calhoun, was soon reached. This was the
largest town we had approached since starting in the morning. It was the
junction of another road which led to Cleveland, on the main line to
Richmond. It had a further and terrible interest to us, in the knowledge
that there we would learn whether our character had really been
telegraphed ahead of us by the way of the coast lines and Richmond. But
if it had, we would learn it too late to make the knowledge of any
service. We would find a military force ready to receive us at the
depot, and our race would be run. Yet we approached cautiously, ready,
if there were any suspicious indications, to reverse the engine at once
and run back towards the pursuing train, with the intention of getting
out of the town and trying to escape through the fields. But we saw no
more than the usual number of persons about the depot, and Andrews at
once leaped from the engine, examined the switch, which was adjusted to
throw a train on the Cleveland fork of the road, had it changed, and
answered all questions as coolly and composedly as ever. The whole had
to be done very promptly, as the appearance of our poor battered train
was sadly against us, and we knew that in a town the size of Dalton it
would be easy to find force enough for our arrest. Besides, it was sure
that in a few seconds Fuller and his tireless band would appear on the
scene. In no period of this eventful day does the courage and
self-control of Andrews shine out more brightly than in the manner in
which he here caused the persons about the depot in a moment to obey his
orders and believe his story, even while thinking it possible that they
might have previous information of his designs, and be only waiting the
arrival of assistance to destroy him. The pursuing train was heard as
expected. Before our foes came near enough to reveal our character
everything was arranged, and taking the left-hand road, that which led
directly to Chattanooga, we again darted forward.
This was, however, a decisive point in the race. When we thus passed
Dalton without having destroyed our pursuers, we knew that all hope of
passing through Chattanooga with our engine must be abandoned. All
uneasiness on account of a possible telegram from Richmond was at an
end, but there was a nearer danger, which defined the limits beyond
which we could no longer hope to pass. There was a line of telegraph
along each of the diverging railroads. We could destroy but one of
these, and it was certain that as soon as Fuller and his friends arrived
at Dalton and told their story, warning would be sent ahead of us by the
other road. This will explain what some accounts have left
doubtful,--our neglect to cut the wire immediately after leaving Dalton.
It made no practical difference to us whether the fatal message was sent
directly to Chattanooga and all intermediate stations, or whether it
went by the way of Cleveland and Chattanooga and then back to the
stations on our line. The distance was twice as great in thus
telegraphing around two sides of a triangle, but this counted for
nothing when lightning was the messenger. Our only resource was in the
fact that we were now counting nearly as many miles as minutes, and
that we might be far on our way towards Chattanooga, and possibly have
some bridges burned, before preparation could be made for stopping us.
As a last resource, we now fully expected to have to take to the woods
on foot.
Fuller well knew the decisive advantage he would have at Dalton. As he
neared that station he wrote the following dispatch and gave it to the
young operator he had taken up at Calhoun, with instructions to put it
through to Chattanooga, both ways, with the least possible delay. It
proves--if it were not afterwards written from memory and unconsciously
modified--how correctly he had already estimated the character of the
men he was chasing. This sagacity is scarcely less wonderful than the
daring with which he encountered and overcame so many obstacles.
Fuller's Telegram.
"TO GENERAL LEADBETTER, Commander at Chattanooga:
"My train was captured this A.M. at Big Shanty, evidently by
Federal soldiers in disguise. They are making rapidly for
Chattanooga, possibly with the idea of burning the railroad
bridges in their rear. If I do not capture them in the mean
time see that they do not pass Chattanooga.
"WILLIAM A. FULLER."
Two miles above Dalton we stopped and obstructed the track, and once
more cut the telegraph wire. The latter was of slight importance, but
Wilson and others urged it upon Andrews, and he did not wish to
discourage them by telling them that it was now useless. But the removal
of a rail might have been of more value by giving us time for burning
some of the bridges, which are very numerous on this part of the road.
