THE ESCAPE--I TURN OVER MY TENT AND HOUSEHOLD EFFECTS TO COLONEL MILLER
AND ADJUTANT LYMAN--CRAWLING ACROSS THE GUARD LINE--OUR ESCAPE DISCOVERED
AND WE FIRED UPON--CAPTAINS GEERE AND EASTMOND RECAPTURED--TRAMP, TRAMP,
TRAMP.
There was one of the guard, who had come with us from Charleston, and to
whom I had sold my watch, who had become quite attached to me, and had
always been ready to do me a favor, when he could. From our frequent
interviews, I had been led to believe that he was strongly tinctured with
unionism, and thought perhaps he could be induced to give me a chance to
escape, if he could do so without danger to himself. Finding him on guard
the 12th of October, at the northwest corner of our camp, which was the
best place on the line to cross, I wrote a note to him, offering him fifty
dollars if he would let me and some of my comrades cross his beat that
night.
Wrapping a small stone in this note, I sauntered along near where he was
pacing his beat, and, watching my opportunity, when none of the other
guard were looking, tossed the note to him and sat down under the shade
of a small tree to await the result. It would be impossible to describe
with what feelings of hope, doubt, anxiety, and fear I awaited the answer
to this note, as he paced his beat carefully reading it.
If he consented, I was free; but if he refused and reported me to Captain
Semple for attempting to bribe him, there was no telling what would be my
punishment; for attempting to bribe a sentry on duty was no slight
offense. The stake for which I was playing was a great one, and the hazard
was equally great. It was liberty on the one hand, and perhaps death on
the other. No wonder then that the moment was an anxious one.
After carefully reading it, he walked to the farther end of his beat and
wrote on the back of the note, and wrapped a stone up in it, and, on his
return, when opposite where I sat, after cautiously glancing around,
tossed it back to me. This act satisfied me that my secret was safe, at
least; but when I read his answer, my gratitude to this noble friend was
greater than I could express. He wrote: "I do not want your money; but if
you will come just as the moon goes down and throw a pebble at my feet I
will leave my beat; but be very careful not to make any noise." With a
joyful heart I hurried to my companions to tell them the good news.
That was a busy day for me. I bought some flour, sweet potatoes and meat,
and commenced making biscuit, roasting sweet potatoes, and frying meat to
fill our haversacks. This, with our slight conveniences for cooking, was
no easy task. I made two dozen biscuits; and this, with our other
provisions filled our haversacks, and together with our blankets,
overcoats, etc., was about all we could carry. Having completed our
preparations, I went to where Col. Miller and Lieut. H. H. Lyman had taken
up their quarters, which consisted of a dry goods box with one end knocked
out, and about half long enough to cover their bodies. They were both too
ill to build a brush tent as I had done. I told them that I was going to
take a walk the next morning, and asked them to move into my tent, and if
I was brought back I would take it back, but if not, then it was theirs,
together with the mattress, extra blankets, and cooking utensils.
We then lay down and took a good sleep and rest, waiting for the moon to
set, which would be at three o'clock.
By that hour we had eaten our breakfast, picked up what we intended to
carry, and cautiously, one by one, gathered under a tree, a few feet from
the dead line, where, concealed in the shade, we could plainly see my
friend pacing up and down his beat. When the moon had disappeared long
enough so that it was quite dark, I tossed a pebble, which struck right at
his feet, at which he said in a low tone, "all right" and walked away, and
commenced talking to the other sentry.
This was our opportunity, and lying flat on the ground, we crawled across
the guard line like so many snakes. There were seven of us, viz.:
Captains Geere, Hock, Eastmond, Hays, and Cratty, and Lieutenant Winner
and myself. Having all got across, we raised up and stole softly away. We
had not gone far, however, before some one stumbled over some dry brush in
the darkness, which made considerable noise and attracted the attention of
one of the guard, who immediately sent a bullet in our direction and
called out lustily: "Corporal of the guard, post number fo." This was
followed by other shots; but they could only shoot in the direction of the
noise, and if ever seven fellows made good time, we did for about half a
mile, till we gained a small patch of woods. We did not stop here long,
but getting our direction, we made for another and larger woods about
three miles away.
We entered these woods just as it was getting light; and making our way
far into its dark recesses, made our camp for the day. We could plainly
hear the reveille in the prison camp, from where we lay that morning, and
would not have been surprised to have heard the dogs on our trail that
day. But the dogs had been kept pretty busy for the past few days, and
were perhaps busy then, following some other track. We spread down our
blankets and took a nap for an hour or two, and then after eating a light
breakfast, commenced perfecting our plans for the future.
