I NARROWLY ESCAPE CAPTURE.
Before parting with Thorn at Waxahachie, he told me if ever I happened
to be in the upper part of Grimes County, to hunt for a man by the name
of Camp, who was an old California friend of his father, having gone
there with him in 1848. “You only need to tell him who you are, that you
are associated with me in this trouble and he will do all he can for
you.” I had nearly forgotten Thorn’s mentioning this, when I rode up to
a house late in the evening, that seemed to me perhaps a stage stand. I
decided to stop and stay all night there, calling at the gate. An old
gentleman came out, to whom I told my business, and he told me,
“Certainly you can stay; I am keeping a public house;” furthermore
saying, “You walk right in, take a seat on the porch, supper will be
ready directly; I will take your horse down to the barn and feed him.”
His barn was some three hundred yards down the lane and across the road.
I walked in, took a seat on the porch and very soon was called in to
supper. I found at the table his wife and daughter and a gentleman
traveler, who, in conversation with the ladies, stated that he had
passed two companies of troops from Hempstead, coming on, and saying
that they were nearly due there. I made out a hasty supper, immediately
went down to the barn and told Mr. Camp I must have my horse right
quick; told him who I was, by way of explanation why it was urgent for
me to get my horse at once. He, of course, was surprised, and told me
anything under the sun he could do for me, not to hesitate to demand it;
said that he would go to the house and talk with this man and ascertain
whether these troops were infantry or cavalry; furthermore, if they were
infantry they were on their way to Centerville, where they had been
expected for some time, to garrison that town. He says, “If they are
infantry, they are evidently not after you and don’t know you are here;
then you have got to stay all night with me and rest; you will be
perfectly safe. I will put you in a room where there will be no danger
to my family, in case anything should happen. I have a good shotgun that
I will know how to use in your defense.”
I told Mr. Camp that I had promised my wife on parting with her, that I
wouldn’t recognize the best friend I met anywhere, let no one know who I
was and made him promise not to tell this man nor his family. He soon
came back to the barn, while I was watching the road that these troops
were on, and reported they were infantry, on their way to Centerville
and made me leave my horse and go back to the house with him. These
troops camped within about a quarter of a mile, at the mouth of his
lane, and came to his house for milk, butter and chickens, while I was
in bed asleep.
He gave me an early breakfast next morning and I started on with this
gentleman, who Camp assured me was a particular friend of Tom Thorn’s
and would fight for me, if he knew who I was. I told him that I did not
intend to make myself known to him. We rode on together for about six
miles, when we struck a creek, out of its banks. He suggested to me that
he knew a foot log not far above there, where we could cross with our
saddles and riggings; he would drive in his mare and she would cross and
my horse would follow her, which he did. As soon as his mare got on the
other side, she went flying up the road, with my horse following. He
said he was satisfied that some friend of his would stop her somewhere
on the road and we would hurry on afoot and try to get her, also my
horse, and I had nothing to do but accept the situation. I spent nearly
two anxious hours, watching the road in the direction in which the
troops were coming, when he finally came up, leading my horse. We then
saddled up and proceeded on our way and upon reaching the forks of the
road, one leading to Centerville, the other to Leona, we parted; I
taking the Leona road, which was called the old San Antonio road to
Shreveport. I continued on this road, day and night, until I reached
Marshall, where I found an old prison friend by the name of Fisher, who
lived about a mile from the town and he insisted on my going out to his
house to remain until I could take boat at Shreveport for New Orleans.
I spent several days with him, going up town, making my headquarters at
the office of Ochiltree & Shaw. I was acquainted with Judge Ochiltree,
whose son, Bill, was a public auctioneer. I turned him over my horse and
saddle to sell at auction. While he was riding around the streets,
crying the horse for sale to the highest bidder, he stopped in front of
the office, called me to the door, said he was offered one hundred
forty-eight and one-half dollars and that he had met a Federal
lieutenant, who was stuck on the horse and he was going to make him pay
two hundred dollars for him before he quit. I told him not to take
another bid from him, as I did not want any Federal to ride that horse,
so he had to sell him at one hundred forty-eight and one-half dollars.
I was now ready to move and, on investigation, found that two boats
would leave Shreveport for New Orleans on Wednesday evening and on that
day I went down to Shreveport to take passage on one of these boats. On
arrival at Shreveport the stewards of these boats came aboard of the
train and announced that the boats had failed to receive sufficient
cotton to justify starting on the trip and had postponed sailing until
the next Friday and if there were any passengers aboard, for New
Orleans, they could go aboard of the boats at once and save hotel bills
for several days, which I decided to do.
