PROGRESS OF THE FUGITIVES.
Parting company.--Thirst and no water.--Hoping for the end.--The
boy and the chicken.--Conversation of ladies overheard.--The
fugitives pursued.--The sleeping village.--Captain Bryant.--The
_alba sus._--Justifiable murder, and a delicious meal.--Darkies
and their prayers.--Man proposes; God disposes.--An
adventure.--_A ruse de guerre._--Across the Savannah.
On emerging from their place of concealment, the following morning, the
road proved to be once more open. The tax-collectors had departed.
Warned by the experience of the previous night the newly found friends
reluctantly parted company, Glazier and Lemon pursuing a separate route
from the others.
Our friends had suffered much in various ways since they shook the dust
of Columbia from their feet, but now a dire misfortune overtook them in
the total absence of water. The waters of the swamps were poisonous, and
their longing desire and hope was that they might soon come upon a
spring or stream to slake their burning thirst, which threatened to
unfit them for the exertion necessary.
The land, in the region of country they had now entered, was waste and
arid--for the most part sand, a few stunted trees being the sole
vegetation. These trees had nothing pleasant in their appearance, as
forest trees usually have. The branches seemed destitute of sap, as the
leaves were of verdure; they had not reached maturity, and yet
possessed none of the lithe grace of saplings.
Our fugitives were parched, fevered, and weak before they emerged from
this inhospitable tract of country, but at length reached a point where
the vegetation was fresher, and finally, to their great joy, discovered
a spring. Here, to use Glazier's own words, they realized "the value of
cold water to a thirsty soul." "The stream ran through a ravine nearly a
hundred feet in depth, while high up on the banks were groves of pines."
After their passage through the "Desert," they were in excellent
condition to appreciate the wild and solemn grandeur of the spot they
had now reached, and for a considerable time they could not make up
their minds to leave the place. At length, however, they resumed their
journey. December second found the two friends still far from their
destination, and by no means out of danger. It was one week only since
they bade adieu to Columbia, and yet many weeks seemed to them to have
passed. Still they were making considerable progress, and had by this
time reached a swamp near Aiken, South Carolina.
Having journeyed all night since quitting the secluded ravine, they were
ready once more to cast themselves upon the soft moss under a venerable
tree, near which was a bubbling spring. Here they slept soundly until
dawn, when a colored boy passing down a road which came within their
range of vision, attracted attention. The boy was carrying a basket, and
they were suffering very seriously again from hunger. Lemon followed,
and called to him: "Hold on, my boy; I want to see you!" The lad
muttered something, but the only word they could distinguish was
"chicken!" He then ran off as fast as his legs would carry him. The
lieutenant, with great emphasis, endeavored to reassure him, but it was
of no use. He ran as if a legion of evil spirits was at his heels, and
Lemon returned to his comrade very much disappointed and chagrined. "Now
they are sure to overtake us," said he, "we shall be prisoners again
before night!"
"Never fear," was the reply of his cooler companion; "as long as there
is a swamp in the neighborhood, we'll lead them a lively dance."
So the friends gathered up their belongings, and in a few minutes put a
considerable distance between themselves and their resting-place of the
preceding night. Finally they concealed themselves in a swamp about a
mile distant. A road bordered the margin of their sanctuary so closely,
that they distinctly overheard a conversation between three ladies who
passed. The chasing of a negro boy by a Yankee was the topic of their
discourse.
This information made our friends more cautious, and it is well they
were so, for, towards evening, several mounted men armed with guns were
seen by them upon the main road leading to Aiken; their evident purpose
being to intercept the fugitives, of whose presence in their
neighborhood the boy had made report.
Forewarned was forearmed, and our hero and his companion determined to
give the enemy a wide berth. Again, therefore, plunging into the
recesses of a neighboring swamp, they went quietly to sleep, and slept
until midnight, when Glazier awoke to see thousands of stars glittering
through the spectral branches of the pines, and away off toward the
western horizon, a flood of silvery effulgence from the waning moon.
Entranced by the beauty of the scene, he awoke his comrade, and all
around being buried in profound silence, they proceeded on their way. It
was not long before they found themselves upon the outskirts of the
village of Aiken, and no practicable path upon either side presenting
itself, but one resource remained, namely, to steal cautiously through,
although this involved the imminent risk of discovery. On, therefore,
they walked until they came to the border of the village. They found it
dumb with sleep. Not a sound disturbed the silence. The very dogs, their
usually sleepless foes, appeared for once to have become wearied and
gone to rest.
