RECAPTURED BY A CONFEDERATE OUTPOST.
Fugitive slaves.--A rebel planter.--The Big Ebenezer.--A sound of
oars.--A _ruse de guerre_.--Burial of a dead soldier.--A free
ride.--Groping in the dark.--"Who goes there!"--Recaptured.--_Nil
desperandum._--James Brooks.--Contraband of war.--Confederate
murders.--In the saddle again.--A dash for freedom.--Again
captured.--Tried as a spy.
Our hero had been somewhat impressed with the subdued tone and manner of
the Confederate officer with whom he had lately parted. To some extent
he manifested a discouraged and cowed bearing, and this, taken with some
other circumstances in their recent experience, led our friends to hope
that the end was not very remote.
After bidding adieu to the Confederate, they walked about two miles
before discovering a place of concealment in another swamp. Here they
unexpectedly came upon a party of negroes sleeping around a large fire.
They proved to be fugitive slaves, who had abandoned their homes in
Burke County, Georgia, to follow in the rear of Sherman's army. They had
formed part of a body of several hundred persons of all ages and both
sexes, who had escaped and sought refuge upon an island in Big Ebenezer
Creek, and had been inhumanly shelled out by the Confederates. Thence
they had scattered over the country in small bands, and the present
detached party were working their way back to their masters. Captain
Glazier despatched one of them with a haversack in search of some food
among the resident colored people, and the result was so far
satisfactory that our friends were put in possession of a good supply of
sweet potatoes.
After another march, and while still in the swamp, they heard
wood-choppers, and Lemon started to reconnoitre. Guided by the sound of
the axe, he approached a small clearing, and seeing a negro, as he had
expected, wielding the axe, walked forward to him, but was suddenly
startled by observing a burly white man sitting on a log, smoking and
looking on. They eyed each other for a moment in silence, when presently
the planter demanded in a blustering voice, "What are you doing here, in
a blue uniform?" Lemon was not slow to answer in a corresponding tone,
"I am serving my country, as every loyal man should do: what have _you_
to say about it?"
"I believe you're a d----d Yankee," said the planter. "You're welcome to
your opinion, old Blowhard," responded Lemon. "This is a free country; I
_am_ a Yankee--all but the d----d--and now what do you propose to do about
it?" (All this in an assumed tone of bluster, as the best adapted to the
situation.) "We'll see! we'll see!" rejoined the planter, and at once
started in a direct line for his house. Lemon lost no time, but returned
as quickly as possible to his comrade, and without any deliberation they
evacuated the enemy's country with as much expedition as their tired
legs were capable of exerting. Their ears were soon saluted with the
music of a pack of hounds let loose on their track by the burly rebel,
and the affair would have had a disastrous ending if they had not
opportunely encountered a considerable stream, and by wading through it
for nearly a mile, succeeded in cutting off the scent of the hounds.
The planter had raised a hue and cry for miles around, and our hunted
friends, from their covert, saw mounted men patrolling the corduroy road
through the swamp, seemingly under the belief that the "Yankees" would
be driven to use this highway eventually, and thus fall an easy prey
into their hands. The man-hunters, however, found themselves at fault,
for our hero had learned, in the hard school of experience, to
anticipate all such contingencies. He and Lemon therefore secreted
themselves until late in the night, determined to rob them of their
game.
It was approaching midnight, December fifteenth, when the fugitives
crept cautiously to the margin of the swamp. A large fire denoted the
position of the planter's picket. They ventured out through the mud and
water with the purpose of flanking the enemy on their left--a hazardous
proceeding, and attended with much suffering from the intense coldness
of the water. In two hours, however, they had reached a point on the
opposite side of the encampment, and fearing discovery and pursuit, soon
placed two or three miles between themselves and the foe. Sometimes they
were made cognizant of the nearness of the parties in search of them, by
overhearing their conversation, which treated mainly of Sherman's march
to the sea, how it would affect the Confederacy, and similar interesting
topics.
Our friends passed the last picket at the edge of the swamp, but deeming
it unwise to relax in speed or vigilance, pushed forward to the banks of
the Big Ebenezer, which advanced them three miles further.
Here, upon the charred abutment of a burned bridge, Glazier and his
friend paused, and with the dark river in their front, debated how they
were to reach the other side. The dawn was just breaking, and through
the rising mist they could discern the opposite shore, but no
practicable mode of reaching it. They must not, however, remain here
after daybreak, and therefore sought and found a place of concealment,
again in the hateful swamp, but not far from the river's bank. They were
soon enjoying the rest and sleep of the weary.
