ORGANIZATION AND DEPARTURE--PRESENTATION OF FLAG--ADDRESS BY DAVID
B. DEWEY--"NICK HOTALING'S SPEECH"--CAPTURE OF A MASKED BATTERY--
MUSTERED INTO SERVICE--CAMP BUTLER--FORT MASSAC--CAIRO--BIRD'S POINT
--ADVENTURE OF HARVEY JAMES--PADUCAH AND MURRAY, KENTUCKY--RELEASING
IMPRISONED SLAVES.
"Then the grandsire speaks, in a whisper,--
'The end no man can see;
But we give him to his country
And we give our prayers to Thee.'"
John R. Hotaling, one of the pioneers of Lane (now Rochelle) who graded
the first railway through the town and who was a veteran of the Mexican
war, undertook to organize a company of cavalry under the three years
call. He was well known and popular and his military experience aided
the enterprise. The requisite quota for organization was soon obtained
and on July 19th, 1861, the men, from various parts of Ogle and
adjoining counties, assembled at Oregon and elected officers. John R.
Hotaling was made Captain, Frank R. Bennett, First Lieutenant and A. J.
Jackson of Morrison, Illinois, Second Lieutenant.
Lieutenant Bennett had served in the regular army and as a cavalry
drill-master, was without a superior in the service. Affable in manner,
with a handsome, manly presence, he made an ideal officer. He was
considerate and kind to his men and a favorite with all.
Lieutenant Jackson was a manly, courteous and intelligent gentleman who
soon won the respect and friendship of his comrades but, owing to
failing health, was obliged to leave them before the close of the war.
On the twenty-second or twenty-third of July, the men, sixty-four in
number, twenty-nine of whom were from Lane, met in that town to start
for the front. Each supplied his horse and equipment. Only the choicest
animals were selected. The result was that no better mounted men were
known to the service. The pride and independence fostered by
proprietorship proved an important factor in the high efficiency
attained, as will be shown later. The Government allowed forty cents
per day for the use of each horse and in case one was killed, time was
given in which to replace it.
The occasion was memorable and typical of thousands then occurring
throughout the land. It was in the midst of the harvest season and
grain was spoiling in the fields for want of men to save it.
Nevertheless, the streets were early filled with farmers' wagons and
vehicles of all kinds, loaded with entire families who had come to bid
the soldier-boys good bye. The men "lined up" upon Washington Street,
in front of what is now Bain's Opera House. A silk flag was presented
by the ladies of the town, but by whom the presentation was made or who
were responsible for the gift, is not now known. The flag was accepted
by David B. Dewey, who, in behalf of the company, made an earnest and
appropriate speech. It was well received, but the feeling was too tense
and serious for noisy demonstration. The grave, set faces of the men
and the tearful eyes of the women and children, were the dominant and
impressive features. A few tried to appear indifferent and to fortify
their courage by attempts at wit or badinage but the gravity of the
occasion was too apparent.
Almost at the very last, and during a particularly trying moment, some
one, to relieve the tension, shouted for a speech. Various names were
called without response, and finally, that of "Nick" Hotaling, brother
of the Captain, was named. Others, as a diversion, took up the call,
not expecting it to be heeded.
Hotaling was a well known character in the place. At the age of twelve,
he ran away from home and shipped upon a New Bedford whaler; following
the sea until within a few years previous to the war, when he purchased
a farm near Lane and settled down as a farmer. He was a short,
broad-shouldered, powerful man, whose presence carried the impression
of great reserve-force. He had seen much of the world and was a shrewd
observer. It was not known that he had ever uttered a word in public or
that he could do so. Dismounting from his horse, he climbed into a
wagon beside a man who was holding a flag, and faced the crowd. There
were a few cat-calls and an attempt at bantering from those who looked
upon his attempt as a joke. To all this he was oblivious. He stood like
a statue, gazing at the sad and somber crowd, his dark hazel eyes
growing more and more luminous. A tense silence followed, broken only
by the suppressed sobs of the women. As if profoundly impressed by what
he saw, he waited for a moment, during which he slowly reached out and
grasped the flag-staff beside him. Then he spoke. In resonant, measured
words, each syllable of which was distinct and impressive, he said,
pointing to the flag: "It is against _this_ that they have made war. It
is to defend _this_ that we have come. It was Washington's flag, it
is yours and mine. I have followed that flag over continents and
seas--from the frigid zones to the equator. I have saluted it beneath
every star that shines upon the round world. In all my wanderings it
has floated over me. In strange lands it has been my friend and my
pride, my guardian and my protector."
