ROMANTIC ESCAPES.
J. R. Porter and John Wollam kept in company when they ran for the
woods. The latter will be remembered as having previously escaped from
Chattanooga in company with Andrews, and eluded his pursuers for a long
time.
It was October 16 when they started, and they reached the Federal lines
at Corinth, Mississippi, November 18, being thus two days over a month
on the way. They endured the greatest hardships. When in wooded country
they travelled both night and day, subsisting on wild grapes, chestnuts,
hickory-nuts, walnuts, and some few sweet potatoes. In a few instances
they got a little morsel of corn-bread from some negroes. This was not
always a gift. Several times they slipped into the fields where the
negroes were at work and stole their scanty dinners. Necessity knew no
law. For one whole week they had no bread, nor any other food, except
the nuts gathered in the woods.
Their sufferings with cold were also very great, as their clothes were
light and almost worn out, and the nights very chill. Twice only they
slept in houses. One night they travelled till they were chilled and
weary, and almost perishing with cold, when they fortunately discovered
a nest of hogs. It was no time to be choice; so routing out the inmates,
they took possession of the warm bed, and slept soundly till morning!
They found many streams on the way, which they were obliged to wade, or
float across on logs. Porter was a man of clear religious faith and
great constancy, while Wollam was full of resources, though somewhat
reckless. He longed for the Tennessee River, down which he had floated
alone once before, and somewhere on which he knew Federal troops were to
be found. It was twenty-two days, however, before this stream was
reached, at a point forty miles west of Chattanooga. The worst of their
trials were now over. They pressed a canoe into the service, and used it
as Wollam had done before, paddling and floating down stream at night,
and hiding it and themselves, in the most secret place they could find,
during the day. Two persons under such circumstances have great
advantages over a solitary traveller. Not only does companionship assist
in keeping hope alive in each breast, but one can watch while the other
rests, and thus their resources are husbanded. The voyagers met with no
remarkable adventures until they reached the head of Muscle Shoals,
which they could not pass on account of low water. Abandoning their
canoe here, they made a circuit of forty miles by land, and came back to
the river below the Shoals. Here they "borrowed" a skiff, and continued
their journey until within twelve miles of Pittsburg Landing, where they
finally left the river. Twelve miles of travel brought them to
Corinth,--a post occupied by Union troops,--where they were received
with all the welcome that could be given to comrades long considered
dead. They had passed over three hundred miles in a straight
line,--probably double that distance by reason of the circuits they
made, and this without assistance, and while shunning all about them as
foes.
Engineer Brown, W. J. Knight, and E. H. Mason were thrown together in
the hurry of escape, although only the former two had intended to travel
in company. Mason's intended comrade was recaptured. Dorsey and Hawkins
were also, at first, in the same squad. The first night, while hiding in
the woods, Mason became very sick, and for two days remained within a
short distance of Atlanta. This was very dangerous, and he finally told
Brown and Knight to leave him and make good their own escape. This the
heroic boys refused to do, but, on the contrary, took him to a house, as
he was growing rapidly worse. They were well received, and given some
food in the kitchen. Just as they had finished it, three men, who had
probably seen their arrival, came in at the front door to arrest them.
This was an almost unique incident in the history of our
expedition,--the attempt to arrest any members of the party without
having an overwhelming superiority in numbers,--and, as might have been
expected, it miscarried. Our comrades did not deny being escaped
prisoners, but when told that they must surrender and go back to
Atlanta, Brown, who hardly knew the meaning of fear, gave in his soft,
silvery voice the very decided reply, "No, we won't; now see if we do,"
and with Knight sprang through the back door. There was no alternative
but to abandon Mason; but the other two were the strongest and most
agile of our number,--had always been our leaders in all athletic
sports, and were able to give a good account of themselves either in a
race or fight. They ran round the end of the house and then struck
towards a piece of woods half a mile away, keeping under the shelter of
a fence which extended towards the woods. The Confederates ran out at
the front door with their shot-guns just as the fugitives were flying
along the fence. Not wishing to try a foot-race, the former mounted
their horses and galloped out from the house down a lane that led to
the main road, attempting thus to head them off, while the owner of the
house where they had stayed unloosed his pack of hounds, which were soon
on the trail in full cry. The fugitives changed their course to avoid
the chance of a shot from the road, and to keep at right angles with it.