There is something solemn about a sleeping town. The solitude of the
swamp and wood is solemn; but the ghostly stillness of a town, where all
its inhabitants lie buried in sleep, and no sign or sound proclaims the
presence of life in man or beast, is of so weird a character as to
produce a sensation of awe, akin to fear. The shadows that enwrapped
them as they came beneath the buildings, and the fitful gleams of
moonlight that fell upon them when streets were crossed, seemed not
lights and shadows at all, but strange, intangible things. And when at
length they reached the outer limit of the village, and the distant
woods were seen by the moon's rays, our travellers felt as if they had
been wandering in a graveyard, where the tombs were houses, and they
wished they were in the swamp again, where such uncanny fancies never
troubled them. When the toad and lizard, snakes and other loathsome
things, crawled around their swampy bed, they cared nothing; but the
dead silence of a cloudless night, brooding over a swarm of their
fellow-beings, brought with it a feeling they could not account for or
understand; and therefore it was with a sense of great relief they found
themselves at the outer edge of the town.
Their satisfaction, however, was somewhat moderated when, at a sudden
turn of the road, they abruptly came upon a man and a boy, who were
picking their way with such velvety tread that the two parties were face
to face before either was aware of the proximity of the other. The
strangers appeared to be the more alarmed, for they were just making a
secret and rapid detour with the view of debouching into a side street,
when, feeling sure that none but fugitives would be so anxious to escape
an interview, Glazier hailed them:
"Don't be uneasy, boys! We're friends! We're Yankees!"
His conjecture proved correct. The strangers were Captain Bryant, of the
Fifth New York Cavalry, and a friend. "They had," says Captain Glazier,
"a negro guide, who was to secrete them in a hut until the next night,
when they were to proceed, as we had done, and reach the line of freedom
by the nearest route."
The interview was brief, the parties differing as to which was the most
expedient route, and the discussion terminated by each taking the one he
thought best. Glazier and his comrade made off to a swamp, and upon
securing a safe resting-place, were overjoyed to find a venerable sow
and her litter approaching. They greeted the porcine mother, says our
friend, "otherwise than did wandering Aeneas the _alba sus_ lying under
the hollow trees of ancient Italy," for, "enticing them with crumbs of
hoe-cake," they both in unison struck a juvenile porker on the head with
a heavy stick, and a mammoth knife, the gift of Uncle Zeb, came into
requisition, and did good service. Over the embers of a fire kindled in
a hole in the ground, they roasted the little fellow, and made a
delicious meal.
They had scarcely finished their unexpected feast, when the thud of an
axe in the distance smote on their ears, and Glazier crept cautiously
out to reconnoitre. The wood-cutter proved to be a colored lad, and
having a vivid recollection of their scampering friend of "chicken"
fame, he hailed him in this wise: "Hello, Sambo!"
This manner of salute left the party addressed, in doubt as to the
colors under which the young white stranger served. Off went his hat,
therefore, and he stood grinning and waiting to hear more. Our hero
walked quickly up to him, and frankly explained the situation,
concluding, as usual, with a request for information and aid. Both were
promptly tendered, and shortly after, the fugitives were concealed in a
corn-fodder house. Here, in the evening, a motley and humorous
delegation of darkies waited upon them and after ventilating their sage
opinions upon the conduct of the war, organized a prayer-meeting; and,
if the fervor of human prayer availeth, they doubtless damaged the cause
of Secession materially that evening.
The topographical knowledge of these well-meaning friends appears to
have been at fault for had Glazier followed the route they advised,
instead of striking the railroad running from Charleston to Augusta, on
the west side of Aiken, which would have enabled them, by pursuing it to
the westward, to reach Augusta, they would have struck it on the east
side, and consequently by mistake have followed it towards Charleston,
precisely the place to which they did _not_ want to go.
"How far is it, my boy, by this road, to Drainside?" asked a
mud-splashed traveler of a shrewd lad by the roadside.
"If you keep on the way you are heading, and can manage the Atlantic and
Pacific on horseback," replied the boy, "it is 23,999 miles. If you turn
your horse's head and go right back, it is one mile."
Our friends were in a somewhat similar condition. Soon, however, in the
darkness, they came to a small village, where a freight train was in
waiting for an early start. They tried to conceal themselves on board
this train, but very fortunately for their safety they could not find a
hiding-place in or under the cars, and shortly afterwards discovered
that Charleston was its destination and not Augusta. Had they boarded
this train they would certainly have been recaptured in Charleston and
sent back to imprisonment. "A merciful Providence interposed," Glazier
writes. "Thus 'man proposes,' often to his own ruin, but 'God disposes,'
always to His own glory, and the good of his creatures."
A blood-hound was on their track in the course of the night, the deep
bayings being plainly audible, but his scent being at fault, the trail
of the fugitives was lost, and he shortly barked himself out of hearing.