And so he went on. In brief and simple sentences, perfectly fitted to
the subject and the occasion, he justified his right to talk. His
presentation was a model of strength and symmetry, of poetic and
patriotic zeal. With the exception of the closing sentence, the writer
does not pretend to quote the exact words of his talk but only its
substance and character as it left its impression upon him. The
audience was transfixed. The speaker's sway was absolute. Following his
preface, in a rapid flow of glowing sentences, as clear as they were
simple, he stated the issue before the nation, showing the justice of
the Union cause, the arrogance and infamy of the slave power, and the
futility of compromise. Our choice, he insisted, lay between national
right and national wrong; between freedom and oppression. After a
superb climax, pointing again to the flag, he said: "That flag stands
for humanity! I stand for that flag!" Then, drawing it to his breast,
he arose to his full height and holding his right hand aloft as if
taking an oath, continued: "AND BY THE GOD WHO GAVE ME BREATH, I WILL
FIGHT FOR IT NOW!" With this, he seized the flag with both hands and
stood behind it like a lion at bay. It was enough. The response which
followed was not a cheer but a benediction; and those who parted with
their loved ones, did it with a resignation they would not have known
had they missed those simple, lofty, burning words.
How much of the effect was due to the occasion and the dramatic
setting, cannot be told. It is certain, however, that this could not
have been the sole cause, for Dewey's speech, prepared for the day and
approved by all, was soon forgotten. Hotaling's was remembered by those
who heard it as something extraordinary and was often referred to
during and after the war as "Nick Hotaling's speech." The fact that it
made an impression upon the writer such as no words of the most
impassioned orator have ever made and the fact that that impression
remains vivid after the lapse of fifty years, would indicate that it
must have been unusual.
The crowd had partially separated and a portion had begun to move away
when the speech commenced and it was barely concluded when the order
was given to march. There was a hurried leave-taking and the "boys,"
for many of them were literally such,[1] were "off to the war," with
Mendota as their first day's destination.
[1] The records of the War Department show that the "men" who
fought in the Civil War were largely boys. Of the 2,278,588
enlisted upon the Union side, all but 118,000 were less than
twenty-one years of age. The list is as follows: 25 boys 10 years
of age, 38 boys 11 years of age, 225 boys 12 years of age, 300
boys 13 years of age, 105,000 boys 14 and 15 years of age,
126,000 boys 16 years of age, 613,000 boys 17 years of age,
307,000 boys 18 years of age, 1,009,000 boys 18 to 21 years of
age.
It was assumed that the first stage of the march would be without
incident, inasmuch as we were not supposed to be in the enemy's
country. But war is full of surprises. We had scarcely proceeded a mile
when we found ourselves in manifest peril. A formidable battery of
six-inch guns was discovered directly in our path. When sighted, it was
too late to retreat and the order was given to charge. The enemy was
panic-stricken and capitulated without firing a gun. We at once found
ourselves in possession of his entire commissary, including sandwiches,
pies, cakes, fruit, about one hundred feet of bologna sausage and some
kegs of ice-cold beer. The entire garrison was captured. The prisoners,
Jay L. Putman, "Jack" Howlett, editor of "The Lane Leader," and George
Turkington, were released upon parole, allowed to retain their
side-arms and march out with the honors of war. The guns, consisting of
three links of stove-pipe, were abandoned as inefficient and we went
on. Arriving at Mendota, we remained over night and proceeded the next
day to La Salle. From there we marched to Bloomington where we awaited
transportation to Springfield. Upon our arrival at the latter place we
marched about seven miles to Clear Lake, afterwards known as Camp
Butler, where we encamped and commenced drilling. On August 12th, 1861,
we were mustered into the State service.
We remained at Camp Butler about two weeks, foot-drilling in squads and
practicing the manual drill with wooden sabers. From there we were
transferred to Carbondale where we commenced drilling with horses but
for want of a satisfactory parade-ground, we were compelled to move to
Duquoin where we were subjected to a rigid, steady drill. The men were
in earnest and each did his best. The company's reward was the letter
"A," of which we were justly proud. After two weeks of hard work we
marched to Fort Massac on the Ohio River, near Metropolis, Illinois,
about twelve miles below Paducah, Kentucky, where we arrived on
September 24th, and encamped for ten or twelve days, during which time
we did some scouting up the river. From Fort Massac we were transferred
to Bird's Point, Missouri, opposite Cairo. From there we went to Cairo
for a short time and then back to Bird's Point, from whence we did some
scouting; but nothing of special interest occurred until December;
when, in a scouting expedition after Jeff Thompson's command, the
regiment met with its first loss. Josiah Clark, of Company B, was
killed in a skirmish and was carried off the field by Lew Blake of the
11th Illinois Infantry. Clark had not been ordered out but went
voluntarily.
The Confederates early saw the importance of holding the Mississippi as
a water-way, and almost at the outset, seized upon Columbus, Ky., and
Belmont, Mo., nearly opposite thereto, as places to be fortified and
held. It was known that troops in considerable numbers were being
massed in both places and that the river between was strongly guarded
by gun-boats. It became important, therefore, to know the strength and
disposition of the enemy and the character and extent of the defenses.
