Table of Contents added by the transcriber:
Introductory 7
War Memories 9
Appendix: How and Where I Was Captured 58
Addenda 59
List of Captured 60
ESCAPE
FROM THE
CONFEDERACY
OVERPOWERING THE GUARDS--MIDNIGHT LEAP FROM
A MOVING TRAIN--THROUGH SWAMPS
AND FOREST--BLOOD HOUNDS--
THRILLING EVENTS.
B. F. HASSON,
Late Lieut. Ringgold Battalion (22d. Pa. Vol. Cav.)
Entered according to Act of Congress.
_Sept 26, 1900_
_To the comrades of the Ringgold Cavalry and the relatives and
friends of the boys who suffered and died at Richmond and
Andersonville, this booklet is dedicated._
_"Across the years, full rounded to many score,
Since advancing peace, with her olive wand,
Returns the sunshine to our desolate land,
Come thronging back memories of the war.
Again the drum's beat and the cannon's roar,
And patriot fires by every breeze are fanned,
And pulses quicken with a purpose grand,
As manhood's forces swell to larger store.
Again the camp, the field, the march, the strife,
The joy of victory, the bitter pain
Of wounds or sore defeat; the anguish rife,
And tears that fall for the unnumbered slain,
And homes, where darkened is the light of life,
All these the echoing bugle brings again."_
_INTRODUCTORY._
I have been so often urged by old army comrades, as well as other
friends, to publish the facts contained in the following pages in a
convenient shape for preservation, that I have concluded to comply
with their wishes, and now present them in this form. Many of the less
important details have been omitted, as well with a view of preventing
the story from becoming tiresome as of getting it within the limits of
space it was intended it should occupy. While the experience was
attended with trials and suffering, I wish to assure the reader that
it was nothing more than was endured by hundreds of other boys who saw
service in the War of the Great Rebellion. I would not go through it
again for all the world, and yet I would not like to lose the
satisfaction I enjoy in the knowledge of my success in overcoming so
many seemingly insurmountable difficulties. It is a plain narration of
facts, and is written without any effort to overdraw or embellish. I
hand it over to the friends and comrades who have been urging me to
publish it, in the hope that it will help to fill up an idle moment.
B. F. HASSON.
[Illustration: F. C. ORMSBY WASH. D.C.]
War Memories
"Flank out Frank, and go with us to-morrow."
We were squatted on the sandy ground--vermin-ladened sand--inside the
prison stockade on Belle Island, discussing the probable destination
of the prisoners then being daily removed from that place. Joseph
Morton and Peter Deems of my own regiment and myself were of the party
and the above remark was made by Morton and addressed to me. It was
early in the month of March, 1864, and just after that famous raid to
the vicinity of Richmond by Gen. Kilpatrick and Col. Ulrich Dahlgren.
The daring troopers had even penetrated the defences of the city and
thoroughly alarmed the Rebel authorities. Immediately steps were taken
to remove the prisoners from Richmond to Andersonville, Ga., and other
remote points in the South out of the reach of rescue by Federal
raiders.
The prisoners on the Island were divided off into hundreds. The first
hundred was composed of those first put into the stockade; and then,
as new or fresh prisoners arrived the second and other hundreds were
added. One member of each hundred was chosen to see to the welfare of
the men in securing rations, etc. The hundreds were subdivided into
messes of twenty-five each, and a man was selected from among them
whose duty it was to cut up the loaves of corn-bread into twenty-five
equal sized pieces, and see that they were impartially issued to the
men. This was done by placing a man with his back to the pieces of
bread, and the sergeant pointing to one piece at a time and asking,
"Whose is this?" The answer would be, "That goes to No. 1," and so on
through the list of twenty-five. The men were called by number instead
of name. This was made necessary by reason of frequent changes on
account of deaths.
This rather full explanation is given here because it answers
questions often asked me. This stockade, or inclosure, within which
prisoners were confined, comprised several acres on the lower end of
the Island, around which piles were driven, close together, leaving
perhaps four to six feet projecting above ground. A little below the
top of these logs or piles a platform was erected, and on this
platform the guards marched and countermarched. It is not my intention
to enter into a description of the condition of the prison camps.
Their histories have been written and all are doubtless more or less
familiar with them.
At this time there were about 9500 (ninety-five hundreds) in the
stockade. Up to and including the sixteenth hundred had already been
taken away. Morton and Deems were in the eighteenth hundred, and I was
in the twenty-second hundred. It was expected that the next day more
would be taken, and fearful that my squad would not be reached I was
asked by Morton to "flank out" and go along. It was a violation of the
rules to go from one squad to another, but on account of the many
deaths occurring every night it could be managed in an emergency like
this.
Having been on the Island for six months I was glad to make a change
of residence. A change of any kind was desirable even if it was not an
improvement. To walk around the stockade another day, over the same
well-beaten path, looking into the same pale, haggard faces, listening
to the groans of the dying and witnessing the miserable condition of
the living, was no longer tolerable, so that, "rather than suffer the
ills we had we were willing to flee to others we knew not of."
