Seeking the Hills—Retreating to the Swamps—Pursued by
Bloodhounds—Suffering from Hunger—A Dreary Night—An Answered
Prayer—Singular Noise—Lost in the Cane-brake—A Dismal Journey—A
Dream—A Surprise—Wanderings and Wearyings in the Wilderness—A
Comforter Present—Hope and Cheer—A Cotton-field—A Friend in
Need—Negro Music—A Feast in the Night—An Intelligent Slave—Advice to
Fugitives.
About two o’clock, we ventured to leave the swamp, and strike out
for the low hills, and travel through the pines. It was the 20th of
June, and a long day to us. We had scarcely entered the pine forest,
when we saw eight men with guns, on the lookout for us, some of whom
we had previously seen on the same errand. We instantly retreated to
the swamp, yet not before we were discovered. The dogs were instantly
put on our track, and in order to break the scent, we again sought
the swail, and waded in water to our knees. We passed through the
densest portions of the brake, where it stood thick and tall, forming,
in places, an almost impenetrable wall of stalks, which we carefully
adjusted behind us. After several hours of this cautious traveling
and covering our way, we were obliged to lie down among the swamp
palm-leaves for rest. We could distinctly hear the baying of the
bloodhounds in search of our track, but we felt pretty well assured
they would not be able to follow it. The next morning found us wet and
weary, and quite chilled by the dampness of our bed. We thought to make
our way out to the pine hills, but had hardly concluded to hazard the
attempt, when we again heard the hounds nearer than before. We then
penetrated yet further into the tangled cane-thicket, for it had become
a welcome retreat for us. By patient endurance we again baffled our
enemies, only, however, to find ourselves threatened with starvation.
We tried to catch fish, but failed. We were even “unlucky” in our
attempts to take frogs from the swail with our hooks. Our forlorn
situation can better be imagined than described. Cold, wet, hungry,
weak from exposure, heartsick with disappointments, and, worse than
all, pursued as criminals by those who should have befriended us, we
were almost ready to despair, and lie down to die in the midst of the
dismal swamp. I felt that indeed strange changes had occurred in my
life; for, only a few months before, I was a free man, surrounded by
the kindest of friends, happy in my cottage home, or in my pastoral
walks among the people whom I loved. But now I was compelled to
flee for life, half clad and half starved, to the heart of a watery
wilderness! From our covert of shade we watched the sun go down, and
felt the quiet night coming on. Oh! dreary evening! sunless, hopeless,
comfortless, and dark! thy memory haunts me still! But we lost not our
confidence in God. We knelt in the black water, and prayed. And down
through the still night—down through the deep darkness—down through the
dense cane-brake—down to our prostrate souls afar in the solitude, came
the Blessed Comforter, and we took courage. We thought of the old Jews,
compelled to wander about in sheep-skins and goat-skins. We trusted in
Elijah’s and Elisha’s God, and remembered that Daniel had dwelt safely
in the den of lions. We were so completely thrown upon God’s mercy,
that our faith was stronger than ever. We felt that God was nearer in
the shadows than in the sunshine—that in bowing in the water of the
swamp to pray, we placed our lips nearer to the Infinite Ear than if we
worshipped in temples on the mountain.
We spent the entire day, the 21st of June, in this bog. When night
came, we tried again to sleep, but were annoyed by a new enemy—a
legion strong—the pestiferous musquitoes. During the night, our
attention was attracted by a sound like the driving of a stake. We
arose and cautiously reconnoitered in the direction from which the
noise proceeded. To our surprise, we came upon a small corn-field,
containing about two acres, surrounded by a rude fence of pine poles.
We trembled at the thought of being so near a human habitation; and
after pulling a few stalks of the young corn to eat, we hastened
into the thicket, and traveled on. The roots of the corn, cleansed
and salted, were eaten with a relish. The sound which had arrested
our attention proved to be that produced by an insect of the beetle
species, and the painful stillness and solitude of the place, served
to make it more impressive than it would otherwise have been. The
North Star was our only guide; and shaping our course by its uncertain
light, we again resumed our journey. We had not traveled far, however,
until we became completely bewildered in the cane-brake. The sluggish
water spread on every side, the thick cane and underbush so mingled and
commingled, that it was impossible to move in any direction. Again we
concluded to tarry for the daylight; and breaking a few cane-stalks,
and laying them on the ground near a mossy log, for a bed, we tried to
sleep. We were frequently disturbed in the night by prowling animals,
but none of them was so terrible to think of as our human pursuers.
