IN AN AMERICAN PRISON.
Upon the morning after the victory of Camden Lord Cornwallis
dispatched Colonel Tarleton with the light infantry and the German
legion, 350 men in all, to attack Colonel Sumpter, who, with 800 men
and two pieces of cannon, had, upon hearing late at night of General
Gates' defeat, marched away at all speed. Thinking himself out of
danger he halted at midday to rest his men. The British came upon
them by surprise. One hundred and fifty were killed or wounded and
300 made prisoners. The rest scattered as fugitives. Two guns, one
thousand stand of arms, and all the stores and baggage were taken,
and 250 prisoners, some of them British soldiers and the rest loyal
militiamen, whom Sumpter had captured near Camden, were released.
Lord Cornwallis, after obtaining supplies for his troops and taking
steps for the pacification of the State, was about to move forward
into North Carolina, when he received news of the destruction of a
column under Major Fergusson. This officer, with a detachment of 150
British regulars and 800 provincials, was attacked by 5000 mounted
partisans, most of them border men accustomed to forest fighting.
Fergusson took up a position on a hill called King's Mountain. This
from its height would have been a good position for defense, but
being covered with wood it offered great opportunities for the
assailants, who dismounted and fought behind trees in accordance with
the tactics taught them in Indian warfare. Again and again the
English charged with the bayonet, each time driving their assailants
back, but these instantly recommenced their destructive fire from
their shelter behind the trees. In little over an hour from the
commencement of the fight 150 of the defenders were killed and many
more wounded. Still they repulsed every attack until their commander
fell dead; then the second in command, judging further resistance in
vain, surrendered.
On the news of this misfortune Lord Cornwallis fell back, as the
western frontiers of South Carolina were now exposed to the
incursions of the band which had defeated Fergusson. In the retreat
the army suffered terribly. It rained for several days without
intermission. The soldiers had no tents, and the water was everywhere
over their shoes. The continued rains filled the rivers and creeks
prodigiously and rendered the roads almost impassable. The climate
was most unhealthy, and for many days the troops were without rum.
Sometimes the army had beef and no bread, sometimes bread and no
beef. For five days it was supported on Indian corn, which was
collected in the fields, five ears being served out as a daily
allowance to each two soldiers. They had to cook it as they could,
and this was generally done by parching it over the fire. One of the
officers of the quartermaster's department found some of the loyal
militia grating their corn. This was done by breaking up a canteen
and punching holes in the bottom with their bayonets, thus making a
kind of rasp. The idea was communicated to the adjutant general and
afterward adopted for the army.
The soldiers supported their hardships and privations cheerfully, as
their officers were no better provided than themselves and the fare
of Lords Cornwallis and Rawdon was the same as their own.
The toilsome march came to an end at last, and the army had rest
after its labors. The only other incident of importance which
occurred was an action between a force under Colonel Tarleton and one
of considerably superior strength under General Sumpter, strongly
posted on a commanding position. The British attack was repulsed, but
General Sumpter, being badly wounded, was carried off the field
during the night, and the force under his command at once dispersed.
No other event occurred, and the army passed its time in winter
quarters till the spring of 1781. During this winter the enemies of
Great Britain were re-enforced by the accession of the Dutch. At this
time the efforts which England was called upon to make were indeed
great. In Europe France, Spain, and Holland were banded against her;
in India our troops were waging a desperate war with Hyder Ali; while
they were struggling to retain their hold on their American colonies.
Here, indeed, the operations had for the last two years languished.
The re-enforcements which could be spared were extremely small, and
although the British had almost uniformly defeated the Americans in
every action in which there was any approach to equality between the
forces engaged, they were unable to do more than hold the ground on
which they stood. Victorious as they might be, the country beyond the
reach of their rifles swarmed with their enemies, and it became
increasingly clear to all impartial observers that it was impossible
for an army which in all did not amount to more than 20,000 men to
conquer a continent in arms against them.
Harold was not present at the later events of the campaign of 1780.