I did flank out that night and the next morning quietly slipped into
the eighteenth hundred with Morton and Deems, and marched with them
out of the inclosure and over the bridge to the city of Richmond. We
were put into the building called "The Pemberton" and remained there
until the following morning, when we crowded into freight cars, forty
to sixty in a car, and started southward.
While crossing the bridge on our way from the Island to the city I was
marching by the side of a prisoner whom I had not met before. He was
yet in apparently vigorous condition--evidently not having been a
prisoner very long. He asked me in a suppressed tone if I intended to
try to escape in case we were taken further south. I replied that I
did, and we there and then entered into a contract to go together. He
was enthusiastic about the matter and gave me his hand as a pledge of
his sincerity.
Studying means of escape, and efforts to rid themselves of the
tormenting vermin, were the chief occupations of prisoners of war
while awake. In their fitful and uneasy slumbers they were dreaming
that they were at home sitting at the most abundantly supplied tables
and enjoying all the comforts which the word home implies.
Long continued exposure and lack of food had engendered diseases and
reduced the poor creatures to the most pitiable condition. Of course
some were worse off than others, but all looked miserable enough.
After passing through Petersburg we were satisfied that a longer term
of imprisonment awaited us, for, had it been the purpose to exchange
us, we should have stopped at Petersburg and from there been taken to
City Point. When the fact was made known there were loud murmurings.
The bronzed and starved faces were pictures of the most abject
wretchedness and despair. Reaching Gaston, North Carolina, we were
transferred to another train, taking the Gaston and Raleigh road from
that point.
Morton was very sick when we started from Richmond, and the jolting
received in the cars had tended to increase his trouble. I endeavored
to keep as close to him as possible on the way, so as to render him
all the assistance I could. When changing cars at Gaston he was quite
feeble, and required assistance to get from one train to the other.
"Do you intend to escape, Lieutenant?" was whispered in my ear as we
were getting off the train. On looking around I found Peter Deems at
my elbow.
"To-night," I as quietly replied.
"All right, I'm with you," said he. Those who will remember Mr. Deems,
(and doubtless many of his old friends in Pike Run township, and all
his surviving comrades in Co. F will) must be amused, as I was, at
such a proposition coming from him. Although he was considerably
reduced in flesh by his long confinement, he was yet large and clumsy,
and to jump from a running train would, to my mind, have resulted
disastrously. The whistle of the locomotive notified us that all was
ready, and it was not long until we were speeding southward. On
looking around for Deems I found he had in some way failed to get into
that car. I never saw him after. His name, together with poor
Morton's, appeared in a list of prisoners who answered the last great
roll call at Andersonville, Georgia. Night came on as we approached
Franklinton station, Franklin County, North Carolina. Here the train
stopped for some time for the purpose of taking on wood and water, and
while doing this the guards in the car were relieved. That is, those
stationed there during the day were taken away and other men put in
their places. I kept careful watch of everything going on and all the
while keeping in view my purpose to get out of that car at the very
earliest opportunity. While placing the guards the officer in charge
renewed the instructions for the night. They were emphatically ordered
not to allow a prisoner to get near the door. As is well known, the
doors on a freight car slide along the side of the car. The door on
one side of our car was securely fastened, while the one on the other
side was partly open--perhaps two feet--not more than enough for a man
going out in a hurry to clear the sides. There were two guards in the
car, one on each side of this partly open door. Armed Confederate
soldiers were scattered all along the train--some on top of the cars.
The rear car, an ordinary passenger coach, was occupied exclusively by
them. They were held in readiness to answer a call from any part of
the train in case of trouble. A lantern was hung up to the ceiling
near the middle of the car.
It was a little after dark when the bell announced the time for
starting. About the time the train was pulling out I asked the man who
had agreed with me when we were crossing the bridge to make an effort
to escape, what he thought about it. I found he had changed his mind.
The boisterous and violent manner in which the officer had instructed
the guard to shoot any man who came near the door, the sound of guns
fired off for the purpose, no doubt, of overawing the prisoners, and
the general gloom which night and darkness threw around the scene, had
a depressing effect upon him. He said we would surely be killed. This
was sufficient to convince me that he could not be relied upon and I
bade him good-night and went in search of others who might be induced
to consider the matter favorably.
Two stalwart men with guns in their hands, stood between us and
liberty, and a sufficient force to render their defeat absolutely
certain must be brought to bear. A failure to overpower them at the
first attack would be sure to lead to the instant death of those
engaged, if not others. The car was unspeakably filthy, and the
thoughts of remaining in it would unstring the strongest nerves.
