A NIGHT IN THE WOODS.
Many persons, on hearing an account of this unparalleled chase, have
suggested one expedient by which they imagine the fugitive Federals
might have destroyed their enemy and accomplished their own purpose.
"Why did you not," they say, "reverse your own engine and then jump from
it, thus allowing it to knock the pursuing train from the track?" There
were good reasons against that course. Such critics might as well ask a
man who has ascended half-way up out of a well in a bucket why he does
not cut the rope over his head for the sake of crushing somebody at the
bottom of the well. That engine was the basis of all our hopes, and we
could not think of abandoning it until the direst extremity. At the last
moment, however, this attempt to reverse the engine for the purpose of
securing a collision was made. This final effort was unavailing. The
steam power was so nearly exhausted that the locomotive moved backward
very slowly, and accomplished nothing beyond delaying the pursuit on
foot for a very few moments. The pursuing train had no difficulty in
also reversing and running back a little way until the captured engine
came to a dead standstill. Indeed, the hard service of the engine had
very nearly destroyed it, even before we thus flung it back at the
enemy. A Confederate account says, "Their rapid running and inattention
to their engine had melted all the brass from their journals." Wilson is
still more graphic,--
"I could liken her condition to nothing else than the last
struggles of a faithful horse, whose heartless master has
driven and lashed him until he is gasping for breath, and
literally dying in the harness. The powerful machine had
carried us safely for more than a hundred miles, some of the
time at a rate of speed appalling to contemplate, but she was
becoming helpless and useless in our service. She was shaken
loose in every joint, at least she seemed so; the brass on her
journals and boxes was melted by the heat; her great steel
tires were almost red-hot, while she smoked and sizzled at
every joint. Our race was almost run."
We are not able to give an account of the time occupied by us in the
different parts of this long and fearful race. The general impression of
a frightful rate of speed is, however, fully borne out by one fact,
which rests on the authority of the engineer of the "Texas," and I am
not sure that this simple statement is not more eloquent than the most
vivid word-pictures of our chase. It is simply that he ran the distance
of fifty and one-half miles, made all the stops at stations for
explanations and reinforcements, as well as to remove obstructions and
to switch off the cars we dropped, in the space of _sixty-five minutes_.
This calm and definite statement, which I have never heard disputed,
implies an average velocity, when in motion, of not less than a mile per
minute! That such a speed could be attained upon a crooked road, laid
with old iron rails, and with the utmost efforts of an enemy in front to
obstruct the track, seems little less than miraculous.
But to return to the direct story. When the final and fatal command to
disperse was given, the soldiers, still obedient to orders, jumped off
one by one, and ran, either singly or in small groups, towards the
shelter of the woods. The greater number fled in a western direction.
No time was lost by the enemy in organizing a most vigorous pursuit.
This would have had little terrors if conducted only by the men on the
pursuing trains. Some of these did join in it, but their part was
insignificant. In an incredibly short space of time the whole country
was aroused. The telegraph, no longer disabled, flashed alarm in every
direction. Horsemen scoured at full speed along every highway, shouting
their exaggerated stories to every passing traveller and to every house
and village. The whole population for scores of miles on every side of
Chattanooga seemed to have abandoned every other occupation, and devoted
themselves exclusively to the work of hunting the fugitive Union
soldiers. Each ferry and cross-road was picketed, while armed bands
explored the sides of every mountain, and searched out every valley. The
people, or at least the great part of those who thus engaged in this
terrible man-hunt in the woods, were not novices in the work, and
employed the most efficient agencies. The dark institution of slavery
rendered the work of hunting down fugitive men very familiar. One of the
points in which there is a strange conflict of testimony between
Northern and Southern witnesses is in relation to the employment of
blood-hounds in the pursuit of Union soldiers, especially when
endeavoring to escape from prison. The writer wishes to be perfectly
candid in this story, and can imagine one explanation of this
discrepancy. Possibly the cause of the dispute is to be found in the use
of the word "blood-hound." The pure-blooded Spanish blood-hound, a
ferocious and terrible beast, is comparatively rare in the Southern
States. But hounds, which were used for tracking men, and some of which
were very large and fierce, were very common. To a poor man, whether
white or black, flying for his life through some lonely wood, who hears,
through the darkness of the night, the baying of a pack of hounds on his
track, and knows that their fangs will soon be fixed in his flesh, it is
little comfort to reflect that the deadly beasts are probably only
mongrels and not of the pure Spanish breed! Hounds were freely employed
in searching for the members of our party, and we felt our blood chill
with horror as we listened to their baying. Escape by concealment for
any considerable length of time was scarcely possible. Rapid flight over
the roughest part of the country was the only alternative, and this was
far from hopeful. The adventurers were so widely dispersed that no
collective narrative of their perilous wanderings is practicable. Yet
many circumstances were common to all the members of the party. The
drenching rain, which continued to fall, added greatly to our
discomfort, and was at once a help and a hindrance. It rendered the
tracking dogs much less efficient, and frequently threw them off the
track altogether, but prevented us from travelling by the sun and stars;
and, as we had no other guide, the flight of the greater number became a
mere aimless wandering through the woods,--sometimes even in a circle.