This stop was made in plain sight of a Confederate regiment commanded by
a Colonel Glen. The work to be done, however, demanded too much speed
for us to apprehend their interference. But before the rail could be
more than loosened, the pursuers, who had halted at Dalton for even a
shorter time than we had, were upon us again, and we once more mounted
our engine and sped onward. The telegram was sent ahead by this line as
well as the other a minute or two before the wire was severed. It
created a terrible excitement in Chattanooga, but did us no real damage.
Both the pursuing trains were near us when we entered the great tunnel
north of Dalton. Our supply of cross-ties was unfortunately exhausted,
or they might have proved very serviceable in the darkness. In fearful
proximity and with unabated speed the tunnel was passed. Murphy declares
that he was quite relieved when he saw by the gleam of light ahead that
our engine was passing on, for he had quite made up his mind that we
would attack them or drive our engine back upon them in the darkness.
But no such plan had entered our thoughts. We would far have preferred a
fight in open day.
We now resolved to play what had been reserved as our last card. Running
more slowly to economize fuel,--though a high velocity was still
maintained,--we tried to light a fire in our only remaining car. It was
already open at both ends, and now as much of the sides and top as could
possibly be obtained was also torn off and prepared for fuel. The
attempt to light these splinters by matches did not succeed, for the
wind caused by the rapid motion blew them out. Fire was then brought
back from the engine, but this seemed to smoulder rather than burn, for
the rain, which fell in torrents, blew through the unprotected car, and
all the boards were soaking wet. Never did kindling a fire seem so
difficult. When at length it fairly caught, and began to burn briskly,
our dampened hopes began to brighten in sympathy with it. Might it not
be that our persistent struggle against ill-fortune was to win the
victory even yet? Just then a long covered bridge was approached, which
it was desirable on every account to burn. All of our party, whom the
heat had not already driven forward, were ordered into the nearly empty
tender, and the car was uncoupled in the middle of the bridge. We did
not leave it hastily, but stopped near the farther end of the bridge to
watch the result in breathless anxiety. We had scarcely halted when the
black smoke of the nearest pursuer was seen, and he bore down upon us at
full speed. We were very loth to leave our position. We could see that
the flame was rising higher, but could also see that the enemy's train
had a large number of men on board, some of whom had firearms. Oh, what
would we not have given for a few of the muskets we had left in camp, to
have held our position for even a few minutes, or even one minute! But
our situation was too unfavorable to allow more than a momentary thought
of resistance. At long range we were virtually unarmed. But we lingered
still, until we saw the enemy pushing our blazing car before them over
the bridge; then, being in reach of their firearms, and but poorly
protected in our engine and tender, we again sought safety in flight.
They pushed the blazing car before them to the first side track, which
happened not to be far away, and then left it to burn at its leisure.
Thus our forlorn hope expired.
But not all of the adventurers were willing to accept defeat even yet. A
halt was made--the last--for the sake of again obstructing the track,
and getting a few sticks of wood that lay near the track to replenish
the waning fire of our engine. Some of the number, from the force of
habit more than anything else, began to take up a rail. The writer then
suggested to Andrews a simple plan, which, at this late hour, still
offered a glimmering hope. Could we throw the pursuers off the track, we
might burn a few bridges yet, though the most important had been left
behind us, and we could no longer hope to run our engine through
Chattanooga. This attempt would have been more full of peril than any
other of the day, with the possible exception of the first seizure of
the train; but its success would have turned the tables on our enemies
overwhelmingly. With sufficient promptness and desperation it might have
succeeded, while its failure would only have ended a hopeless struggle,
exchanging certain and immediate death for whatever faint chances of
escape might otherwise remain after the train was abandoned. There had
been many hints on the part of the soldiers that we were running away
from the enemy too many times, and that it would be better to fight, but
this was the first definite proposal. The suggestion was to use our
remaining fuel in once more running out of sight of the enemy, then,
selecting a place for ambuscade in the low, thick-set bushes that
frequently came close to the road, to obstruct the track in our usual
manner. When this was done, all of us, except one of the engineers,
could hide, in such a position as to be abreast of the enemy when he
stopped to remove the obstructions. Our own engineer could wait until
the pursuers were in sight, and then start off as usual, but slowly, so
as to keep their attention fixed upon his train. We had several times
noticed how, in the case of an obstruction, the Confederates had checked
their headlong career, sprang to the ground even before the train had
stopped fully, and worked furiously at clearing the track. This would be
our opportunity for rushing forth. We could shoot down all who were on
the engine or the ground, while one of our reserve engineers sprang on
the engine and threw it back at full speed, jumping off as it started.