Before the woodland could be reached, the dogs closed in upon them, and
the struggle which followed was short and decisive. Brown and Knight,
seeing the dogs gaining upon them, selected a place where loose stones
were abundant, and gave their barking foes a reception which must have
astonished them. Stones weighing a pound or more, hurled at close
quarters by the strong arms of desperate men, are not to be despised by
the most savage of blood-hounds. The whole pack were soon crippled or
driven into hasty flight.
[Illustration: LIEUTENANT WILSON W. BROWN
(Union Engineer.) Page 264.]
But by this time the horsemen were near, and our hunted comrades were
obliged to run again at full speed, changing their course, with the
purpose of eluding their armed pursuers. They got into some brushwood,
and by "seesawing and tacking" hoped to get out of sight of the
horsemen. But the dogs still followed the trail, though they dared not
come near, and the brave pair would no doubt have been run down in time,
by the aid of dogs and horses, had they not found a little creek, in
which they waded long enough to throw the dogs off the scent; then the
expanse of timber about the creek soon hid them from their human foes.
That day they reached Stone Mountain, about eighteen miles east of
Atlanta, and afterwards travelled only at night, due north, with the
North Star for their guide. From their daytime hiding-places they
frequently saw parties of patrollers, but were never discovered.
Mason was taken without resistance and sent back to Atlanta, where he
joined us, being the sixth and last man recaptured.
Brown and Knight did not venture again to a house, and suffered greatly
for want of food. From the house they had left so precipitately they
travelled six days with nothing to eat save what the woods furnished.
They even chewed brush to appease the gnawings of hunger. On the seventh
day they obtained a great feast by catching a goose, which they ate raw,
and also procured a little of the corn left in a field by the huskers.
Two days after, they found a tree of apples, very poor, but precious to
them, and, after having devoured as many as they could, carried a supply
with them. Before night, however, they had still better fortune. They
discovered a drove of half-grown pigs. To get one was not easy, but
these men were not readily baffled. Their plan was soon laid: Knight hid
behind a tree with a club, while Brown tolled a confiding member of the
drove by biting off bits of apple and throwing towards him. He backed
past the tree where Knight was concealed, and when the pig in following
came near enough, the latter felled it with one powerful blow, and they
bore it away in triumph. That night they found a burnt brush-heap, and,
as some of the coals were not extinct, they made a fire and feasted on
roast pig. They carried off what they could not eat, and it took the
edge from famine for a long while.
When ten days out they crossed the Chattahoochee on a raft made of rails
tied together with bark. At length they came into the mountains, where
travel at night for famishing men was intolerably difficult. But, though
they knew it not, they were near friends. The border country between
Tennessee and North Carolina was always predominantly loyal. Accident
led to the discovery of those who were glad to give them help. In
crossing an old clearing, which seemed deserted, they came out
unexpectedly in front of a lonely looking log house, where two men stood
on the porch. Brown and Knight were so hungry that they resolved to take
the risk of asking for dinner. As there were only two men, they thought
they could not be arrested, especially if they first got something to
eat. They pretended to be rebel soldiers, who had been sick and were
now trying to get back to their regiments. The mistress of the house
gave them food, but eyed them closely, and soon accused them of being
"Yankees." Denial was useless, and they "soon found each other out."
These Union people put them on the Southern branch of the Underground
Railroad, and they arrived at Somerset, Kentucky, on the 25th of
November,--a month and nine days after leaving Atlanta.