We each cut a good, stout hickory staff, and then agreed upon our manner
of march. Captain Geere, who had escaped once before and been recaptured,
was chosen leader, and we were to march in single file, about ten paces
apart, Geere first, Eastmond next, myself third, and the others behind. If
the leader saw any danger, he was to raise his hand as a signal for all to
drop down; and if he wanted to consult, he would stop and wait for us to
come up.
The moon was full, and shone brightly nearly all night; so that when we
were in the open road, these signals could be plainly seen by the man next
behind, who was to raise his hand, and so pass the signal back to the
rear. About ten o'clock that night we started for the road, which we had
reconnoitered and found during the day. We had nearly reached the road,
when we heard a dog baying as though on a trail of some kind, and also
heard the voices of men shouting to him. Making quite a long detour, we
again approached the road, this time where the timber was sparse, and the
greensward soft beneath our feet. Captain Geere had just reached the
middle of the road, and Captain Eastmond was near the edge of the woods,
when suddenly a large white dog, with a loud bay attacked Geere. I was
near enough to see Geere swinging his stick in front of the dog to keep
him off, and dropped flat down. I saw two armed men come up and silence
the dog, but waited for no more, and stealthily glided away as fast as I
could, back into the woods.
The greensward beneath my feet, the barking of the dog, and the loud
talking of the men, prevented them from hearing me, and I assure you it
was not long before I was out of their hearing, no matter how much noise I
had made. I was all alone, and did not know in what direction I was
running, I only knew I was getting away from the sound of that dog. I had
run, I should judge, about a mile, when I again came to the road and
crossed it. Soon getting into a swampy piece of ground, I climbed over
fallen trees, plunged into mud holes, tore through brier bushes, and
stumbled over stumps, and finally sat down, completely out of breath, to
listen.
It was now about 11 o'clock, and there was not a sound to be heard. After
listening some time I again started for the road, feeling that I must make
the balance of the tramp alone. I soon found the road, and then put in
some of the tallest walking I had ever done, knowing that every stride I
made was a stride towards safety. I had walked about five miles, as near
as I could judge, and had just come to the open country again, when from
the fence beside the road just behind me, I heard my name spoken; and
knowing that no one but my comrades would know my name, I at once halted
and answered. It proved to be Captain Hock and Adjutant Winner, who had
heard me coming and waited for me.
We pushed on rapidly, knowing that our safety depended on the distance we
placed between ourselves and Columbia that night, and at daylight went
into camp in a piece of woods about fifteen miles from Columbia. I did
not take any blanket with me; but had a good overcoat, which we spread on
the ground, and covering ourselves with the blankets of Hock and Winner,
slept soundly until about ten o'clock, when we awoke and took our
breakfast of two biscuits each, and spent the balance of the day in
chatting, smoking, snoozing, etc. About half past nine that evening (the
14th) we started on again, proceeding cautiously in single file, but we
did not make more than twelve miles that night, on account of being
obliged to make a long detour two or three times, to flank some wagons
that had camped beside the road, on their way to market at Columbia.
People going to market there are frequently eight or ten days on the road,
camping like gypsies, wherever night overtakes them. They would build a
fire beside the road, and cook their supper, picket their horses, and go
to sleep in their covered wagons.
In these detours, we sometimes came across a few sweet potatoes, or some
corn in the field, which we would gather to roast for our breakfast. In
fact, after the third day, our biscuits were all gone, and we had nothing
to eat except what we could thus find along the road. On the third night
out, my legs began to pain me, and the next morning they were quite
swollen and inflamed. This was Sunday, and we camped in a pine grove, near
a clear brook; and after breakfast I took a good bath in the cold water,
and felt quite refreshed after it. That night, just after we started, we
found a guide board, and mounting Captain Hock's shoulders, I got near
enough to read that we were thirty-four miles from Columbia, having
averaged not quite twelve miles a night.
[Illustration: ESCAPED PRISONERS SEARCHING FOR THE ROAD AT NIGHT.]
Being now out of provisions, much of our time was spent in looking for
sweet potatoes along the road. Sometimes we would see a nice patch in
front of some wayside house; but almost every house had a dog or two, and
they ever seemed on the alert for tramps; and it was quite a risk to
attempt to dig sweet potatoes with those dogs making such a racket, and we
were often glad enough to get away without being detected, and even
without the desired potatoes. How those dogs would bark! It seemed as
though they would arouse the whole neighborhood with their eternal
yelping. I took a solemn oath during that journey that if I ever lived to
get free, I would thereafter shoot every dog I could find, and I pretty
near kept that oath, too. We were not so much afraid of their biting us as
we were that they would be followed by their masters with loaded guns; and
often we would make a detour of a mile, rather than have attention
attracted to us by those yelping curs.