The endurance of indescribable suffering from cold, hunger, and fatigue
was also an experience common to all who eluded capture for any
considerable period. The expectation of a violent death immediately on
capture and detection was shared by all. The only mode of giving an
adequate impression of this painful but deeply interesting part of the
history will be to narrate with some detail the adventures of a few of
those groups, which will best serve as specimens of all. I offer my own
experience first; not that it is more interesting than others,--indeed,
it is greatly surpassed in number and variety of adventures by the
narratives of Dorsey and Wilson,--but because it is easier to tell my
own experience,--that strange weird period of hunting in the woods and
mountains of Georgia, in which I was the game,--a period which stands
out alone in memory separated from all former and after life!
On leaving the train the writer was alone, and for a moment his heart
sank within him. No one happened to strike off in the same direction,
and, although some of the fugitives might have been overtaken or fallen
in with, yet the wish was strong to accompany the same band who had been
associated on the southward journey. In looking for these the
opportunity of going with any of the other adventurers was lost. Indeed,
I hardly wished to have any other companions, as the remainder were
comparative strangers, and their trustworthiness had not yet been
thoroughly approved. At that time I knew nothing of the locality in
which I found myself,--whether it was fifteen or fifty miles from
Chattanooga,--nor had I the most indefinite idea of the character of the
country. I only knew that our army and territory lay north or northwest;
but as the sun did not shine, I had no means of determining the points
of the compass.
The train was still moving when I jumped off,--fast enough to make me
perform several inconvenient gyrations on reaching the ground. As soon
as I could stand firmly I looked about for a moment, and endeavored to
grasp the situation and determine what to do. I had not anticipated that
the train would be abandoned and we dispersed in the woods; but, on the
contrary, had relied on being under the orders of a leader until we
should succeed or perish. Now I was thrown entirely on my own resources,
without even a conscious reliance on the protection of God. I cannot
recall even breathing a prayer in this trying moment. Yet, in a dim way,
I did feel that I was not utterly forsaken. One glance round the
horizon--a swift balancing of the few elements of the problem that were
within my reach--and then hurried flight was all time permitted. Most of
my comrades were in advance of me. Three of them had taken the eastern
side of the railroad, the remainder the opposite side. In my judgment
the latter was best, and, following their example, I soon reached the
cover of stunted pines that grew near. Feeling the necessity of getting
some start before the enemy could arrange for pursuit, I continued to
run at right angles away from the railroad. A little brook that ran
parallel to the railroad was soon passed, and I pressed on up the long,
steep, and open slope of a hill on its opposite side. Running up-hill
was too severe to be maintained long, and I was obliged to drop into a
walk in plain view of the enemy. Each step was fatiguing, and my limbs
seemed made of lead. This greatly augmented my fears. It was more like
trying to run away from danger in a nightmare than any waking sensation.
I saw three of my comrades not far away on the left, and, urging my
failing strength to the utmost, tried to overtake them, but in vain.
This was a great disappointment, for I dreaded solitude above all
things, and wanted the support of sympathy. I knew that pursuit would be
rapid and instantaneous, and could hear shouts from the pursuing trains,
which had now reached the spot and were discharging a host of enemies.
Every breeze that sighed through the branches of the naked forest
sounded like the trampling of cavalry.
