Fired at by a citizen--The sick overseer--How he was
cured--Pickets fired on--Trip to White Church--Visits
General Van Dorn--Meets a rebel spy--Reports to General
Leggett--Grand Junction evacuated--Again sees the rebel
spy--Attempt to arrest him--Drinks wine with the rebel
General Jackson--Discovers a hole in the fence.
It was my duty, while the brigade remained at Grand Junction, to watch
for any demonstrations of General Van Dorn's, Wheeler's, or Jackson's
cavalry. For that purpose I used to ride out on a road running east and
west, that lay three miles to the south of Grand Junction. I used to
scout that road for about ten miles regularly every day. One morning,
before going out, I called upon Captain Jacobs, Provost-marshal of the
post, on business. While I was there, an overseer that I had frequently
seen in my scouts came in, and requested a renewal of his pass, and a
permit to carry out certain articles that he wished to purchase. He had
with him the oath of allegiance. As soon as my business was completed, I
started out on my scout, as usual, leaving the overseer there. I made
the trip out, and had returned to within a few yards of the overseer's
house, when he stepped out from a fence-corner, with a squirrel-rifle in
his hands, and said to me, "Are you a Yankee soldier?"
"No, sir, I'm not a Yankee soldier, I'm a Federal soldier."
"What are you doing out here?"
"I'm watching for rebel cavalry."
"I'll soon stop your watching Confederate cavalry."
"Are you going to shoot me?"
He said nothing, but the click of his gun, as he cocked it, said "Yes."
As he was bringing it to his face, I put the spurs to my horse, and as I
passed, he fired, but missed me. I went in and reported to General
Leggett, who replied, "You had better look out, or some of those _good
Union men will kill you_." He issued no order to have the man arrested;
and perhaps it would have done no good if he had, for such characters,
with their oily tongues, are as slippery as eels. As a general thing,
they manage to evade justice, and get released from the Federal
authorities. I well knew that if the overseer was allowed to live
undisturbed my own life was in jeopardy, so I telegraphed to General
Grant, then at Jackson, Tennessee, to know what to do with such a man.
His reply was, "If you are a scout for the Government, _you ought to
know yourself_."
That night I went to the 20th Ohio Infantry and got two Sergeants, whose
real names I shall not give, but designate them as the "big Sergeant"
and the "little Sergeant"--both of them belonged to company H--to assist
me in bringing the overseer to justice. Knowing that if we accomplished
our purpose there would be complaints entered at head-quarters the next
day, I resolved to proceed as noiselessly about it as possible. Instead
of getting the countersign, and thus letting it be known that we were
going out, we stole through the picket line, and nobody knew that we had
left camp.
It was about four miles to the overseer's house; thither we proceeded.
When we came to his yard, myself and the little Sergeant went at once to
the house, and the big Sergeant went to the negro quarters. The overseer
and his family had retired for the night. Our rap for admittance was
answered by "Who is there?" My reply was, "Federal soldiers; get up and
open the door." The summons was obeyed by the overseer's wife. As we
entered we heard the groans of a man as if in distress, proceeding from
an adjoining room. On going into the room I found the overseer in bed,
and feigning to be laboring under severe pain. Approaching the bedside,
I said to him: "You are sick, are you, old hoss?"
With great difficulty, seemingly, he answered, "Yes--I'm--very sick."
"How long have you been sick?"
"It's--going on--two weeks--now."
"You lying whelp," said the little Sergeant, unable to contain himself;
"I saw you in Grand Junction this morning."
"Get up, old fellow," said I, "you need a little exercise; it will do
you good to move about."
"I can't--gentlemen,--I tell you--I'm sick," (still groaning, and
letting on to be in great distress.)
"Yes, that wolfish-looking face of yours _looks sick_! Get out of that!"
He commenced to rise, trembling all over as if with nervous fear. "Your
nerves a'n't so steady as they were this morning," I added.
"Indeed--I _am_--sick--gentlemen."