The fifth night of our tramp was cloudy and dark, so much so that the
little North Star, that had thus far been our guide, as well as the full
moon that had lighted up our road, was completely hidden from our view,
and we were left to grope our way as best we could. In the darkness we
came to where the roads forked, and although there was a guide board, it
was in vain that I tried by mounting Captain Hock's shoulders and lighting
matches, to read the directions, to find which road led in the right
direction.
After talking the matter over, and consulting our little map as well as we
could by the aid of lighted matches, we took the road to the right, and
although it may seem paradoxical, for this once right was wrong.
We traveled on this road two or three miles, when we were satisfied that
we should have taken the other fork, but thinking we would come to a road
soon that bore in the right direction, we kept plodding along in the
darkness and finally in the rain, and when near daylight we went into
camp, we only knew we were in the woods somewhere in South Carolina, but
in what particular portion of that state we could not tell. Of one thing
we were satisfied, and that was that we were tired out and half starved.
We spread our blankets on the wet ground and, with the rain falling in our
faces, slept as soundly as though our bed was one of down instead of the
wet ground.
Awaking about 10 o'clock, I started out on a reconnoissance, and, after
carefully skirmishing around for an hour, found that we were near the
Saluda river, and that there was a ferry near by, the river at this point
being very wide. We did not wish to cross this river, and had tried hard
to avoid it, but by taking the wrong road at the forks had run right onto
it.
Instead of laying by this day, we started out to try to find a road that
led in the right direction. We found some persimmons, which we gathered
and ate to satisfy our hunger; but tramped all day in the rain until 4
o'clock in the afternoon before we found a road that seemed to run in the
direction we wished to go. When we finally came to a road that seemed to
point to the northwest, we pushed on rapidly for sixteen miles before
halting, although we were hungry and tired; and when we finally came to
another guide board, we found that we were only forty-four miles from
Columbia. This was Tuesday, the 18th, and we had left Columbia the morning
of the 14th, thus making an average of only eleven miles a day, or rather
a night.
We had nothing to eat but raw corn, which we shelled from the cob, and
munched as we walked. My legs had now became swollen and inflamed to such
an extent that, had I been at home, I would not have thought I could walk
a dozen blocks, still we marched sixteen miles that night, and the next
morning we went into camp within the sound of passing cars. That night we
started out again, but had not gone more than half a mile before we again
came upon the river. This was discouraging for, as I have said, we did not
wish to cross the river but to go in a parallel direction, and this road
ended at a ferry.
There was nothing to do but go back and try to find a road that branched
off from the one we were just traveling. The country through which we
were passing was densely wooded, and the weather was cloudy and rainy,
and, after tramping all day and all the next night, we finally went into
camp again; but where we could not tell, except that it was in the woods.
We had traveled hither and thither for thirty-six hours without anything
to eat.
After resting and sleeping until about 11 o'clock in the forenoon, we
started out again to find a road. We found a corn field in which some
beans had been planted between the hills, and gathered the ears of corn
and picked some of the beans, which we shelled and cooked in a tin plate
that I had brought along. We were near a spring of water, and, by placing
the tin plate on three stones and building a fire with twigs under it, we
could, by frequently pouring in water from a tin cup, manage to keep them
from burning until they were soft enough to eat. It took a good deal of
time and patience to cook enough for three in this way; but by working
faithfully all day, I cooked enough to make us think we had had quite a
dinner.
During the day, Captain Hock in skirmishing around the woods came across
four or five shoats and an old sow feeding on the nuts and persimmons, and
tried by shelling corn to coax them near enough to knock one over to cook
for rations; but they were so wild he could not get near enough to capture
one. He worked a long time to gain their confidence; and they would come
within a few feet, and then, with a loud snort, would scamper off into the
woods again, patiently followed by the Captain. Finally, however, he was
obliged to give up the chase, and the prospects of a good dinner vanished.
About four o'clock we found a road, and then completely tired out, we lay
down and slept. It was nearly midnight when we started on, and then it was
with difficulty that I could walk at all. My legs gave me such pain that
it seemed as if they would break off at every step. They were swollen to
three times their natural size and were so inflamed that I thought I would
be obliged to give up. The agony I suffered that night can never be told,
but I would not let my comrades halt for my sufferings, and they would not
go on without me--God bless them! They would not desert me, but rather
stay and share my fate, whatever it might be. I never can forget those two
noble comrades, who so faithfully stood by me, when, by leaving me behind,
as I begged of them to do, they, who were strong and hearty, could have
made double the distance I could make in my enfeebled condition.
