Midnight Consultation--Plans Developed--Money Distributed--_Compagnons
du Voyage_--A Dismal Night--Sheltered from the Storm--Southern
Unionist--Arrested by Federal Soldiers--Beyond the Lines--Panic Caused
by Negroes--Method of Avoiding Suspicion--Continuous Rain--Behind
Time--Hunting Human Beings with Bloodhounds--The Cumberland
Mountains--Rain again.
We now proceeded on our way--not rejoicing, for our situation grew
every moment more perplexing. Darkness was falling rapidly, and not
one of our comrades was visible. We were almost certain we had taken
the wrong road. Finally, we resolved to retrace our steps, and
endeavor to obtain some clue to our journey, or if we could not, to
return to camp; for, without instruction, we knew not how or where to
go. We therefore retraced our steps till in sight of Shelbyville, and
then, sure that none could pass without our knowledge, we waited
nearly an hour longer.
Our patience was rewarded. A few, whom we recognized as belonging to
our party, came along the road; we fell in with them, and were soon
overtaken by others, among whom was Andrews. Now all was right. Soon
we were as far from Shelbyville as Ross and I had been when alone, and
a few hundred yards further on we found the remainder of our comrades.
In a little thicket of dead and withered trees, sufficiently open to
assure us that no listening ear was near, we halted, and Andrews
revealed to us his plans. There were twenty-three gathered around him;
twenty-four had been detailed, but from some cause, one had failed to
report. In low tones, amid the darkness, he gave us the details of the
romantic expedition.
We were to break up in small squads of three or four, and travel as
far south as Chattanooga. If questioned, we were to answer so as to
avoid exciting suspicion, and tell any plausible tale that might
answer our purpose.
We were to travel rapidly, and, if possible, reach Chattanooga on
Thursday evening at five o'clock. This was Monday, and the distance
was one hundred and three miles, a heavy travel on foot; but then we
were allowed to hire conveyances, if we could.
Andrews then gave us some Confederate money to bear our expenses, and
we parted. There were three others with me; P. G. Shadrack, of Company
K, Second Ohio, a merry, reckless fellow, but at heart noble and
generous; William Campbell, a citizen of Kentucky, who had received
permission to come with us, in a soldier's place. He was a man of two
hundred and twenty pounds weight, handsome as Apollo, and of immense
physical strength, which he was not slow to use when roused, though
good-natured and clever in the main.
The third was the most remarkable man of the whole party. He was not
educated highly, though he had read a great deal; but in natural
shrewdness, I rarely, if ever, saw his equal. He had traveled
extensively over the United States, had observed everything, and
remembered all he observed. Had he lived, the composition of this book
would have been in abler hands than mine. In addition to this, he
excelled, perhaps, even Parson Brownlow, in the fiery and scorching
denunciation he could hurl on the head of an opponent. In action he
was brave and cool; no danger could frighten him, no emergency find
him unprepared. These were my companions.
The rain had begun to fall slightly as we walked out the railroad, on
our route, and soon it increased to torrents. The night was pitchy
dark, and we stumbled along, falling into gutters here, and nearly
sticking in the mud there, until midnight, when we resolved to seek
shelter from the storm.
For a long time we could find no indication of a house, until, at
last, the barking of a dog gave us a clue. After some dispute as to
which side of the road it was on, we struck off over a field. Our only
guide were the random flashes of lightning that gave us a momentary
view of the country around. The better to prosecute our search, we
formed a line within hearing distance of each other, and thus swept
around in all directions. At last we found a barn, but were so wet and
chilly that we resolved to hunt on, in the hope of finding a fire and
a bed.
After a still more tedious search, we found the goal of our wishes. It
was a rude, double log-house. Here we roused up the inmates, and
demanded a shelter for the night. The man of the house was evidently
alarmed, but let us in, and then commenced questioning us as to who we
were.
We told him we were Kentuckians who were disgusted with the tyranny of
the Lincoln Government, and were seeking an asylum in the free and
independent South.
"Oh," said he, "you come on a bootless errand, and had better go back
home, for I have no doubt the whole of the South will soon be as much
under Lincoln as Kentucky is."
"Never!" we answered, "we will fight till we die first!"
At this the old man chuckled quietly, and only said, "Well, we'll see;
we'll see," which closed the discussion.
We were truly glad to find a Union man under such circumstances, but
did not dare to reveal our true character to him, and he probably
believes to this day that he harbored some chivalric Southerners.
However, he provided us with a good supper and a comfortable bed,
promising, also, not to inform the Federal pickets on us. The next
morning, the sky for a time was clear, but it soon became overcast,
and we were again compelled to suffer the inevitable drenching that
befel us every day of this dreary journey.