The result could scarcely have failed to be a fatal collision with the
next pursuing train, which was never far behind. Then we would have been
free from pursuit, and left only to reckon with the forces ahead. The
place and manner of leaving the train could then have been selected at
our leisure. We afterwards learned that no preparation had been made to
receive us farther south than Boyce's Station, some three miles from
Chattanooga. There a strong military force had been posted, the track
torn up, and cannon planted. But we would never have ventured so near
Chattanooga after knowing that a message had been sent ahead of us at
Dalton. Our original hope had been to get so far ahead of all pursuit as
to pass Chattanooga before the pursuers had reached Dalton. Then the
junction of roads at the latter point would not have been an
embarrassment to us, as will be made clear by a reference to the map.
Andrews said that the plan, of which a hint was given in a few rapid
words, was good and worth trying. But the one great defect in his
character as a leader came to the surface in this emergency. This was a
disposition to turn everything carefully over in his mind before
deciding. There was no time for reflection now. The Confederate whistle
sounded, and our men, without waiting for the word of command, so
accustomed had they become to this manoeuvre, mounted the engine and
sped away. Andrews bitterly regretted afterwards that this last
expedient was not tried. With this exception, I do not know of anything
more that could have been devised, beyond what we actually attempted.
One object only could now be attained by clinging longer to the train,
the speedy abandonment of which was inevitable. Andrews wished to
shorten the distance to our own lines as much as possible, so that the
slender chance of escaping through the woods and mountains might be
increased. It was far easier to travel on the engine than to run or
skulk through the country on foot. It was better to continue this mode
of locomotion as long as possible, or until we were carried as near
Chattanooga as it was prudent to venture. The old lightning rate of
running could not be maintained, but we were still moving swiftly. The
engine was in a bad state, and really incapable of much further service.
The fuel, too, was gone. For some time we had been reduced to the
fragments that had been torn off the cars before they were dropped, and
to what we had gathered up along the roadside. Now all that remained of
a combustible character was crowded into the fire-box for the last pull.
Andrews had always kept with him from the time we first met him at the
midnight consultation a mysterious and well-filled pair of saddle-bags.
These, of which he had been very careful, and which were supposed to
contain important and compromising documents, were now added to the
fire. It was a signal, if any were needed, that the time had now come to
prepare for the worst. Andrews and three others--Brown, Knight, and
Alfred Wilson--were now on the engine, and the remaining sixteen were
huddled together on the tender. At no time since the writer had proposed
attacking the pursuing train had he been in a position to urge the
attempt on Andrews, and it was now too late. But another decision was
arrived at on the engine against which some of us on the tender would
have protested with all our energy had the opportunity been offered.
Alfred Wilson, whose opinion was directly opposite to that of George D.
Wilson and the writer, says,--
"A few minutes before we came to the final halt, Andrews,
Brown, Knight, and myself hastily discussed as to the best
thing to be done, and it was concluded that the best course was
to separate and scatter in all directions."
This fatal decision arose from two causes. Andrews, with all his
courage, never rightly valued fighting men. He preferred accomplishing
his objects by stratagem and in secrecy rather than by open force. It
was simply wonderful that in all the exigencies of this expedition no
one of his soldiers had been permitted to fire a single shot, or even to
draw a revolver upon the enemy. He now considered that when scattered
each one, as well as himself, would be able to find concealment, or if
captured, to evade detection by false stories. This was a great mistake.