He and Jake had been with the column of Major Fergusson. Peter
Lambton had not accompanied him, having received a bullet wound in
the leg in a previous skirmish, which, although not serious, had
compelled him to lay up for a time.
"Me no like de look ob dis affair, Massa Harold," Jake said, as the
Americans opened fire upon the troops gathered at the top of King's
Mountain. "Dese chaps no fools; dey all backwoodsmen; dey know how to
fight de redskins; great hunters all ob dem."
"Yes," Harold agreed, "they are formidable opponents, Jake. I do not
like the look of things. These men are all accustomed to fighting in
the woods, while our men have no idea of it. Their rifles are
infinitely superior to these army muskets, and every man of them can
hit a deer behind the shoulder at the distance of 150 yards, while at
that distance most of our men would miss a haystack."
The scouts and a few of the provincials who had been accustomed to
forest warfare, took up their position behind trees and fought the
advancing enemy in their own way. The mass of the defenders, however,
were altogether puzzled by the stealthy approach of their foes, who
advanced from tree to tree, seldom showing as much as a limb to the
fire of the defenders, and keeping up a deadly fire upon the crowd of
soldiers.
Had there been time for Major Fergusson, before being attacked, to
have felled a circle of trees and made a breastwork round the top of
the hill, the result might have been different. Again and again the
British gallantly charged down with the bayonet, but the assailants,
as they did so, glided away among the trees after firing a shot or
two into the advancing troops, and retreated a hundred yards or so,
only to recommence their advance as soon as the defenders retired
again to their position. The loss of the assailants was very slight,
the few who fell being for the most part killed by the rifles of the
scouts.
"It am no use, Massa Harold," Jake said. "Jest look how dem poor
fellows am being shot down. It's all up wid us dis time."
When upon the fall of Major Fergusson his successor in command
surrendered the post, the defenders were disarmed. The Kentucky men,
accustomed only to warfare against Indians, had no idea of the usages
of war and treated the prisoners with great brutality. Ten of the
loyalist volunteers of Carolina they hung at once upon trees. There
was some discussion as to the disposal of the rest. The border men,
having accomplished their object, were anxious to disperse at once to
their homes. Some of them proposed that they should rid themselves of
all further trouble by shooting them all. This was overruled by the
majority. Presently the prisoners were all bound, their hands being
tied behind them, and a hundred of the border men surrounded them and
ordered them to march across the country.
Jake and several other negroes who were among the captives were
separated from the rest, and, being put up at auction, were sold as
slaves. Jake fell to the bid of a tall Kentuckian who, without a
word, fastened a rope round his neck, mounted his horse, and started
for his home. The guards conducted the white prisoners to Woodville,
eighty miles from the scene of the fight. This distance was
accomplished in two days' march. Many of the unfortunate men, unable
to support the fatigue, fell and were shot by their guards; the rest
struggled on, utterly exhausted, until they arrived at Woodville,
where they were handed over to a strong force of militia gathered
there. They were now kindly treated, and by more easy marches were
taken to Richmond, in Virginia, where they were shut up in prison.
Here were many English troops, for the Americans, in spite of the
terms of surrender, had still retained as prisoners the troops of
General Burgoyne.
Several weeks passed without incident. The prisoners were strongly
guarded and were placed in a building originally built for a jail and
surrounded by a very high wall. Harold often discussed with some of
his fellow-captives the possibility of escape. The windows were all
strongly barred, and even should the prisoners break through these
they would only find themselves in the courtyard. There would then be
a wall thirty feet high to surmount, and at the corners of this wall
the Americans had built sentry-boxes, in each of which two men were
stationed night and day. Escape, therefore, seemed next to
impossible.
The sentries guarding the prison and at the gates were furnished by
an American regiment stationed at Richmond. The wardens in the prison
were, for the most part, negroes. The prisoners were confined at
night in separate cells; in the daytime they were allowed, in parties
of fifty, to walk for two hours in the courtyard. There were several
large rooms in which they sat and took their meals, two sentries with
loaded muskets being stationed in each room. Thus, although
monotonous, there was little to complain of; their food, if coarse,
was plentiful, and the prisoners passed the time in talk, playing
cards, and in such games as their ingenuity could invent.
