I am not a Stephano, but a cramp.--TEMPEST.
Let every man shift for all the rest, and let no man Take
care for himself; for all is but fortune.--IBID.
The barn contained no fodder except damp husks. Burrowing into these,
we wrapped our dripping coats about us, covered ourselves, faces and
all, and shivered through the day, so weary that we drowsed a little,
but too uncomfortable for any refreshing slumbers.
Rising at dark, with skins irritated by atoms of husk which
had penetrated our clothing, we combed out our matted hair and
beards--a very faint essay toward making our toilets. Hats, gloves,
handkerchiefs, and haversacks, were hopelessly lost in the fodder.
Hungry, cold, rheumatic, aching at every joint, we seemed to have
exhausted our slender endurance.
[Sidenote: A CABIN OF FRIENDLY NEGROES.]
But a walk of ten minutes took us to a slave-cabin, where, as usual,
we found devoted friends. The old negro killed two chickens, and
then stood outside, to watch and warn us of the patrols, should he
hear the clattering hoofs of their approaching horses. His wife and
daughter cooked supper, while we stood before the blazing logs of the
wide-mouthed fireplace, to dry our steaming garments.
It was the first dwelling I had entered for nearly twenty months. It
was rude almost to squalor; but it looked more palatial than the most
elegant and luxurious saloon. There was a soft bed, with clean, snowy
sheets. How I envied those negroes, and longed to stretch my limbs upon
it and sleep for a month! There were chairs, a table, plates, knives,
and forks--the commonest comforts of life, which, like sweet cold
water, clean clothing, and pure air, we never appreciate until once
deprived of them.
[Sidenote: SOUTHERNERS UNACQUAINTED WITH TEA.]
We eagerly devoured the chickens and hot corn-bread, and drank steaming
cups of green tea, which our ebony hostess, unfamiliar with the
beverage that cheers, but not inebriates, prepared under my directions.
Before starting I had taken the precaution to fill a pocket with
tea, which I had been saving more than a year for that purpose. In
commercial parlance, tea was tea in the Confederacy. The last pound we
purchased, for daily use, cost us one hundred and twenty-seven dollars
in Rebel currency, and we were compelled to send to Wilmington before
we could obtain it even at that price.
It is an article little used by the Southerners, who are inveterate
coffee-drinkers. All along our route we found the women, white and
black, ignorant of the art of making tea without instructions. Captain
Wolfe assured us that his father once attended a log-rolling in South
Carolina, where, as a rare and costly luxury, the host regaled the
workers with tea at the close of their labors. But, unacquainted with
its use, they were only presented with the boiled leaves to eat! After
this novel banquet, one old lady thus expressed the views of the rural
assembly: "Well, I never tasted this before. It is pleasant enough; but
except for the name of it, I don't consider tea a bit better than any
other kind of greens!"
Experience on the great Plains and among the Rocky Mountains had
taught me the superiority of tea over all stronger stimulants in
severe, protracted hardships. Now it proved of inestimable service to
us. After a two-hours' halt, refreshed by food and dry clothing, we
seemed to have a new lease of life. Elastic and vigorous, we felt equal
to almost any labor.
"May God bless you," said the old woman, bidding us adieu, while
earnest sympathy shone from her own and her daughter's eyes and
illumined their dark faces. To us they were "black, and comely too."
The husband led us to the railroad, and there parted from us.
[Sidenote: WALKING TWELVE MILES FOR NOTHING.]
At midnight we were twenty-three miles from Salisbury, and three from
Statesville. We wished to avoid the latter village; and leaving the
railway, which ran due west, turned farther northward. In two miles we
expected to strike the Wilkesboro road, at Allison's Mill. We followed
the old negro's directions as well as possible, but soon suspected that
we must be off the route. It was bitterly cold, and to avoid suffering
we walked on and on with great rapidity. Before daylight, at a large
plantation, we wakened a slave, and learned that, since leaving the
railway, we had traveled twelve miles circuitously and gained just one
half-mile on the journey! There were two Allison's Mills, and our black
friend had directed us to the wrong one.
"Can you conceal us here to-day?" we asked in a whisper of the negro
who gave us this information from his bed, in a little cabin.
"I reckon so. Master is a terrible war-man, a Confederate officer,
and would kill me if he were to find it out. But I kept a sick Yankee
captain here last summer for five days, and then he went on. Go to the
barn and hide, and I will see you when I come to fodder the horses."
We found the barn, groped our way up into a hay-loft, under the eaves,
and buried ourselves in the straw.
[Sidenote: EVERY BLACK FACE A FRIENDLY FACE.]
V. _Thursday, December 22._
The biting wind whistled and shrieked between the logs of the barn,
and, cover ourselves as we would, it was too cold for sleep. The
negro--an intelligent young man--spent several hours with us, asking
questions about the North, brought us ample supplies of food, and a
bottle of apple-brandy purloined from his master's private stores.
At dark he took us into his quarters, only separated by a narrow
lane from the planter's house, and we were warmed and fed. A dozen
of the blacks--including little boys and girls of ten and twelve
years--visited us there. Among them was a peculiarly intelligent
mulatto woman of twenty-five, comely, and neatly dressed. The poor girl
interrogated us for an hour very earnestly about the progress of the
War, its probable results, and the feeling and purposes of the North
touching the slaves. Using language with rare propriety, she impressed
me as one who would willingly give up life for her unfortunate race.