We reached Wartrace in the midst of a pelting storm. At first we
intended to go around the town, as it was the last station on our
picket line. It was raining so hard that we thought we would not be
interrupted in passing through it, but our guards were too vigilant
for us. They stopped us, and after being for some time detained, and
trying to play off the innocent Southern citizen, as hundreds do, we
were obliged to reveal our true character to the commanding officer
of the post, which, of course, secured our release.
Then again, we traveled onward for a time, wading the swollen creeks,
and plodding through the mud as fast as we could. We were now outside
of our lines, with nothing to trust to but the tender mercies of the
rebels. Soon after, we found what a slender ground of trust that was,
but _now_ we were safe in the completeness of our disguise.
We met many others of our party, and trudged along--sometimes in
company with them, but oftener alone. Toward evening, we reached
Manchester, crossed Duck river, which was at flood hight, and entered
the town.
Here we found the population in a wild ferment, and on inquiring the
cause, learned that some of the citizens had reported an approaching
band of Yankee cavalry, and that they were even now visible from the
public square. We repaired thither with all speed to witness the novel
spectacle of the entrance of National troops into a hostile town, from
a Southern point of view. Mingled were the emotions expressed; fear
was most prominent, but I thought I could detect on some countenances
a half-concealed smile of exultation. Soon the terrible band loomed
up over the hill which bounded the view, when lo! the dreaded enemies
were seen to be only a party of negroes, who had been working in the
coal mines in the mountains somewhere. Some of Mitchel's men had
destroyed the works, and the contrabands were brought here for safe
keeping. The feelings of the chivalry may be better imagined than
described, as they dispersed with curses on the whole African race!
We here obtained from some of the citizens the names of the most
prominent secessionists along the route we were to travel, who would
be most likely to help us on to that blissful land where we might
enjoy our rights in peace (?) undisturbed by even dreams of
Abolitionists. These names were a great advantage to us, because
always having some one to inquire for, and being recommended from one
influential man to another, it was taken for granted that we were
trustworthy characters, and few questions asked. That night we were
within a few miles of Hillsboro', but so much were we delayed by the
rain, that we began to fear we could not reach our destination in
time. My feet, too, were sore from the gravel and dirt that filled my
shoes in crossing the creeks, and wading through the mud, and already
we were weary and stiff from traveling in the wet. But we resolved to
press on, and, if necessary, to travel in the night, too, rather than
miss our appointment.
Where we stayed that night, I first heard from the lips of a
slave-owner himself of hunting negroes with bloodhounds. Our host said
he had seen some one dodging around the back of his plantation, by the
edge of the woods, just as it was getting dark, and in the morning he
would take his bloodhounds, and go to hunt him up, and if it proved to
be a negro, he would get the reward. He said he had caught great
numbers of them, and seemed to regard it as a highly profitable
business.
We, of course, had to agree with him; but I well remember that the
idea of hunting human beings with bloodhounds, for money, sent a
thrill of horror and detestation through my veins. Not long after, we
found that bloodhounds were not for negroes alone.
The next morning, we continued our journey, and after walking three
miles, found a man who agreed, for an exorbitant price, and for the
good of the Confederacy, to give us conveyance in a wagon for a few
miles. This was a great help to us, and as we trotted briskly along,
we soon came in sight of the Cumberland Mountains.
Never did I behold more beautiful scenery. The rain had for a short
time ceased to fall, and the air was clear. The mountains shone in the
freshest green, and around their tops, just high enough to veil their
loftiest summits, clung a soft, shadowy mist, gradually descending
lower, shrouding one after another of the spurs and high mountain
valleys from view. But the beautiful scene did not long continue. Soon
the mist deepened into cloud, and again the interminable rain began to
fall. To add to our discomforts, our wagon would go no further, and
once more we trudged along afoot.
At noon we stopped for dinner at a house belonging to one of the
"sand-hillers." This is the general name applied to the poor class of
whites at the South. They have no property of their own, and live in
small hovels, on the worst portions of the lands of the rich. Here
they lead an ignorant, lazy life, devoting most of their time to
hunting and fishing; only raising a little patch of corn to furnish
their bread. They are almost as completely owned by their landlords as
the slaves, and are compelled to vote as their masters choose. In the
social scale they are no higher than any slave, nor do they deserve to
be, for their intelligence is less. The term "sand-hiller," or
"clay-eater," is a terrible one of reproach, and is applied
unsparingly by the aristocrats. Of course, our entertainment here was
composed of rather rude fare, but we ate the half-ground and
half-baked corn bread, with the strong pork, and went on our way
rejoicing.