MOVED FROM CAMP LAWTON AFTER A SOJOURN OF TWENTY DAYS—DESTINATION
BLACKSHEAR, GA.—JUMP OFF THE CARS AND OUT FROM REBEL GUARD FOR
SIX DAYS—A HUNGRY TIME BUT A GOOD ONE—CAPTURED AND MAKE THE
ACQUAINTANCE OF TWO OTHER RUNAWAYS WITH WHOM I CAST MY FORTUNES,
ETC., ETC.
Nov. 22.—And now my turn has come, and I get off with the next load
going to-day. My trunk is packed and baggage duly checked; shall try
and get a “lay over” ticket, and rusticate on the road. Will see the
conductor about it. A nice cool day with sun shining brightly—a fit
one for an adventure and I am just the boy to have one. Coverlid
folded up and thrown across my shoulder, lower end tied as only a
soldier knows how. My three large books of written matter on the
inside of my thick rebel jacket, and fastened in. Have a small book
which I keep at hand to write in now. My old hat has been exchanged
for a red zouave cap, and I look like a red headed woodpecker. Leg
behaving beautifully. My latest comrades are James Ready and Bill
Somebody. We have decided to go and keep together on the cars. One of
them has an apology for a blanket, and the two acting in conjunction
keep all three warm nights. LATER.—On the cars, in vicinity of
Savannah en-route for Blackshear, which is pretty well south and not
far from the Florida line. Are very crowded in a close box car and
fearfully warm. Try to get away to-night.
IN THE WOODS NEAR DOCTORTOWN STATION, NO. 5, Ga., Nov. 23.—A change
has come over the spirit of my dreams. During the night the cars ran
very slow, and sometimes stopped for hours on side tracks. A very
long, tedious night, and all suffered a great deal with just about
standing room only. Impossible to get any sleep. Two guards at each
side door, which were open about a foot. Guards were passably decent,
although strict. Managed to get near the door, and during the night
talked considerable with the two guards on the south side of the car.
At about three o’clock this A. M., and after going over a long bridge
which spanned the Altamaha River and in sight of Doctortown, I went
through the open door like a flash and rolled down a high embankment.
Almost broke my neck, but not quite. Guard fired a shot at me, but as
the cars were going, though not very fast, did not hit me. Expected
the cars to stop but they did not, and I had the inexpressible joy of
seeing them move off out of sight. Then crossed the railroad track
going north, went through a large open field and gained the woods,
and am now sitting on the ground leaning up against a big pine tree
_and out from under rebel guard_! The sun is beginning to show itself
in the east and it promises to be a fine day. Hardly know what to
do with myself. If those on the train notified Doctortown people of
my escape they will be after me. Think it was at so early an hour
that they might have gone right through without telling any one
of the jump off. Am happy and hungry and considerably bruised and
scratched up from the escape. The happiness of being here, however,
overbalances everything else. If I had George Hendryx with me now
would have a jolly time, and mean to have as it is. Sun is now up
and it is warmer; birds chippering around, and chipmunks looking
at me with curiosity. Can hear hallooing off a mile or so, which
sounds like farmers calling cattle or hogs or something. All nature
smiles—why should not I?—and I do. Keep my eyes peeled, however, and
look all ways for Sunday. Must work farther back toward what I take
to be a swamp a mile or so away. Am in a rather low country although
apparently a pretty thickly settled one; most too thickly populated
for me, judging from the signs of the times. It’s now about dinner
time, and I have traveled two or three miles from the railroad
track, should judge and am in the edge of a swampy forest, although
the piece of ground on which I have made my bed is dry and nice.
Something to eat wouldn’t be a bad thing. Not over sixty rods from
where I lay is a path evidently travelled more or less by negroes
going from one plantation to another. My hope of food lays by that
road. Am watching for passers by. LATER.—A negro boy too young to
trust has gone by singing and whistling, and carrying a bundle and
a tin pail evidently filled with somebody’s dinner. In as much as I
want to enjoy this out-door Gypsy life, I will not catch and take the
dinner away from him. That would be the height of foolishness. Will
lay for the next one traveling this way. The next one is a dog and
he comes up and looks at me, gives a bark and scuds off. Can’t eat a
dog. Don’t know how it will be to-morrow though. Might be well enough
for him to come around later. Well, it is most dark and will get
ready to try and sleep. Have broken off spruce boughs and made a soft
bed. Have heard my father tell of sleeping on a bed of spruce, and it
is healthy. Will try it. Not a crust to eat since yesterday forenoon.
Am educated to this way of living though, and have been hungryer.
Hope the pesky alligators will let me alone. If they only knew it, I
would make a poor meal for them. Thus closes my first day of freedom
and it is _grand_. Only hope they may be many, although I can hardly
hope to escape to our lines, not being in a condition to travel.
