seen John Brown before, some of us a number of times, and under trying
circumstances. But now all felt that the real man we had never before
beheld. The daring, the intrepidity, the large resources of the man,
none of us had imagined till that moment.
Not a gun was discharged, their commander having given to his men the
same strict orders that were given at Bunker Hill of old, that they
should "reserve their fire till they could see the whites of their
enemy's eyes." But before they had quite gained that very dangerous
proximity to us, we succeeded in making them understand that we were
their friends.
Then such a glad shout as rent the air from both sides was seldom ever
heard, we believe, on any field even of victory. They were as glad to
find that we were their friends, as we, in our helpless condition, were
glad to learn that they were not our enemies.
The full intrepidity of Brown and his men, though it appeared to us
astounding, was not fully appreciable till we came to look at it
somewhat from their own view-point.
We were actually about eighty men, prisoners and all. But, spread out
as we were, with the many horses grazing, the scattered and unpacked
wagons, numerous camp-fires,—widely separated for convenience,—arms
stacked in some places, and men gathered in groups in others, we
presented altogether a formidable appearance. What was more, this
was enhanced by our peculiar position, so that, to them, our numbers
and strength were exaggerated, while our weakness and confusion were
concealed. Brown admitted to us himself, afterward, that he thought he
was undertaking to whip a force of two or three hundred, while his men
declared that they believed they were actually charging upon not less
than a thousand.
Brown's quick military eye took in, at the first, the supposed
situation; and, as in a flash, he decided what to do. All depended,
he concluded, upon rapidity of action. His only hope lay in striking
a sudden and crushing blow, for which we were unprepared, and from
which we could not recover till he had made victory sure. From the
time Brown's forces came in sight over the hill, till they were within
gunshot of us, hardly thirty seconds elapsed,—a very short notice in
which to prepare for action, even if an attack were expected.
[Illustration]
XI
Brown to Our Prisoners
[Illustration]
After mutual congratulations over the bloodless and happy conclusion of
the adventure, we set our friends down with us to eat the interrupted
breakfast, to which they were prepared to do ample justice. They
had ridden all night, some forty or fifty miles, in pursuit of the
enemy,—had ridden all night, without rest or food, from the time they
left us, at dusk of evening, till they surprised us that morning with
their dauntless charge.
Another incident in connection with the events described it seems
fitting to mention, as affording a very interesting side-glance at
the character of our hero. After the meal, Captain Brown was asked by
our officers to give a talk to the prisoners taken the day before, who
were now drawn up in line for parole. He responded without an instant's
hesitation or a moment to think what he should say.
He spoke to them in a plain, simple, unpretentious way, but with
a directness, a force, and an eloquence withal, which doubtless
wonderfully impressed those addressed, as certainly it held spell-bound
all others who listened. Such vivid and indelible impression did this
speech of Brown make on the mind of the present writer that, even after
the lapse of these many years, he is able to reproduce it, not only
in substance, but almost word for word; and he has no doubt of its
exceptional character. Perhaps it was second only to that immortal
address which the hero made three years later to the court at his trial
in Virginia, which Emerson pronounced one of the three most remarkable
addresses in the world.
On the latter occasion, however, instead of a few plain, simple, rough
and ready, but intensely admiring followers, he had almost the whole
civilized world eagerly to hear and sacredly to preserve his utterance.
Brown's speech to the prisoners was probably not over five minutes long
in its delivery, but it lasted those forty trembling men a lifetime.
It was not known that one of them ever afterward ventured over the
Missouri border into the Kansas territory.
The address was as follows:
"Men of Missouri, one of your number has asked to see John Brown. Here
he is. Look at him, and hereafter remember that he is the enemy of all
evil-doers.
"And what of you yourselves, men! You are from a neighboring State.
What are you here for? You are invaders of this territory,—and for
evil purposes, you know as well as we know. You have been killing
our men, terrorizing our women and children, and destroying our
property,—houses, crops, and animals. So you stand here as criminals.
