JUMP OFF THE CARS NEAR SAVANNAH—FIND FRIENDLY NEGROES—TRAVEL BY
NIGHT AND REST BY DAY—GOOD TIMES WITH MANY ADVENTURES—A MORNING
BATH—ALMOST RUN INTO REBEL PICKETS, ETC., ETC.
IN THE WOODS, Dec 13.—How does that sound for a location to date
from? Yesterday long toward night our train started from its abiding
place and rolled slowly toward its destination, wherever that might
be. When near Savannah, not more than a mile this side, David Buck
jumped off the cars and rolled down the bank. I jumped next and Eli
Buck came right after me. Hastily got up and joined one another,
and hurried off in an easterly direction through the wet, swampy
country. A number of shots were fired at us, but we were surprised
and glad to find that none hit us, although my cap was knocked off
by a bullet hitting the fore-piece. Eli Buck was also singed by a
bullet. It seemed as if a dozen shots were fired. Train did not stop,
and we ran until tired out. Knew that we were within a line of forts
which encircle Savannah, going all the way around it and only twenty
rods or so apart. It was dark when we jumped off, and we soon came
in the vicinity of a school house in which was being held a negro
prayer meeting. We peeked in at the windows, but dared not stop so
near our jumping off place. Worked around until we were near the
railroad again and guided by the track going south—the same way we
had come. It was very dark. Dave Buck went ahead, Eli next and myself
last, going Indian file and very slow. All at once Dave stopped and
whispered to us to keep still, which you may be sure we did. Had come
within ten feet of a person who was going directly in the opposite
direction and also stopped, at the same time we did. Dave Buck says:
“Who comes there?” A negro woman says “it’s me,” and he walked up
close to her and asked where she was going. She says: “Oh! I knows
you; you are Yankees and has jumped off de cars.” By this time we had
come up even with Dave and the woman. Owned up to her that such was
the case. She said we were her friends, and would not tell of us.
Also said that not twenty rods ahead there was a rebel picket, and we
were going right into them. I think if I ever wanted to kiss a woman,
it was that poor, black, negro wench. She told us to go about thirty
rods away and near an old shed, and she would send us her brother;
he would know what to do. We went to the place designated and waited
there an hour, and then we saw two dusky forms coming through the
darkness, and between them a wooden tray of food consisting of boiled
turnips, corn bread and smoked bacon. We lay there behind that old
shed and ate and talked, and talked and ate, for a full hour more.
The negro, “Major,” said he was working on the forts, putting them in
order to oppose the coming of the Yankees, and he thought he could
get us through the line before morning to a safe hiding place. If
we all shook hands once we did fifty times, all around. The negroes
were fairly jubilant at being able to help genuine Yankees. Were very
smart colored people, knowing more than the ordinary run of their
race. Major said that in all the forts was a reserve picket force,
and between the forts the picket. He said pretty well south was a
dilapidated fort which had not as yet been repaired any, and that
was the one to go through or near, as he did not think there was any
picket there. “Bress de Lord, for yo’ safety,” says the good woman.
We ate all they brought us, and then started under the guidance of
Major at somewhere near midnight. Walked slow and by a roundabout
way to get to the fort and was a long time about it, going through a
large turnip patch and over and through hedges. Major’s own safety
as much as ours depended upon the trip. Finally came near the fort
and discovered there were rebels inside and a picket off but a few
rods. Major left us and crawled slowly ahead to reconnoitre; returned
in a few minutes and told us to follow. We all climbed over the side
of the fort, which was very much out of repair. The reserve picket
was asleep around a fire which had nearly gone out. Major piloted
us through the fort, actually stepping over the sleeping rebels.
After getting on the outside there was a wide ditch which we went
through. Ditch was partially full of water. We then went way round
near the railroad again, and started south, guided by the darky, who
hurried us along at a rapid gait. By near daylight we were five or
six miles from Savannah, and then stopped for consultation and rest.
