Preparing the Way—Dave—Pepper, Matches, and Fish-hooks—Exchange of
Clothing—Passing the Guard-lines—Frightened Horse—Halted—Passed—In
the Woods—Hidden in the Swamp—Pursued—A Night Journey in the
Cane-brake—Manna.
We resolved to select a dark and rainy night to put into execution
our long cherished plan, and we waited anxiously for such a night.
The morning of the 1st of June, which was the anniversary of my
twenty-ninth birth-day, brought with it deep and long forgotten
memories of other days.
The next day I was attracted by the movements of the old negro Dave,
who was employed in the menial services of the prison. He was evidently
well acquainted with our position, and knew all about the state of
affairs. As he passed near me, he gave me a significant grin, hung his
head in assumed diffidence, and began shoveling among the rubbish with
all his might, saying to me as he labored, just loud enough for my ear,
but looking all the while at his work:
“You Yankees has jis made about a tousand of the drefful rebels bite
the dust up in Tennessee. I golly, I’se glad!”
“Why, Dave, aren’t you a rebel, yourself?”
“No, _sah_, massa, I’se—”
Just here, a straggling rebel official sauntered in sight, and our
conversation was interrupted. If any Federal prisoners were discovered
holding private consultations with the slaves, there was a death
penalty just so adjusted in the martial laws of the Confederacy, as to
meet the case. I let the day pass without further effort to see Dave.
The next day, however, finding a favorable opportunity, I asked Dave if
he could furnish me three fish-hooks.
“God bless you, massa, yes!”—his eyes snapping fire as he responded.
“Can you get me a tin full of salt, and a paper of pepper?”
“Yes, massa!”
“Can you get me a box of matches?”
“Yes, massa; but how’s I gwine to get ’em past the guards?”
“Try, Dave, won’t you?”
“Bless your soul, massa, yes!”
I gave him the money, and when his chores were done, he passed out,
apparently one of the most stupid darkies I ever saw. Fortunately our
conversation was not overheard, and I soon was in possession of the
desired articles.
During the day, I visited a Tennesseean—a political prisoner—and
proposed to exchange clothes with him, to which he at once assented,
suspecting my object. He promised to be true, and reveal nothing. We
agreed upon an hour when he should visit my quarters, at which time we
were to exchange our clothing. I then informed Collins what I had done,
and he made a similar arrangement with another Tennesseean.
Time passed wearily on, and brought the night of the 18th of June,[A]
which was dark and rainy, and promised fairly for our proposed
adventure. In due time our United States uniform was exchanged, and we
were clad in rebel rags. Our hearts beat high with hope, and we were
resolved to escape or perish in the attempt.
[Footnote A: A coincidence here is worthy of notice. On the 18th of
June, seven United States soldiers were hung by the rebels at Atlanta,
Georgia. They were a part of the celebrated Chattanooga Railroad
scouts, sent out on a military excursion by General Mitchell, but
who were captured and treated as spies. One of the survivors of the
party, Lieut. WM. PITTENGER, gives a full and graphic account of their
captivity and imprisonment in a book which every reader of this work
should peruse.]
About half past eight o’clock, we slowly crawled out of the
prison—Collins a little in the rear.
This, with the exception of crossing the guard-lines, we apprehended
would be the most dangerous part of our undertaking, and our movements
were consequently slow and cautious. We continued to advance, keeping
within whispering distance of each other, until we reached a little
clump of pines near the fence, which point we had previously selected
as a rendezvous. Here we paused to make further arrangements. We felt
certain, now, that if we were discovered, we would be shot. Life for
us was only in pressing warily forward. After a minute’s consultation,
in the lowest whispers, it was agreed that I should take the advance,
and that should I be discovered, and shot, he should return to
his quarters; but if I succeeded in passing the guard-lines, and
reaching our second rendezvous—a thicket of fallen bushes between the
guard-lines and picket-fence—I was then to announce my success by a
single clap of the hands, which would be a signal for him to follow.
I accordingly lay down on my face, and crept quietly outward through
the lines. The intense darkness prevented my seeing a guard, who
chanced to be stationed close to my path. I came within six feet of
him, and could distinguish that he was reposing carelessly against a
tree, playing with the rammer of his gun, the noise of which served to
keep me from running against him. It was the most thrilling moment of
my life! But I soon got beyond the sound of the clicking ramrod of an
enemy whose business it was to shoot just such adventurers as myself,
and I began to breathe a little more freely as I neared our second
rendezvous. In a few minutes I was safe outside the lines, and snugly
hidden beneath the dark foliage of the tangled bushes. Just as I was
about giving the signal to Collins, I discovered that I had frightened
an artillery horse so much, that he broke loose from his hitching-rack,
and in another moment it seemed as if all rebeldom were out in pursuit
of him. Now I should be discovered! To run or lie still would be death.
An unseen Deliverer gave me presence of mind. I resolved to turn rebel
for the time being, and assist in catching the horse. My life depended
on the action of that moment. I ordered all the rebels astir, assuming
as best I could the arrogant Southern tone of authority, to assist
me in securing the animal, and had the gratification of seeing him
caught and led away, wondering whether that would be the last of the
“catching” to be done that night! Again I started for our place of
rendezvous; but being somewhat excited, and the darkness and rain of
the night adding to my bewilderment, I ran against an artillery guard,
who instantly exclaimed:
“Halt, dar!”
My unseen Protector again aided me, and I once more assumed the rebel
tone and manner. I replied, with as much offended dignity as my beating
heart would allow:
“Halt, whar?”