"You are fighting for slavery. You want to make or keep other people
slaves. Do you not know that your wicked efforts will end in making
slaves of yourselves? You come here to make this a slave State. You are
fighting against liberty, which our Revolutionary fathers fought to
establish in this Republic, where all men should be free and equal,
with the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness. Therefore, you are traitors to liberty and to your country,
of the worst kind, and deserve to be hung to the nearest tree.
"But we shall not touch a hair of your heads. Have no fear. You are
deluded men. You have been deceived by men who are your elders but
not your betters. You have been misled into this wrong, by those your
leaders; thus, they are the real criminals and worse than traitors,
and, if we had them here instead of you, they would not find such mercy
at our hands.
"You we forgive. For, as you yourselves have confessed, we believe it
can be said of you that, as was said of them of old, you being without
knowledge, 'you know not what you do.' But hereafter you will be
without excuse.
"Go in peace. Go home and tell your neighbors and friends of your
mistake. We deprive you only of your arms, and do that only lest
some of you are not yet converted to the right. We let you go free
of punishment this time; but, do we catch you over the border again
committing depredations, you must not expect, nor will you receive, any
mercy.
"Go home, and become liberty-loving citizens of your State and country,
and your mistakes and misdeeds, as also the injuries which you have
inflicted upon us, will not have been in vain."
[Illustration]
XII
Hard Lines
[Illustration]
The personal experiences here related are of interest and have a value
mainly as they throw somewhat of fresh light upon the character of the
subject of this work, Captain Brown, and upon the events and times in
which he was the leading actor.
Those were troublous times,—times that indeed "tried the men's souls"
who experienced them. The hardships were severe. Danger and disease,
death by ruthless hands, and even death from starvation, often stared
us in the face. At one time we lived six weeks solely on Indian-meal
mixed with water and dried before the fire, and that without even a
condiment. This was our common fare in times of scarcity. Bacon and
molasses, and tea without milk or sugar, were our luxuries in times of
plenty.
For months, in the summer of '56, the men in our settlement never had
their clothes off, day or night, unless torn or worn off. On a trip
early in the summer mentioned, made by a companion and myself to Kansas
City for provisions, we chanced to come across John Brown and his
company encamped in the woods on a river-bank. After we made ourselves
known as friends we were invited into their camp. A more ragged set of
men than we found were rarely, we believe, ever seen,—Brown worst off
of all, for he would not fare better than his men. They had no shirts
to their backs, and their outer clothing was worn or torn to tatters.
While in camp, they were going barefoot to save the remnants of their
worn-out shoes for emergencies. And withal, they were, they said, on
short rations, having no bread, but only Indian-meal and water. They
were glad of the opportunity to engage us to bring them provisions on
our return, but they confessed they were as short of money as they were
of provisions, which simply meant that we must share ours with them.
The men of our company worked hard by day to raise crops, with their
rifles near at hand, and slept in the "bush" at night to avoid surprise
and capture in their cabins. Only the women and children ran the risk
of remaining in the houses, in their defenselessness trusting to the
mercy of the enemy. That border life invited sickness, especially the
malaria of the low prairie. Our cabins were roughly made, and so open
that when it rained it was about as wet inside of them as outside.
We had not time to dig wells, and in mid-summer the rivers were low
and the water so stagnant that we had to brush the green scum from the
surface when we dipped the water to drink or for other uses. Every man,
woman, and child of the settlement was ill with the "fever and ague,"
so termed. There came near being an exception to the rule. One man kept
so full of whiskey, continuously, that the ague didn't seem to have
even a fighting chance; but at length the liquor fell short, and the
ague then found its opportunity and even made up for lost time.
As for fire-arms with which to defend ourselves, we were not well off.
The famous Sharpe's rifles—"Beecher's Bibles," so-called, from the
great preacher's contribution of them—won Kansas to freedom in large
measure; but more by their terrible name than by virtue of any large
number of the weapons themselves. The Free State men in Kansas actually
had few of them.