Judging it best to guard against all surprises from man or beast, we
agreed to sleep and stand sentinel alternately until morning. Thus we
relieved and rested each other that memorable night.
It was a welcome day-dawn to us. For two hours I had stood guard over
Collins, watching the stars mirrored on the smooth waters about our
feet, and it was a glorious sunrise to us that chased the shadows and
images away, and flooded our gloomy retreat with the light of morning.
Again we started onward, taking the sun for our guide. The water grew
gradually more and more shallow, and the brushwood thicker. Berries
became scarcer, and our sufferings from hunger increased with every
step. We were that day wandering weary, foot-sore, and heart-heavy,
where in all probability, human foot had never trod before:
“In the dark fens of the dismal swamp,
The hunted Yankees lay;
We saw the fire of the midnight camp,
And heard at times the horses’ tramp
And the bloodhounds’ distant bay.
“Where hardly a human foot would pass,
Or a human heart would dare,
On the quickening turf of the green morass,
We crouched in the thick and tangled grass,
Like wild beasts in their lair.”
On we pressed, amid the wild voices of the dark cane forest. Our
progress was slow. By-and-by, as we came upon a mossy log, we tarried
and tried to rest our aching heads. We soon fell asleep, being overcome
by fatigue. I dreamed of my loved ones at home—of watchful eyes and
praying voices in our behalf. I saw the old familiar hill-slope before
my cottage door, the orchard, the fields, and, better than all,
the friends of other days, and myself among them—all happy at the
old homestead in free Ohio. Some hovering angel must have come and
held the picture before my eyes, for I was in raptures of delight!
Suddenly I was aroused from my slumbers by the tread of some animal,
I knew not what. As I stirred, it hastened into the dark foliage and
was gone. I awakened my comrade and told him it was morning. He was
surprised to think he had slept so long, and both of us were greatly
refreshed. Again we prayed and pressed onward for home and friends,
and for a sight of the Stars and Stripes. We had decided on keeping
steadily on in a south-easterly course until we reached some point on
the sea-coast then in our possession. The sun beamed hotly over our
heads. We traveled as fast as possible all day, hoping that we might
find some negro—none else in that region were human beings—and through
the aid of slaves get something to eat, for we were actually starving.
We captured a frog that day, and divided the precious morsel between
us, with thanksgiving. At night we lay down, but hunger and faintness
prohibited repose. We longed for morning. We gazed upward to the
twinkling stars, praying them to speed faster through the firmament,
and let the sun arise. At length the blushing morn appeared. I hailed
it as the dawn of an eventful day, for now we must seek and obtain
food, or perish in the swamp. The idea of falling into the hands of our
enemies chilled our very souls. We thought to die alone, and “let the
dead bury the dead” in the wilderness, rather than suffer ourselves to
be recaptured and tortured to death by inches, to gratify the jeering,
jabbering multitudes. But the day was come when something more must be
ventured for life’s sake. At last dawn came, and again we fell upon
our knees and asked for wisdom and direction in the hour of need.
Rising comforted and strengthened, we changed our course, and pressed
forward, expecting to emerge from the cane-brake and find a plantation
where there were slaves. The undergrowth was so dense that we could
with difficulty make about one mile per hour. The day was fast passing
away, and so was our strength. At about three o’clock in the afternoon,
we sat down, almost in despair, and held a council, when we decided
that nothing but the hand of the Lord could deliver us. Again we bowed
ourselves before Him, and rose refreshed both in mind and body. Our
steps were elastic—our hearts gladdened, and we hurried onward, under
the conscious protection of God.
Suddenly, I heard the barking of a dog not far distant. We paused
and listened. It was not a bloodhound. Collins, being a little deaf
from the effects of terrific artillery-firing at Shiloh, did not, at
first, catch the sound. Now we knew that help was near. We quickened
our pace, and in a few minutes heard the voices of some negro men. A
few steps farther, and we came in sight of a cotton-field, which we
approached by walking in the water of a small brook that flowed in that
direction. With great caution, we neared the field, in which there
were twenty-five negroes at work ploughing cotton. Most of the men
looked old and toil-worn. While we were reconnoitering our ground, I
observed an old, gray-haired man nearing the fence with his furrow, and
when he paused a moment to scrape his plough, before returning across
the field, I rapped on a rail, which instantly drew his attention.