The country was rough and uneven. On the bottoms and by the streams, as
well as on the steep mountains, were a few pines; but on the slopes and
tops of the hills, which here are a low continuation of the Cumberland
range, the timber is mostly of oak and other varieties, which were not
then in foliage. This was a great disadvantage, because it left no
hiding-place and exposed us to the watchful eyes of our enemies.
As I struggled up the hill-side the sense of faintness and exhaustion
passed away, and with strength hope came again. Nothing in this chase
seems stranger than the manner in which my strength ebbed and flowed.
When seemingly utterly powerless, without rest, food, or sleep, vigor
came back again on more than one occasion, and the new supply would last
for hours. My more rapid pace soon carried me over the hill-top and down
to the bend of a little river, which I subsequently learned was the
Chickamauga,--the witness, afterwards, of one of the most desperate
battles of the war. It was then swollen by the continuous rains, and for
some time I searched along its banks in vain for a crossing-place.
Believing that death was behind, I finally committed myself to the
turbulent stream, and succeeded in getting over, but only to find that
before me the bank rose in an almost perpendicular precipice of
shelving rock not less than one hundred feet in height. I dared not
recross the stream, for I knew the enemy could not be far behind, and I
therefore clambered up the precipice. Several times, when near the top,
did I feel my grasp giving way, but as often some bush or projecting
rock afforded me the means of saving myself. While thus swinging up the
bare rocks, I could not help thinking what a fine mark I presented if
any of the enemy, with guns, should happen to arrive on the opposite
bank! At last, after imminent danger, I reached the top, again utterly
exhausted, pulled myself out of sight, and sank down to breathe for a
while.
I had been without breakfast or dinner, and had spent not only that day
but many preceding ones in the most fatiguing exertion. Enemies were on
every side. There was no guide even in the direction of home, for the
sun still lingered behind an impenetrable veil.
While musing on this unenviable situation in which I found myself, a
dreadful sound brought me to my feet and sent the blood leaping wildly
through my veins. It was the distant baying of a blood-hound! A moment's
reflection would have made it certain that in the existing state of
Southern customs dogs would have been used to track fugitives in the
woods. It was a mere every-day incident of slavery. But this
consideration brought no comfort. Alone in the woods of Georgia, the
horror of being hunted with dogs was indescribable.
A few moments' listening confirmed my worst fears. They were after us
with their blood-hounds! not one pack alone, but all in the country, as
the widening circle from which their dismal baying echoed revealed but
too plainly. There was no longer safety in idleness. Yet the fearful
sound was not without use in supplying a guide to flight, and I am now
convinced that throughout the whole chase the dogs were of more real
service to us than to our pursuers, as they rendered a surprise less
probable. But none the less did they add to the repulsiveness and terror
of our position.
Away across the hills and streams I sped, I know not how far,--I only
know that the noise of the dogs grew fainter as the evening wore on. I
had distanced them and began to breathe more freely. I even indulged the
hope of being able to work my way ultimately to the Federal lines. Had
the clouds permitted travelling by the sun and stars, this hope might
have been realized.
As I descended the long slope of a wooded hill into a solitary valley, I
saw a rude hut, with a man working in a cultivated patch beside it.
Believing that he could not yet have heard of our adventure, I
determined to risk something in order to get information. I also felt
sure that one man could not arrest me. Approaching, I asked the road to
Chattanooga, and the distance. He pointed the way, and told me that it
was eight miles. Adding this information to the general knowledge I had
of the geography of that district, it gave me some notion of my
whereabouts. I did not wish to get any nearer the rebel town, as I
rightly judged that in its vicinity pursuit would be most vigorous, but
I continued my journey in that direction until out of sight, when I
climbed the hill at right angles to my former course. This course was
maintained for some hours, when an incident occurred which would have
been amusing but for the fearful perils environing me.
I had often heard of lost persons travelling in a circle, but never gave
much credit to such stories. Now, I had the proof of their credibility.
I believe philosophers explain the phenomenon by saying that one side of
the body has a little more vigor than the other, and that when we have
no guide to direct us, the stronger side (usually the right), by its
tendency to go ahead of the other side, gradually turns us in the
opposite direction. In other words, the right foot outwalks the left,
and thus, like a carriage-horse swifter than its mate in a driverless
team, can only describe perpetual circles until the will-power again
takes hold of the reins. But at this time I had never heard of such
theories, and the following experiences presented themselves to my mind
as an inexplicable and terrifying fatality.