When my older brother, with whom I went to the territory, and myself
called on Theodore Parker in Boston,—for one thing to ask him if
those going to Kansas would be helped to fire-arms,—he said he was
sorry that his previous contributions had left him "nary red" which he
could give for the purpose, and he referred us to the Aid Society. We
concluded, however, to depend on our own means, though slender, and so
bought, to use between us, one Sharpe's rifle for twenty-five dollars.
We thought it might be useful to bring down prairie hens and wild
turkeys, if not needed for more serious use.
This was the only Sharpe's rifle owned in our settlement of thirty-six
men and youth able to bear arms. The members of our company, in fact,
at this early period in the Kansas troubles of which we write, were
very slimly accoutered for warfare, and the writer actually went into
the battle of Sugar Mound, described in previous pages, with an old,
worn-out flint-lock rifle, being a boy put off with the poorest weapon,
which, with the greatest care, he could not discharge more than once in
a half-dozen times' trying. And it was the only weapon he had until he
made prisoner a Missourian and possessed himself of better arms.
[Illustration]
XIII
A Government Musket
[Illustration]
What does the reader suppose these arms were? The one of interest was
a United States army musket, altered over from a "flint-lock" to a
modern "percussion-cap,"—a very effective fire-arm. It will be seen
that we had to contend not only with the Border Ruffian, but with the
greater ruffian at that time behind him, the United States Government
itself, which was covertly lending its influence and even its arms on
the side of slavery. Those Government guns were stored at Fort Scott,
on the Missouri border, and the Pro-slavery men were allowed to help
themselves to them.
That Government musket I intended to keep as a souvenir of Kansas
times; but later, on the occasion of coming down the Missouri river,
when boarding the steamboat with this musket in a common gun-case, I
thoughtlessly, on entering the main saloon, stood it in a conspicuous
corner. It was soon afterward noticed,—"spotted," as the phrase
went,—and I heard some one whisper, "Kansas." A rough-looking
passenger approached the piece, removed its case in examining it, and
inquired in a loud voice for its owner. Everybody was now all interest.
It was a time when the Kansas excitement was at its height, and
passions ran wild.
The cry, "Yankee! Yankee!" burst from the crowd. "Overboard with him!
Overboard! Overboard!" was howled, and "Yankee! Yankee!" again rang out
in hot, angry tones.
The subject of these gentle remarks, it goes without saying, was surely
one of the most interested spectators of the scene of all the members
of the crowd, and, as was quite politic, joined in the outcries. The
odds seemed to be decidedly against him, and dissent was surely unwise.
Apparently there was not another Eastern man on board, and this one
felt—as once a Western man said he did when expecting to be lynched
by a howling mob—"a little lonesome." Very fortunately for him, no
one observed that he was in any way connected with the interesting
implement of warfare. Had it been discovered that he was the owner
of that musket,—well! he would probably not be here now to tell
his story. If the possessor of it, on the contrary, had proved to be
a "Pro-slavery" from the territory, he would immediately have been
lionized as a hero.
"All's well that ends well." The only matter of regret to the owner was
that he lost sight and possession forever, that troublous night, of his
souvenir musket. It was secretly made away with by some one's hands,
under cover of the darkness.
An incident in the story of the musket we may here relate, on account
of its probable significance, not apparent at that time, but revealed
at a later date.
As we were making our way leisurely from the battlefield at Sugar
Mound, the opportunity was afforded me to show Captain Brown my share
of the trophies of our recent victory. He seemed rather indifferent as
he looked at the revolvers, the fine powder-horn, the shot-bag, and
the cartridge-pouch; but when he caught sight of the musket he grasped
it eagerly and scrutinized it with intense interest. On the gun-stock
was inscribed: "Made at the U. S. Armory, Harper's Ferry, Va.,"—or
words to that effect.
When, three years later, occurred that startling episode in our history
at Harper's Ferry, Brown's scrutiny of the musket was recalled by me
and apparently found its explanation. It raises the question, How long
had he contemplated carrying the war into Africa?
