Crossing the Mountains--Playing Hypocrite--Legend of Battle-Creek
Valley--Lodged with a Secessionist--Strategy--A Welcome but Fatal
Delay--Exaggerated Accounts of Shiloh--Prevented from Crossing the
Tennessee--In the Mountains Again--Amusing Rebel Story--To the River
Again--Perilous Crossing--Success--Chattanooga--On the Cars--Night--Arrive
at Marietta.
We were near the foot of the Cumberland Mountains, and addressed
ourselves to the task of crossing them. Just as we were mounting the
first spur, we fell in with a Confederate soldier, who was at home on
a furlough. He had been in a number of battles, and among others the
first Manassas, which he described very minutely to me. Little did he
think that I, too, had been there, as we laughed together at the wild
panic of the Yankees. He was greatly delighted to see so many
Kentuckians coming out on the right side, and contrasted our noble
conduct with that of some persons of his own neighborhood, who still
sympathized with the Abolitionists.
When we parted, he grasped my hand with tears in his eyes, and said he
hoped "the time would soon come when we would be comrades, fighting
side by side in one glorious cause." My heart revolted from the
hypocrisy I was compelled to use; but having commenced, there was no
possibility of turning back.
On we clambered up the mountain till the top was reached; then across
the summit, which was a tolerably level road for six miles; then down
again, over steep rocks, yawning chasms, and great gullies; a road
that none but East Tennesseeans or soldier Yankees could have traveled
at all. This rough jaunt led us down into Battle Creek, which is a
delightful, picturesque valley, hemmed in by projecting ridges of
lofty mountains.
While here, they told me how this valley obtained its name, which is
certainly a very romantic legend, and no doubt true.
In early times there was war among the Indians. One tribe made a
plundering expedition into the camp of another, and after securing
their booty retreated. Of course they were pursued, and in their
flight were traced to this valley. There the pursuers believed them to
be concealed, and to make their capture sure, divided their force into
two bands, each one taking an opposite side of the valley.
It was early in the morning, and as they wended their way cautiously
onward, the mountain mist came down just as I had seen it descend
that morning, and enveloped each of the parties in its folds.
Determined not to be foiled, they marched on, and meeting at the head
of the valley, each supposed the other to be the enemy. They poured in
their fire, and a deadly conflict ensued. Not till nearly all their
number had fallen did the survivors discover their mistake, and they
slowly and sorrowfully returned to their wigwams. The plunderers, who
had listened to their conflict in safety, being further up the
mountains, were thus left to carry home their booty in triumph.
But we had no leisure for legendary tales.
The sun had set, and we stopped for the night with a rabid
Secessionist, whom our soldier-friend on the mountain had recommended
to us. He received us with open arms, shared with us the best his
house afforded--giving us his bedroom, and sleeping with his family in
the kitchen. We spent the evening in denouncing the Abolitionists,
which term was used indiscriminately to designate all Federals who did
not advocate the acknowledgment of the Confederacy. This did not go
quite so hard as it did at first, for practice had rendered it nearly
as easy for us to falsify our sentiments as to express them plainly.
Among other things we instanced to show the tyranny of the Lincolnites
in Kentucky, was the expatriation law. This law provides that all
persons aiding or abetting the rebels, or leaving the State and going
South with their army, shall be _expatriated_, and lose all their
right of citizenship in the State. The old man thought this was an act
of unparalleled oppression; and in the morning, before I was out of
bed, came in the room, and desired that some one of us would write
that law down, that he might show his Union neighbors what the Yankees
would do when they had the sway. I wrote it, and we all afterward
signed our names to it. No doubt that document has been the theme of
many angry discussions.
So thoroughly did we deceive the old man, that when, three days after,
the railroad adventure fell on the astonished Confederates like a clap
of thunder out of a clear sky, he would not believe that we were part
of the men engaged in it. One of his neighbors, who was a Union man,
and was arrested and confined in the same prison with us, told us that
to the last our host maintained that his guests, at least, were true
and loyal Southerners. Should I ever again be in that part of the
country, I would delight to call on him in my true character, and
talk over the national troubles from another point of view.
We stayed with him Wednesday night, and were still a long way from
Chattanooga. We had designed, notwithstanding our weariness, to travel
all that night, but accidentally met some of our comrades who had seen
Andrews, who informed them that he had postponed the enterprise one
day longer. This was a great relief, as it saved us a most wearisome
and dreaded night tramp. But better to have taken it, for the delay of
that _one_ day was fatal. On Friday there would have been no extra
trains to meet, and our success would have been sure. But this we did
not know at the time.
The next day, which was Thursday, we came to Jasper, stopped in the
town and around the groceries awhile, talking of the state of the
country. We told them Kentucky was just ready to rise and shake off
her chains, and they were just foolish enough to believe it!
Here we heard the first indistinct rumor of the battle of Shiloh--of
course, a wonderful victory to the rebels, killing thousands of
Yankees, and capturing innumerable cannon. It was the impression that
our army was totally destroyed. One countryman gravely assured me that
five hundred gunboats had been sunk. I told him I did not think the
Yankees had so many as that, but was unable to shake his faith.