Nov. 24.—Another beautiful morning, a repetition of yesterday, opens
up to me. It is particularly necessary that I procure sustenance
wherewith life is prolonged, and will change my head-quarters to a
little nearer civilization. Can hear some one chopping not a mile
away. Here goes. LATER.—Found an old negro fixing up a dilapidated
post and rail fence. Approached him and enquired the time of day. (My
own watch having run down.) He didn’t happen to have his gold watch
with him, but reckoned it was nigh time for the horn. Seemed scared
at the apparition that appeared to him, and no wonder. Forgave him
on the spot. Thought it policy to tell him all about who and what
I was, and did so. Was very timid and afraid, but finally said he
would divide his dinner as soon as it should be sent to him, and
for an hour I lay off a distance of twenty rods or so, waiting for
that dinner. It finally came, brought by the same boy I saw go along
yesterday. Boy sat down the pail and the old darkey told him to
scamper off home—which he did. Then we had dinner of rice, cold yams
and fried bacon. It was a glorious repast, and I succeeded in getting
quite well acquainted with him. We are on the Bowden plantation and
he belongs to a family of that name. Is very fearful of helping me
as his master is a strong Secesh., and he says would whip him within
an inch of his life if it was known. Promise him not to be seen by
any one and he has promised to get me something more to eat after
it gets dark. LATER.—After my noonday meal went back toward the low
ground and waited for my supper, which came half an hour ago and it
is not yet dark. Had a good supper of boiled seasoned turnips, corn
bread and sour milk, the first milk I have had in about a year. Begs
me to go off in the morning, which I have promised to do. Says for me
to go two or three miles on to another plantation owned by LeCleye,
where there are good negroes who will feed me. Thanked the old fellow
for his kindness. Says the war is about over and the Yanks expected
to free them all soon. It’s getting pretty dark now, and I go to bed
filled to overflowing; in fact, most too much so.
Nov. 25.—This morning got up cold and stiff; not enough covering.
Pushed off in the direction pointed out by the darkey of yesterday.
Have come in the vicinity of negro shanties and laying in wait for
some good benevolent colored brother. Most too many dogs yelping
around to suit a runaway Yankee. Little nigs and the canines run
together. If I can only attract their attention without scaring them
to death, shall be all right. However, there is plenty of time, and
won’t rush things. Time is not valuable with me. Will go sure and
careful. Don’t appear to be any men folks around; more or less women
of all shades of color. This is evidently a large plantation; has
thirty or forty negro huts in three or four rows. They are all neat
and clean to outward appearances. In the far distance and toward
what I take to be the main road is the master’s residence. Can just
see a part of it. Has a cupola on top and is an ancient structure.
Evidently a nice plantation. Lots of cactus grows wild all over, and
is bad to tramp through. There is also worlds of palm leaves, such as
five cent fans are made of. Hold on there, two or three negro men are
coming from the direction of the big house to the huts. Don’t look
very inviting to trust your welfare with. Will still wait, McCawber
like, for something to turn up. If they only knew the designs I have
on them, they would turn pale. Shall be ravenous by night and go
for them. I am near a spring of water, and lay down flat and drink.
The “Astor House Mess” is moving around for a change; hope I won’t
make a mess of it. Lot of goats looking at me now, wondering, I
suppose, what it is. Wonder if they butt? Shoo! Going to rain, and
if so I must sleep in one of those shanties. Negroes all washing
up and getting ready to eat, with doors open. No, thank you; dined
yesterday. Am reminded of the song: “What shall we do, when the war
breaks the country up, and scatters us poor darkys all around.”
This getting away business is about the best investment I ever made.
Just the friendliest fellow ever was. More than like a colored man,
and will stick closer than a brother if they will only let me. Laugh
when I think of the old darky of yesterday’s experience, who liked
me first rate only wanted me to go away. Have an eye on an isolated
hut that looks friendly. Shall approach it at dark. People at the hut
are a woman and two or three children, and a jolly looking and acting
negro man. Being obliged to lay low in the shade feel the cold, as
it is rather damp and moist. LATER.—Am in the hut and have eaten a
good supper. Shall sleep here to-night. The negro man goes early in
the morning, together with all the male darky population, to work on
fortifications at Fort McAllister. Says the whole country is wild
at the news of approaching Yankee army. Negro man named “Sam” and
woman “Sady.” Two or three negroes living here in these huts are not
trustworthy, and I must keep very quiet and not be seen. Children
perfectly awe struck at the sight of a Yankee. Negroes very kind
but afraid. Criminal to assist me. Am five miles from Doctortown.
Plenty of “gubers” and yams. Tell them all about my imprisonment.
Regard the Yankees as their friends. Half a dozen neighbors come
in by invitation, shake hands with me, scrape the floor with their
feet, and rejoice most to death at the good times coming. “Bress
de Lord,” has been repeated hundreds of times in the two or three
hours I have been here. Surely I have fallen among friends. All the
visitors donate of their eatables, and although enough is before me
to feed a dozen men, I give it a tussle. Thus ends the second day of
my freedom, and it is glorious.