"I should think your conscience would make you tremble."
"Are you--gwine to--kill me?" he asked, getting more and more agitated
with alarm.
"No, we won't kill you, but we'll give you a furlough to a warmer
climate. I think it will improve your health."
"You will give--a body--time--to pray--won't you?"
"Praying won't do you any good; you will go to the warm climate, anyhow;
so, hurry on them clothes and come along with us." We then walked him
out of the house; we found that he could travel as strong as we could.
The wife took on dreadfully, wringing her hands and crying out, "_Have
mercy! have mercy!_ Don't kill him!"
"Yes, _traitors are pretty objects of mercy_. You stay where you are."
She was too much frightened to follow. As we passed out into the yard,
we met the big Sergeant, accompanied by a nigger who had an iron collar
on his neck, with a chain fastened to it, with the other end fastened
around his waist.
"Here, Bunker," said the Sergeant, "see what I have found."
"That chain is just exactly what I want. Bring your nigger around here,"
said I, as I led my prisoner around to the rear of the house, and out to
the stable. There we found two crotches standing upright, and a pole
laid from one to the other. A large box was rolled out from the stable
and placed under the pole, and the overseer made to get on to the box.
The nigger had been sent to the rebel fortifications to work, and had
run away. The overseer had captured him, and had punished him by putting
him in irons, as described. In the morning he would chain him to the
plow, and at night release him and make the chain fast around his body.
On searching the pockets of the overseer, I found the key that unlocked
the chain. I then unlocked the chain from the negro, and placed it upon
the overseer's neck, and made the other end fast to the pole overhead;
and having fastened the overseer's hands behind him, I said to the
negro, "This man has been your overseer for a long time--you may change
about now, and be his overseer awhile."
"Lor' bress you, massa!" he exclaimed. "Thank de Lord fur dat; he's dun
druv dis nigga long enuf."
"Well, you _drive_ him now."
"Shall I drive him thar?"
"Yes, drive him where you please."
"I reckon he won't do dat box no good standin' there," and suiting the
action to the word, he jerked the box from under him, leaving him
suspended by the neck; adding, "Now, I specs he'll drive hisself. I'se
more important business to 'tend to."
The overseer being in a fair way to have his "furlough approved," we
returned to camp by the same way that we went out. The next morning,
early, the wife came in with a complaint to the Provost-marshal that a
party of Federal soldiers had been to her house the night before, and
had taken her sick husband out of bed and had hung him, and begged for
protection from further outrage.
The Provost-marshal said to her, "I don't believe a word of it; for no
soldiers have been permitted to go out through our lines during the
night. Perhaps you had a husband and perhaps not. I advise you to go
back about your business and not be in here blaming Federal soldiers
with that which they have never done."
During the day a forage party, on its return to camp, visited the
plantation and brought away sixty contrabands, and among them was the
one that we had liberated from his chains. The overseer was dead, but
had been taken down and carried into the house. On his arrival in camp,
the negro reported that the Yankees had made him hang his master.
Outside of the lines it was generally believed that the Yankees had done
it, but the soldiers generally believed that the negroes on the
plantation had done it. It was never suspected that I had had a hand in
it. "My personal safety as a scout demanded that he should be disposed
of," is all the excuse that I have to offer. I continued to scout the
road for several days after, but met with no further interruption.
Early in the month of July, the first train of cars that was to run
through from Memphis to Grand Junction started out, and, when only a
short distance from Memphis, was captured, and the railroad badly
destroyed.
Owing to the difficulty of protecting the road from the raids of the
enemy, the opening of it was abandoned for a time, and the roads from
Columbus, Ky., to Grand Junction and Corinth were relied upon for the
transportation of supplies. When the opening of the road was abandoned,
the forces at Lagrange, under command of General Hurlbut, moved to
Memphis, which left the small brigade at Grand Junction without any
troops for support nearer than Bolivar, a distance of twenty miles. The
exposed position of so small a force undoubtedly emboldened the enemy in
their plans for capturing the post. As I have explained in the preceding
chapter, the abundance of cotton and forage was an object to hold the
place as long as the safety of the force would admit.