Finally went a mile further, where we are now laying low in a swamp,
pretty well tired out and muddy beyond recognition. Major left us at
daylight, saying he would find us a guide before night who would show
us still further. He had to go back and work on the forts. And so I
am again loose, a free man, with the same old feeling I had when in
the woods before. We got out of a thick settled country safely, and
again await developments. Heard drums and bugles playing reveille
this morning in many directions, and “We are all surrounded.” David
Buck is very confident of getting away to our lines. Eli thinks it
is so if Dave says so, and I don’t know, or care so very much. The
main point with me is to stay out in the woods as long as I can. My
old legs have had a hard time of it since last night and ache, and
are very lame. It’s another beautiful and cold day, this 13th of
December. Biting frost nights, but warmer in the day time. Our plan
is to work our way to the Ogechee River, and wait for the Stars and
Stripes to come to us. Major said Sherman was marching right toward
us all the time, driving the rebel army with no trouble at all. Told
us to keep our ears open and we would hear cannon one of these days,
possibly within a week. The excitement of the last twenty-four hours
has worn me out, and I couldn’t travel to-day if it was necessary.
Have a plenty to eat, and for a wonder I ain’t hungry for anything
except things we haven’t got. Dave is happy as an oyster, and wants
to yell. Where they are so confident I am satisfied all will be
well. As soon as it comes night we are going up to some negro huts
less than a mile off, where we hope and expect that Major has posted
the inmates in regard to us. The railroad is only a short distance
off, and the river only three or four miles. As near as we know, are
about twenty miles from the Atlantic coast. Tell the boys it may be
necessary for me to stay here for two or three days to get recruited
up, but they think three or four miles to-night will do me good.
Don’t like to burden them and shall try it.
[Illustration: David Buck.]
Dec. 14.—We are now three miles from yesterday’s resting place,
and near the Miller plantation. Soon as dark last night we went to
the negro huts and found them expecting us. Had a jubilee. No whites
near, but all away. The Buck boys passed near here before when out
in the woods, and knew of many darkys who befriended them. Had a
surfeit of food. Stayed at the huts until after midnight, and then
a woman brought us to this place. To-night we go to Jocko’s hut,
across the river. A darky will row us across the Little Ogechee to
Jocco’s hut, and then he will take us in tow. It is a rice country
about here, with canals running every way. Negroes all tickled to
death because Yankees coming. I am feeling better than yesterday, but
difficult to travel. Tell the boys they had better leave me with the
friendly blacks and go ahead to our lines, but they won’t. Plenty to
eat and milk to drink, which is just what I want. The whites now are
all away from their homes and most of the negroes. Imagine we can
hear the booming of cannon, but guess we are mistaken. Dave is very
entertaining and good company. Don’t get tired of him and his talk.
Both of them are in rebel dress throughout, and can talk and act just
like rebels. Know the commanders of different rebel regiments. They
say that when out before they on different occasions mixed with the
Southern army, without detection. Said they didn’t wonder the widow
woman knew I was a Yankee. Ain’t up to that kind of thing.
Dec. 15.—Jocko’s hut was not across the river as I supposed and
wrote yesterday, but on the same side we were on. At about ten
o’clock last night we went to his abiding place as directed and
knocked. After a long time an old black head was stuck out of the
window with a nightcap on. The owner of the head didn’t know Jocko
or anything about him; was short and crusty; said: “Go way from
dar!” Kept talking to him and he scolding at being disturbed. Said
he had rheumatics and couldn’t get out to let us in. After a long
time opened the door and we set down on the door step. Told him we
were yankees and wanted help. Was the funniest darky we have met yet.
Would give something for his picture as he was framed in his window
in the moonlight talking to us, with the picturesque surroundings,
and us yankees trying to win him over to aid us. Finally owned up
that he was Jocko, but said he couldn’t row us across the river. He
was lame and could not walk, had no boat, and if he had the river
was so swift he couldn’t get us across, and if it wasn’t swift, the
rebels would catch him at it and hang him. Talked a long time and
with much teasing. By degrees his scruples gave way, one at a time.
Didn’t know but he might row us across if he only had a boat, and
finally didn’t know but he could find a boat. To get thus far into
his good graces took at least three hours. Went looking around and
found an old scow, fixed up some old oars, and we got in; before
doing so however, he had warmed up enough to give us some boiled
sweet potatoes and cold baked fish. Rowed us way down the river and
landed us on the noted Miller plantation and a mile in rear of the
negro houses. Jocko, after we forced our acquaintance on him with all
kind of argument, proved to be a smart able-bodied old negro, but
awful afraid of being caught helping runaways. Would give something
for his picture as he appeared to us looking out of his cabin window.