“Who are you, sah?”
“Have you been here so long, sir, and don’t know me yet? What’s this
mean, sir? Don’t you understand your business, sir?”
“O, yes, sah, I know you, now; you ’long to that thar battallin over
thar. Go on, sah!”
Soon after this, I succeeded in reaching our appointed place of
meeting, but believing that the confusion of the guards in capturing
the frightened horse had prevented Collins from attempting to
follow, I went down to the fence alone. Five minutes later, I heard
my comrade giving the signal at the outer rendezvous, to which I
instantly responded, and in a very few minutes we were both outside the
picket-fence, on the dismal banks of the Ocmulgee river.
We traveled fifteen miles before sunrise, and, just at daylight,
crossed the river on a railroad bridge, leaving it between us and our
enemies. It was a glorious summer morning. The birds, all beautiful
and free, were chirping their matin praises. The fields and forests
were fragrant with the blessed baptism of dews, and glittered in rare
brilliance before the rising sun. All nature was clad in robes of
royalty, and voiced to sweet anthems of rejoicing. But we were weary
wanderers, homeless and hated, fallen among thieves and robbers in the
midst of our native land. As the daylight grew stronger, we resolved
to secrete ourselves in the thicket among the croaking frogs, and lie
low in the dense undergrowth among the reptiles of the cane-brake. We
were destitute of provisions. In our haversacks were the matches, salt,
pepper and fish-hooks. We kindled a small fire, and burnt our papers.
We did this regretfully, for we had some valuable notes and memoranda
among them, but we chose to suffer their positive loss, rather than
risk the danger of a recapture with them still in our possession. It
was a sad sacrifice, in a solitary sanctuary, on a strange altar. Yet
our safety demanded it, and it was done.
Our situation was now both desolate and dangerous. We were in the
midst of a vast cane-brake, the extent and surroundings of which were
altogether unknown to us. The tall, straight cane-growths, like steady
fingers, pointed upward to a land of liberty on high, and we knew a
Present Guide thither, but we were without chart or compass in this
lower wilderness.
About three o’clock in the afternoon, we ventured to the road, keeping
a vigilant lookout in every direction, dreading the sight of white
men, and ardently hoping to see the face of some lowly slave, in order
to arrange with our ever-faithful friends and now brothers in common
peril and oppression, for something to eat. For a long time we lay
silent and watchful beneath the broad leaves of the swamp palm, close
by the road-side; but instead of discovering a sympathizing negro to
whom we might appeal for food and friendship, what was our bitter
disappointment at discovering six armed men on horseback, in pursuit
of us! They were making diligent search. We could see them dismount
and examine all probable lurking-places to the right and left of the
road as they passed along. As they came nearer, we heard their savage
curses, and the threatened tortures that awaited us if recaptured.
They circled the thicket, and penetrated at every possible angle all
about us; but we were so completely concealed that nothing but personal
contact would reveal our hiding-place. At one time, our pursuers were
within a few feet of us. They must have known we were in that brake,
for they lingered within hearing until nightfall, when they abandoned
the search. How thankfully beat our hearts as the sound of their
horses’ hoofs died away in the rearward distance!
There was an advantage to us in what we at first so dreaded—the
proximity of these men. We were thereby enabled to overhear their plans
of pursuit. They agreed to set watches at certain points on the road,
the river, and railroad leading to Darien. We were quite confident we
had been betrayed by some cowardly prisoner, and suspected that fellow
named Clinton, from Mississippi.
We learned from our pursuers themselves, as they were searching for
us, that this traitor of traitors gave the authorities of the prison
all the information they desired, for he had played eaves-dropper more
than once, rebel and prisoner as he was! He had actually mapped our
proposed route, although our scheme was arranged between Collins and
myself in whispers. But we were silently thankful for the information
we received, and when we ascertained the plan of pursuit, we fixed our
course so as to elude their pickets.
With a thanksgiving and a prayer, we resolved to continue our journey
immediately with the beginning of the night. The night was calm
and clear. All the sounds that broke the stillness were the hoarse
croakings of the frogs, and the distant barking of watch-dogs on the
plantations. Looking up to God for guidance, he gave us a glimpse
of the North Star, the fugitive’s light of hope. We started in a
south-east direction, through the cane-brake, traveling part of the
time through dirty, stagnant water two feet deep, and sometimes
almost to our arms; but it was a venture for life, and we urged our
way patiently onward, until we came to water so deep that we were
obliged to stop, and wait for the morning. We hailed the day-dawn
with delight, hungry and weary as we were, for we had not tasted a
mouthful of food since we left the prison. As soon as the grayish
light appeared, we discovered that we were on the bank of a swail,
beyond which, on a little elevation of land, was one of the richest
blackberry fields I ever saw. It was like manna in the wilderness. With
these delicious berries we appeased our hunger, and were strengthened
for new hardships. The forenoon was one of peculiar beauty to us. We
found our Comforting Friend in that sacred retreat, present to cheer
our souls and feed our bodies. We rested a few hours, and talked of
the goodness of the Lord. Occasionally we would see a strange, unknown
reptile glide among the dense ground-foliage, or hear the song of some
strange wild-bird. We again started on our way, trying to pass the time
pleasantly by remarking the new varieties of vegetation that everywhere
met the eye—the wild-flowers, the singular leaves, the swamp-mosses,
and the thousand beautiful creations of an Omnipotent Hand, far in the
solitudes of Georgia.