While leaning against the end of the car and peering through the dim
light made by the candle in the lantern, and carefully scanning the
scene before me, I discovered four young soldiers sitting on the floor
near the other end, who seemed to be absorbed in the discussion of
some important proposition. I felt so confident I knew what they were
talking about that I made my way to them by carefully stepping over
the forms of the prisoners as they lay huddled together on the floor,
and getting down among them entered into conversation with them. It is
sufficient to say we soon had our plans laid and a perfect
understanding as to carrying them out.
There were now five of us. It was arranged that four should attack the
guards. In other words, two of us to each guard, while the fifth
should make his way to the lantern which hung suspended to the ceiling
of the car, as before mentioned, and at the time offensive operations
were to begin he was to extinguish the light. The guards were fully
armed--guns in their hands and revolvers in their belts--while we were
without weapons of any kind, and all more or less weakened by
confinement, exposure and lack of sufficient food. We fully understood
the part each was to play in the drama, or tragedy--whichever it might
prove to be.
Before proceeding further I had to go back to the other end of the
car and take leave of Morton. To see him lying in the corner of the
car suffering the tortures of a lingering starvation was a sad sight
indeed, and served to admonish me that his condition would soon be
mine if I remained with him. Our separation was very sad and
affecting.
The first difficulty to overcome was to get near the guards without
exciting suspicion. I had a finger ring made of bone which had been
given to me by a friend on the Island. It was thought by careful
manoeuvering I might be able to trade it to the guard for some
crackers, which I noticed he carried in his haversack. Accordingly, I
secured a position as close to him as I dared, and attracted his
attention. I approached him by edging my way along, my right shoulder
against the side of the car. He ordered me back, and several times
threatened me. It was some time before I could get him to listen to
me, but I handled him carefully, and after some parleying handed him
the ring and told him he or some of his friends might value it as a
memento, coming from a Yankee soldier. I pleaded for a few crackers
and he eventually gave me two and a part of a third. By this time I
had got sufficiently close to the door to be able to get an occasional
glance outside as the train rumbled along and tossed me from side to
side. I remember crossing a bridge, which I afterwards learned spanned
Cedar Creek, a tributary of the Tar River. This bridge was probably
eight miles or more from Franklinton station.
My companions had all gained their positions. The one who was to
assist me was standing behind the shoulder of the guard, far enough
away to avoid attracting attention and yet close enough to reach him.
Two others had cautiously taken positions behind the other guard.
The crackers were eagerly, ravenously devoured. We had consumed the
rations issued to us early that morning, long before the middle of the
day. Six months as a prisoner of war with a continual craving for food
and with but one short ration that morning made this deal with the
guard one of great importance. Now all were ready. With suppressed
breath, swelling hearts and quickening pulses we anxiously awaited the
momentous moment.
All at once, as if everything were working in concert with us, the
cars slackened their speed. We were evidently on an ascending grade.
On visiting the point since the war I found this to be true. Of course
the difference was not very great but it was noticeable. We had agreed
upon a signal but this change in the speed of the train took its
place, and that this was the supreme moment flashed upon all of us at
once. I was on the point of looking around to see if the thought had
struck the other boys when crash went the lantern, and then--
"There rose so wild a yell,
Within that dark and narrow cell,
As all the fiends from Heaven that fell,
Were pealing the battle cry of hell."
The struggling guards were shouting to each other, calling down all
sorts of maledictions upon the ---- ---- ---- Yankees. The light was
out and in that car pandemonium had full swing.
It is not necessary--hard as it is to avoid it--to go more fully into
detail. Suffice it to say there was not a hitch in the whole
proceeding. Our plans were carried out perfectly, and in less time,
perhaps, than it takes now to write it out. When obstructions were
removed we sprang out into the darkness. The boy who knocked out the
light was the tallest member of the party and had been selected for
that duty because of his ability to easily reach the lantern. He and
his companion (who belonged to the same regiment) took advantage of
the confusion and dodged out of the car at the outstart, leaving the
three others engaged with the guard. It was well they did for they
clung to the lantern which proved of great value to us afterward. It
was perhaps about midnight when, full bruisers, we picked ourselves up
out of the sand where we had fallen and in answer to suppressed
whistling came together.
We were free! The reflection brought with it feelings far different
from those which possessed us a few minutes previous, yet when we
contemplated our situation the thought occurred that expressions of
pleasure at that time might be premature. We were not yet "out of the
woods;" were in the heart of the enemy's country. To the nearest point
of territory held by the Union forces it was more than a hundred
miles. The future looked gloomy enough. The most difficult part of the
task was yet to be overcome.