I had crossed a road and left it for something like an hour, during
which time I walked very fast, when to my surprise I came to the same
place again. I was considerably annoyed thus to lose my labor, but
struck over the hill in what I now supposed to be the right direction.
Judge of my astonishment and alarm when, after an hour or more of hard
walking, I found myself again at precisely the same spot! So much time
had been lost that the barking of the dogs now sounded very loud and
near. I was perplexed beyond measure and seemingly hopelessly entangled.
A few steps brought me to a stream that was recognized as having been
crossed hours before. In sheer desperation I took the first road that
appeared, and followed it almost regardless of where it led or who was
met. Previously I had kept away from the roads, and sought the most
secluded route. But the risk of meeting any tangible enemy was
preferable to being the sport of that bewildering chance which seemed to
be drifting me around in a remorseless whirlpool.
Thus I pressed forward till the rainy, dreary evening deepened into
night. I recall no thoughts of prayer, no feeling of dependence upon an
infinite mercy beyond the clouds. All the memory I have of mental
processes is that there was a fixed, iron-like resolve to use every
power of body and mind to escape, and in perfect calmness to await the
result. I intended to do all in my own power for safety and then perish,
if it must be so, with the feeling that I was not responsible for it.
The reader, a little farther on, will find that this feeling was so
powerful that I did not shrink from any sacrifice of truth, or even from
enlistment in the rebel army. For me the stake was life or death. I
would win if my power could by any means be stretched so far; if not, I
would pay the forfeit when I must.
It was not perfectly dark, for there was a moon beyond the clouds, and,
as I heard a wagon approaching, I stepped to the bushes beside the road
and accosted the driver. His voice assured me that he was a negro, and I
made bold to get from him as much information as possible. Words cannot
describe the flood of disappointment, vexation, and anger that swept
over my bosom when I found I was within four miles of Chattanooga,--that
town which I regarded as the lion's mouth! So far as I had a plan it was
to leave this place far to my right, and strike the Tennessee River
twelve or fifteen miles farther down-stream. I hoped to do this, and to
cross over the river by floating on some dry branch of a tree before
morning. If the stars came out, so that I could travel a straight
course, this hope was not unreasonable. But near Chattanooga, however,
all the river would be watched and the country around strictly
patrolled. But if discouraged by the manner in which I seemed attracted
towards the rebel headquarters, despair was useless; so, learning the
direction both of Ringgold and Chattanooga from the negro, who, like all
of his color, was ready to do anything for fugitives, with whom he had a
fellow-feeling (though I did not make my true character known to him), I
pressed forward through the rain and mud. As the road did not lead in
the right direction, I again travelled in the fields and woods.
For some time I felt sure of having the right course in my head and
hurried on. But when I had crossed a large field of deadened timber I
was completely lost. Soon, however, I reached a road which seemed to
lead right, and followed it with renewed vigor for several miles. At
length I met three men on horseback. It was too dark to tell whether
they were negroes or white men, but I ventured to ask them,--
"How far is it to Chattanooga?"
"_Three miles!_"
"Is this the right road?"
"Yes, sah, right ahead."
These, probably, were men sent out to search for the railroad
adventurers, and they did not try to arrest me because I had accosted
them so boldly and was going directly towards Chattanooga.
But it was evident I was again on the wrong road. Indeed, so hopelessly
bewildered was I that it seemed impossible to travel any but the wrong
road. As soon as the horsemen were out of sight I turned and followed
them three or four miles, until I came to a large road running at right
angles with my own, which terminated where it entered the other. I
deliberated some time as to which end of this new road I should take.
These mountain-roads are fearfully crooked, and the one I had been
travelling bent too often to give me the direction even of the dreaded
Chattanooga.
Many a time had I wished for a sight of the moon and stars. Long before
the clash of arms had been heard in our peaceful land, before the
thunder of battle had filled a nation with weeping, astronomy had been
my favorite study, and I had often longed for the parting of the clouds,
that, with my telescope, I might gaze on the wonders of the world above.
But never did I bend so anxious an eye to the darkened firmament as in
my solitary wanderings over the Georgia hills that memorable night. All
in vain! No North Star appeared to point with beam of hope to the land
of the free!
But at length I made choice, and, as usual, on this night chose wrong.