Just an old fashioned, genuine negro, and so black that charcoal
would make a white mark on him. Took us probably three miles from
his hut, two miles of water and one of land, and then started back
home after shaking us a dozen times by the hand, and “God blessing
us.” Said “Ole Massa Miller’s niggers all Union niggers,” and to go
up to the huts in broad daylight and they would help us. No whites
at home on the plantation. We arrived where Jocko left us an hour
or so before daylight, and lay down to sleep until light. I woke
up after a while feeling wet, and found the tide had risen and we
were surrounded with water; woke up the boys and scrambled out of
that in a hurry, going through two feet of water in some places.
The spot where we had laid down was a higher piece of ground than
that adjoining. Got on to dry land and proceeded to get dry. At
about ten o’clock Dave went up to the negro huts and made himself
known, which was hard work. The negroes are all afraid that we are
rebels and trying to get them into a scrape, but after we once get
them thoroughly satisfied that we are genuine Yanks they are all
right, and will do anything for us. The negroes have shown us the
big house, there being no whites around, they having left to escape
the coming Yankee army. We went up into the cupola and looked way
off on the ocean, and saw our own noble gunboats. What would we
give to be aboard of them? Their close proximity makes us discuss
the feasibility of going down the river and out to them, but the
negroes say there are chain boats across the river farther down, and
picketed. Still it makes us anxious, our being so near, and we have
decided to go down the river to-night in a boat and see if we can’t
reach them. It is now the middle of the afternoon and we lay off from
the huts eighty rods, and the negroes are about to bring us some
dinner. During the night we traveled over oyster beds by the acre,
artificial ones, and they cut our feet. Negroes say there are two
other runaways hid a mile off and they are going to bring them to our
abiding place. LATER.—Negroes have just fed us with corn bread and a
kind of fish about the size of sardines, boiled by the kettle full,
and they are nice. Fully as good as sardines. Think I know now where
nearly all the imported sardines come from. Negroes catch them by the
thousand, in nets, put them in kettles, and cook them a few minutes,
when they are ready to eat. Scoop them out of the creeks. The two
other runaways are here with us. They are out of the 3d Ohio Cavalry.
Have been out in the woods for two weeks. Escaped from Blackshear
and traveled this far. I used to know one of them in Savannah. We do
not take to them at all, as they are not of our kind. Shall separate
to-night, they going their way and we going ours. Have secured a
dug-out boat to go down the Ogechee River with to-night. The negroes
tell us of a Mr. Kimball, a white man, living up the country fifteen
miles, who is a Union man, and helps runaways, or any one of Union
proclivities. He lays up the river, and our gunboats lay down the
river. Both have wonderful charms for us, and shall decide before
night which route to take. Are on rice plantation, and a valuable
one. Before the “wah” there were over fifteen hundred negroes on this
place. Cotton is also part of the production. Have decided to go
down the river and try to reach our gunboats. It’s a very hazardous
undertaking, and I have my doubts as to its successful termination.
Dec. 16.—Another adventure, and a red hot one. Started down the river
in our dug-out boat somewhere near midnight. Ran down all right
for an hour, frequently seeing rebel pickets and camp fires. Saw
we were going right into the lion’s mouth, as the farther down the
more rebels. All at once our boat gave a lurch and landed in a tree
top which was sticking out of the water, and there we were, swaying
around in the cold water in the middle or near the middle of the
Ogechee. Dave went ashore and to a negro hut, woke up the inmates,
and narrated our troubles. A negro got up, and with another boat came
to the rescue. Were about froze with the cold and wet. Said not more
than a mile farther down we would have run right into a chain boat,
with pickets posted on it. It really seems as if a Divine providence
were guiding us. After getting a breakfast of good things started
off toward the Big Ogechee River, and have traveled three or four
miles. Are now encamped, or rather laying down, on a little hillock
waiting for evening, to get out of this vicinity which is a dangerous
one. In our river escapade lost many of our things, but still hang to
my coverlid and diary. There are three or four houses in view, and
principally white residences, those of the poor white trash order,
and they are the very ones we must avoid. Have caught cold and am
fearfully out of traveling condition, but must go it now. A mistake
in coming down the river. Am resting up, preparatory to traveling all
night up the country. No chance of getting out by the coast. Have
enough food to last all day and night, and that is a good deal. Can’t
carry more than a day’s supply. Have now been out in the woods, this
is the fourth day, and every day has been fresh adventures thick
and fast. If I could only travel like my comrades, would get along.