The course of the next pair, Dorsey and Hawkins, was also northward, and
in nearly the same track. In the early part it presents marked
peculiarities, especially in the fact that much help was obtained from
the negroes. These sympathized with all fugitives on general principles,
and still more when the fugitives were Union soldiers. The latter part
of this narrative passes over the same ground as the former. It is a
trifling but noticeable coincidence that four of the eight who escaped
came to the town of Somerset, Kentucky, and two others to the ship
"Somerset."
Dorsey shall tell his own story, with a few abridgments. He hurt his
ankle in the first terrible run, and this caused him great suffering. He
also met a countryman just before reaching the woods, but having armed
himself with a large stone in each hand, and looking dangerous, he was
not stopped. The rapid firing of the enemy led him to believe that many
of our number were killed. We take up his story at the entrance of the
forest. The first touch is very graphic.
"Passing a little way into the woods, I found Brown and Knight
leaning against a tree, gasping for breath. I leaned against
the same tree. None of us could speak. I thought for a moment
or two that each breath would be my last. As we recovered a
little, one gasped, 'Guess we'd better go, boys.' On we went,
but not so fast as before, for none of our pursuers were now in
sight. We were soon joined by Hawkins, Mason, and the escaped
deserter, so that we were six in all. We lay in an open field
that night, judging it to be safer than the woods, and huddled
together as a partial protection from the cold. All night long
we heard the baying of the hounds and the frequent discharge
of firearms. The distance from which these sounds came
indicated that the pursuers were beyond us, and that our best
chance was in hiding and allowing them to pass still farther
ahead. The next day we were fortunate enough to discover some
luscious wild grapes, which we devoured with the greatest
relish. Our mouths afterwards were very sore, and the grapes
may possibly have been the cause of the injury. The same day we
were surprised by some citizens with shot-guns, but outran them
and escaped.
"Brown, Mason, and Knight left us, the latter being sick. The
deserter continued with us a day longer. He then wished to
visit a house for food, but we, though very hungry, did not
think it advisable, and parted with all good wishes. I have
heard that he got safely to Washington, D. C., but, returning
to his home in Northern Georgia, was arrested and executed as a
deserter from the Confederate army, into which he had been
conscripted at first.
"On the fourth day out we met two of our pursuers, who were
apparently coming back discouraged, but easily eluded them by
hiding under some bushes. We now began to travel more rapidly,
hiding by day and continuing on our way by night, directed by
the stars, which Hawkins understood very well.
"On the eighth day out we came to the ferry of the
Chattahoochee River, far to the northeast of Atlanta. We took
rails from a neighboring fence, and began to build a raft, when
we observed a lighted torch approaching the opposite side of
the river. When it came nearer we saw that the party
accompanying it were negroes, two in number, with four dogs.
Hawkins, who had spent some years in the South, and understood
the disposition of the negroes, felt disposed to trust them.
Accordingly, we asked them to ferry us over, which they readily
did, we giving them a little tobacco we had, and which we could
not use because of our sore mouths. They professed themselves
Unionists, and we told them that we were Union soldiers. The
fact of belonging to the railroad party we did not disclose
until we were within the Union lines. One went for provisions,
while the other remained with us, as if to allay any suspicions
we might entertain. They told us that we were forty-eight miles
northeast of Atlanta, in the region of deserted gold-mines, and
proposed to hide us in one of those mines, supply us with
quilts and provisions until we were well rested, and then
direct us on our northward way. It would probably have been
better to have accepted their kind offer, which I think Hawkins
wished to do, but I had some fear; so we declined.
"The one who had gone for provisions returned with a goodly
supply of boiled pork and beans, mashed Irish potatoes, sweet
potatoes, and corn-bread. What a feast! It was the first food
worthy the name we had eaten for six long months! We did it
ample justice, and what was left carried away with us. Our
African friends also gave us a piece of a broken butcher-knife,
that was of great service. They also gave us invaluable
directions, telling us where the rebel troops lay, and where we
could find a colored slave, who would ferry us over the
Hiawassee (which runs down from North Carolina into the
Tennessee), as they had done over the Chattahoochee. We assured
them that they would soon be free, and parted with a mutual
'God bless you!'