Lemon was startled from his slumber by a sound resembling that of oars.
He awoke Glazier, and both listened intently, at a loss to understand
the meaning of such a sound in such a place. In a few minutes the noise
ceased, and looking cautiously from their hiding-place, they observed
two men pass near them, having the appearance of messengers or couriers,
with despatches, which they could plainly see in their hands. It at once
occurred to our hero and his companion that the boat in which these men
had rowed themselves up the river, could be made available for crossing
to its opposite bank. They found it moored to a tree, and at once
embarked and crossed the stream. To prevent pursuit they cast the boat
adrift, and as speedily as possible left "Big Ebenezer" behind them.
At a short distance from the river side Lemon stumbled over the dead
body of a soldier, which, upon examination, proved to be that of a
Federal. Our friends having no means of placing the body underground,
concluded to bury it in the river, and thus prevent to some extent its
desecration by dogs or other carrion-seeking animals that might find it
exposed. This was the best they could do under the circumstances, and
thus the poor body found a sailor's, if not a soldier's grave.
They had advanced not many paces again when they discovered two horses
tied to a tree, possibly the property of the two couriers whose boat
they had previously utilized. These they looked upon as fair spoil in an
enemy's country, and with little compunction and less ceremony mounted
and started on their way. A few miles brought them to the verge of the
wood, and the day was now breaking. They therefore reluctantly
dismounted, turned their steeds adrift for fear of detection, and
trudged forward on foot once more.
Soon they had reason to congratulate themselves on their prudence in
dismounting. Another quarter of a mile brought within view a Confederate
picket, but they were not themselves observed. They accordingly sought a
hiding-place among the thick undergrowth, and were soon asleep,
remaining so until midnight. They then turned the flank of the picket
and proceeded on their journey.
Long immunity from the peril of recapture had now inspired Glazier and
his friend with hope and full confidence in successfully attaining the
end of their struggles. The swamp, the river, the alligator, the
man-hunter, and worse than all, the blood-hound, had been met and
successfully overcome or evaded; and after three long weeks of travel
from the execrable and inhuman people, who had held them as prisoners of
war, and treated them worse than dogs, they now found themselves within
twenty miles of Savannah.
Resting himself upon a fallen tree, clad in rags, hungry and reduced
almost to the proportions of a skeleton by long fasting, Glazier with
his companion were able to congratulate themselves upon their wonderful
preservation thus far. All seemed to foreshadow their final triumph, and
their spirits were cheered, notwithstanding that food had not passed
their lips for the past thirty-six hours, with the exception of a few
grains of corn picked up by the way. Probably within the brief space of
twenty-four hours they would be again free and under the protection of
the glorious flag, in whose defence they had fought and suffered so
much.
Flushed with their past success and elated with hope for the future they
recommenced their march. They had no exact information as to the
position of the Federal army, and were in fact groping their way in the
dark--figuratively as well as literally--every sense on the alert to
avoid the enemy's picket lines.
On reaching Little Ebenezer Creek about midnight they were chagrined to
find the bridge destroyed, but after reconnoitring for a time, were
satisfied that the coast was clear on the opposite side. Finding some
broken planks they constructed a raft and paddled themselves across the
stream.
They were now on the Savannah River Road, over which Kilpatrick's
cavalry and the Fourteenth Army Corps had passed but a week before. Old
camping-grounds were numerous along their way, and each was examined
closely for any bread or other eatables they thought might have been
left by the army.
[Illustration: Recaptured By A Confederate Outpost.]
They were closely engaged in this search, when "Who comes there?" was
gruffly shouted by a voice near them.
"Friends," promptly answered Glazier.
"Advance one!" commanded the picket.
"I advanced promptly," writes Captain Glazier, in the history of his
capture and imprisonment, "and arriving near my captors found them to be
mounted infantry. They were sitting upon their horses in the shade of
some cypress-trees. One asked, 'Who are you?' to which I replied, 'A
scout to General Hardie, and must not be detained, as I have important
information for the general.'
"The picket replied, 'I'm instructed to take every person to the officer
of the picket that approaches this post after dark.'
"'I can't help it, sir. It is not customary to arrest scouts, and I must
pass on.'
"'You cannot; I must obey orders. I do not doubt the truth of your
assertion; but until you have seen the lieutenant, you will not be
allowed to pass this post.'