The train had not yet stopped, and after congratulating ourselves, we
proceeded to consider the course to be pursued as to subsequent
movements. At this moment another matter attracted our attention. A
strange clattering noise was heard in the distance, and as it grew
more distinct we crouched upon the ground and with bated breath
awaited results. Presently, three or four figures passed along the
railroad track. The amount of noise made led us at first to believe
there was quite a large force of troops coming, but it proved to be
four negroes, who, we afterwards learned, were wearing wooden-soled
shoes, which, owing to the scarcity of leather in the South, were worn
almost entirely by this class of persons. These shoes were made by
using rawhide for the uppers and nailing it to the soles made of wood,
the latter being from one-half to perhaps an inch thick; at least this
is my recollection. After this little interruption we crossed the
railroad and traveled westward in the direction of Tennessee. After
walking three or four miles and becoming well nigh exhausted we lay
down in the forest and slept till daylight. On waking up in the
morning and finding ourselves too close to the open country for
safety, we moved further into the woods and selecting what we supposed
to be a secluded spot concluded to stop and recruit our wasted
strength. The pangs of hunger were tormenting us, and how to get
relief must now engage our attention. One of the party started out on
a reconnaisance and in a couple of hours returned with six ears of
corn. We took the lantern which, as before mentioned, was thrown out
of the car, and which was picked up and carried along, broke the top
off, and used the tin bottom for parching our corn. We gathered a few
sticks of wood and made a small fire, carefully guarding against
making more smoke than could possibly be helped, we all fell to work
parching and eating. Parched corn has not much tendency to allay
hunger, consequently all we could get did not check the craving for
more.
I have heard a story which frequently occurs to me, and when it does I
am invariably reminded of that parched corn experience. It is the
story of an old darky who caught a 'possum, killed and dressed him,
put it in the oven to bake, surrounding it with sweet potatoes, etc.,
and then the old man laid down to sleep while his 'possum baked. He
was very hungry, and fondly anticipated a treat when he woke up. About
the time the 'possum was done a mischievous acquaintance happened
along, stole the 'possum and ate it all up. Then he took the bones,
put them down in front of the old man, greased his lips with 'possum
grease, and rubbed the grease over his fingers. When the old man woke
up he missed his 'possum. He saw the bones lying in front of him. He
saw 'possum grease on his fingers, and tasted 'possum grease on his
lips, and finally said: "Well; am it possible dat I eat dat 'ar
'possum while I war asleep? It done look like I must hab eat him; but,
fo' Gawd, dat 'ar 'possum had less effek on de stomach dan any 'possum
dis chile eber eat." That was the way with the parched corn. It had a
mighty poor effect on the stomach.
We remained at that place that and the day following, having nothing
to eat but parched corn. The corn was procured from a slave whose
owner lived a short distance from where we were hiding. Fearing our
getting away might have been made known we kept very quiet, spending
most our time deliberating as to the best route to the Union lines and
the means to be adopted to gain them, and trying to exterminate the
tormenting vermin which had started colonies upon every part of our
clothing. It was an imperative duty, in order to keep the upper hand,
to wage continual war upon these pests. On this occasion we had been
prevented for one day from attending to this duty and in consequence
they were in "shoals and nations," and we found it very difficult to
reduce their numbers sufficiently to allow us any comfort. Having told
our black friend to collect three or four of his most intelligent
acquaintances and bring them to see us, they appeared in camp on the
evening of the second day. Without their counsel we might have made a
fatal mistake at the outset. The southern negroes are, or were while
slavery was in existence, the most consummate strategists in the
matter of escaping or eluding pursuit. Many of them had been runaways,
and those who had not were thoroughly schooled in the art by able
teachers. Stories of the most marvelous flights and long continued
success in evading capture by the master and blood hounds, were told
me. One very old woman, whom I afterwards met, told me she had spent
nearly her whole life in the swamps and cane brakes. In order to throw
the blood hounds off their tracks they would besmear their feet,
hands and clothing with a mixture composed partly of brimstone. In
crossing fences or going through the forests they were careful to
allow no part of the body or dress to come in contact with the rails
or trees but that which had been rubbed with the compound. We were
advised to separate for the reason that if we remained together it
would be difficult to find food for so many, and the chances for being
discovered were much greater. When the pow-wow broke up it was well
into the night, and taking leave of each other, we "folded our tents,
like the Arab, and silently stole away" into the darkness.
Two of the party resolved to continue westward in the direction of
Tennessee. The distance to the Union lines was greater but the country
to be traveled was mountainous, and thought to be safer. One chose to
go northward towards Virginia. Another started for Roanoke River,
intending to follow it to the coast. I started directly eastward,
having determined to take the nearest and most direct route to the
Union forces on the coast of North Carolina, and intending to make up
by caution what I might lose by having the most dangerous route. After
traveling some time I came suddenly upon a cabin situated in the edge
of the forest, and being almost famished I figured around until I
satisfied myself that it would probably be safe to arouse the dwellers
within. In most cases the cabins stood in clusters in the vicinity of
the residence of the proprietor of the plantation on which they are
situated. But sometimes you would find one standing in some isolated
spot far removed from any other. I had no means of knowing what time
it was--perhaps about midnight. An old black man answered my summons,
and when he appeared I asked him if it would be safe in the house for
a Yankee. Without giving him time to reply I pushed in past him. We
closed the door and I then explained to him who I was and what I
wanted. I found myself in a room containing some crude articles of
furniture and perhaps half a dozen little children lying promiscuously
on the floor. The fireplace was the most conspicuous thing in view. It
occupied nearly the whole of one side of the cabin. The man aroused
his wife and told her to get up and see a Yankee. She had evidently
never seen a Union soldier and, like all others of her class,
entertained strange ideas of his appearance. From the stories they had
been told of the crimes committed by the Yankees and the punishment
inflicted upon the black people who fell into their hands, their
fancies had painted some horrible looking creature which would more
resemble "old Nick" than anything else.