The second reason for adopting this fatal course was the belief that the
scattering of the party would also scatter pursuit, and make it less
eager in any one direction. Under ordinary circumstances such would have
been the result. But the terror and the fierce resentment aroused by the
daring character of our enterprise caused the whole country to burst
into a blaze of excitement, and the pursuit to be pushed with equal
energy for scores of miles in every direction.
An opposite course would have been far more hopeful. We were but twelve
or fifteen miles from Chattanooga. Twenty miles of travel to the
northwest would have placed us on the opposite bank of the Tennessee
River, among the loyal mountaineers of the district. If we had remained
together we could have traversed that broken and wooded country which
lay before us as rapidly as any pursuing soldiers. No body of citizens
not perfectly organized and armed would have ventured to halt us.
Cavalry pursuit away from the main roads was impossible. Besides, one of
our party possessed a pocket-compass, and two others, besides Andrews,
were somewhat acquainted with the country. The writer is convinced that
we might have left the cars in a body, and without even attempting
concealment, but only avoiding the public roads, have hurried directly
towards Mitchel's lines, and within forty-eight hours have been safe in
his camp.
But we can neither wonder at nor blame the mistake made by our leader on
this occasion, though it led to months of wretchedness and the death of
many of the party. Andrews had met each new emergency with heroic
calmness and unfailing resources; but he was now physically exhausted.
He had been engaged in the most intense and harassing labor for many
days, being without sleep for the past thirty hours and without food for
twenty. An error in action was therefore most natural and excusable,
even if it disagreed with the course which had been marked out in calmer
moments. Wilson says,--
"Andrews now told us all that it was 'every man for himself;'
that we must scatter and do the best we could to escape to the
Federal lines."
This, then, was the formal dissolution of the expedition by the order of
its leader. When we were brought together again under widely different
circumstances, we were simply a collection of soldiers, and while we
respected the judgment and advice of Andrews, we no longer considered
that we owed him military obedience.
As Conductor Fuller now disappears from our story, where he has been so
conspicuous, and where his energy, skill, and daring shine in such
brilliant colors, a few words may be appropriately devoted to his work
and subsequent history. All the evidence goes to show that the
Confederacy had no other available man who could have saved the bridges
on the Western and Atlantic Railroad that day. With the exception of
himself and his two companions, who were in a sense subordinate to him,
though their services were of very high value, no other person seemed
capable of planning or doing anything whatever. With a conductor of less
energy in the place of this man, the probabilities are that we would
have had the whole day uninterruptedly for the accomplishment of our
task. But for Fuller's daring and perseverance the extra trains would
have but added to the number of wrecks along the line as one after
another ran upon the places where the track had been torn up; while the
burning of the bridges and the loss of telegraphic communications would
have diffused a universal panic.
The Legislature of Georgia gave Fuller a vote of thanks for his
brilliant services, and instructed the governor to bestow upon him a
gold medal; but, as he laughingly said years after, "Gold was so scarce
in the South that it was hard to find enough for a medal. It was
therefore postponed for a time, and then came the final collapse of the
Confederacy, and I got nothing." The Confederate authorities gave him
the rank of captain by brevet. Of course, the Federal government could
not recognize services rendered against itself of however striking
character. No one of the adventurers ever expressed any malice towards
Conductor Fuller, believing that he simply did what he regarded as his
duty. He retained his place as conductor until the whole road passed
under the control of General Sherman, when he enlisted in the army.
After seeing considerable military service, he was directed by the
Confederate government to take charge of the rolling-stock of the
Western and Atlantic Railroad, and keep it out of the hands of the
Federals. He removed it to various parts of Georgia and South Carolina
as the exigencies of the war and the narrowing territory of the
Confederacy required. Finally, when the supremacy of the Union was
restored, he brought it back to Atlanta and surrendered it to Federal
authority. He afterwards resumed his place as conductor on the same
road, and remained in that situation until 1875, when he located as a
merchant in Atlanta. Here for many years he delighted in talking over
this day of wild adventure.
Of his two companions, Cain continued for more than twenty years as an
engineer on the same road, while Murphy built up a prosperous business
as a lumberman in Atlanta.