"Finding that I had met a good soldier I saw that it was useless to
trifle with him, and tried to console myself with the thought that I
should be able to dupe the officer; and as we were hurried on towards
the reserve of the picket my mind was occupied in arranging a plan for
our defence, as spies to the great rebel chief. Arrived at the reserve
we found nearly all asleep, including the lieutenant, in close proximity
to a large rail-fire.
"A little rough shaking soon roused him up, and, rubbing his eyes, he
asked, 'What's wanted?'
"I quickly answered, 'I'm surprised, sir, that scouts to our generals
should be arrested by your picket.'
"He said, 'My instructions are positive, and no man can pass this post
without examination.'
"'Very well, then,' I said, 'be good enough to examine us at once.'
"'Have you passes?'
"'No, sir; not at present. We had papers when we left the general's
headquarters; but having been scouting in Northern Georgia, for the past
two weeks, our papers are worn out and lost.'
"'You have some papers about you, I suppose?'
"Thinking that by answering in the affirmative, and producing quickly an
old package of letters which had been received while in Libby Prison,
that none of them would be examined, I hastily drew them from the
side-pocket of my jacket and held them before me, saying, 'I hope here
are enough, sir.'
"The lieutenant's curiosity led him to take one which had been received
from Colonel Clarence Buel, of Troy, New York. He held it near the fire,
and noticing the date, turned his eyes towards me and again to the
letter; the second glance seemed to satisfy him that I was not a rebel,
and he remarked very indignantly, 'Then you are scouting for General
Hardie, are you? I believe you are a d----d Yankee spy! and if you were
to get your deserts I should hang you to the first tree I come to,' Said
I, 'Lieutenant, do not be too hasty. I can convince you that I have been a
prisoner of war, and if you are a true soldier I shall be treated as
such.'
"Becoming a little more mild he gave us to understand that we should
start at ten o'clock the next morning for Springfield, the headquarters
of General Wheeler.
"After detailing a special guard for the prisoners, and instructing them
to be on the alert, the lieutenant laid himself down by the fire,
leaving us to reflect upon the hardness of fate, and the uncertainties
attending an effort to escape the clutches of a vigilant enemy."
Glazier did not despair, but at the first opportunity communicated to
Lemon his determination to reach the Federal lines at all risks; he
would never return to South Carolina a prisoner; the horrors of
prison-life and the privations and sufferings they had already endured,
should never be repeated in his case, but rather--welcome death! Their
enemies--albeit fellow-countrymen and _Americans_--were inhuman and
barbarous, and before putting himself in their hands again, he would
submit to be hung by bushwhackers, or torn to pieces by blood-hounds.
Their case was now desperate, and for his part he would take the first
chance that offered of getting away. Our hero thought he could count on
Lemon's concurrence and co-operation. The men of the picket told him
they had been arrested at the outpost; and it was now clear that if the
fugitives had been so fortunate as to pass this picket, they could have
reached the Federal lines in less than an hour. Only a step intervened
between captivity and freedom--the thought was very disheartening.
An instance of exceptional kindness on the part of a Confederate must
not be omitted here. James Brooks, one of the picket, came to the
prisoners and invited them to partake of some hoe-cake and bacon. He
said he had been out foraging, and would share his plunder with them.
Having been without food for forty-eight hours, save a few ears of
corn, they eagerly embraced the generous offer. The hoe-cake was
produced and partaken of ravenously and thankfully. The other men of the
picket were disgusted at the liberality of their comrade, calling him a
"blue belly," and a fool to give good bread to a couple of d----d Yanks.
Like a true man, however, he made no reply to their brutal taunts, and
gave the captives a most excellent breakfast.
Having finished their welcome meal, they asked permission to bathe
themselves, under guard, in a little stream not many rods from the
reserve, which request was granted. Here the prisoners in their
desperation offered the guard one hundred dollars in Confederate scrip,
which had been given them by their negro friends, to assist them in
making their escape. The guards seemed to distrust each other, and
declined the proposal. They, however, said they would be right glad to
have the money, but feared to take it, as they were held responsible for
the safe return of the prisoners. The offer of the bribe was reported to
the lieutenant, who at once ordered the delinquents to be searched, and
all the scrip found upon them was confiscated, as contraband of war, and
appropriated to rebel uses, leaving our two unfortunate friends
penniless. They were further threatened with condign punishment for
offering to bribe the guard. One said "Shoot them;" another, "Let 'em
stretch hemp;" several recommended that they be taken to the swamp and
"sent after Sherman's raiders,"--referring, probably, to the manner in
which they had disposed of some of the Federal sick, who had been left
in the rear of the army. Of this incident Glazier writes: "I had been
told by the negroes that fifteen of our sick, who fell into the
hands of the rebels but a few days before our recapture, were taken to a
swamp, where their throats were cut, and their bodies thrown into a
slough hole. I cannot vouch for the truth of this statement, but it came
to me from many whose veracity I have no reason to question."