After looking at me closely from head to foot, she exclaimed, "Is you
a Yankee?" "Yes," I replied, "I'm a Union soldier and belong to the
northern army." "The Lor' bress me," she said, turning to her husband;
"Dey told us dey had horns, but he looks just like our folks," and she
went on talking, sometimes addressing me, sometimes her husband, until
I was compelled to interrupt her. I asked her if she could spare me a
bite of bread. "Lor' yes, honey, ye look sta'ved," and she secured
some meal, kneaded it into a ball as large as the fist, laid it on the
hearth and covered it up with hot ashes. This is the way they make
what is called an ash cake.
While this was going on I felt somewhat anxious. During our hasty talk
the old man said the Home Guards often visited the cabins of the black
people in the night, in search of runaways and conscripts. These Home
Guards were composed of those who were either too old or too young to
go into service at the front. It seemed that all classes in the south
had military duty of some kind to perform. As a precaution against
discovery I went out some distance from the house and waited until the
cake was brought out. In a short time my old friend came out with the
cake. What a treat it was no one can form an idea.
Striking out again, I followed the directions given me by the old man
as near as I could in the darkness, and daylight the next morning
found me close to a town wearily trudging along, nibbling at the ash
cake which I carried in my pocket. This town proved to be Franklinton,
and, it will be remembered, was the same at which our train stopped,
and where the guard was changed. Turning out of the road I went in
search of a place to hide during the day. I soon ran into the brush,
or timber, and in a little while came across a number of stacks of
newly made rails and railroad ties. I crept under one of these and sat
down on the leaves, shivering with cold. It was in March. The nights
were extremely cold. I was thinly clad, and sometimes thought I would
perish.
It was not long until I heard persons approaching, and looking out
between the rails, saw six or eight black men carrying axes. They had
come to begin the day's work. We were soon engaged in conversation.
They said some one might be there during the day, and to guard against
my presence becoming known to them, and in order to make me as
comfortable as possible, they gathered together more leaves and leaned
more rails against the stack. They lingered at work until after dark,
and then put me on the road to Louisburg, a town on the Tar River,
about ten or twelve miles from Franklinton, one of them going some
distance with me. Louisburg was the town I started for the night
before, but, losing my way, had reached Franklinton, having made very
little progress in the proper direction. I reached a point within a
short distance of Louisburg about daylight. During the night I often
felt very sick, and sometimes thought I could go no further.
Now, as the day began to dawn, I was utterly prostrated, and with
great difficulty reached some corn fodder stacks standing in a field.
Lying down between the stacks. I remained there throughout the day,
suffering intensely. About dark I got up and staggered to a cabin
which I noticed during the day, standing some distance away.
Fortunately I found it occupied by black people. Giving them a brief
account of myself, I asked for some hot tea of some kind. The woman
went hastily to work to get it. I retired a short distance from the
house, as a precaution, and waited until it was brought out. It was
made of herbs of some kind, and revived me very much. Louisburg is
situated on the north bank of the Tar River. I was at this time two or
three miles south of the river. Getting what information I could here,
I started straight down the south side of the river, leaving Louisburg
to my left. I succeeded in making a point some five or six miles
below, and east of the town, that night. The river runs eastward and
empties into the Pamlico river at Greenville.
Almost perishing from cold and exhaustion, I anxiously awaited for
daylight. It was my rule to look for a black man--in case I needed to
see one--between dark and bed-time or about daylight in the morning.
When daylight appeared I fortunately found one without much trouble,
and it happened he was one of more than the average intelligence.
Explaining my situation, I told him it was necessary that I should
conceal myself for several days until I could gain strength. Realizing
that an over-indulgence in food of any kind was dangerous on account
of the debilitated condition of my stomach, I was very careful, but
with all my caution, I had taken too much of the ash cake, and it came
near killing me. We were not far from the river, and the man thought
it advisable for us to cross to the north side, as he thought he knew
of a place over there which would be safe from intrusion. So we
hurried to the river bank, got into a "dug-out" which he pulled from
among the bushes, and paddled across. The river banks were lined with
timber and thick underbrush, and often swampy ground. We pushed into
the brush and soon came to the spot which he had fixed upon for my
abode. The river was only a few rods wide, and in many places very
difficult to approach on account of the heavy growth of brush of
different kinds. The black people, however, knew every inch of the
ground, and had secreted in many places all sorts of small
boats--everything of the kind that would float and carry one across. A
couple of small logs tied together would be sufficient, and even
these, I afterwards learned, could be found in many places. The man,
fearing his absence might be noticed, hurried away, telling me to
remain there until night. That night he re-appeared, accompanied by
another man. This second man proved to be my guardian angel, as I
shall show further along. They had with them some herb tea and a part
of a bed quilt, both of which were of great value at that time. For
some days I was in the greatest distress.