In Brown's view, slavery was war, aggressive and in actual operation.
Therefore, any attack on the institution was virtually defensive
warfare, legitimate and justifiable. He was a worshiper, heart and
soul, at liberty's shrine, and to his mind no sacrifice in its cause
was too great or costly. In that light must be interpreted his hard
saying: "It would be better that a whole generation of men, women, and
children should be sacrificed than have liberty perish from the earth."
[Illustration]
XIV
An Unfailing Guide
[Illustration]
The youngest male member of our Kansas party, hardly more than a boy,
was possessor of a peculiar psychical faculty—very fortunately for
us during all our troublous experiences in the territory. It was a
modest gift, but an exceedingly useful one to us under the exceptional
circumstances in which we often found ourselves, and this not alone to
its owner, but to the whole company. It cannot be better designated,
in brief, than as the faculty of "finding the way," the term usually
employed in speaking of it.
It probably will not lessen the interest of the reader in the matter if
he is here told that the writer of this account himself was the happy
possessor of this useful power. From a boy, a mere child, he may say,
it was known among his playmates that he could lead them safely and
surely to any place or object, when there was doubt about its locality,
and could also discover the whereabouts of things lost. The shyness of
the boy led him to keep his gift in the background.
In Kansas it was as suddenly as remarkably made prominent perforce. It
came into use the first day after we set out on our journey over the
prairie. We had not gone far from the borders of civilization,—only
far enough for its objects to be out of view,—when our whole caravan
of travelers, their teams, horses, oxen, and wagons, came to a full
stop. The trail over the prairie branched into two, and all were in
doubt which was the right one to take. The clouds had shut in the sun,
and the boundless prairie stretched out on all sides, with not an
object, house or tree, hill, or even a rock, in view, as a landmark
by which we could aim our course. One of the party, with a little
experience in traveling on the prairie, warned us that an error made
here might mislead us a whole day's journey.
The situation began to be a little distressing; whereupon the older
brother of the psychic boy said: "Call up my brother. He will tell you
which trail to take." Accordingly, the boy was summoned to the front;
and to the older heads, waiting there with amused smiles on their faces
for the decision, he pointed out what, in his belief, was the right
trail. Being wholly in doubt, they, with their smiles deepening to
laughter, said they might as well follow the trail he indicated. It
turned out to be the correct one.
During the following ten or a dozen days' journey, as many times at
least the youth was summoned to the front, and his psychical faculty
put to the test. Its possessor was made happy, and his companions were
equally gratified, that his power in no instance failed him.
These trails, mere wagon-tracks across the country, ran in almost all
directions, crosswise, parallel, and at all angles, and were enough
to puzzle the very elect,—the elect being in this instance the
psychic youth. The earnest wish to find the way in any case—and the
stronger and more earnest the wish the better—seemed to be a sort of
mainspring to the action of the power to insure its success.
This gift was brought into play many times during the two years
of Kansas events sketched here, and served us well; was often
invaluable. The fact just mentioned, that the strong wish insured its
effectiveness, was often clearly shown. For instance, on the occasion
referred to in a previous chapter, of our happening upon Captain
Brown's camp in an out-of-the-way spot on our trip for provisions,
there was a strong desire on our part, excited, perhaps, much by
curiosity, to see Brown and his men at that particular time in their
temporary hiding-place; and seemingly by this intense desire inciting
the psychic power, we were led to the spot,—for it had taken us, as we
found afterward, quite a number of miles out of our direct course.
In passing, we will here digress a little from our story to say that,
at this time of our visit, Brown was being hunted down, like a criminal
or a wild beast, by the Government military as well as by his other
enemies, and was all the time liable to betrayal into their hands.
I remember well, in this connection, how we found him armed that day.
He carried about his person not less than twenty shots with which to
defend himself did it become necessary: a Remington repeater—six
shots; a brace of revolvers—six-shooters; and a pair of pistols. He
had also a long knife or dirk, and his usual trusty old broadsword.