Let us in the name of humanity doubt it!
[Illustration: The Escape And Pursuit.]
At ten o'clock A. M. a mounted guard, consisting of a corporal and two
men, were detailed to march the prisoners to the headquarters of General
Wheeler. They had not proceeded far when Glazier assumed to be footsore,
and pleaded his utter inability to walk any further. Believing this, one
of the guards dismounted and helped him into the saddle. Our hero was no
sooner mounted than he decided that, come what would, he would make his
escape. In a few moments the guard who was on foot espied a black
squirrel darting across the road, and oblivious of his responsibility,
gave chase to it, Glazier looking on and biding his time. The squirrel
soon ran up a tree, and leaped from bough to bough with its usual
agility. Suddenly it halted on a prominent branch, seeming to bid
defiance to its pursuer. The carbine was instantly raised, and
discharged. Without waiting to note the result, Glazier, feeling that
_now_ was his opportunity, dashed off at a gallop, urging his horse to
the top of his speed. Before the squirrel-hunter could reload, he was
many yards away. The corporal in charge fired his revolver, and at each
discharge of the weapon, shouted to the fugitive to halt! but Glazier
gave no heed to the summons, and might have succeeded in reaching the
swamps and defied recapture, if he had not unfortunately galloped into a
rebel camp! Baffled, he turned his horse, and endeavored to cross an
open field, but the corporal continued to shout, "Halt that d----d
Yankee!" when a body of Texan Rangers from General Iverson's cavalry
division, some mounted and some dismounted, gave chase, hooting and
yelping, and finally overtook and compelled him to surrender.
The guard whose horse Lieutenant Glazier had ridden came up and vented
his rage at the escapade in no measured language. The Texans, however,
enjoyed the fun of the thing, and laughed at, and ridiculed him. Said
one, "You are a d----d smart soldier to let a blue-belly get away from
you--and on your own horse too!" Another joined in with, "Say, Corporal,
which of them nags can run fastest?" Nothing of course was said about
the _squirrel_!
On Lemon and his guard coming up they resumed their march to
headquarters--Glazier's lameness exciting no further sympathy, nor the
offer of another mount.
The escort with their charge reached General Wheeler's headquarters in
the afternoon, and the report handed in stated that, "the two prisoners
had been captured while attempting to pass the out-post, under the
pretence of being scouts to General Hardie."
Wheeler ordered them at once into his presence and questioned them
closely.
Captain Glazier thus graphically relates the interview:
"'Then you are scouting for Confederate generals?' said Wheeler.
"I replied, 'We would have rejoiced if we could have convinced your
out-post that we were.'
"'None of your impudence, sir! Remember that you are a prisoner.'
"'Very true; but when you ask questions, you must expect answers.'
"'What are you doing with that gray jacket?'
"'I wear it, sir, to protect myself from the sun and storm.'
"'Where did you get it?'
"'One of the guards at Columbia was kind enough to give it to me, when
he saw that I was suffering for the want of clothing to cover my
nakedness.'
"'He could not have been a true rebel, to assist a Yankee in making his
escape.'
"'He knew nothing of my intention to escape; and I believe he was at
least a kind-hearted man.'
"'Why don't you wear the Federal uniform? Are the Yankees ashamed of
it?'
"'By no means, sir! What few garments were spared me at the time of my
capture were worn out during a long imprisonment, and the clothing which
was sent on to Richmond by our Government during the winter of 1863 for
distribution among the prisoners, was, for the most part, appropriated
by your authorities.'
"'Like most of your contemptible Yankee crew, I believe you to be a
lying scoundrel, and you shall answer to the charge of spy.'
"'Very well, sir, I am compelled to await your pleasure; but you have
heard nothing but the truth.'
"'Guard! take the prisoners to the jail, place them in a cell, and keep
them in close confinement until further orders.'"
The above colloquy between Wheeler and his prisoners reflects small
credit upon him as a leader of "Southern Chivalry."