bayou putting into the stream, and overhung with willows on its banks.
Here is our refuge. Wading out into the bayou and behind the willows, we
are at least safe from observation. We have left no track since reaching
the stream, and unless the hounds are sagacious enough to catch the
scent from the air or water, they will be baffled. At all events, it is
our only safety.
Hark! Do you hear it? Listen! Yes, here they come! Away up the creek, at
regular intervals, the baying of the hounds can be distinctly heard. Now
then, for it! Will they be able to discover our retreat? Listen. Do you
hear them? No. They have ceased their infernal howl.
A long pause, and then the notes of the horn. Soon a noise along our
side of the creek is heard. The hunters are upon us. The bayou is
reached and crossed. On and on down the creek, out of sight and hearing.
Thank God! Thank God! We are safe.
Hark! Not so fast! They are coming back. Nearer and nearer the sounds of
the hunters come, on the other side of the creek, going up again. They
have passed us, and again the sounds of the chase die out, and are heard
no more.
We remained in the water, shivering until night, and then, exhausted as
we were by cold, hunger, and excitement, traveled through the entire
night, this time making twenty-five miles.
Just before daylight it commenced to rain: not a drizzling mist, but a
regular, pouring rain, as though the clouds had a day's work to perform,
and meant to get the most of it done before noon; a rain that not only
wet to the skin, but gave you a good pelting besides. The reader will
recollect that this was in October, and even in South Carolina the
weather was not as warm as it might be. The nights, especially, were
cold and unpleasant. It was no pleasing prospect, that of crawling into
a thicket and lying down in the beating rain, with neither shelter nor
fire; but, disagreeable as it was, we hailed the storm with rapture. We
remembered the lesson of the man hunter in the swamps: "The rain gits
us; dogs can't keep the scent after a smart rain." We knew, beyond a
reasonable doubt, that the hunters would be able to get on our track in
the morning; without this merciful rain, sent, as it seemed, by kind
Providence, we should probably be overtaken before night.
Shivering, and nearly exhausted by fatigue and want of food, we crawled
into a thicket, some twenty rods from the highway along which we had
been traveling. Throwing ourselves down, we drew over us our one blanket
and the old coverlid obtained from our black friend, and sought, by
lying close to each other, to preserve enough of the natural heat of our
bodies to prevent perishing from the cold. How we did suffer! It
required all the force of will of which we were possessed, to prevent us
from stirring around. It was only by keeping constantly before our minds
the fact that if we attempted to travel or even to move among the wet
bushes, it would be a very easy matter for the hounds to get our scent
again, that we could keep still. So, with aching bones and chattering
teeth, we lay there in the rain and waited.
The sun was up, but his rays could not penetrate the dense rain cloud.
What a blessing to have been, if only for a few moments, warmed by his
beams. We had the material to build a fire and relieve our sufferings;
but to build a fire would have advertised our exact locality for miles
around. Thus the tedious hours slowly passed.
About noon we were rewarded for our self-denial by seeing two horsemen
and five hounds pass along the road. It required no stretch of
imagination to determine their business. The men were armed with
carbines, and were evidently searching for somebody, and we were
strongly of the opinion that we knew who it was.
In the afternoon the sun came out once more, and, throwing off our wet
blanket, we sunned ourselves in his cheering beams. But still we did not
dare to stir around much. Our only safety consisted in keeping down the
scent. If we started on then, through the wet bushes, we could easily be
followed, for after our impromptu bath of the day before and our
subsequent thorough drenching from the rain, it would not require a very
sagacious dog to find us. We were nearer the road than we thought
thoroughly safe; but we were afraid that if we attempted to put more
distance between us and the road, we would run more risk of creating a
scent that could be caught by the dogs than if we remained where we
were.
About five o'clock in the afternoon we saw the same men and dogs
returning. As they were about opposite us, one of the dogs, probably the
leader, stopped, threw up his head, and snuffed the air for a moment as
though there were some game near. Fortunately, the men did not notice
him. After snuffing around for a while, he dropped his head and
followed the other two brutes on horseback--on, and out of sight.