After General Hurlbut's forces left Lagrange, our pickets were
frequently fired upon, and small squads of cavalry were seen, indicating
a boldness on the part of the enemy indicative of a strong force not far
off.
It was under that state of affairs that General Leggett requested me to
go out as a spy, and learn the position and force of the enemy.
On this occasion I rode out on a mule, disguised as a rebel soldier,
taking the road that led to the White Church. I saw several squads of
rebel cavalry, but at some distance from me, soon after passing our own
pickets, but none of them interrupted me. Just after I had crossed Wolf
River, I discovered the rebel pickets; how I was to pass them was more
than I knew. I resolved, however, to go on and try the effect of a bold
front. With as much unconcern and freedom as though I was one of their
number, and perfectly at home, I rode up, and without halting or
letting on that I expected to be halted, I said, "Good morning, boys!
have _our forces all got up yet_?"
"Yes," said one; "where have you been?"
"Out to the Yankee lines by the old cotton-gin near Grand Junction," I
replied, still riding along.
By this time I had got clear by, without any attempt being made to stop
me. At the White Church I came to the rebel camp; there I dismounted and
inquired of a soldier for head-quarters.
"Whose--General Van Dorn's?" was asked.
"Yes," I replied.
He then showed me General Van Dorn's tent. I had supposed that if I
found much of a force it would be that of General Van Dorn. I proceeded
to the tent that had been pointed out. In front of it was the usual
head-quarters guard. Saluting him, I inquired if General Van Dorn was
in, and was answered in the affirmative. The moment I entered, I saw two
Generals. One I instantly recognized as the Confederate General Wheeler;
I had known him in Memphis before the war. Without speaking to him, I
turned to the other and addressed him; I said, "General, I wish to get a
pass, if you please, to go outside of the lines."
"Who are you?" the General inquired.
"My name is Ruggles."
"General Van Dorn," said General Wheeler, "don't you know him? He is a
brother of General Ruggles, and belongs to the 2d Arkansas Cavalry."
"Ah! Indeed!"
"Yes, and I want to go out to the Yankee lines and see what they are
doing out there."
"I wish you would, Ruggles," said Van Dorn, "and see if the Yankees have
obstructed the Grand Junction and Salem road with timber. That's the
road that I want to take a part of my forces in on in the morning."
General Van Dorn instructed his Adjutant to write me a pass, which I
received, and then went out and mounted my mule. "_That's the road I
want to take a part of my forces in on in the morning!_" was something
that needed my immediate attention. I rode leisurely through the camp.
Every thing was bustle and activity preparatory to a move, and confirmed
what I had heard at head-quarters. As near as I could judge, the camp
contained 9,000 or 10,000 men.
Having satisfied myself of the probable force of the enemy, I started
back on the road I came in on. I stopped at the pickets and showed my
pass, and then went on. After I had crossed Wolf River, I made a detour
across the country to the right, in order to get on to the Grand
Junction and Salem road, as General Van Dorn had directed me, so that if
by any mishap I should be captured and sent to head-quarters, I could
show that I was captured right where I had been sent.
About five miles from the White Church, I dismounted at a large,
beautiful spring of water, to drink and rest myself. While there, a
cavalryman rode up and halted for the same purpose; I immediately
recognized him as having been one of the squad I had fallen in with and
accompanied so far in my former trip. He rode a Texan pony, with a
peculiarly constructed saddle, that I could not mistake as having seen
before.
"Where have you been?" I inquired, as he stopped.
"I've been up to the Yankee lines."
"You must be a scout, then."
"Yes, I am a spy; where do you belong?"
"I _belong to the Yankees_!" I replied, placing my hand on my revolver,
as if to draw it.