During the stay at this place I would have more or less black people
to see me every night. Curiosity to see a Northern man and a desire to
render aid in any way, was the motive which brought them. While there
were a few free negroes among the visitors, the greater number were
slaves. The latter would give accounts of their troubles, and many
woeful stories of cruelty were rehearsed.
At this place a black man gave me a dirk knife with a double-edged
blade, for the purpose, he said, of protecting myself against dogs or
other enemies. He had made it by grinding down a file, and had
produced a very formidable weapon. I have always remembered these
people with the greatest interest. There was that one before spoken of
who won my fullest gratitude. His name was Ben--Ben Foster. Foster, of
course, was the name of the man who owned him. When I was weakest this
man would carry me from place to place, when he thought there was
danger of discovery by remaining too long in one place.
I went in search of him a few years after the war, and found him not
far from the scene of our first acquaintance. The incident of meeting
this man a few years after the war was one of the most pleasant
experiences I ever met with. He, of course, did not know me when I
first approached, but to witness the looks of surprise and hear his
expressions of happiness at seeing me again, alive and well, was worth
to me a great deal more than it cost to go South and hunt him up. I
was accompanied on the trip by M. L. A. McCracken, Esq., an eminent
attorney, of Washington, Pa., and he was both interested and amused at
the scene when we met.
Many of these slaves were shrewd and observing and fairly intelligent,
and in conversation about matters connected with the war gave evidence
of a pretty good understanding of the condition of things. They knew
they were a prominent factor in the issue. And what wonderful faith
they had in the guiding hand of an over-ruling Providence--faith in
God and Massa Lincoln. Their simplicity and earnestness in religious
matters and their superstitions were prominent characteristics. An
old aunty told me to look out for the owls. If one hooted in front of
me it meant bad luck; if one to the right or left or rear, it meant
something--good, bad or worse; I forget just how they had it arranged.
A man named Dick, an interesting character, who had more than once, he
told me, attempted to get away from bondage, but was as often
overtaken and returned to his master, came often to see me. He was a
laughing, rollicking sort of a fellow, and was usually engaged in
humming a melody or dancing--always full of merriment and music. He
told me one night he would go and get a fishing line, and next morning
would go to the river and get us some fish. I fully endorsed the
proposition, because it promised to secure a kind of food I was very
much in need of. The corn bread had sickened me; my stomach revolted
against accepting it, but it was very difficult to get anything else,
and I was compelled to use it. Before daybreak the following morning I
was startled from an uneasy slumber by hearing Dick's familiar voice
breaking the stillness of the season by humming, in a tone somewhat
suppressed:
"Cold, frosty mo'nin', niggah very good,
Wid his axe on his shouldah, slippin' fro' de wood,
Old rusty hoe cake, not a bit of fat,
White folks grumble if you eat too much o' dat."
He was armed with fishing tackle, and we proceeded to the river bank,
but a short distance away. He took a position in the branches of a
fallen tree lying close to the water's edge, while I fell back into
the brush to await results. It was not long until Dick called,
excitedly, "Fo' de Lawd, massa, come quick." I hastened to where he
was and found he had caught an eel. It was with some difficulty we got
the thing off the hook, as everybody who has had the experience of
taking an eel off a fishing hook will believe. We eventually secured
it, and Dick slipped away to have it cooked. In due course of time he
returned with it, nicely fried. My stomach, as before remarked, was
out of shape, but I will remember that eel to my dying day as the
sweetest morsel that ever went into my mouth.
Time passed with me making a most miserable existence in the brush.
One night I was suffering all that I could suffer and live, when uncle
Ben reached me, and, seeming to realize the extent of my affliction,
laid out some plans of his own as to what should be done. A mile or
more away, standing alone in the solitude of the forest, was an old
cabin occupied by a free negro family named Jones. While there was
some risk in the proposition, Ben determined I should be under shelter
from the cold and damp, for a time, at least; so he picked me up and
"toted" me to this cabin, and arranged with the occupant, Mr. Jones,
to take me back into the brush before daylight. This was repeated
several nights. Soon after it was thought best to change my location
to some point as distant from the present one as it was possible to
get to in one night. Across the river and south of Louisburg, probably
three or four miles, was a house belonging to the owner of a large
plantation. It was located on a main road leading southward from the
bridge spanning the river at Louisburg. The house had been abandoned
by the owner at the outbreak of the war, and the plantation, house,
and household furniture had been left in the care of the slaves. Such
a house had always been exempt from search by the Home Guards. The
overseer on this plantation was a slave. It is a fact that slaves were
sometimes chosen as overseers on plantations, and it is also said to
be a fact that the lash was not spared when used by one of these
overseers on the body of a fellow slave.