Bucks praise me up and encourage me to work away, and I do. For
breakfast had more of those imported sardines. Storm brewing of some
sort and quite chilly. Saw rebel infantry marching along the highway
not more than eighty rods off. Hugged the ground very close. Dogs
came very near us, and if they had seen us would have attracted the
rebels’ attention. Am writing with a pencil less than an inch long.
Shall print this diary and make my everlasting fortune, and when
wealthy will visit this country and make every negro who has helped
us millionaires. Could not move from here half a mile by daylight
without being seen, and as a consequence we are feeling very sore
on the situation. Don’t know but I shall be so lame to-night that I
cannot walk at all, and then the boys must leave me and go ahead for
themselves. However, they say I am worth a hundred dead men yet, and
will prod me along like a tired ox. Dave goes now bareheaded, or not
quite so bad as that, as he has a handkerchief tied over his head.
The programme now is to go as straight to Mr. Kimball’s as we can. He
is probably twenty miles away; is a white Union man I spoke of a day
or so ago in this same diary. Will stick to him like a brother. Can
hear wagons go along the road toward Savannah, which is only thirteen
or fourteen miles away. LATER.—Most dark enough to travel and I have
straightened up and am taking an inventory of myself. Find I can walk
with the greatest difficulty. The boys argue that after I get warmed
up I will go like a top, and we will see.
Dec. 17.—And another day of vicissitudes. We traveled last night
about four miles, piloted by a young negro. It was a terrible walk to
me; slow and painful. Were fed, and have food for to-day. Are now
about three miles from a canal which we must cross before another
morning. Negroes say “Sherman most here” and “Bress de Lord!” Mr.
Kimball lives nine miles away and we must reach him some way, but
it seems an impossibility for me to go so far. Are now in a high
and fine country, but too open for us. Have to lay down all day in
the bushes. David is a thorough scout. Goes crawling around on his
hands and knees taking in his bearings. Troops are encamped on the
main road. Every cross road has its pickets, and it is slow business
to escape running into them. Eli S. Buck has a sore throat and is
hoarse. Pretty good jaunt for him, tough as he is. Shall have no
guide to-night, as Dave thinks he can engineer us all right in
the right direction. Some thinks he will leave us both and reach
Kimball’s to-night, and then come back and see us through. Guess I
will be on hand to go along however.
Dec. 18.—Six days of freedom and what a sight of hardship, sweetened
by kind treatment and the satisfaction of being out from under
guard. We traveled last night some four miles and now are in a very
precarious position. When almost daylight we came to the canal, and
found cavalry pickets all along the tow-path; walked along until we
came to a lock. A cavalryman was riding his horse up and down by the
lock. At the lock there was a smouldering fire. It was absolutely
necessary that we get across before daylight. As the mounted picket
turned his horse’s head to go from us, Dave slid across the tow-path
and went across the timbers which formed the lock, and by the time
the picket turned around to come back Dave was hid on the opposite
shore. At the next trip of the rebel Eli went the same as Dave. The
third one to go was myself, and I expected to get caught, sure. Could
not go as quiet as the rest, and was slower. Thought the picket saw
me when half way across but kept right on going, and for a wonder
made it all right. Was thoroughly scared for the first time since
jumping off the train. Am very nervous. All shook hands when the
picket turned about to go back the fourth time. Getting light in
the east and we must move on, as the country is very open. Dare not
travel over half a mile, and here we are hid almost in a woman’s door
yard, not over thirty rods from her very door. Are in some evergreen
bushes and shrubs. It’s now most noon, and have seen a rather elderly
lady go out and in the house a number of times. The intrepid Dave is
going up to the house to interview the lady soon. LATER.—Dave crawled
along from our hiding place until he came to the open ground, and
then straightened boldly up and walked to the house. In fifteen
minutes he came back with some bread and dried beef, and said the
woman was a Union woman and would help us. Her daughter slept at
her uncle’s a mile off last night, and expected her back soon, and
perhaps the uncle, who is a violent Secesh, with her. Said for us to
lay low. LATER.—The daughter came home on horseback and alone. Could
see the old lady telling the daughter about us and pointing our way.