One day when two of the negro wardens entered with, the dinners of
the room to which Harold belonged, the latter was astounded at
recognizing in one of them his faithful companion Jake. It was with
difficulty that he suppressed an exclamation of gladness and
surprise. Jake paid no attention to him, but placed the great tin
dish heaped up with yams, which he was carrying, upon the table, and,
with an unmoved face, left the room. A fortnight passed without a
word being exchanged between them. Several times each day Harold saw
the negro, but the guards were always present, and although, when he
had his back to the latter, Jake sometimes indulged in a momentary
grin or a portentous wink, no further communication passed between
them.
One night at the end of that time Harold, when on the point of going
to sleep, thought he heard a noise as of his door gently opening. It
was perfectly dark, and, after listening for a moment he laid his
head down again, thinking that he had been mistaken, when he heard
close to the bed the words in a low voice:
"Am you asleep, Massa Harold?"
"No, Jake," he exclaimed directly. "Ah, my good fellow! how have you
got here?"
"Dat were a bery easy affair," Jake said. "Me tell you all about it."
"Have you shut the door again, Jake? There is a sentry coming along
the passage every five minutes."
"Me shut him, massa, but dere aint no fastening on dis side, so Jake
will sit down wid him back against him."
Harold got up and partly dressed himself and then sat down by the
side of his follower.
"No need to whisper," Jake said. "De walls and de doors bery thick;
no one hear. But de sentries on de walls hear if we talk too loud."
The windows were without glass, which was in those days an expensive
article in America, and the mildness of the climate of Virginia
rendered glass a luxury rather than a necessity. Confident that even
the murmur of their voices would not be overheard if they spoke in
their usual way, Jake and Harold were enabled to converse
comfortably.
"Well, massa," Jake said, "my story am not a long one. Dat man dat
bought me he rode in two days someting like one hundred miles. It wor
a lucky ting dat Jake had tramp on his feet de last four years, else
soon enough he tumble down, and den de rope round him neck hang him.
Jake awful footsore and tired when he git to de end ob dat journey.
De Kentucky man he lib in a clearing not far from a village. He had
two oder slaves; dey hoe de ground and work for him. He got grown-up
son, who look after dem while him fader away fighting. Dey not afraid
ob de niggers running away, because dere plenty redskin not far away,
and nigger scalp jest as good as white man's. De oder way dere wor
plenty ob villages, and dey tink nigger git caught for sure if he try
to run away. Jake make up his mind he not stop dere bery long. De
Kentuckian was a bery big, strong man, but not so strong as he was
ten years ago, and Jake tink he more dan a match for him. Jake pretty
strong himself, massa?"
"I should think you were, Jake," Harold said. "There are not many
men, white or black, who can lift as great a weight as you can."