It was determined by uncle Ben and one or two of his faithful friends
that I should be taken to the house spoken of and kept within it for a
few days and nights. This was for the double purpose of getting me
away from the old neighborhood and of getting me under shelter. In
going there we must either re-cross the river east of the town and
make a long, circuitous journey, or go directly through it and cross
the bridge. The latter route was chosen, and one night uncle Ben and a
friend, and myself a few yards in the rear, entered the place. We had
reached a point near the bridge, and I was waiting in the shadow of an
old building standing in an alley for them to reconnoiter around the
bridge and its approaches. They soon returned, showing considerable
excitement and fright. They had discovered some one on the bridge,
and, of course, fancied it was an enemy. We fell back in some
disorder, it is true, but without meeting with any mishap. Not far
from the town there lived a free negro family. The cabin stood in an
obscure spot, and to this cabin we directed our steps. We laid our
case before them and secured their friendship and co-operation. I was
permitted to pass the night and the following day in the loft of their
house. It is my recollection that that day was Sunday; at any rate,
quite a number of young black girls and boys gathered under the shade
of some trees surrounding the house and spent the greater part of the
day in innocent amusement--singing and dancing. None but members of
the household knew a Yankee was peeping under the eaves, looking at
the performances. The scene was the most amusing and enjoyable of the
kind I ever witnessed. The antics of the actors were "to the manor
born," while the flirtations of the sable beaus and belles showed that
at least some of the customs of the white folks had crept into
plantation society. When the party broke up in the evening, they went
off, making the country resound with the music of native songs.
On that night we again started to make our way through the town and
across the bridge. We reached the borders of the town, and cautiously
joining the procession of people going to church, we mingled with them
until we got in the neighborhood of the bridge. I might occupy a page
or two describing our manoeuvers while getting to and over the bridge.
It is sufficient to say that we successfully passed over, and some
time after the middle of the night reached our destination, the
mansion on the plantation above spoken of. The black overseer was not
permitted to know of my presence. Uncle Ben was afraid to trust him.
But his wife unlocked the gate of the fence which surrounded the
house, and took me into the house and directed me to remain there
until she called. A very ferocious dog was running loose within the
enclosure surrounding the house, and it was with great difficulty the
woman could keep him from springing on me while going from the gate to
the house. This dog being there was probably one of the reasons why it
was thought I would be free from discovery and could remain in the
house undisturbed. I was kept in this house three days and nights, and
being for that long sheltered from the cold and damp night atmosphere,
my health was much benefitted. Fearing too long a stay there might
prove disastrous, we again worked our way back to a point over the
river a few miles east of Louisburg, and not very far from my former
place of abode in the forest. At the expiration of a few days more, it
being probably eighteen or twenty since first striking the district, I
was called upon to get out in a hurry.
During my stay in this neighborhood, I learned there was a northern
man living at Louisburg, who had located there before the war, and who
was anxious to communicate with me. He had remained true to the Union,
and, through some disability, had escaped being conscripted into the
southern army. He sent a letter directed to some friends in the north,
and asked that I should carry it through for him. In a note
accompanying the letter, he said he would be glad to have an
interview, but realizing the danger connected with an attempt to visit
me, he concluded to waive the desire. He held a position as a teacher
in an educational institution of that place. I was compelled to
destroy the letter some days later, when there was danger of my again
falling into the hands of the rebels. Rumors which reached me that the
people had learned there was a Yankee in the country, and that search
with blood hounds might be made, had a tendency to hasten the start.
Blood hounds! All who have a knowledge of the character of this savage
brute will be able to form some idea of the horror which the very
mention of them would create in the mind. To explain more fully, I
will say that the night before I started, an old aunty, probably sixty
years of age, came to my dwelling place and said that the day before
she had been tied to a post and lashed on the bare back. For proof she
insisted on my examining her shoulders. I found them cruelly bruised
and lacerated. Having heard of my presence, she concluded to visit me,
with the hope that I might suggest some means by which she would be
relieved of such torture in the future. I was persuaded, partly by her
pleading, and partly by a sincere desire to aid her, to write her a
pass. I signed her master's name to it. She secured the materials for
the purpose. Everybody in the South in those days had to have a pass.
She evidently left her home early the following morning. Armed with
her pass, she concluded she would be safe under its protection. She
was arrested during the day while loitering around Louisburg; and in
the investigation which followed the pass was proven fraudulent. I had
friends who were watching the proceedings, and the news came to me
with the speed of the wind. It was feared she might be compelled to
betray me. At any rate, it was considered the part of wisdom for me to
strike out, although I was yet quite feeble, at the earliest
convenient moment. In order to prevent the possibility of being
overtaken by blood hounds, we proceeded to the river bank as soon as
darkness appeared, and, with as much haste as possible, constructed a
rude boat from material found in the bushes, and which had doubtless
been used for the same purpose before.