About the middle of the afternoon the old lady started out toward
us. Behind her came a young darky, and behind the darky came another
darky; then a dog, then a white boy, then a darky, and then the
daughter. Old lady peeked in, and so did the rest except the grown-up
girl, who was too afraid. Finally came closer, and as she got a good
view of us she says: “Why, mother, they look just like anybody else.”
She had never seen a Yankee before. Brought us some more food, and
after dark will set a table for us to come to the house and eat. Her
name is Mrs. Dickinson. They went back to the house and we proceeded
to shake hands with one another. During the afternoon five rebel
soldiers came to the house, one at a time. It is now most dark and we
are about ready to go to the house and eat. Mr. Kimball lives only
four miles away.
Dec. 19.—We are now less than half a mile from Mr. Kimball’s. After
dark last night we went to Mrs. Dickinson’s house and partook of a
splendid supper. I wrote a paper directed to the officer commanding
the first Yankee troops that should arrive here telling what she had
done for us runaway Yankees. She talked a great deal, and I thought
was careless leaving the front door open. Three or four times I
got up and shut that door. We had taken off our blankets and other
wraps and left them in a sort of a kitchen, and were talking in the
best room. I heard the gate click, and on looking out saw two rebel
officers coming to the house and not six rods off. We jumped into the
other room and out of the back door and behind a corn house, bare
headed. The officers were asked into the front room by the daughter.
They asked who the parties were who ran out of the back way. She said
she reckoned no one. They kept at her and jokingly intimated that
some of her skulking lovers had been to see her. She kept talking
back and finally said: “Mother, did any one just go away?” And the
old lady said: “Why, yes, brother Sam and his ‘boy’ just went off
home.” Them confounded rebels had come to see the girl and spend the
evening, and we shivering out in the cold. Joked her for an hour and
a half about her lovers and we hearing every word. Finally they
got up and bid her good night, saying they would send back some men
to guard the house and keep her lovers away. Just as soon as they
were down the road a ways, the daughter came out very frightened and
said for us to hurry off, as they would send back troops to look for
us. Hurried into the house, got our things and some dried beef, and
started off toward Mr. Kimball’s house. Reached here just before
daylight and lay down back of the house about eighty rods, in the
corner of the fence, to sleep a little before morning. Just at break
of day heard some one calling hogs. David got up and went toward an
old man whom we knew was our friend Kimball. Came to us, and was glad
to shake hands with genuine Yankees. Said one of his neighbors was
coming over early to go with him to hunt some hogs, and for us to go
farther off and stay until night, and he would think up during the
day what to do with us. Did not want anything to eat. Came to this
place where we now are, and feeling that our journey was most ended.
Mr. Kimball said that Sherman was not over fifty miles off, and
coming right along twenty miles per day, and our plan was to hide and
await coming events. Mr. Kimball is an old man, probably sixty years
old, white haired and stoop shouldered. He had five sons, all drafted
into the rebel army. All refused to serve. Two have been shot by the
rebels, one is in some prison for his Union proclivities, and two are
refugees. The old man has been imprisoned time and again, his stock
confiscated, property destroyed, and all together had a hard time of
it. Still he is true blue, a Union man to the back bone. Really think
our troubles coming to an end. Kimball said: “Glory to God, the old
Stars and Stripes shall float over my house in less than a week!”
It’s a noble man who will stand out through all that he has, for his
principles, when his interests are all here. Is not only willing, but
glad to help us, and says anything he has is ours, if it will help us
toward our escape. LATER.—Have been laying all day watching Kimball’s
house. Along in the morning the neighbor spoken of came to Kimball’s,
and they both went off on horseback to shoot hogs. The swine here
roam over a large territory and become most wild, and when they want
fresh pork they have to go after it with a gun. You may be sure the
hunters did not come near us with Mr. Kimball for a guide. A negro
boy went with them with a light wagon and mule attached. Near noon
they returned with some killed hogs in the wagon. At three or four
o’clock the old man came down where we were “to look after his boys,”
he said. Is in the best of spirits. Says we are to hide to-night
where he tells us, and stay until our troops reach us. That is jolly
good news for me, as I hate to travel. Said come to the house after
dark and he would have a supper prepared for us, and has just left
us. LATER.—Have just eaten a splendid supper at Kimball’s and getting
ready to travel three miles to a safe hiding place.