"For a week Jake work bery hard. Dat Kentuckian hab a way ob always
carrying his rifle about on his arm, and as long as he do dat dere no
chance ob a fair fight. De son he always hab a stick, and he mighty
free wid it. He hit Jake seberal times, and me say to him once,
'Young man, you better mind what you do.' Me suppose dat he not like
de look dat I gib him. He speak to his fader, and he curse and swear
awful, and stand wid de rifle close by and tell dat son ob his to
larrup Jake. Dat he do, massa, for some time. Jake not say noting,
but he make a note ob de affair in his mind. De bery next day de son
go away to de village to buy some tings he want. De fader he come out
and watch me at work; he curse and swear as usual; he call me lazy
hound and swear he cut de flesh from my back; presently he come quite
close and shake him fist in Jake's face. Dat was a foolish ting to
do. So long as he keep bofe him hands on de gun he could say what he
like quite safe, but when he got one hand up lebel wid Jake's nose,
dat different ting altogether. Jake throw up his hand and close wid
him. De gun tumble down and we wrastle and fight. He strong man for
sure, but Jake jest a little stronger. We roll ober and ober on de
ground for some minutes; at last Jake git de upper hand and seize de
white man by de t'roat, and he pretty quick choke him life out. Den
he pick up de gun and wait for de son; when he come back he put a
bullet t'rough him. Den he go to de hut and git food and powder and
ball and start into de woods. De oder niggers dey take no part in de
affair. Dey look on while the skirmish lasts, but not interfere one
way or oder. When it ober me ask dem if dey like to go wid me, but
dey too afraid ob de redskins; so Jake start by himse'f. Me hab
plenty ob practice in de woods and no fear ob meeting redskins,
except when dey on de warpath. De woods stretch a bery long way all
ober de country, and Jake trabel in dem for nigh t'ree weeks. He
shoot deer and manage bery well; see no redskin from the first day to
de last; den he come out into de open country again, hundreds ob
miles from de place where he kill dat Kentuckian. He leab his gun
behind now and trabel for Richmond, where he hear dat de white
prisoners was kept. He walk all night and at day sleep in de woods or
de plantations, and eat ears ob corn. At last he git to Richmond. Den
he gib out dat him massa wanted him to fight on de side ob de English
and dat he run away. He go to de prison and offer to work dere. Dey
tink him story true, and as he had no massa to claim him dey say he
State property, and work widout wages like de oder niggers here; dey
all forfeited slaves whose massas had jined de English. Dese people
so pore dey can't afford to pay white man, so dey take Jake as
warden, and by good luck dey put him in to carry de dinner to de bery
room where Massa Harold was."
"And have you the keys to lock us up?"
"No, massa, de niggers only cook de dinners and sweep de prison and
de yard, and do dat kind ob job; de white wardens--dere's six ob
dem--dey hab de keys."
"Then how did you manage to get here, Jake?"
"Dat not bery easy matter, Massa Harold. Most ob de wardens drink
like fish; but de head man, him dat keep de keys, he not drink. For
some time Jake not see him way, but one night when he lock up de
prisoners he take Jake round wid him, and Jake carried de big bunch
ob keys--one key to each passage. When he lock up de doors here and
hand de key to Jake to put on de bunch agin, Jake pull out a hair ob
him head and twist it round de ward ob de key so as to know him agin.
Dat night me git a piece ob bread and work him up wid some oil till
he quite like putty, den me steal to de chief warden's room, and dere
de keys hang up close to him bed. Jake got no shoes on, and he stole
up bery silent. He take down de bunch ob keys and carry dem off. He
git to quiet place and strike a light, and search t'rough de keys
till he find de one wid de hair round it; den he take a deep
impression ob him wid de bread; den he carry back the keys and hang
'em up. Jake not allowed to leabe de prison. We jest as much
prisoners as de white men, so he not able to go out to git a key
made; but in de storeroom dere's all sorts ob tools, and he git hold
ob a fine file; den he look about among de keys in de doors ob all de
storerooms and places which wor not kept locked up. At last he find a
key jest de right size, and dough de wards were a little different
dey was ob de right shape. Jake set to work and filled off de knobs
and p'ints which didn't agree wid de shape in de bread. Dis morning,
when you was all out in de yard, me come up quietly and tried de key
and found dat it turned de lock quite easy. Wid a fedder and some oil
me oil de lock and de key till it turned widout making de least,
noise. Den to-night me waited till de sentry come along de corridor,
and den Jake slip along and here he is."
"Capital, Jake!" Harold said. "And now what is the next thing to do?
Will it be possible to escape through the prison?"
"No, Massa Harold, dere am t'ree doors from de prison into de yard
and dere's a sentry outside ob each, and de main guard ob twenty men
are down dere, too. No possible to git out ob doors widout de alarm
being given."
"With the file, Jake, we might cut through the bars."
"We might cut t'rough de bars and git down into de courtyard; dat
easy enough, massa. Jake could git plenty ob rope from de storeroom,
but we hab de oder wall to climb."
"You must make a rope-ladder for that, Jake."