Hurrah! We were saved! Not by any skill of our own, but by the merciful
interposition of Divine Providence, in sending the rain, and thus
depriving our enemies of their only means of tracing us.
We had now been without food for about twenty-four hours. Our bodies
were cramped, and our joints stiffened, by cold and exposure to the
rain; yet we hailed the friendly darkness that closed around us,
shielding us from observation, with feelings of gratitude to the Great
Giver of All Good. We could endure hunger and fatigue vastly better than
we could our forced inaction.
At the earliest practicable moment, therefore, we were again upon the
road. Our greatest need just then was food. We were growing weak, and we
knew that unless we could soon get relief our strength would entirely
fail. We also knew that it would not do for us to attempt to visit negro
quarters to procure supplies--the country was roused, and undoubtedly we
were watched for. The negro quarters would of course be placed under
surveillance.
We therefore concluded, to supply our pressing need, to depend upon our
own resources, or rather upon our ability to forage upon the resources
of the enemy. It was late at night, however, somewhere in the
neighborhood of twelve o'clock, before we reached a plantation.
Reconnoissance was made, and the location of the house and of the negro
quarters ascertained. Avoiding the dwellings, we commenced a search for
food. Sweet potatoes are usually abundant on Southern plantations at
this time of year, but we were unable to find any. We found plenty of
corn, but it was as hard as flint. We also found a quantity of the peas
before described; and this was all that we could raise in the way of a
supper. Skirting the plantation, we finally reached the highway beyond
it. A consultation was held, and all the pros and cons of the situation
discussed.
After due deliberation, we decided that it would not be safe to build a
fire, as the light would betray us. We must do the best we could, with
the raw material. So, dividing it between us, we munched the dry corn
as we walked. We were our own millers, cooks, and bakers, but while our
primitive repast served to maintain life and to a certain extent relieve
us from the cravings of hunger, I cannot recommend it as a steady diet.
It is open to very serious objections: first, want of variety; second,
difficulty of mastication--one can grind corn with his teeth for an hour
or two, but after that one's teeth get sore; thirdly, although
hygienists tell us that to preserve health we should eat slowly, the
process of masticating corn is altogether too slow for comfort. In fact
one must eat all the time or go hungry, and if the mill be ever so much
out of order, the grinding must still go on, or the baker and cook will
be out of employment.
We were now near Savannah River, about two miles south of Abbeville,
South Carolina. Since our adventure at the church, detailed above, we
had been obliged to devote all our energies to saving ourselves from
recapture. We had necessarily made many divergences from our line of
march, so that while we had traveled a long distance we had gained but
little, so far as reaching Sherman's lines was concerned. But we again
took up our regular line of march, and there was but one obstacle in our
way that caused us much uneasiness. The Savannah, a deep and rapid
stream, was to be crossed. But two of our party could swim--Spencer and
myself. Hatcher must be got over the stream in some way, but how? We had
studied upon this difficulty for several days, and concluded, if we
could do no better, to make a raft and float him over, provided we could
find the materials with which to construct one. We did not dare take a
boat, because if we left it on the opposite shore from which we got it,
the enemy would certainly get on our track; while if we turned it
adrift, after crossing, the fact that the boat was missing would serve
the same purpose. After our success in getting rid of the hounds, we
were determined not to have them again on our track if we could avoid
it.
Slowly the long night passed away. I say slowly, because we were getting
wretchedly tired and faint. Long exposure and excitement were beginning
to tell upon us. It was only by the stern exercise of will that we were
enabled to move at all. Under ordinary circumstances none of us would
have believed himself capable of marching an hour. Daylight at length
admonished us that we must again seek shelter for another twelve hours.
It so happened that daylight overtook us in an open, cultivated country,
and the best we could do was to crawl into a thicket in the midst of an
open field, where we lay all day, alternately dozing and munching corn.