Dec. 20.—Well, we are just well fixed and happy. After partaking
of a royal repast last night, served in an out-building near the
main building of the Kimball home, we were directed to this place
which is on the banks of the Big Ogechee river, in a most delightful
spot. While we were at Kimball’s he had negro sentinels stationed
at different points on the plantation to announce the coming of any
rebel soldiers or citizens that might see fit to come near. He gave
us an axe, a quart of salt, a ham too big to carry conveniently, and
all the sweet potatoes we could drag along; also a butcher knife.
Went with us a mile as guide and then told us so we found the place
pointed out. Also gave us some shelled corn to bait hogs and told
Dave how to make a deadfall to catch them. We left the main road
going directly West until we came to a fence, then turned to the left
and followed the line of the fence, and when we had got to the end of
it kept straight ahead going through a swampy low section. After a
while came to higher and dry land and to the banks of the river. Is a
sort of an island, and as I said before, a very pretty and pleasant
spot. Out in the river grows tall canebrake which effectually hides
us from any one going either up or down the river. Tall pines are
here in abundance and nice grass plats, with as handsome palm
clusters as ever I saw. Are going to build us a house to keep off the
cold and rain. Have matches and a rousing fire cooked our breakfast
of nice ham and sweet potatoes. We also roasted some corn and had
corn coffee. Any quantity of hogs running around and Dave is already
thinking of a trap to catch them. It will be necessary for we are
making that ham look sick. Eat so much breakfast that we can hardly
walk and don’t know but will commit suicide by eating. Buzzards
fly around attracted by the cooking. Are as large and look like
turkeys. Our government should give to Mr. Kimball a fortune for
his patriotism and sacrifices to the Union cause. About eight miles
above is a long bridge across the river and there it is thought a big
fight will take place when Sherman attempts to cross, and so we will
know when they approach, as we could hear a battle that distance.
NIGHT.—We have built the cosyest and nicest little house to lay in.
Cut poles with the axe and made a frame, and then covered the top
with palm leaves just like shingles on a house at the North, then
fixed three sides the same way, each leaf overlapping the other, and
the fourth side open to a fire and the river. The water is cold and
clear and nice to drink; just like spring water. Have eaten the ham
half up; ditto potatoes. The increased prosperity makes me feel well
bodily, and mentally am more so. It is still the “Astor House Mess.”
We all cook, and we all eat. Dave prays to-night as he does every
night and morning, and I ain’t sure but all through the day. Is a
thorough Christian if ever there was one. I also wrote a letter for
Mr. Kimball to the commanding Union officer who may first approach
these parts. In it I told how he had befriended us and others. We
heard boats going by on the river to-day. At such times all we do is
to keep still, as no one can see us. Rebels are too busy to look for
us or any one else. All they can do now to take care of themselves.
Eli is making up our bed, getting ready to turn in. I have just
brought a tin pail of nice water and we all drink. Take off our shoes
for the first time in some days. A beautiful night—clear and cold.
And thus ends another day, and we are in safety.
Dec. 21.—Got up bright and early. Never slept better. Getting rested
up. We talk continually. Both Bucks are great talkers, especially
David. Cooked and ate our breakfast, and would you believe it the
ham is all gone. Incredible, the amount of food we eat. Wonder it
don’t make us all sick. Sweet potatoes getting low. Dave fixing up
his deadfall for hogs. Has rolled some heavy logs together forty rods
away from our house, and fixed up a figure four spring trap, with
the logs for weight to hold down the animal which may be enticed
into it. Has scattered corn in and around the trap, and we wait
for developments. Hogs are very shy of us and surroundings. Are
apparently fat and in good order. Plenty of roots and shack which
they eat, and thrive thereon. Buzzards are very curious in regard to
us. They light on the limbs in the trees, and if their support is
a dead limb it breaks and makes a great noise in the still woods.