"With thankful hearts we pressed on, made a good night's
journey, and then laid by until evening of the next day. Seeing
a house on the edge of the woods, we watched it until assured
that only an old man and woman were there, when we went boldly
up to it and asked for supper, which was given with some
reluctance.
"Early in the evening journey we came to a small stream, and
attempting to cross on a fallen tree, I fell into the water,
and was thoroughly soaked. From this cause I suffered greatly
with cold. Some hours after we came to a barn, the mows of
which were filled with corn-blades. We were glad to bury
ourselves out of sight in the fodder, where we grew warm, and
slept all day. It was comfortable, but we paid for it by a
terrible fright. Some cavalrymen came into the stable under the
mows and took out their horses. We could hear their
conversation and the jingle of their spurs, and scarcely dared
to breathe. But they left us in safety. We stayed a day longer,
as the bed was the best we had found since our first capture.
But a negro boy came up to hunt eggs, and found us. He was so
frightened that we could not pacify him, and, fearing an alarm,
we hastened to the woods once more. Some negroes were again
met, starting on their favorite amusement,--an opossum-hunt. On
application they gave us a magnificent treat,--a hatful of
apples, a half 'pone,' and two or three pounds of boiled beef
on a bone. This supply lasted for several days.
"On the night journey we were much annoyed by the barking of
dogs at the houses we passed. Once we were seen, but,
pretending to be rebels on the way to our regiments, we
succeeded so well in lulling suspicion that an old man sent a
message to his son, who was in the rebel army, by us, and added
some corn-bread for the messengers.
"I here became more lame than ever, by reason of an unfortunate
misstep, and had to walk by leaning part of my weight upon my
faithful comrade. We came to a wide river we could not cross,
and, going back into the fields, lay on the damp ground till
morning. If I ever _tasted_ cold, it was then. Hawkins became
reckless from suffering, and was disposed to go to a house,
even at the risk of capture. But I demurred, and we waited for
an opportunity to communicate with the ever-faithful negroes.
We found a hut, and, watching it some time, saw none but a
black woman there. She readily responded to our appeal for
help, gave us a hot breakfast, a fire to warm by, and some
parched corn to carry on our journey. She also directed us to a
ford. Thanking her from our hearts, we returned to the river,
got over, and concealed ourselves in the woods on the other
side.
"With the coming of night we once more took up our weary way.
Towards morning we saw a large encampment of whites and colored
people. All were asleep except one of the latter. We
approached, and, in a whisper, asked him who they were. He told
us of the retreat of Bragg's army from Kentucky, and that these
were a band of fugitives coming South with their slaves to
avoid the Union army. To us this was a serious matter. A large
army, with all its baggage, and the country full of pickets,
directly in our front, was a great addition to our danger. The
colored man gave us all the scanty information he possessed
about the position of the army. Hawkins, spying a covered
skillet near the fire, winked at our friend, got an assenting
nod, and reached for it. It had two baked sweet potatoes, which
we appropriated, and departed as noiselessly as we had
advanced. Twenty-four hours after, we had reached the Hiawassee
River. We called lustily for the ferryman, and, to our
exceeding delight, were answered by the very slave our colored
friends on the Chattahoochee had said would be willing to ferry
us over.
"With his counsel, for we trusted him with the secret of our
being escaped prisoners, we resolved to go down the Hiawassee
to its junction with the Tennessee. To do this, however, it
would be necessary to pass round the rebel camp at Charleston,
a few miles farther down the river. This was Friday, and, by
waiting until Saturday, the young man could get a pass good
until Monday, and could pilot us around Charleston. We resolved
to wait. He treated us royally,--shared his scanty allowance of
food with us, for he had only a slave's rations, doctored my
ankle, kept us in his best bed--_a feather one_--overnight,
though, for prudential reasons, we hid in the woods during the
day, and, on starting, gave us a bottle of molasses and a piece
of pork. We floated down near camp in a 'dug-out' canoe, then
left the river and _surrounded_ the enemy. Our pilot was
obliged to leave us before we got back to the river below the
town, but he put us on the banks of a small stream, which we
had only to follow down to its mouth. This we reached by two
P.M., and amused ourselves by cracking walnuts and hickory-nuts
in a solitary place until dark, when we hunted up an old
dilapidated canoe. It was a miserable boat, and gave us enough
to do in bailing as well as paddling it. We soon saw a better
craft, with good paddles, tied up, and, as the owner was not
there, we 'traded' without difficulty.