_Friendly Blacks_
At length darkness again closed around us. Exhausted, footsore, and
almost disheartened, we once more started upon our tedious journey.
Discovering a road not very well traveled, and evidently neither a
turnpike nor a public highway, but running in the direction we wished to
go, we concluded to follow it. This road, unfortunately as we then
thought, led us to a plantation, and directly through the negro
quarters. The planter's house was but a short distance from the
quarters. It seemed a fearful risk to run, to attempt to pass at so
short a distance from the house and through the quarters, so early in
the evening. If we had not been so nearly exhausted, we certainly
should not have attempted it; but to make a detour would have involved
additional travel through the forest. We were just in that state of mind
and body that, rather than incur any extra travel and add to the bruises
and scratches on our already blistered feet and lacerated limbs, we
preferred to take the extra risk, so we boldly pushed on. It was Sunday
evening, and the cabins of the negroes were all closed, with one
exception, and no one was stirring without. In passing the last cabin, I
saw, through the only open door of the row, an old negro, apparently
alone, sitting before the fire. Instantly I determined to appeal to him
for help, and whispered this intention to my comrades. They hid in an
angle of the fence while I boldly entered the cabin, closed the door,
and locked it.
Those familiar with the construction of negro cabins, will at once
understand how this was done. To those who are not, I will explain.
Nearly all of the cabins are provided with a wooden bar, running across
the door; so all that I had to do, was to take the bar standing near
the door jambs, and drop it into the hasps.
The sudden apparition of a gaunt, unshaven man, clothed in rags, with
famine stamped in every lineament, thus abruptly entering his hut,
evidently startled the old man. Rising to his feet, he exclaimed: "Who
is you?"
Walking up to him, I placed my hand on his shoulder and looking him in
the eye, asked: "Old man, if I place my life in your hands, will you
betray me?"
I shall never forget the appearance of that man as I asked this
question. He was, I should think, between sixty and seventy years of
age, and his head white as snow. In his prime he must have been a fine
specimen of a man, physically. Straightening his tall form he looked me
over from head to foot.
"Who is you?" he asked again.
"I am a Yankee officer, escaped from a Rebel prison, and I am trying to
reach the Yankee army," I replied; and again I asked, "Will you betray
me?"
_"No, sah, and dar ain't a nigga in Souf Car'lina dat would betray
ye!"_
I have seen some of our most gifted and celebrated orators, when they
have seemed almost inspired; but never in my life did I see more dignity
of deportment or a countenance display more nobility of soul, than did
that old man's as he uttered this sentence.
While we were talking, a young negro woman, who had been lying on a bed
at the back part of the room, and whom I had not observed before, got
up, unbarred the door, and left the cabin.
In less than ten minutes, the room was filled with negroes of both
sexes. Notwithstanding the assurance of the old man, I became uneasy.
"For God's sake," I said, "don't let any more in."
Some one inquired, "Why?"
"I am afraid some of you may betray me," I replied; "and I would rather
die than to be recaptured."
It was evident that the girl had told them who I was, from the remarks
dropped by one and another.
"I'd jes' like to see the nigga as would do dat," said a young,
stalwart negro.
"Pears to me dat you do'no who your frien's is," said another.
It took but a very few minutes to convince me that I had nothing to fear
from that party, at all events. I then told them of my companions in the
fence corner, and they were called in.
"Now, den, Massa," said the old man, "jest you tell us wot we can do for
ye."
"We want something to eat, and we want to cross the Savannah River," I
replied.
One motherly old woman, after peering into our faces, asked: "W'en did
ye hab anyt'ing to eat las', honey?"
We told her.
"De Lord bress ye, honey, ye mus' be mos' starved!" she cried.
Here the old man broke in. He had evidently been revolving the matter in
his mind.
"See here, Bob, you an' Jim take dese men out in de cornfield an' hide
'em. Mary, you go an' made dem some brof an' chicken fixin's. Ole Massa
may come down heah, an' de debbil 'd be to pay, 'fore we know it. Den
we'll see 'bout crossin' de ribber. I tell ye de Lord sent dese men heah
to be took keer of, an' we're gwine to do it."