While we were stationed at Bird's Point, shortly before the battle of
Belmont, Harvey R. James, who enlisted from Oregon, was detailed in the
secret service for this purpose. James was a reticent, determined,
clear-headed, resourceful young man of exceptional physical strength
and endurance and as fearless as he was strong. Being supplied with an
excellent horse, he started early in the morning and rode towards
Belmont on the west bank of the Mississippi, about fifteen miles below
Bird's Point. The country is low and swampy and covered in places with
a thick growth of timber. Arriving in the vicinity of Belmont, he was
obliged to use extreme caution. He could not afford to take the risk of
riding into the lines, so, after approaching as near as he thought safe
to do, he secured his horse in a dense thicket in a swamp, removed the
saddle, arms and equipment, except a small pocket-pistol which he
retained, and hid them near by. Fixing the location in his mind by
means of carefully selected land-marks, he proceeded cautiously to
skirt the enemy's camp. After seeing all that he could in this way and
getting a good idea of the enemy's force and position, he returned to
the river front which he carefully studied. An important object was to
discover the number and strength of the river batteries and also as
much as possible of the strength and disposition of forces at Columbus.
This could not be accomplished without a boat. After much difficulty in
eluding the guards, he succeeded in locating a small boat which,
fortunately, was supplied with oars but could not be approached or used
during the day. Success was more important to him than time; so he hid
in a thicket and waited. When sufficiently dark he got into the boat
and started down the river close to the Missouri shore, which he
followed for five or six miles and then rowed across to the Kentucky
side where he found a satisfactory place in which to hide the boat so
that he might use it to return. After traveling two or three miles, he
succeeded in locating the main Columbus road. It was then about
midnight and he was very tired and hungry. Hiding near a plantation, he
ate some food and slept until daylight, when he started towards
Columbus. He had not gone far when he met a negro whom he told that he
had been thrown from his horse during the night, that the horse had
escaped and ran towards Columbus. As an excuse for being in that
vicinity, he volunteered the information that his home was in Memphis;
that he was hunting a truant brother whom he was anxious to take back
to join a cavalry regiment then being formed there. Without appearing
to be inquisitive, he succeeded in getting much information as to the
names of the inhabitants, roads, locations, etc., which were of value.
While talking, a farmer appeared on his way to the Columbus market with
a load of vegetables. The negro suggested that James might ride with
the farmer who, he said, knew everybody and would help him find his
horse and locate the truant brother. The farmer took kindly to his new
friend, by whom he was handsomely treated, and they both passed through
the lines without suspicion. After the farmer had disposed of his load
they went around together through the entire camp inquiring for the
horse and brother, until much of the day was spent and James had
acquired a complete knowledge of the situation. James early secured a
supply of that liquid which is supposed to be especially potent in
cementing friendship, treated the farmer and also the pickets as they
passed out, told them that he would be back again in a day or two,
cautioned them to look out for his horse and offered ten dollars in
gold to anybody who would find it. When they reached the plantation
near where they had met in the morning, James stopped on pretense of
inquiring about his horse, promising to accept his friend's hospitality
the next day. As soon as the farmer was out of sight he hastened to the
hidden boat and recrossed the river. The current was very strong and
carried the boat a considerable distance down stream. Thinking that he
might make better time by walking than to row against the current, he
landed and started towards Belmont. It was then near daylight. He had
gone but a short distance when he was commanded to halt, and the
presence of three or four guns aimed towards him at close range
appeared to be a sufficient justification for doing so. He was
immediately searched, his watch, knife, money and revolver taken from
him but no papers were found. The guard escorted him to camp where he
was scrutinized by several men, one of whom he had previously seen at
Cairo and who was there known as a suspect. During the day a court
martial, consisting of the commander and several officers, was convened
and he was tried and condemned as a spy. The order accompanying the
finding directed that he be shot by a file of soldiers at eight o'clock
the next morning. It was about dark in the evening when the finding was
announced. He was supplied with food and placed in an old log hut which
had formerly been used for confining runaway negroes. Believing that
they had taken away all of his personal effects, he was not handcuffed.
There was but one means of escape from the hut and that was through the
door, outside of which was stationed an armed guard. The prospect was
far from reassuring but James realized that he had a long night before
him and that many a man by wit and boldness had saved his life in less
time. One strong hope was in his cavalry boots which had not been taken
from him. Sewed within the tops, next to the seams, were several small,
finely tempered, steel saws.