"The stars were shining brightly when we again pushed off, and
the water was as clear as crystal, though not deep. We dried
our wet clothes, and felt very much more comfortable. Save an
occasional whisper between us and the soft ripple of the oars,
silence was unbroken. This was the most peaceful and
satisfactory night's travel we had yet made.
"At daybreak we hid the boat and nestled away in some dry
leaves, and after the sun got high enough to warm us, slept by
turns till afternoon. Then we noticed an island half a mile
farther down the river, and, as we had seen nobody the whole
day, and the place appeared perfectly solitary, we resolved to
explore it. Nothing was found, but we saw a house on the east
bank, which we watched until sundown, and seeing only women
about it, resolved to try for supper. We got a good square
meal, but judge our dismay at finding a good number of ladies,
and, soon after, a few men, also, at the place. It was a
'quilting,' and they were to dance that evening. But we told a
new story. We had been working at a saw-mill in the mountains,
were now out of employment, and were going to Chattanooga to
look for a job. They warned us that we would be arrested at
Chattanooga, and would have to go to jail or join the army.
They seemed to care nothing for the war, and to have no
disposition to molest us. We assured them that we would be all
right in Chattanooga, as we were _personally acquainted with
General Leadbetter_. They looked doubtful, and in parting they
said, in a rather insinuating manner, that they wished us a
safe journey to _Chattanooga_. Probably they were Unionists,
but we dared not risk a discovery. I tried, unsuccessfully, to
steal a quilt, which we greatly needed. The night was overcast,
the water was very shallow in places, and some tree-tops were
in the way. We had to get out, pull our boat out of these
obstructions and into deeper water, and then, wet to the skin,
to re-embark and paddle on.
"About midnight we came to what seemed to be a ferry, where the
river was deeper and wider than it had been before. Suddenly
two shots were fired at us. We lay down in the bottom of the
boat, and, taking in our paddles, let her float down stream,
while we did not move a muscle. I suppose it was a picket of
the enemy, who, after firing once, concluded that our boat was
only a floating log, and took no further trouble. After
getting, as we supposed, out of danger, we again seized the
paddles, and an hour of vigorous work brought us to the river's
mouth, and out on the broader Tennessee.
"We were very reluctant to abandon the river navigation, but it
was manifestly dangerous to continue it further, and useless as
well, unless we were prepared to take the risk of running by
Chattanooga. So we rowed to the north side of the Tennessee,
and turned our trusty craft adrift, while we started across the
mountains. The first road we crossed gave evidence of the
passage of a large body of troops, and thus warned us that we
were probably in danger of becoming entangled in the scouts and
detachments of Bragg's army, now on its retreat from Kentucky.
Two boys we found by a fire in a school-house--they had been
out 'coon'-hunting--confirmed this report. Soon we saw their
camp-fires, and ascending a mountain, where we supposed we
would be safer than in the valleys, waited for morning. When it
came, an appalling sight met our view,--a large division of
Bragg's army, with its seemingly endless baggage-trains, well
guarded by cavalry, was spread out beneath us. All day long
we watched their movements from our eyrie with breathless
anxiety. We resolved at night to turn to the northeast instead
of keeping due north, as we had intended. Before we had gone
far, Hawkins whispered in my ear, 'Dorsey, we mustn't crack any
corn to-night.' Rebel pickets and scouts were no doubt on every
side of us. The mountain-side was steep and covered with loose
stones, where travelling, even by day, would have been
difficult; at night, in the presence of the enemy, it was
terrible! We came to a picket, and were only saved from running
right into it by the snuffling of a horse. We slipped away a
short distance from the road, and lay down. Soon a squad of
cavalry passed up the road, and we crossed it right behind
them, anxious to get out of that dangerous neighborhood while
the sound of their hoofs drowned any noise we might make. We
moved very cautiously, again ascended the mountain-side, and
near daybreak came to a halt and went into camp,--that is, hid
in the brush.