Following the directions of the old man, we were taken out into the
middle of a large cornfield, where we remained while these good friends
were preparing our supper.
Soon the old woman appeared, bearing a kettle of nourishing broth.
Seating herself upon the ground, she commenced feeding us.
"Only tiny bit, Massa. Jes' tiny bit at a time. Lor' bress ye, honey,
take yer time, dar's 'nough of it. I went an' killed some o' ole Massa's
chickens, purpose fur ye. Specs he'd swear awful ef he knowed dat you
uns was eatin' dem. When ye gits filled up wid some brof, I got de meat
heah, an' sweet taters, an' hoe cake."
All the while she was talking, she kept the spoon busy, first ladling
out the broth to one, and then to another of the party. At last she
consented to let us have more substantial food, and the way the corn
bread, sweet potatoes, and boiled chicken disappeared was wonderful.
"Ki-ki! 'Pears like ye was holler all de way down, don't it, honeys?"
exclaimed the kind old woman. "Does me good to see ye eat. You'll feel a
heap bettah when ye gits yer stomachs full. Ya-ya!"
But even our appetites were at length satisfied. Meanwhile, three
stalwart negroes reported for duty. They were detailed to ferry us
across the river, distant only about a mile. When ready to start, young
and old gathered around us, and with a hearty grasp of the hand and a
fervent "God speed!" they bade us good-bye; but not before furnishing us
with cooked rations sufficient to last us five days.
Upon reaching the Savannah, a ferry-boat was stolen, and we were safely
landed on the Georgia side. While crossing, I asked one of the negroes
what would be the result to them, if it were known that they had
assisted us in this manner.
"Golly, Massa, dey'd hang us to de fus tree!" was the reply.
These faithful fellows were not only ready to feed and shelter us, but
they willingly risked their lives for us. We also obtained from them
accurate knowledge of the movements of Sherman's troops only five days
previous; and this, too, a hundred and fifty miles from the scene of
action. How they obtained it they would not tell; but it was plain they
had means of conveying intelligence in some way, probably from one
plantation to another, by means of runners.
In truth, traveling by the underground railroad, as we did, associating
with and depending upon slaves, we were enabled to judge of them with
far greater accuracy than it would have been possible for us to do under
any other circumstances. After the lapse of eighteen years, I may be
credited with speaking dispassionately when I say that in my opinion
they were, as a class, better informed of passing events and had a
better idea of questions involved in the struggle between North and
South, than the majority of that class known as the "poor whites" of the
South. In this opinion I venture to say that I will be sustained by
seven-eighths of our soldiers who had opportunities for forming an
intelligent opinion. They were faithful to every trust imposed upon them
by us, even to the imperiling of their lives. They were not only willing
to divide their final crust with us, but to give us the last morsel of
food in their possession. May my right hand wither, and my tongue cleave
to the roof of my mouth, when I forget to be grateful to that people, or
fail to advocate their cause, when their cause is just!
With our hearts overflowing with gratitude, we shook hands with our
sable ferrymen, and bade them good-bye.
"Take keer ob yousel's, Massas; an' wen you comes back wid de army,
don't forget Jake an' Tom, an' de res' ob us."
These were the last words we heard from the lips of our friends. We have
not been able to hear anything from them since; but let the
circumstances be what they may, those men and women who succored us in
our great peril are my friends, and will be met and treated as such,
wherever found, though their skins be darker, and their hair curl
tighter than my own.
_Difficulties, Day by Day_
It was long past midnight before we were fairly upon our road again; yet
we felt better able to travel twenty miles before daylight, than we did
to travel five before finding friends and a supper. How changed our
prospects from a few hours before! We were now buoyant and happy;
difficulties that had seemed insurmountable had been met and conquered.
We were invigorated with good food, and had enough more provided to last
five days.