When daybreak came and a passenger train filled with rebel soldiers and
recruits swept past them, setting up a savage yell at sight of the
pedestrians, it was feared by the latter that the train might be stopped
with a view to their capture, so they once more concealed themselves in
the wood.
The sound of heavy cannonading reassured them as to the proximity of
Federal troops; but, where was Augusta? Accurate information on this
point was absolutely essential before further progress was made; and
Lemon was commissioned to obtain it. He was so far successful that he
learned from some negro wood-choppers--much to the chagrin of both--that
they had been walking all night in the opposite direction from Augusta,
that is, on the direct road to Charleston! They also learned, what was
much more cheering, that they could cross the Savannah River, at a point
twenty miles below Augusta, at Point Comfort; that Sherman was making
straight for Savannah, and therefore their chances of ultimately falling
in with his army were by no means impaired.
No time was lost in moving forward in the direction indicated, and
during the night our hero met with an adventure which we cannot do
better than relate in his own words; he says: "We came to a fork in the
road, and after debating some time as to which course we should pursue,
I leaped over the fence and made for a negro hut, while several hounds
from the plantation house followed hard on my track. I managed, by some
tall running, to come in a few feet ahead, and bolted into the shanty
without warning or formality, slamming the door behind me to keep out
the dogs. A great stupid negro was standing before the fire, his hands
and face buried in fresh pork and hoe-cake, which he was making poor
work at eating. His broad, fat countenance glistened with an unguent
distilled partly from within and partly from without. Turning my eyes
from the negro to the untidy hearth, they were greeted, as were also my
olfactories, with a skillet of pork frying over the coals.
"Without troubling him to answer any questions, I opened the mouth of my
haversack and poured into it the dripping contents of the skillet. I
next observed that the ashes on the hearth had a suspiciously fat
appearance, and, taking the tongs, began raking among them. My
suspicions were verified, for two plump-looking hoe-cakes came to light,
which were also deposited in the haversack.
"Looking around still farther I saw what I had not observed before,
_Dinah's black head_, as she peered out from among the bed-clothes,
rolling two of the most astonished white eyes that ever asked the
question, 'What's you g'wine to do next?' Not seeing any practical way
in which I could answer her mute question, I said to Sambo, 'Call the
dogs into the house.' This he did hastily. I then asked, 'Uncle, what
road must _this rebel_ take for Tinker Creek?' 'De right han' one, out
dar', I reckon,' he answered. Again bidding him keep the hounds in the
house till morning, I rushed out to the road and joined my companion. We
made lively tracks for about three miles, after which we took it more
leisurely, stopping to rest and refresh ourselves at every stream that
crossed the road."
The winter was by this time fairly upon them, and sleeping in the open
air by no means a pleasant experience. They therefore made long marches,
and by the aid of an occasional friendly push from their negro allies at
length arrived in the vicinity of Point Comfort. This was on the seventh
of December, and the twelfth day of their pilgrimage. After being
somewhat alarmed by the proximity of a pack of dogs, with which some
boys were hunting, they escaped discovery, and securing another negro
for a guide, they on the same night found themselves upon the banks of
the Savannah River.
[Illustration: The Escape--crossing The Savannah At Midnight.]
A colored man's cabin, as usual, sheltered them during the day, and
their host and his dusky neighbors (many of whom flocked around to see
the Yankees, as was their custom) proving to be fishermen well
acquainted with the river, our friends prevailed upon one of their
number to undertake the task of carrying them across. The first
difficulty that presented itself was, where to find a boat; but their
host remembered, he said, a place upon one of the tributaries of the
Savannah where one lay, not exactly in good sailing trim it is true, for
the authorities had ordered the destruction of boats along all the
streams where escaped prisoners were likely to seek a passage, and this
craft had not escaped their vigilance; but he thought, by the liberal
use of pitch and cotton, materials easily obtainable in that
neighborhood, it could be made sufficiently water-tight to answer their
purpose. Accordingly, accompanied by their friendly Charon, with his
pitch-pot and cotton, they reached the spot indicated and found the
boat.
It was in a very dilapidated state, but "all night long the faithful
fellow worked, caulking and pitching," while the fugitives "lay
concealed in an old hollow beech log."
It was long after midnight before he had finished his task, and launched
the boat into the stream. She looked very shaky, but the extemporized
shipwright reassured them by saying confidently:
"She's ready, massa. I'll soon land you in Georgey."
They were scarcely, however, in the boat before she commenced to leak;
there was no help for it, so our adventurers betook themselves to
bailing the water out as fast as it entered, and the zealous negro
pulled away with all his might. They kept her afloat until within a
short distance of the wished-for shore, and then, seeing that if they
did not quit her she would certainly quit them, the two passengers
leaped out, and managed with some difficulty to ascend the beach.