When I caught his eye, I beheld an intellect and a sympathy languaged
there which gave me hope. I approached the old man with trembling step
and faltering voice, I know, for there was danger of communicating
with some excitable and treacherous slave—although such are rare
cases—yet I ventured to speak to my wondering auditor. I approached
that cotton-field, half famished as I was, with many of my Virginia
prejudices against the negroes, for I had been taught to regard them as
unreliable and stupid. But I felt that death was in the swamp, and life
_might_ be in the cotton-field.
“Well, uncle,” said I, “I am traveling through your country, and I am
very ragged, as you see. I don’t wish to call on white folks in this
condition, and I am very hungry. Could you get me something to eat?”
“Oh, yes, massa! God bless you! all you want; but go back! go
back!” he continued, waving his hand, as if to hurry me back to our
hiding-place; “go back, massa! they’s after you wid de houns and de
horses! Do you see dat ole cabin up dar, in dat field? To-night, just
at ’leven o’clock, come to dat cabin, massa, and I’ll gin you all de
supper you want. Now, go back! go back, massa!”
“Uncle, you won’t bring anybody with you, will you?”
“Why, God bless you, massa. _I knows you! I knows you!_”
“Now, uncle, what do you know about me?”
“Why, you’s one of dem Yankees dat broke away from Macon prison, massa.
_I knows you!_ God bless you!”
“Well, uncle, don’t tell that to anybody, will you?”
“Tinks _I_ tell anybody, massa, when all I’s got in dis worl’ depends
on ye? No, no, massa! But go back! go back, till ’leven o’clock! mine,
now, massa!” and he started after his plough, for by this time the
other hands were approaching. I went back, and reported the prospects
to my comrade. We concealed ourselves in the thick brush to await
the appointed hour. Just at dusk, the slaves unhitched their mules,
finished up their rows, and started for their cabins, singing:
“We’ll soon be done wagging with the crosses,
We’ll soon be done wagging with the crosses,
We’ll soon be done wagging with the crosses,
And wing, and wing, and wing with the angels,
And den wing with the angels,
In the New Jerusalem!”
It was weird, eccentric music, but really the most thrilling I had ever
heard, as it rose through the still evening air in rich, mellow accord
from the voices of the whole company of slaves returning to their
humble homes for supper and rest. I thought, how little the people in
the North knew about these _crosses_! and I silently but fervently
prayed for the day to hasten when all these weary ones might find the
liberty for which they sang and suffered.
The hours passed slowly away, but at length the appointed hour of
eleven o’clock drew nigh. We left our retreat, and advanced with the
utmost caution, until we came within thirty yards of the cabin, when we
lay down in a brier-path to watch for whatever movements might occur.
For a few minutes we were kept in suspense, not feeling fully satisfied
whether friend or foe might advance to meet us. Soon, however, the
faithful old negro came to the designated trysting-place. He was
evidently alone. He walked round and round the cabin, looking and
waiting for us, and on seeing us not, seemed greatly disappointed. When
we had assured ourselves that no one was with him, and that he was
true, we arose from our concealment, and walked to the cabin. He was
rejoiced to see our confidence in him, and was as thankful to give, as
we were to receive, the rich repast he had prepared for us. Our supper
consisted of corn-bread, smoked bacon, and boiled cauliflowers. He
also brought us a bottle of sweetened water. What a feast! Never did I
partake of food with such a relish. We received it as directly from the
hand of Him who “heareth the young ravens when they cry.” Being assured
by our old friend that we were perfectly safe, we tarried after supper
several hours, conversing on the state of our country, and receiving
advice as to the manner of proceeding on our journey. As the venerable
man talked to us, telling as how to escape to our homes and friends,
sharing his sympathies and his means with as poor destitute wanderers,
my old prejudices of caste were entirely obliterated. Beneath that
dark brow was the mind of a man, and within that slave’s bosom beat a
brother’s heart. I could have embraced him as my father.