We were now in the county of Elbert. Shaping our course so as to flank
the village of Elberton on the south, we started on in the direction of
Carnesville. We had learned from the slave "telegraph line" that Sherman
still held his lines between Atlanta and Chattanooga, but that our
troops were falling back towards Tennessee. We made up our minds to
strike the railroad at the nearest practicable point between Dalton and
Atlanta.
A glance at the map will show the reader one of the many difficulties
that beset our way. The country through which we were passing is well
watered. Numerous small streams rise in the mountains and empty into the
Savannah and Appalachicola rivers. Many of these were not bridged. Even
when they were, we dared not attempt to use the bridges, for fear they
might be guarded. Many of the streams are deep and rapid, and it was by
no means pleasant fording them, for the nights were cold and frosty,
even for that time of year. So, in shaping our course, we endeavored to
keep as close to the heads of the streams as possible, without greatly
increasing the distance to be traveled.
We were determined to use the greatest caution, to run no risks of being
seen by a white man, and never again to get the hounds on our track, if
we could possibly avoid it. We were satisfied that we had successfully
baffled them this time, but our escape would be only by the merest
chance should they again scent us. We also determined to husband our
provisions, and, if possible, make them last us through. In fact, we
were in such buoyant spirits over our good fortune in securing them and
getting across the big river, that it seemed as though all difficulties
were now cleared from our path; as though all we had to do was to march
ahead in order to succeed--another evidence of the close affinity
existing between the mind and stomach.
The time lost in the society of our black friends necessarily made our
journey that night a short one. We had made no more than ten miles, when
daylight again compelled us to seek safety in a thicket. The next night
we traveled twenty-five miles, as nearly as we could judge, without an
incident worthy of mention. The same may be said of the two or three
nights that followed. We averaged about twenty-five miles a night, until
we reached the vicinity of Gainesville.
On reaching this point, we were in something of a dilemma in regard to
crossing the Chattahoochee River. The stream was about eighteen rods in
breadth at the point where we desired to cross. We could see that it was
rapid, but we had no means of determining its depth. We were anxious to
reach the river before daylight, so as to have the advantage of the
light in reconnoitering and finding a safe place for fording; but
daylight overtook us while still about five miles from the stream.
We were in a very dense forest, with heavy undergrowth. We again
concluded to risk traveling to the river by daylight, and, if possible,
selecting a crossing place. Pushing forward, we reached the bank of the
stream without accident. Here we found several wild-grape vines, loaded
with fine fruit, and differing from any other species I ever saw, in
that the grapes grew singly instead of in clusters. They were large and
luscious, although the skin was thick and tough; otherwise, there was
nothing in the appearance or taste to distinguish them from the largest
varieties of cultivated grapes. We soon stripped the vines, and
converted Confederate grapes into a Yankee dinner.
We felt somewhat discouraged at the prospect facing us. The river was
evidently too deep to ford at this point. We could discover no boat on
our side of the stream. Opposite, a house was in sight; on our side,
near us, a plantation. As far as the eye could reach, up and down the
river, the country was under cultivation. We tried to find driftwood
with which to construct a raft, but were unable to do so.
At night, we were no nearer accomplishing our purpose than we were in
the morning. We concluded, however, to push on up stream, in the hope
of finding either a boat or a landing place; so, following the bank, we
came at length to a place where a road led into the river, suggesting a
ford, and made up our minds to attempt a crossing. Taking off our
clothing, we started in.
Whew! But the water was cold! If the place was in reality ever used as a
ford, I must say that the people who used it were not very particular
about having a bottom for a good portion of the way; and where there was
bottom, it was shockingly rough. The water averaged five feet in depth,
varying from one foot to eight. Taking it in the night, with no
knowledge of the river, was not only very unpleasant, but highly
dangerous.
We hoped to save our clothes from getting wet, but in this most signally
failed. In fact, each of the party, at different times, was under water,
struggling for life; but we crossed at last. Wringing the water from our
clothing as best we could, we dressed ourselves, and started on.