We soon found the railroad, and knowing that it would take us to
Knoxville, where we were making for, we started along the track. Although
my sufferings were almost unbearable, I trudged along uncomplainingly, for
I would not impede their progress; and when, shortly after, we came in
sight of a covered bridge, which we thought might be guarded, I
volunteered to make a reconnoissance, for I thought it better for me to
be re-taken than either of them.
Fortunately, there was no guard at the bridge, and we crossed. Captain
Hock was obliged to crawl across on his hands and knees for fear of
falling, as there was nothing but the ties and stringers to cross on and
it made him dizzy to walk upright. After crossing this bridge, we came to
a sweet potato patch and filled our haversacks so as to have a breakfast.
Just at daylight that morning, we met a negro going to work in a mill;
but, as we were afraid to trust him, we did not speak except to say "good
morning" as we passed. This was the first person, black or white, that we
had met since our escape, and we had then been out six days. We went into
a piece of woods near by, and I cooked sweet potatoes in that tin plate
nearly all day to satisfy our appetites.
We had our camp this day in a small thicket near a sweet potato field;
and, knowing that we could lay in a good supply after dark, we cooked and
ate all we wanted of our former supply. It kept me pretty busy cooking
them in that tin plate, as I was obliged to slice them up and then keep
adding water as it boiled away; but we managed to make out a good dinner,
and then lay down and slept until nearly dark. We made our supper on some
of the potatoes that I had roasted in the hot embers, so we had a variety
that day, boiled sweet potatoes for dinner, and sweet potatoes roasted for
supper. After supper we went into the field, and filled our haversacks
for the next morning's breakfast. It was hard digging, as the soil was
gravelly, and we had nothing but our fingers to dig with.
If any one thinks that a peck of sweet potatoes is not heavy, let him try
carrying a peck all night, and walk the railroad ties. This, the seventh
night, we started out early, taking the railroad track, which would take
us direct; but it was hard walking, and especially for me, as my legs were
so swollen and lame. I had been obliged on account of my swollen feet and
limbs to cut off the legs of my cavalry boots, and split down the vamp
nearly to the toe, to make them more roomy and comfortable, for my
stockingless feet.
I used to think during that tramp on the railroad, how much better walking
it would be, if they would place the ties straight across the road bed,
and at an equal distance apart, say about eighteen inches, instead of
putting every third or fourth one on a bias. We dis-_cussed_ this thing
pretty thoroughly during the time we were engaged as track-walkers between
Columbia and Wallhalla, and came to the conclusion that a reform was
necessary, in this regard.
We were continually obliged to take one or two short steps and then a long
one, and if the reader does not believe that to be tiresome, let him try
it for two or three hundred miles, and he will believe that I am right,
and that I know something about how railroads ought to be built for foot
passengers. At any rate, I was so completely used up by one o'clock that
night that I tried to have my comrades go on and leave me to try to get
some negro to take care of me until I was able to resume my journey. I
told them that it was impossible for me to proceed; but they said they
would go into camp there, and see what success I met with in finding
shelter.
We went into a piece of woods near the railroad and in sight of the
village of Greenwood, S. C., at one o'clock in the morning, and lay there
all day, watching for some negro to come along the road, which here ran
along the railroad. Towards night, I walked out to the railroad, and saw a
negro coming along on horse back. I sat upon the fence with my blue
overcoat on, and the following dialogue took place:
"Hello uncle!"
"Howde massa?"
"Uncle, did you ever see a Yankee?"
"No sah, I spects I never did."
"Well, now, take a good look at me and you'll see one."
"Is you a Yankee, massa?"
"Yes, I am a Yankee, and I want you to help me. You know we are going to
make the darkies all free. We are your friends. I have been a prisoner at
Columbia, and have escaped to get back North; but I am sick, and cannot go
any farther until I get better. Now I would like to go home with you and
have you take care of me until I am able to travel again, and I will pay
you well for your trouble."
"Well massa, you see I would like to do it mighty well; but I live six
miles back, and there's so many chiller bout dare, and all the house
servants dey can't be trusted. Our oberseer he's a black man, but he do
any ting massa say. I don't dare trust him, and if dey kotch me, dey'd
hang me, sure. But ders a collored fellah up the road, 'Free Mitchell,'
he'll keep you if you get dere."
After making inquiries how to find "Free Mitchell," and getting as
definite directions as it was possible to obtain from a black, which was
quite vague, I bid him "good bye," after enjoining the strictest secrecy,
and receiving his most solemn promise not to say a word. I went back to my
comrades, and reported what I had done, and proposed that as soon as it
was dark we should hunt up this free negro, and try and get help.
Soon after dark, we all started and walked two miles to the little village
of Greenwood. Thinking by the directions given, that we were nearing the
house, Hock and Winner lay down in the corner of the fence to wait until I
could find this place of refuge, and, if possible, bring them something to
eat.