After I had gone a long distance the moon did for a moment break through
a rift in the clouds and pour her welcome light down on the dark forest
through which I was passing. That one glance was enough to show me that
I was heading towards the railroad I had left in the morning. Even then
the light was a compensation for all the disappointment, but in a
moment it withdrew and the rain fell again in torrents. Wearily I turned
and retraced my tedious steps, hoping in vain for another glimpse of the
moon.
One of my feet had been injured by an accident three months before, and
now pained me exceedingly. Still I dragged myself along. My nerves had
become exhausted by the long-continued tension they had endured, and now
played me many fantastic tricks, which became more marked as the night
wore on. I passed the place where the wrong choice of roads had been
made, and still toiled ahead.
I was thinly clad, and as the wind, which had risen and was now blowing
quite hard, drove the falling showers against me, my teeth chattered
with the piercing cold. I passed many houses, and feared the barking of
the dogs might betray me to watchers within; but my fears were
groundless. The storm, which was then howling fearfully through the
trees, served to keep most of those who would have sought my life
within-doors. For a time I seemed to have the lonely, fearful, stormy
night to myself.
At last all thoughts gave way to the imperative need of rest. I reeled
to a large log not far from the road, on the edge of a small patch of
woodland, and crawling close under the side of it, not so much for
shelter from the driving rain as for concealment from my worse dreaded
human foes, I slept in peace.
Up to the time of this profound and dreamless sleep the incidents of
that terrible night are graven on my memory as with a pen of fire. But
after waking I found a marvellous change, and the next experience of the
night floats in memory with all the voluptuous splendor of an
opium-dream. Had I been at all disposed to superstition, I would have
had room enough to indulge it. A rational view of religion would have
enabled me to recognize the manner in which a Merciful Father interposed
to relieve my sufferings,--an interposition not less real or effective
because, as I still believe, purely natural. But at that time I was
indisposed to admit other than the material explanation. The want of
sleep, fatigue, dampness, hunger, and intense mental tension were enough
to cause a mild species of delirium. But the character of this was
surely extraordinary, affecting as it did the senses and imagination
only, and leaving the reason and will altogether untouched. I was as
rational--as able to plan, and far more able to execute, during this
singular psychological experience than before. But let me narrate facts
and leave the reader to his own explanations.
I cannot tell how long sleep continued, but I wakened perfectly in an
instant, and with a full realization of my position. But, in addition to
this, I seemed to hear some person whisper, as plainly as ever I heard a
human voice,--
"Shoot him! shoot him! Let us shoot him before he wakes!"
My first impression was that a party of rebels had discovered me in my
hiding-place, and that my last moment on earth had come. But the next
thought brought a new suspicion, and I cautiously opened my eyes to see
if my senses were really playing me false.
Directly before me stood a bush or small tree. The first glance showed
me a tree and nothing more. The next glance revealed a score of angels,
all clad in lovely robes, that melted into the softest outlines, their
heads nodding under feathery plumes above all beauty, and their wings,
bordered with violet and pearl, slowly waving with indescribable grace.
As my eye wandered farther, the whole grove was transformed into a
radiant paradise, in which moved celestial beings of every order, all
instinct with life and blushing with love. There were rose bowers, and
ladies fairer than mortal, and little cherubs floating around on
cloudlets of amber and gold. Indeed, all that I had ever seen, read, or
imagined of beauty was comprised in that one gorgeous vision. It was
very singular, and of this I can give no explanation, except the will of
God, that no hideous, terrible, or even ugly image was seen. That there
were not visions of blood-hounds, chains, and scaffolds, or other forms
of terror, seemingly more appropriate to my condition; is unaccountable,
so far as I know, on any theory save that of heavenly grace, and,
personally, I wish for no better. It was also singular that though the
brain and eye were thus impressed with ideal existences, I was perfectly
calm and self-possessed, knowing the whole thing to be but a pleasing
illusion. I had no fear of these figures of the brain, but, on the
contrary, found them excellent company. They did not always personate
the same characters. Occasionally they would change to the old feudal
knights, arrayed in glittering armor. The finest landscapes would start
up from the cold wet hills around, like mirages in the desert. Panoramas
of the most vivid action passed before me, and the ear joined the eye in
the work of pleasing illusion, for even language was not denied to my
visitants, whose voices were inexpressibly melodious, and even very
sweet music was occasionally heard.