"What sort ob a ladder dat, massa?"
Harold explained to him how it should be made.
"When you have finished it, Jake, you should twist strips of any sort
of stuff, cotton or woolen, round and round each of the wooden steps,
so that it will make no noise touching the wall as we climb it. Then
we want a grapnel."
"Me no able to make dat, massa."
"Not a regular grapnel, Jake, but you might manage something which
would do."
"What sort ob ting?" Jake asked.
Harold sat for some time in thought.
"If the wall were not so high it would be easy enough, Jake, for we
could do it by fastening the rope within about three inches of the
end of a pole six feet long and three inches thick. That would never
pull over the wall, but it is too high to throw the pole over."
"Jake could t'row such a stick as dat ober easy enough, massa--no
difficulty about dat; but me no see how a stick like dat balance
massa's weight."
"It would not balance it, Jake, but the pull would be a side pull and
would not bring the stick over the wall. If it were only bamboo it
would be heavy enough."
"Bery well, Massa Harold; if you say so, dat's all right. Jake can
git de wood easy enough; dere's plenty ob pieces among de firewood
dat would do for us."
"Roll it with strips of stuff the same way as the ladder steps, so as
to prevent it making a noise when it strikes the wall. In addition to
the ladder we shall want a length of rope long enough to go from this
window to the ground, and another length of thin rope more than twice
the height of the wall."
"Bery well, Massa Harold, me understand exactly what's wanted; but
it'll take two or t'ree days to make de ladder, and me can only work
ob a night."
"There is no hurry, Jake; do not run any risk of being caught. We must
choose a dark and windy night. Bring two files with you, so that we can
work together, and some oil."
"All right, massa. Now me go."
"Shut the door quietly, Jake, and do not forget to lock it behind
you," Harold said, as Jake stole noiselessly from the cell.
A week passed without Jake's again visiting Harold's cell. On the
seventh night the wind had got up and whistled around the jail, and
Harold, expecting that Jake would take advantage of the opportunity,
sat down on his bed without undressing, and awaited his coming. It
was but half an hour after the door had been locked for the night
that it quietly opened again.
"Here me am, sar, wid eberyting dat's wanted; two files and some oil,
de rope-ladder, de short rope for us to slide down, and de long thin
rope and de piece ob wood six feet long and thick as de wrist."
They at once set to work with the files, and in an hour had sawn
through two bars, making a hole sufficiently wide for them to pass.
The rope was then fastened to a bar, Harold took off his shoes and
put them in his pocket and then slid down the rope into the
courtyard. With the other rope Jake lowered the ladder and pole to
him and then slid down himself. Harold had already tied to the pole,
at four inches from one end, a piece of rope some four feet long, so
as to form a loop about half that length. The thin rope was put
through the loop and drawn until the two ends came together.
Noiselessly they stole across the yard until they reached the
opposite wall. The night was a very dark one, and although they could
make out the outline of the wall above them against the skyline, the
sentry-boxes at the corners were invisible. Harold now took hold of
the two ends of the rope, and Jake, stepping back a few yards from
the wall, threw the pole over it. Then Harold drew upon the rope
until there was a check, and he knew that the pole was hard up
against the edge of the wall. He tied one end of the rope-ladder to
an end of the double cord and then hauled steadily upon the other.
The rope running through the loop drew the ladder to the top of the
wall. All this was done quickly and without noise.
"Now, Jake, do you go first," Harold said. "I will hold the rope
tight below, and do you put part of your weight on it as you go up.
When you get to the top, knot it to the loop and sit on the wall
until I come up."
In three minutes they were both on the wall, the ladder was hauled up
and dropped on the outside, while the pole was shifted to the inside
of the wall; then they descended the ladder and made across the
country.
"Which way we go, massa?" Jake asked.
"I have been thinking it over," Harold replied, "and have decided on
making for the James River. We shall be there before morning and can
no doubt find a boat. We can guide ourselves by the stars, and when
we get into the woods the direction of the wind will be sufficient."