Most of these arms, he seemed to take pains to inform us, were
presented to him by his friends. Particularly did the old man impress
me, while showing us the weapons, when he quietly remarked: "Our
enemies would like much, no doubt, to get hold of me; but," he added
with sternness, "I will never be taken alive, and I warn them I shall
punish them to the extent of my power if they attempt my capture."
To return from this digression, it was a perilous thing in those
days for one to venture out alone on the prairie. It was perilous to
life, and perhaps still more dangerous to the property of him who
ventured,—at least in some ways. For one thing, we did not dare to
risk our horses. Horses were valuable, and the enemy considered them
as legitimate contraband of war. The luckless horseman caught abroad
by his foes was simply ordered to dismount. His horse, saddled and
bridled, was led off, and the owner was left to make his way on
foot, no matter how far the distance. When a team without a load was
overtaken by our opponents, the horses were appropriated and the wagon
left standing on the prairie. Were the wagon loaded with valuables,
both animals and wagon were confiscated, and their owner was told,
very likely with rifles pointed at him, to run for life till out of
sight. In such cases, were one found with money or other valuables on
his person, he was summarily relieved of them. Sometimes we sewed our
money within the lining of our clothes, for safety; but that device for
concealment had its risks. One was liable to be stripped, and to have
his clothing cut or torn to shreds in the hurried search for the money.
[Illustration]
XV
Hazardous Journeys
[Illustration]
Such were some of the hazards of travel at that time, when the new
territory was indeed "bleeding Kansas."
Journeys, nevertheless, had to be made, and long ones, and many of them
from sheer necessity. We were obliged to buy in a distant market all
the food we ate, with all other necessaries of life. Shipment of goods
must be made by ox-teams—the use of horses being out of the question,
for the reasons mentioned; and the ox-team was rather a slow means of
transportation. Some ten days were necessary to make the journey from
our settlement to the nearest good market, Kansas City, and return.
There was another matter we had to consider. The journeys were
hazardous to men as well as to horses. Men were valuable and scarce.
Not more than two at most were ever allowed to go on these dangerous
errands, and usually one only.
It is not strange, as will readily be understood, that the boy who
could "find his way" was for that reason chosen to make these trips,
and he generally went alone. Another reason for this choice was that
the settlers would not run the risk of sacrificing their mature, strong
male members in this service, could it be avoided. This youth—because
a youth, with no one, wife or children, dependent upon him—would
not be so great a loss to the community if capture, imprisonment, or
death befell him! He was, however, inspired by, and felt not a little
pride because of, the confidence reposed in his ability to perform the
difficult and dangerous task assigned him.
Quite a number of these trips I made alone, and in not one did I
lose my way. On one occasion the guiding faculty was put to a severe
test. At the end of a day's travel the oxen were freed as usual from
the wagon for two or three hours, in order that they might graze.
Meanwhile, strict watch of them was necessary, lest they should wander
away. That night, through much exhaustion and lack of rest, it was
my misfortune to fall asleep. When I awoke, long past midnight, the
cattle were gone. The full moon shone brightly overhead, lighting up
the horizon far away on all sides; but, far and wide as the eye could
reach, no sight or sign of the animals was visible on that prairie
ocean.
A serious state of things this appeared to be, at first thought,
and it awakened serious apprehensions. Far from home, I was left
with my valuables on the prairie, bereft of all means of taking them
to their destination. But upon second thought, often the better, I
calmly fell back, for rescue, on my humble psychic faculty. Humble and
inconsequential I had held it, but, if it served me true this time, it
never again should be lightly valued.
It proved as true as the needle to the pole.
It seemed to me that the cattle had gone in a certain direction; and
in that direction I went, in a straight line over the prairie, three or
four miles, directly to them. There they were, quietly feeding, close
to a stream at which they had evidently quenched their thirst. They
were led, doubtless, to find this water, in their need that night, by
an instinct similar to, and equally as unerring as, that possessed by
their owner which he had used to find them.