“Now, massa,” said he, as we were about to separate until all true
friends shall meet in heaven, “now do jis as I tells you, and you’ll
git away. You keep dis pine-ridge straight on through massa’s
plantation for five mile. Dis ridge goes clean to de coast. It’s ’bout
three hundred mile to de coast by de Ocmulgee riber. The Ocmulgee flows
into de Altamaha, and Darien is at de mouth of de Altamaha, and you’ll
find lots of de Yankees dar.”
The old man understood the times. His knowledge of the war, with all
its recent and important movements, was thorough and accurate, although
he was careful and somewhat reticent, even in his communications to us.
In order to test his professed knowledge of us, and to ascertain all we
could relative to our pursuers, we plied him with various questions.
“Well, uncle,” said we, “I suppose you know we are running from the
conscript?”
“No, sah, I knows you is the Yankees what broke out o’ jail at Macon,
dat’s what I knows.”
“You’re right, uncle. Now what do you know about this war?”
“I doesn’t know much about it, sah; only I knows dat dey say, if de
Yankees whips, de darkies all be free, but if dese har rebels whips,
den we be slaves.”
“Which do you prefer should gain the day?”
“Why, God bless you, massa! does you tink I’s a fool? Course, I wants
you to whip.”
“You say they are hunting us; how many have they after us?”
“I doesn’t know jis zacly; but I knows dat tree men come to massa day
’fore yesterday for to git a bloodhound to hunt Yankees with what
runned away from Macon prison.”
I confess that the thought of being pursued by bloodhounds was
horrifying in the extreme; and notwithstanding we had already seen two
large packs at different times upon our track, the possible death by
these fierce monsters in this wilderness made my blood run cold.
Our further conversation gave us a full and satisfactory knowledge of
our route, and was delineated by our sable friend, as we had afterward
reason to know, with perfect geographical accuracy. We asked him that
in case we should be pursued by the bloodhounds, what means we should
employ to bewilder them. This was no new subject to him. He, in common
with his fellow-bondmen, had seen too many instances in which these
brutes had been employed in capturing fugitives, not to know their
nature, as well as the plans adopted to elude them. He told us when
the dogs followed us in the cane-brake, in order to prevent them from
keeping the trail, we should travel as much as possible in the water;
but if we should be closely pursued, to leave the cane-brake, and take
to the Ocmulgee river. He assured us that the dogs were fearful of the
alligators with which that river abounded, and that the slaves were
taught that alligators would destroy only negroes and dogs. He didn’t
believe it himself, although his master thought he did. He added:
“If dem houns gits close on to you, why you jis git a long pole, and
hop about twenty feet, if you kin. You do dis four or five times, and
whenever you light, why jis put some pepper in de holes what your
heels make, and when de houns come, dey lose dar scent, and den dey
goes a snufflin and a snufflin roun’, and bymeby dey snuffles up dat
’ar pepper into dar nostrils, and den dey’ll go chee! chee! chee! and
dat’ll be de last dem dogs can do dat day.”
This piece of information, and the manner in which it was conveyed,
accompanied as it was by violent gyrations of the body, and an exact
imitation of dog-sneezing, was very amusing; and though surrounded by
forbidding circumstances, we indulged in an audible smile.
From this man we first learned of a complete organization among the
negroes, for the purpose of aiding fugitives in making their escape. It
was similar to an institution which I had often heard of as existing
in the Northern States, under the name of “Underground Railroad.” The
officers of this Southern Underground Railroad, on which we were glad
to take passage, were the slaves of the different plantations, who were
thoroughly acquainted with their duties, and were very suspicious lest
they should be imposed upon. When we inquired how these men should know
us, he told us that he would arrange that matter, so that we need have
no fears, but to submit ourselves to their guidance, and all would be
well.
We traveled that night through the plantation belonging to the master
of this black man. We reached the woods just a little before the dawn
of day, and here we lay down until a faint light streamed in from “the
windows of morning,” when we resumed our journey. All was lone and
silent. The wood through which we went, with its alluring depths—the
verdant moss beneath our eager feet—each blossom-laden, fragrant
bough—and the bearded grasses that shook in the wind,—all gave me
their secret sigh. All the sweet land around—the distant hill—the
distant shore, said, “Redeem me from my chains!”