Three of my faithful friends were there--Ben, and Dick and Ed. Dick
wanted to go along with me and we had some difficulty to dissuade him.
I knew if he went along and I was caught with him in my company I
would in all probability be shot and he would be flogged severely. At
last--probably near midnight--we were ready. I picked up the pole
which we had secured for the purpose of managing my boat, and with
their "God bless you, massa, wish you good luck," ringing in my ears,
I pushed out into the stream. I spent the greater part of the balance
of the night on the water. Having worked to the opposite shore I
shoved my frail and sometimes unruly craft along until near morning,
when I abandoned it and took to the brush. I have no idea I made a
very great distance by water, and yet, for reasons above stated, it
was a wise thing to do.
It must be understood that I would always hunt a hiding place as soon
as daylight appeared. As evening twilight came on I would sally forth,
and if needing information, would first hunt up a black man. I never
attempted to travel by day. The cabins of the black people were built
of logs, having but a single room on the ground floor, and sometimes
there was a loft made, boards being thrown over the ceiling joists,
covering half the room, more or less. This upper apartment was used
for the purpose of storing away articles which could not well be kept
below. It was usually reached by a ladder.
On this day I sat around, passing the time taking short naps, and in
the interval nibbling at the corn bread which had been supplied by
uncle Ben. I was beginning to feel strong again, and was thrilled by
thoughts that I would now soon be at home among friends, and then back
with the boys at the camp-fire, participating in their amusements and
sharing in their triumphs.
That night, soon after starting out, I ran into the vicinity of a
cluster of cabins, and loitered about watching for an opportunity to
see what kind of people occupied them. In the course of time a man
came out, and I was near enough to see by the moonlight that it was a
black man. After some figuring I hailed him, and making myself known
was invited into the house. I was in there but a moment when a noise
was heard on the outside. The man pointed to the ladder, and I sprang
onto it. I struck the rung heavily; it broke, and in a moment Yankee
and ladder were tangled up on the floor. While in this situation, with
the occupants of the house looking in consternation at the picture
before them, the door opened, and in stepped a man and woman.
Fortunately they were friends of the family, who came as visitors. To
say that I was mortified at the awkward predicament, but poorly
expresses it. Explanation made everything right, and I soon shook the
dust of that cabin from my feet, and never again repeated the mistake
of going into one. The tramp that night was uneventful. As usual, when
time arrived to put up for the day I went around looking for a proper
place to locate and go to bed.
I soon struck the wet, oozy earth, which proved to be the beginning of
a swamp. Swamps were numerous in that country, and I was glad they
were. They afforded the best hiding places. I penetrated this one some
distance and perched myself on a fallen tree trunk to doze and sleep
away the day. The tree had been blown down, and large roots extending
out in all directions, held it up out of the water. I was lying
stretched out on this tree when, about the middle of the afternoon or
later, the distant bay of hounds reached my ears. It, of course,
occurred to me they were blood hounds, and were on my trail. It was
two days since leaving the river bank below Louisburg, and I had begun
to feel that the danger I had run into there had passed. But with the
stories of the negroes regarding the hounds still well remembered, it
was natural for me to conclude that it could not be otherwise than
that these were the dreaded brutes, and they were after me. One thing
is certain, the noise greatly alarmed me, and as it grew continually
louder and nearer I grasped the limb of a tree within reach and swung
myself into a position on it some eight or ten feet from the root of
the fallen tree I had been sitting on. My position was surrounded by
water from one to two feet deep for one to three hundred yards, and a
dense forest. Taking my knife in my hand I waited results. I have
heard it denied that a man's hair would "stand up" in case of fright,
but if my head didn't resemble the "fretful porcupine" about now, I
have ever since been laboring under a delusion.
Nearer and still nearer sounded the cry of the dogs. They presently
reached the water at the point about where I entered it, as I thought.
What a thrilling moment! Instead of plunging in, however, they turned
aside and ran around in a circle, as I understood blood hounds did
when they lost a trail. I occasionally got a glimpse of one in the
distance as a chance view is caught between the trees. The hoarse,
foreboding howl created a terror hard to explain, and filled me with a
dreadful apprehension that they might the next moment come rushing
through the brush. How long this continued I could not know. It was
certainly not long, although it seemed an age to me. At length a
change in the situation seemed to take place. They were apparently
going off. The cries were sounding further away. They became more
prolonged, more mournful, as they gradually grew less distinct, and as
I sat there and listened to the chorus dying away in the distance my
heart quit its thumping, my nerves relaxed, and a feeling of relief,
such as is seldom felt by man, came over me. For a while, however,
things looked bad to "a man up a tree," I assure you. If they were
blood hounds, as I thought they were, there was no one with them to
direct them into the water, which they will not enter without being
urged. When darkness came on I cautiously crept out and hurried away.