My movements agitated him. Raising his hands in a supplicating attitude,
as if he thought I meant to kill him, he said, "D--don't shoot!
hold--hold on! don't lets you and I quarrel; let us help each other,
since we are both in the same business."
"Very well! just as you say about that."
"You played off the spy pretty well the other day when you was with us,"
he continued, somewhat composed.
"Yes, I did well enough for that time; but I am in a hurry this time, so
you and I must make short visits."
At that, we both mounted and started in opposite directions, eyeing each
other, with revolvers drawn, until out of sight. I might have shot him
at the time he thought I intended to do it, but I did not think my own
safety would admit of it.
At 5 o'clock that afternoon I arrived at General Leggett's
head-quarters, and reported what I had learned, and before daylight the
next morning the brigade was on its way to Bolivar, and it had not been
gone an hour until General Van Dorn's forces were in possession of the
place.
The movement on the part of General Leggett was a masterly one, and was
conducted with such skill that, though pursued by a force chagrined
with disappointment, which several times outnumbered his entire command,
his brigade reached Bolivar without the loss of a single man or a
dollar's worth of stores.
Shortly after our arrival at Bolivar, I was in town, accompanied by
Sergeant Wonders, of the 20th Ohio. Hitched in front of one of the
stores was the same little Texan pony and peculiar saddle that I had
seen twice before. I knew that I could not be mistaken in them. I did
not like the idea of his running at large. An encounter with him in the
enemy's camp would prove fatal, so I resolved to find him and have him
arrested. After searching for some time, without success, I returned to
where I had seen the pony, and found that it was gone. From a soldier I
learned that somebody had ridden the pony out toward the depot. I
followed after, and when about half way to the depot, I saw the pony
coming. I sent the Sergeant back and told him to see where the man went,
and I would join him after awhile. Just before we met, he halted and
commenced to fasten his pony. Stepping up to him and speaking very low,
I said, "Hallo, old fellow! are you in here?"
"Yes, h--h--how d--do you do?" he said, trembling from head to foot.
"Never mind, you needn't be afraid. _It's all right_," I added in a
confidential way, "you need not be afraid of me; I am in a great hurry
this morning, so you must excuse me." Without further words I walked on
rapidly, as though I cared nothing about him. As soon as out of sight,
I made my way around to the office of the Provost-marshal. There I was
joined by the Sergeant, who remained outside to watch.
On entering his office, I found him asleep on a cot. I woke him up and
told him the circumstances about the spy, and that I wanted some guards
to capture him. By the time I had finished telling him, he was fast
asleep. I again woke him up, and commenced to tell what I wanted, when
he said:
"Do--you--know--the--man?"
"Yes! I know the man!"
"Do--you--know--the--hoss?"
"Yes! I know the horse and I know the saddle."
"W-a-l--a-l-l--r-i-g-h-t!"
By this time he was again fast asleep. I tried again to wake him, but
with no better success. I do not say that he was drunk, but I _do_ say
that he acted just as I do when I am drunk. The result was, the spy
escaped, and I have never seen him since.
As we were passing along by Adams & Brother's store, a few hours after,
the door chanced to be open, and we observed that the room was occupied
by many citizens, engaged in a spirited conversation, and so we dropped
in to see what was going on. One of the persons present I knew to be
Brigadier-General Neely, of the Confederate army, who had been captured
by the Federal troops when they first took possession of the place, and
he was on parole of honor within the limits of the town.
When we first entered, the conversation stopped, but it was soon
gradually resumed. A great deal was said about the Yankees stealing
corn, cotton, and niggers, and they complained that it was ruining many
of the planters. I listened a few minutes, and then, addressing myself
to General Neely, said: "Gentlemen, so far as I am concerned, I have
never yet stolen a cent's worth of property since I have been in the
Federal army, and if I had known that a United States soldier had got to
steal corn, cotton, and niggers from the citizens of the South, I would
never have enlisted."
"Nor I either," said the Sergeant, "I didn't think when I enlisted that
this was going to be made a nigger war!"