He first examined the fastening of the door and found that it was
secured by a bolt which could be cut; but it was necessary to wait
until the camp was quiet. Another essential was to delay the discovery
of his escape as long as possible by attacking the guard at the first
opportunity after the shift. He could hear the bells on a gun-boat
anchored near by, which were sounded every two hours for a change of
watch. At twelve o'clock the camp was quiet and the bolt was nearly
severed. Soon after the guard was relieved, he finished the work and
opened the door slightly to watch for an opportunity. It was not long
before the guard appeared to be drowsy and stood with his back to the
door. James saw his chance. Opening the door with the utmost caution
until he was able to slip through, he sprang like a panther upon the
man outside, throttled and bore him to the ground. A terrific blow upon
the temple rendered him unconscious. James hastily removed his shirt,
tore it into strips, gagged his enemy, tied his hands and feet and
dragged him into the hut. Removing his own coat and placing it over the
body of the guard, he donned the other's coat and cap, took his gun and
sheath-knife and stole out. He had little difficulty in avoiding the
picket and before time for the next bell, had found his horse. The poor
creature had been there for nearly three days and nights and was as
anxious as he to get away. At dawn the two were within our lines at
Bird's Point. James reported to his Chief and then to General Grant.
The information was all that was wanted and in a few days the battle of
Belmont was fought upon the ground where he had been condemned to be
executed.
James continued in the secret service and for a number of months we saw
but little of him. During the following spring while preparing for an
extended trip, he met with an accident which nearly proved fatal.
Through some mishap in handling a revolver, the instrument was
discharged. The bullet entered his breast above the heart and passed
upwardly to his left shoulder. For months he lay very near to death,
but his great vitality carried him through and he recovered, though not
sufficiently to again enter the secret service.
After leaving the hospital he joined the company at Jackson, Tennessee.
He was a warm friend of the writer and we were much together. One day I
noticed some frayed stitching in the tops of his cavalry boots. He
reached down and drew out two small saws suspended upon strong silken
threads. Then, under promise of secrecy until "after the war," he told
me the story recounted above, assuring me that his chief and General
Grant were the only ones who knew it. Thereupon, he produced the
sheath-knife taken from the guard, which he preserved as a souvenir. In
1890, at Missoula, Montana, the writer met a man who was associated
with James in the secret service, who told, in substance, the story
given above and vouched for its truthfulness.
After the battle of Belmont, we were transferred to Cairo and thence to
Paducah, Ky., where we built stables for our horses. These were barely
finished when we marched to Murray, Ky. The trip was intended for the
purpose of practice, to teach us to make and break camp and to accustom
us to picket duty in the enemy's country.
While at Murray, we had an experience which gave us some conception of
the horrors of slavery and the shocking and inhuman cruelties to which
it led. We had heard much of these atrocities but had never been
brought into contact with them.
Owing to the cold rains which prevailed, we were forced to take shelter
in buildings in order to be comfortable; and some of us were quartered
in a carpenter-shop. I had been upon picket duty during the night and
returned to quarters to prepare for breakfast. Looking out of the
back-door, I saw Neil Belles and one or two others washing a negro in a
horse-trough back of a stable where we kept our horses. The negro, with
others of his race, had just been liberated from a jail, the filthy and
repulsive condition of which was unspeakable. Around the neck of the
wretched creature was a heavy iron collar and a similar band around his
waist. Connecting these and firmly riveted to them, was an iron bar
running down the back with a stout ring upon it to which was attached a
chain about five feet long, which was, in turn, secured to a post in
the middle of the room, or rather sty, where he was kept. The only
clothing upon the man when found, was a thin cotton shirt; and this in
winter, in a building reeking with dampness and filth unutterable. No
attempt had ever been made to clean it and he was obliged to live and
sleep there with no chance to move beyond the length of his chain. His
food was thrown into a filthy pan which was never removed. He had been
there several months. His body was terribly mangled from dog-bites and
lashes. It seemed horrible; and it was; but, in the eyes of the law, he
deserved it; for he had committed one of the gravest crimes possible
for one of his race;--he had attempted to escape. Yes, a crime.--A
crime recognized by the highest law of the land;--a wise, just,
expedient and humane law,--sustained by a wise, just and learned
tribunal,--the SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES;--and Chief Justice
Taney "was it's prophet."
There were a number of other negroes released and the condition of all
was wretched; but I do not recall that there were any others who were
manacled in the manner described. The type of iron harness mentioned
however, was a favorite one for runaway negroes as I was assured by
reliable authority. To have been consistent however, the collars should
have been inscribed with Justice Taney's famous and humane announcement
that: "A negro has no rights which a white man is bound to respect."
The negro in question was taken to a blacksmith's shop where his
harness was removed with cold-chisels and files and he, with the
others, went with us to Paducah. It was not surprising that none seemed
anxious to remain behind.
After returning to Paducah, we stood picket around the town until we
received orders to start for Fort Henry.
[Illustration: LIEUTENANT JAMES S. MCHENRY]