That night we stayed at Widow Hall's, and there met Andrews and some
of our other comrades. This was on the banks of the Tennessee river,
and Andrews advised us to cross there, and to take passage on the cars
at Shell Mound station, as there had been a stringent order issued to
let no one cross above, who could not present perfectly satisfactory
credentials. Andrews had these, but we had not; it was, therefore,
advisable for us to be challenged as few times as possible. We passed
a pleasant evening, during which the wit of my friend Shadrack kept us
in a continual roar of laughter.
At last morning came, and we went down to the bank of the river to
cross. The ferryman had just swung the boat into the stream, and we
were getting into it, when a man arrived with positive orders from the
military authorities to let no one across for three days.
Affairs now looked dark. We could not cross except at the upper
ferries, and not there unless our credentials were good. However, we
resolved to persevere, and thinking in this case, as in many others,
the boldest plan would be the safest, we again struck over the wild
spurs of the Cumberland, which here sweep directly down to the river,
on in the direction of Chattanooga, with the intention of trying to
cross there, at headquarters.
Our journey was far from a pleasant one, and several times we lost our
road in the entanglements of the mountains; but at last we reached a
valley that ran directly down to the river, opposite Chattanooga. Here
the road was more frequented, and from the travelers we met we learned
further particulars of the battle of Shiloh. Still the accounts were
rose-tinted for the Confederates, though they now admitted a
considerable loss.
One man gave me an interesting item of news from the East; it was,
that the Merrimac had steamed out, and after engaging the Monitor for
some time with no decisive results, had ran alongside, and throwing
grappling-hooks on her, towed her ashore, where, of course, she fell
an easy prey. He said that now they had the two best gunboats in the
world, and they would be able to raise the blockade without
difficulty, and even to burn the Northern cities. But I have not space
to tell of all the wild chimeras and absurd stories that we heard on
our entrance into a land where truth always has been contraband. From
that time forward, we heard of continuous Confederate victories, and
not one Union triumph, till in September, when they admitted that they
were repulsed by Rosecrans at Corinth.
On reaching the river, we found a great number of persons on the bank
waiting to go over. The ferryman was there with a horse-boat, but the
wind was so high that he feared to attempt the crossing. We waited as
patiently as we could, though the time for the cars to start on the
other side had nearly arrived, and we could not well afford to miss
them. At length, the ferryman agreed to attempt the passage. He found
it very difficult. We were about an hour in crossing, though the river
was only a few hundred yards in width. Several times we were beaten
back to our own side, but at last perseverance conquered, and we
landed at Chattanooga.
The passage was an anxious one, for we expected to find the guard
waiting for us on the other side; and then, if we failed to satisfy
them that we were loyal subjects of King Jefferson, we would at once
land in a Southern prison. Judge, then, of our delight when we saw no
guard there, and were permitted to pass unmolested and unquestioned on
our route.
I do not yet know the reason of this sudden relaxation of vigilance.
Perhaps it was because all their attention was directed to Huntsville,
which was now occupied in force by General Mitchel. The panic produced
by this occupation was immense, as the only communication it left them
with Beauregard was by the circuitous route through Atlanta, and when,
the next day, this too was endangered, their excitement knew no
bounds.
Chattanooga is a small town--not much more than a village. It is
pleasantly situated on the banks of the Tennessee, and is bowered in
amidst lofty mountain peaks. One of these hangs right over the town,
and is more than seven hundred feet in perpendicular hight. From its
summit parts of four States are visible--Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama,
and North Carolina. It is capable of being very strongly fortified;
and though there were no works erected when I was there, many may have
been built since. It is one of the most important strategic points in
the whole South, and should have been in the possession of our forces
long ago.
From the river we went directly to the depot. Some of our party had
arrived earlier, and gone down to Marietta on a former train. We found
the cars nearly ready to start, and after loitering around a few
minutes in the depot, which was crowded full of travelers--mostly
soldiers--we purchased our tickets and got aboard. The cars were
jammed full. There was scarcely room to stand. Many of the passengers
were soldiers who had been at home on furlough, and were returning to
join Beauregard. The conversation was mostly on the great battle which
had just been fought, and the accounts were by no means so glowing as
they had been at first; still they announced a great victory. We took
part in the conversation, and expressing as much interest as any one,
our true character was not suspected. There was at this time no system
of passports in use on that line, and travel was entirely
unrestricted.
The sun was about an hour high as we glided out of the depot, and soon
sunk to rest behind the hills of Georgia. There were many bridges on
the road, and as we passed over them, we could not help picturing to
ourselves our proposed return on the morrow, and the probabilities of
the destruction we intended to wreck on them. Darkness gradually
closed in, and on we went amid the laughter and oaths of the
Confederates, many of whom were very much intoxicated. I procured a
seat on the coal-box, and for awhile gave myself up to the
reflections naturally suggested by the near culmination of the
enterprise in which I was engaged. Visions of former days and
friends--dear friends, both around the camp-fire and by the hearth of
home, whom I might never see again, floated before me. But gradually,
as the night wore on, these faded, and I slept.
At midnight, we were wakened by the conductor calling "Marietta." The
goal was reached. We were in the center of the Confederacy, with our
deadly enemies all around. Before we left, we were to strike a blow
that would either make all rebeldom vibrate to the center, or be
ourselves at the mercy of the merciless. It was a time for solemn
thought; but we were too weary to indulge in speculations of the
future. We retired to bed in the Tremont House, and were soon folded
in sweet slumbers--the last time we slept on a bed for many weary
months.