Two or three hundred all together make a terrible racket, and scare
us sometimes. The weather is very fine, and this must be a healthy
climate. Dave is going out to-day to look around. As I have said
before, he is a scout and understands spying around, and won’t get
caught. If we had a fish hook and line or a net of some sort could
catch fish to eat. That would be a grand sport as we can see nice
large fish in the water. The main road is away about one and a half
miles we think by the sound of the teams which occasionally rumble
along. Often hear shouting on the road as if cattle were being
driven along toward Savannah. Once in a while we hear guns fired
off, but it is no doubt hogs being killed. We also hear folks going
up and down the river, but cannot see them. After dark we have no
fire as that would expose us, it is so much plainer to be seen in
the night. The river is wide; should think a third of a mile, as
we can view it from away up the stream. The cane that grows in the
river is the same as we have for fish poles at the North, and are
shipped from the South. Have added some repairs to the house and it
is now water tight, we think. Made a bed of soft boughs, and with
our three blankets have a good sleeping place. Dave got a tall cane
and fastened up on the house, and for a flag fastened on a piece of
black cloth—the best we could do. That means no quarter; and it is
just about what we mean, too. Don’t believe we would be taken very
easy now. I am getting fat every day, yet lame, and have come to
the conclusion that it will be a long time before I get over it.
The cords have contracted so in my right leg that they don’t seem
to stretch out again to their original length. That scurvy business
came very near killing me. LATER.—I also went out of our hiding
place, and saw away out in a field what I took to be a mound where
sweet potatoes were buried. Came back and got a pair of drawers, tied
the bottom of the legs together, and sallied forth. The mound of
potatoes was a good way back from the house, although in plain sight.
I crawled up, and began digging into it with a piece of canteen.
Very soon had a hole in, and found some of the nicest potatoes
that you can imagine, of the red variety, which I believe are the
genuine Southern yam. Filled the drawers cram full, filled my pockets
and got all I could possibly carry, then closed up the hole and
worked my way back to camp. Eli was alone, Dave not having returned
from his scouting trip. Had a war dance around those potatoes.
Believe there is a bushel of them, and like to have killed myself
getting them here. After I got into the woods and out of the field,
straightened up and got the drawers on my shoulders and picked the
way to head-quarters. We don’t any of us call any such thing as that
stealing. It’s one of the necessities of our lives that we should
have food, and if we have not got it, must do the best we can. Now
if we can catch a porker will be fixed all right for some days to
come. Think it is about the time of year for butchering. We don’t
expect to be here more than two or three days at fartherest, although
I shall hate to leave this beautiful spot, our nice house and all.
Listen all the time for the expected battle at the bridge, and at any
unusual sound of commotion in that direction we are all excitement.
LATER.—Dave has returned. He went to the main road and saw a negro.
Was lucky enough to get a Savannah paper three days old in which
there was nothing we did not know in regard to Sherman’s coming. The
negro said yankee scouts had been seen just across the river near the
bridge, and the main army is expected every day. The rebels will fall
back across the river and contest the crossing. Fortifications are
built all along clear to Savannah, and it may be reasonably expected
that some hard fighting will take place. Savannah is the pride of
the South and they will not easily give it up. Dave did not tell the
negro that he was a yankee, but represented himself as a conscript
hiding in the woods to keep from fighting in the rebel army. Was glad
to see supply of potatoes and says I will do. Has freshly baited
his trap for hogs and thinks before night we will have fresh pork
to go with the potatoes. LATER.—We went around a drove of hogs and
gradually and carefully worked them up to the trap. Pretty soon they
began to pick up the corn and one of them went under the figure four,
sprung it and down came the logs and such a squealing and scrambling
of those not caught. The axe had been left near the trap standing up
against a tree, and Dave ran up and grabbed it and struck the animal
on the head and cut his throat. How we did laugh and dance around
that defunct porker. Exciting sport this trapping for fresh pork. In
half an hour Dave and Eli had the pig skinned and dressed. Is not a
large one probably weighs ninety pounds or so, and is fat and nice.
Have sliced up enough for about a dozen men and are now cooking it on
sticks held up before the fire. Also frying some in a skillet which
we are the possessor of. When the hogs run wild and eat acorns, roots
and the like, the meat is tough and curly but is sweet and good. We
fry out the grease and then slice up the potatoes and cook in it.