Nov. 26.—An hour before daylight “Sam” awoke me and said I must go
with him off a ways to stay through the day. Got up, and we started.
Came about a mile to a safe hiding place, and here I am. Have plenty
to eat and near good water. Sam will tell another trusty negro of
my whereabouts, who will look after me, as he has to go away to
work. The negroes are very kind, and I evidently am in good hands.
Many of those who will not fight in the Confederate army are hid
in these woods and swamps, and there are many small squads looking
them up with dogs and guns to force them into the rebel ranks. All
able-bodied men are conscripted into the army in the South. It is
possible I may be captured by some of these hunting parties. It is
again most night and have eaten the last of my food. Can hear the
baying of hounds and am skeery. Shall take in all the food that
comes this way in the meantime. Sam gave me an old jack knife and
I shall make a good bed to sleep on, and I also have an additional
part of a blanket to keep me warm. In fine spirits and have hopes for
the future. Expect an ambassador from my colored friends a little
later. LATER.—The ambassador has come and gone in the shape of a
woman. Brought food; a man told her to tell me to go off a distance
of two miles or so, to the locality pointed out, before daylight, and
wait there until called upon to-morrow. Rebel guards occupy the main
roads, and very unsafe.
Nov. 27.—Before daylight came where I now am. Saw alligators—small
ones. This out in the woods life is doing me good. Main road three
miles away, but there are paths running everywhere. Saw a white man
an hour ago. Think he was a skulker hiding to keep out of the army,
but afraid to hail him. Many of these stay in the woods day-times,
and at night go to their homes, getting food. Am now away quite a
distance from any habitation, and am afraid those who will look for
me cannot find me. Occasionally hear shots fired; this is a dangerous
locality. Have now been out four days and fared splendidly. Have
hurt one of my ankles getting through the brush; sort of sprain, and
difficult to travel at all. No water near by and must move as soon
as possible. Wild hogs roam around through the woods, and can run
like a deer. Palm leaves grow in great abundance, and are handsome to
look at. Some of them very large. Occasionally see lizards and other
reptiles, and am afraid of them. If I was a good traveler I could
get along through the country and possibly to our lines. Must wander
around and do the best I can however. Am armed with my good stout
cane and the knife given me by the negro; have also some matches, but
dare not make a fire lest it attract attention. Nights have to get
up occasionally and stamp around to get warm. Clear, cool nights and
pleasant. Most too light, however, for me to travel. The remnants of
yesterday’s food, have just eaten. Will now go off in an easterly
direction in hopes of seeing the messenger.
Nov. 28.—No one has come to me since day before yesterday. Watched
and moved until most night of yesterday but could see or hear no
one. Afraid I have lost communication. In the distance can see a
habitation and will mog along that way. Most noon. LATER.—As I
was poking along through some light timber, almost ran into four
Confederates with guns. Lay down close to the ground and they passed
by me not more than twenty rods away. Think they have heard of my
being in the vicinity and looking me up. This probably accounts for
not receiving any visitor from the negroes. Getting very hungry, and
no water fit to drink. Must get out of this community as fast as I
can. Wish to gracious I had two good legs. LATER.—It is now nearly
dark and I have worked my way as near direct north as I know how. Am
at least four miles from where I lay last night. Have seen negroes,
and white men, but did not approach them. Am completely tired out and
hungry, but on the edge of a nice little stream of water. The closing
of the fifth day of my escape. Must speak to somebody to-morrow, or
starve to death. Good deal of yelling in the woods. Am now in the
rear of a hovel which is evidently a negro hut, but off quite a ways
from it. Cleared ground all around the house so I can’t approach it
without being too much in sight. Small negro boy playing around the
house. Too dark to write more.
Nov. 29.—The sixth day of freedom, and a hungry one. Still where I
wrote last night, and watching the house. A woman goes out and in but
cannot tell much about her from this distance. No men folks around.
Two or three negro boys playing about. Must approach the house, but
hate to. NOON.—Still right here. Hold my position. More than hungry.
Three days since I have eaten anything, with the exception of a small
potatoe and piece of bread eaten two days ago and left from the day
before. That length of time would have been nothing in Andersonville,
but now being in better health demand eatables, and it takes right
hold of this wandering sinner. Shall go to the house towards night.
A solitary woman lives there with some children. My ankle from the
sprain and yesterday’s walking is swollen and painful. Bathe it in
water, which does it good. Chickens running around. Have serious
meditations of getting hold of one or two of them after they go to
roost, then go farther back into the wilderness, build a fire with my
matches and cook them. That would be a royal feast. But if caught at
it, it would go harder with me than if caught legitimately. Presume
this is the habitation of some of the skulkers who return and stay
home nights. Believe that chickens squawk when being taken from the
roost. Will give that up and walk boldly up to the house.