"When the light came we could see the enemy no more, but heard
his wagons rumbling off in the distance. The immediate danger
from that source was over. Our stock of provision, which was
only a little parched corn, was almost exhausted; and as the
mountain seemed to be uninhabited, we resolved to move forward
in the afternoon. We found a negro, who, for a wonder, could
not or would not give any provisions or information. Late in
the night we rested, tying some bushes together to make a rude
shelter, and both sleeping, for nature was almost overcome.
Food and water were also very low, but in the morning we
pressed on, halting when our waning strength failed, and going
on when strength allowed.
"Very impressive were some of the hours spent in watching on
the Cumberland Mountains. One of us would sleep in perfect
trust, while the other watched and thought. The lofty peaks,
the wide landscape, and the rising and setting sun were doubly
solemn in the profound silence, and amid the mighty forests of
that region. I can never forget the beauty of nature associated
with so much of peril.
"But there were other hours of very prosaic toil. Once we had
to force our way on hands and knees through a mass of briers a
quarter of a mile wide. Several times we hunted persimmons by
moonlight,--Hawkins shaking them off, while I crawled on hands
and knees _feeling_ for them. Many adventures similar to those
already narrated were encountered. Near a ford of the
Sequatchie River we found a quilted skirt hanging out, which we
appropriated, tore in two, and, making a hole in the middle of
each piece for our heads, found ourselves possessed of passable
undershirts, which we needed sorely, as it was now colder than
ever. The ford was waded with our clothes taken off and tied on
our heads.
"For two days more we travelled and rested alternately in the
mountains, hungry, wet with the rain that now began to fall,
and as solitary as if we were the only inhabitants of the
globe. Near sundown of the second day we heard some
wood-choppers far below us. We were so weak that we repeatedly
fell as we descended the mountain-side. Hunger was so extreme
that we resolved to try for food from them, using the best
story we could frame. We told them we were Confederate
soldiers, who had been left in a hospital, from which we had
run away, and were now trying to get to our regiments; also
that we were without money, and wanted food. They refused to do
anything for us; said that soldiers had already eaten them
nearly out. This reception encouraged us. To test them further
we talked of _our cause_, its justice, certainty of success,
etc. They did not pretend to agree with us, and, finally, told
us that we were in what had been called 'Lincoln District,'
because only two votes were cast there for secession. The
conversation led them to a flat avowal that they were Union
men. We then cautiously revealed the fact that we were soldiers
on the same side, and the hospitality which had been denied
before was now readily extended."
[Illustration: DORSEY AND HAWKINS IN THE CUMBERLAND MOUNTAINS.
Page 272.]
This proved to be a station on the "Underground Railroad," which had
been organized since the opening of the war for the escape of Union men
and prisoners to the Union lines in Kentucky. After the fugitives had
completely proved their character, they were put under the conduct of a
local celebrity, known as "Red Fox," from his skill in eluding the
enemy. He conducted them for some distance, and gave them directions to
the next point, and from this they were directed to another. Thus they
were forwarded swiftly and in comparative safety. Dorsey dwells with
great gusto upon the good food and generous treatment received from
these loyal mountaineers, who had no hope of a reward, but were glad to
do anything for their loved and imperilled country. His expressions of
gratitude are also frequent and hearty. One man gave them the only
dollar he had, and would not hear of a refusal. Some very narrow escapes
were run even after they were thus among friends, but they finally
reached Somerset, Kentucky. At first they were received with some
suspicion by the Union officials, but, as soon as their true character
was established, they enjoyed the enthusiastic welcome accorded to each
one of the railroad party who returned from "the valley of the shadow of
death."