With culture and opportunity, she would have been an intellectual
and social power in any circle. She was the wife of a slave; but her
companions told us that she had been compelled to become the mistress
of her master. She spoke of him with intense loathing.
By this time we had learned that every black face was a friendly face.
So far as fidelity was concerned, we felt just as safe among the
negroes as if in our Northern homes. Male or female, old or young,
intelligent or simple, we were fully assured they would never betray us.
[Sidenote: TOUCHING FIDELITY OF THE SLAVES.]
Some one has said that it needs three generations to make a gentleman.
Heaven only knows how many generations are required to make a freeman!
But we have been accustomed to consider this perfect trustworthiness,
this complete loyalty to friends, a distinctively Saxon trait. The very
rare degree to which the negroes have manifested it, is an augury of
brightest hope and promise for their future. It is a faint indication
of what they may one day become, with Justice, Time, and Opportunity.
They were always ready to help anybody opposed to the Rebels. Union
refugees, Confederate deserters, escaped prisoners--all received from
them the same prompt and invariable kindness. But let a Rebel soldier,
on his way to the army, or returning from it, apply to them, and he
would find but cold kindness.
The moment they met us, they would do whatever we required upon impulse
and instinct. But afterward, when there was leisure for conversation,
they would question us with some anxiety. Few had ever seen a Yankee
before. They would repeat to us the bugbear stories of their masters,
about our whipping them to force them into the Union army, and starving
their wives and children. Professing utterly to discredit these
reports, they still desired a little reassurance. We can never forget
their upturned, eager eyes, and earnest faces. Happily we could tell
them that the Nation was rising to the great principles of Freedom,
Education, and an open Career for every human being.
Starting at ten o'clock to-night, we had an arduous march over the
rough, frozen ground. Hard labor and loss of sleep began to tell upon
us. I think every member of the party had his mental balance more or
less shaken. Davis was haggard, with blood-shot eyes; "Junius" was
pallid, and threatened with typhoid fever; Wolfe, with a sprained
ankle, could barely limp; I was weak and short of breath, from the
pneumonic affection. Charley Thurston was our best foot, and we always
put him foremost. With his Confederate uniform and his ready invention,
he could play Rebel soldier admirably.
[Sidenote: PURSUED BY A HOME GUARD.]
Toward morning we were compelled to stop, build a fire in the dense
pine-forest, and rest for an hour. We were uncertain about the roads,
and just before daylight Charley stopped to make inquiries of an old
farmer. Then we went on, and, as the road was very secluded, were
talking with less discretion than usual, when a twig snapped behind
us. Instantly turning around, we saw the old man following stealthily,
listening to our conversation. We ordered him to halt; but he ran away
with wonderful agility for a septuagenarian.
The moment he was out of sight, we left the road, and ran, too, in an
opposite direction, fast as our tired limbs could carry us. It would be
a very nice point to determine which was the more frightened, we or our
late pursuer. We afterward learned that he was an unrelenting Rebel and
a zealous Home Guard. He was doubtless endeavoring to follow us to our
shelter, that he might bring out his company, and capture us during the
day.
Long after daylight we continued running, until we had put five miles
between ourselves and the road. The region was very open, and it seemed
morally certain that we would be discovered through the barking dogs
at some of the farm-houses. But about nine o'clock we halted in a
pine-grove, small but thick, and built a great fire of rails, which,
being very dry, emitted little smoke. There was danger that the blaze
would be discovered; but in our feeble condition we could no longer
endure the inclemency of the weather.
VI. _Friday, December 23._
[Sidenote: HELP IN THE LAST EXTREMITY.]
Hungry and fatigued, with our feet to the fire, we could sleep an hour
at a time upon the frozen ground before the cold awakened us. When,
after a waiting which seemed endless, the welcome darkness came at
last, it lifted a load from our hearts; we no longer listened anxiously
for the coming of the Guard.
Starting again, we toiled on with slow and painful steps. We were
entering a region where slaves were few, and we could find no negroes.
"Junius," in a high fever, was so weak that we were almost compelled to
carry him, and his voice was faint as the wail of an infant. Again and
again he begged us to go on, and leave him to rest upon the ground. We
had sore apprehensions that it might become necessary to commit him to
the first friends we found, and press forward without him.
About eight o'clock Charley entered a little tavern to procure
provisions. He assumed his favorite character of a Rebel soldier, on
parole, going to his home in Wilkes County for the holidays. An old
man was spending the night there. While supper was cooking, he gave to
Charley a recognizing sign of the Sons of America. It was instantly
answered; and, stepping outside, they had an interview.
Then our new friend stealthily led his three mules from the tavern
stable, through the fields to the road, placed three of us upon them,
and guided us five miles, to the house of his brother, another strong
Union man. The brother warmed us, fed us, and "stayed us with flagons"
of apple-brandy; then brought out two of his mules, and again we
pressed forward. They cautioned us not to intrust the secret of their
assistance to any one, reminding us that it would be a hanging matter
for them.
[Sidenote: CARRIED FIFTEEN MILES BY FRIENDS.]
So, on this cold winter night, while we were so stiff and exhausted
that we could barely keep our seats on the steeds they had so
thoughtfully furnished, these kind friends conducted us fifteen miles,
and left us in the Union settlement we were seeking, fifty miles from
Salisbury.