"For my part," I continued, "I'm getting tired of fighting for
_niggers_, and if I wasn't afraid they would hang me for a spy, I'd go
and join Billy Jackson's cavalry."
"And so would I," said the Sergeant; "I think I'd like the Southern
people very much. I have often heard "Bunker" talk about them; he used
to live in the South."
"Yes, I did, indeed! and I'm almost ashamed to be fighting against them.
I used to live in Mississippi, and I have spent several years in
Arkansas and Tennessee. I am well acquainted in Memphis. General, do you
know Jim Ford and Charlie Ford, of Memphis?"
"Yes, I know them very well; they are wholesale dealers in produce. I
get my supply of pork from them every year."
He then motioned to me and the Sergeant and one of the citizens in the
room, who had been listening with a good deal of interest to our
conversation, to accompany him into a back room, which we did. He then
called for two bottles of wine, and asked us to drink with him, which we
were not in the least backward about doing.
The citizen then said that he had not time to stay longer, and, shaking
hands with us, bade us good-by, and went out.
"General," said I, when the citizen had gone, "do you know where Billy
Jackson is?"
"Yes! He's not far off; if you want to join his cavalry you would have
no trouble in getting to him."
"If I wa'n't afraid General Jackson would get me and hang me for a spy,
I'd run away, and so would this Sergeant, and we'd join his cavalry."
"There is no danger of that," said the General, "for _that was General
Jackson that drank the wine with us_, and has just left. He heard all
you said about joining his cavalry. If you want to go, boys, you will
have no trouble in doing so."
"Well, General," said I, "since you are acquainted with General Jackson,
can't you give us a pass that will make us all safe after we get out of
the Yankee lines?"
"I'm on parole of honor," he replied, "and I have no right to do that."
"There would be no harm in it; the Yankees would never find it out."
Pulling out my wallet, I said, "General, how much did you pay for that
wine? We must have another bottle--not at your expense, but mine. It's
my treat this time."
"Oh, no! no, no!" said the General, "I'll pay for the wine! Mr. Adams,
bring us another bottle. Boys, you come over to-morrow and I'll have
your passes fixed out for you!"
I assured him that we would, and, having drank the wine, we left and
returned to camp, considerably elated with our adventure.
Unfortunately, Billy Jackson and the spy both got away. The only good
that I could then do was to find the "hole in the fence" where they had
gone out, and prevent a repetition of it.
I knew that Mrs. Dr. Coleman was a daughter of General Neely, and I
thought that she, probably, knew where Jackson and his spy went out
through our lines. I had been there a number of times, and had become
considerably acquainted, and Mrs. Coleman had not yet found out that I
belonged to the Federal army. Doctor Coleman was a practicing physician,
and was absent from home the most of the time, visiting his patients.
The next morning I went over to see her. After we had conversed awhile,
I said to her, "'Melia, did you see Billy Jackson in town yesterday?"
"Yes, did you?"
"Yes, I saw him, but I was wondering how in the world he managed to get
out; the Yankees are getting mighty particular who they pass out."
"Why, I can tell you; he went right through our corn-field, and out at
the water-gulch under the fence."
"Yes, yes; I do remember that place now; that's a good place to go out.
By the way, how does the doctor like the Yankees being so strict?"
"He don't like it at all; he had to go and take the oath before they
would give him a pass to visit his patients."
"Did he?"
"Yes; and I never felt so bad about any thing in my life as I did about
that. The nasty, dirty thieves! I perfectly hate the sight of them. I
assure you the doctor don't consider himself bound by it; no, indeed he
don't."
She was very indignant to think that her husband had been compelled to
take the oath. From there I went to see her father, General Neely, who
gave me the pass that he had promised me the day before. Thus prepared,
I went to head-quarters and reported.
That day Doctor Coleman's corn was all cut down, so that the pickets had
a fair view of the ground without changing the line, and General Neely
was sent North for a violation of his parole.