Not less remarkable was the renewal of strength I felt. To walk or run
was no longer a burden. To say that I was perfectly refreshed is
altogether an inadequate expression. I seemed to have supernatural
strength, and to be incapable of any weariness or disagreeable sensation
whatever. Even the merciless pelting of the cold rain was pleasant and
delightful! I was perfectly easy and peaceful in mind, feeling no fear,
though perfectly conscious of my real situation and peril, and retaining
the full force of the resolve to use every exertion for escape.
While night and darkness were thus changed into visions of beauty and
joy around me, another faculty penetrated beyond these highly-colored
illusions, and showed me, though in faint lines, the true face of the
country and of events. Yet I had no hesitation in controlling my
conduct with respect to the faint rather than the bright pictures, and
was only once, for a few minutes, deceived, and then by supposing the
real to be fictitious. The error very nearly involved me in a serious
difficulty. At a cross-road, I saw from a distance what I supposed, at
first, to be a group of my spectral friends standing around a fire, the
ruddy blaze of which rendered them clearly visible. They were not so
beautiful as former figures, but I advanced unsuspectingly towards them,
and would probably have continued until too late for retreat had not my
progress been arrested by a sound of all others least romantic,--the
squealing of a pig! The men around the fire had caught the animal, and
were killing it preparatory to roasting it in the fire! This immediately
drove away the seraphs and the angels! I listened, and became convinced
that they were a picket sent out to watch for just such travellers as
myself. Some dogs were with them, but these were, fortunately, too much
absorbed in the dying agonies of the pig to give attention to me.
I crawled cautiously away, and made a long circuit through the fields. A
dog from a farm-house made himself exceedingly annoying by following and
barking after me. I did not apprehend danger from him, for I had managed
to keep my trusty revolver dry all this time, but I feared he would
attract the attention of the picket.
When he left me I returned to the road, but came to three horses hobbled
down, which, no doubt, belonged to the picket behind, and had to make
another circuit to avoid driving them before me. Then I pressed on,
hoping that some good chance, if not providence, might bring me to the
steep banks of the Tennessee. Yet I was not sanguine, for the country
was more open and level than I expected to find in the vicinity of the
river. Very many miles--possibly a score, or even more, for my pace was
rapid--were passed in this manner, but at last my visions began to fade.
I was sorry to see them go, for they seemed like a good omen, and they
had been cheerful companions. When the last form of beauty disappeared
the chill horror of my situation froze into my veins; my strange
strength also passed gradually away. I would find myself staggering
along almost asleep,--would wander a short distance from the road to a
secluded spot, throw myself on the flooded ground, and be instantly
asleep,--then, in a few moments, awaken, almost drowned by the pitiless
rain, and so weary, cold, and benumbed that I could scarcely rise and
plod onward.
Thus the latter part of that dreary night wore on. It seemed an age of
horror, and places a shuddering gulf between my present life and the
past. At length the cold gray dawn of a clouded morning broke through
the weeping sky. Day brought no relief. I had not yet any guide, and had
not stumbled on the Tennessee. I feared to make inquiries. Every one I
saw seemed a foe. Still, I did not avoid them, or leave the road for any
great distance. Slowly a new plan formed itself in my mind, for, if the
rain and clouds continued, I despaired of working my way to our lines.
What this plan was will appear in due time. It will be enough to say
here that I did not now think a capture would be fatal, if once far
enough away from the place where the train was abandoned, to plausibly
deny all knowledge of that raid. I hardly thought it possible that I
could endure another day and night alone in the woods. To prepare for
all emergencies, I carefully washed all traces of that terrible night
from my clothes. The wet would not matter, for the falling rain
accounted perfectly for that.
It was Sabbath morning, but it came not to me with the blessed calmness
and peace that accompany it in my own far-off Ohio. I realized how sweet
those Sabbath hours and Sabbath privileges had been, which I had never
valued before. I saw the people going to church, and longed to go with
them. Of course this was impossible, but with the thought came more of
a feeling of worship and of desire for God's protection than I had ever
known before. In that hour I believe His blessed Spirit was calling me;
but I soon turned my mind in another direction, preferring to plan for
my own deliverance, and to arrange the stories I would tell if arrested,
or if I ventured to any house for food, as would soon be necessary.