Thanks to Mr. Kimball we have plenty of salt to season our meat with.
The buzzards are after their share which will be small. And now it
is most night again and the “Astor House” larder is full. Seems too
bad to go to bed with anything to eat on hand, but must. That is the
feeling with men who have been starved so long, cannot rest in peace
with food laying around. My two comrades are not so bad about that as
I am, having been well fed for a longer period. Have sat up three or
four hours after dark, talking over what we will do when we get home,
and will now turn in for a sound sleep. It’s a clear moonlight night,
and we can hear very plain a long distance. Can also see the light
shining from camp fires in many directions, or what we take to be
such.
Dec. 22.—As Dan Rice used to say in the circus ring: “Here we are
again.” Sleep so sound that all the battles in America could not wake
me up. Are just going for that fresh pork to-day. Have three kinds of
meat—fried pig, roast pork and broiled hog. Good any way you can fix
it. Won’t last us three days at this rate, and if we stay long enough
will eat up all the hogs in these woods. Pretty hoggish on our part,
and Dave says for gracious sake not to write down how much we eat,
but as this diary is to be a record of what takes place, down it goes
how much we eat. Tell him that inasmuch as we have a preacher along
with us, we ought to have a sermon occasionally. Says he will preach
if I will sing, and I agree to that if Eli will take up a collection.
One objection Eli and I have to his prayers is the fact that he wants
the rebels saved with the rest, yet don’t tell him so. Mutually agree
that his prayers are that much too long. Asked him if he thought it
stealing to get those potatoes as I did, and he says no, and that he
will go next time. We begin to expect the Yankees along. It’s about
time. Don’t know what I shall do when I again see Union soldiers with
guns in their hands, and behold the Stars and Stripes. Probably go
crazy, or daft, or something. This is a cloudy, chilly day, and we
putter around gathering up pine knots for the fire, wash our duds and
otherwise busy ourselves. Have saved the hog skin to make moccasins
of, if the Union army is whipped and we have to stay here eight or
ten years. The hair on our heads is getting long again, and we begin
to look like wild men of the woods. One pocket comb does for the
entire party; two jack knives and a butcher knife. I have four keys
jingling away in my pocket to remind me of olden times. Eli has a
testament and Dave has a bible, and the writer hereof has not. Still,
I get scripture quoted at all hours, which will, perhaps, make up in
a measure. Am at liberty to use either one of their books, and I do
read more or less. Considerable travel on the highways, and going
both ways as near as we can judge. Dave wants to go out to the road
again but we discourage him in it, and he gives it up for to-day at
least. Are afraid he will get caught, and then our main stay will
be gone. Pitch pine knots make a great smoke which rises among the
trees and we are a little afraid of the consequences; still, rebels
have plenty to do now without looking us up. Many boats go up and
down the river and can hear them talk perhaps fifty rods away. Rebel
paper that Dave got spoke of Savannah being the point aimed at by
Sherman, also of his repulses; still I notice that he keeps coming
right along. Also quoted part of a speech by Jefferson Davis, and
he is criticised unmercifully. Says nothing about any exchange of
prisoners, and our old comrades are no doubt languishing in some
prison. LATER.—Considerable firing up in vicinity of the bridge. Can
hear volleys of musketry, and an occasional boom of cannon. Hurrah!
It is now four o’clock by the sun and the battle is certainly taking
place. LATER.—Go it Billy Sherman, we are listening and wishing
you the best of success. Come right along and we will be with you.
Give ’em another—that was a good one. We couldn’t be more excited
if we were right in the midst of it. Hurrah! It is now warm for
the Johnnies. If we had guns would go out and fight in their rear;
surround them, as it were. Troops going by to the front, and are
cavalry, should think, also artillery. Can hear teamsters swearing
away as they always do. LATER.—It is now long after dark and we have
a good fire. Fighting has partially subsided up the river, but of
course we don’t know whether Yankee troops have crossed the river
or not. Great deal of travel on the road, but can hardly tell which
way they are going. Occasional firing. No sleep for us to-night. In
the morning shall go out to the road and see how things look. Every
little while when the battle raged the loudest, all of us three would
hurrah as if mad, but we ain’t mad a bit; are tickled most to death.
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