The distance was about twenty miles, but although accustomed to
scouting at night, they would have had difficulty in making their way
through the woods by morning had they not struck upon a road leading
in the direction in which they wanted to go.
Thus it was still some hours before daylight when they reached the
James River. They had followed the road all the way, and at the point
where it reached the bank there was a village of considerable size,
and several fishermen's boats were moored alongside. Stepping into
one of these, they unloosed the head-rope and pushed out into the
stream. The boat was provided with a sail. The mast was soon stepped
and the sail hoisted.
Neither Harold nor Jake had had much experience in boat-sailing, but
the wind was with them and the boat ran rapidly down the river, and
before daylight they were many miles from their point of starting.
The banks of the James River are low and swampy, and few signs of
human habitation were seen from the stream. It widened rapidly as
they descended and became rougher and rougher. They therefore steered
into a sheltered spot behind a sharp bend of the river and anchored.
In the locker they found plenty of lines and bait, and, setting to
work, had soon half a dozen fine fish at the bottom of the boat. They
pulled up the kedge and rowed to shore and soon made a fire, finding
flint and steel in the boat. The fish were broiled over the fire upon
sticks. The boat was hauled in under some overhanging bushes, and,
stretching themselves in the bottom, Harold and Jake were soon fast
asleep.
The sun was setting when they woke.
"What you going to do, sar?" Jake asked. "Are you tinking ob
trabeling by land or ob sailing to New York?"
"Neither, Jake," Harold answered. "I am thinking of sailing down the
coast inside the line of keys to Charleston. The water there is
comparatively smooth, and as we shall be taken for fishermen it is
not likely that we shall be overhauled. We can land occasionally and
pick a few ears of corn to eat with our fish, and as there is
generally a breeze night and morning, however still and hot the day,
we shall be able to do it comfortably. I see that there is an iron
plate here which has been used for making a fire and cooking on
board, so we will lay in a stock of dry wood before we start."
The journey was made without any adventure. While the breeze lasted
they sailed; when it fell calm they fished, and when they had
obtained a sufficient supply for their wants they lay down and slept
under the shade of their sail stretched as an awning. Frequently they
passed within hail of other fishing-boats, generally manned by
negroes. But beyond a few words as to their success, no questions
were asked. They generally kept near the shore, and when they saw any
larger craft they either hauled the boat up or ran into one of the
creeks in which the coast abounds. It was with intense pleasure that
at last they saw in the distance the masts of the shipping in
Charleston harbor.
Two hours later they landed. They fastened the boat to the wharf and
made their way into the town unquestioned. As they were walking along
the principal street they saw a well-known figure sauntering
leisurely toward them. His head was bent down and he did not notice,
them until Harold hailed him with a shout of "Halloo, Peter, old
fellow! How goes it?"
Peter, although not easily moved or excited, gave a yell of delight
which astonished the passers-by.
"Ah, my boy!" he exclaimed, "this is a good sight for my old eyes.
Here have I been a-fretting and a-worrying myself for the last three
months, and cussing my hard luck that I was not with you in that
affair on King's Mountain. At first, when I heard of it, I says to
myself, 'The young un got out of it somehow. He aint going to be
caught asleep.' Waal, I kept on hoping and hoping you'd turn up, till
at last I couldn't deceive myself no longer and was forced to
conclude that you'd either been rubbed out or taken prisoner. About a
month ago we got from the Yankees a list of the names of them they'd
captured, and glad I was to see yours among 'em. As I thought as how
you weren't likely to be out as long as the war lasted, I was
a-thinking of giving it up and going to Montreal and settling down
there. It was lonesome like without you, and I missed Jake's laugh,
and altogether things didn't seem natural like. Jake, I'm glad to see
ye. Your name was not in the list, but I thought it likely enough
they might have taken you and set you to work, and made no account of
ye."
"That is just what they did; but he got away after settling his score
with his new master, and then made for Richmond, where I was in
prison; then he got me loose, and here we are. But it is a long
story, and I must tell it you at leisure."