After registering on the “Bart-Able,” which was the finest boat on the
river, I took a seat on the guards, the front of the passenger deck, and
awaited for what would next turn up. Very soon a party of four men came
aboard, whom I took to be gamblers. I was soon recognized by one of the
party, who proved to be Ike Hutchison, who started out in the army with
us, but was a professional gambler, a class of people I never had much
use for. During the short time he was with us in our company, I treated
him somewhat indifferently, which might have resulted seriously at this
time. As soon as recognized by him, he came forward, grasped my hand,
was very glad to see me and started to introduce me to his companions,
when I drew him near me and whispered in his ear, “Jones—” He caught
on, and introduced me to his companions as “Mr. Jones.” We then entered
into a general conversation, took a drink together at the bar, when we
both made it convenient to draw away from the crowd, out of hearing,
when he asked, “What’s the matter, Henry?” I told him of my troubles,
that I had the whole Federal Army hunting me to take my life, and that I
was going down to New Orleans to try to get some sailboat for Mexico. He
seemed surprised at my statement and told me that he was in the
Government Secret Service, drew back his coat and showed me his badge,
but said earnestly that I need not be apprehensive on that account; that
he wouldn’t betray me. I told him, “Ike, my life is in your hands and I
depend on your promise, but if you do betray me, some of my friends will
get you.” He next told me that Lieutenant Black, an ex-member of our
regiment, was at the Southwestern Printing Office, a commercial editor
of the paper, and that I ought to go up and see him. He said he knew
Black would be glad to see me. With this information I parted with him
and went up and found my friend Black who, of course, was greatly
surprised at my statement of my condition. When I expressed my fears
about Hutchison betraying me, he said he did not believe that Ike would
do that, but, studying a few moments, he said, “Now, if Ike does betray
you and you are arrested, bring them up here; I have more influence than
Ike. While I would not do such a thing for any other purpose, and would
rather have my right hand cut off, but to save your life, I am willing
to swear that Hutchison is mistaken and that you are ‘Mr. Jones.’ This
will give us time enough to get a couple of good horses, which we will
mount and go off together.”
Considering this proposition, realizing the enormity of the step he was
about to take to save my life, from a lucrative and valuable position,
commanding the esteem and confidence of the entire business community at
Shreveport, to join me in becoming an outlaw, I consider he was one of
the grandest and noblest characters that I have ever known and, at this
writing, I regret to have to report that he has long since passed over
the river, having died in Houston in the late seventies, a victim of
consumption, and I was deprived of the pleasure of ever seeing him
afterwards.
At the supper table that night I found only a little group of passengers
aboard; two young ladies, one about twelve and the other about eighteen
years old, a gentleman, whom I took to be their brother, wearing a
mustache like my own, just about my age and size, and the captain of the
boat, who sat between us, at the head of the table.
From their conversation I learned that these young ladies’ mother was
aboard and was sick. After supper I went forward, took a seat on the
guards and had a smoke.
The next morning I found only the two young ladies at the table for
breakfast. Having planned to try to get access to the ladies’ end of the
cabin during the trip, thereby avoiding the men aboard, I decided to
form the acquaintance of these two young ladies and their brother and
for this purpose entered into conversation with them, inquiring about
the condition of their mother. While engaged in conversation, eating
breakfast and sitting with my back to the front part of the cabin, I
heard stateroom doors slamming behind me and, in looking around to
ascertain the cause, found a policeman opening every door and looking in
under the berths. Looking still further around I found six more
policemen in the front end of the cabin, standing talking. This first
man mentioned, continued his search in the staterooms, one after the
other, until he passed us about two doors, then looked around and stared
at me. I asked him, “Do you wish anything, sir?” He says, “Yes, sir; I
am looking for a man about your size and appearance.” “Well, take a
seat, sir!” I replied, “I will talk with you as soon as I finish
breakfast.” He did not take a seat, but went back forward and joined the
other policemen.
On the spur of the moment, I, of course, concluded that they were after
me and, having resolved never to surrender, I started to run into my
stateroom close by, get out my two pistols and start to shooting, but on
a further reflection, was puzzled to know if they were after me. I could
not understand why civil officers should be sent after me in place of
soldiers, of which there were a good many in Shreveport. Then, I
remembered the young man at the table the night before, and thought that
they perhaps were after him and if through a mistake I should kill some
of these civil officers, who no doubt had families and may have been
Confederate soldiers, I would feel badly. I reconsidered by resolution
and went forward to talk out of it, if they were after me, and with the
assistance of my friend, Black, I believed I would have no trouble in
doing so.
I walked up to this officer, who had spoken to me and said, “Now, I am
ready to talk to you, sir.” He answered, “I beg your pardon; you are not
the man we are after, but he is aboard here and we have just learned
where he can be found.” I said: “All right, I am going up to the
Southwestern Printing Office to see a friend and, if you do decide that
I am the man you are hunting, you will find me at that place for the
next hour.”
I then went up and spent an hour with my friend Black. When returning to
the boat I met the police officer on the stairs, coming down, and he
said to me, “We have found our man; he was in that woman’s stateroom,
under her berth.” I asked him why he was arrested. He said he did not
know, only there was a requisition from the Governor of Georgia for him.
It seems the sheriff’s office had been abolished by the military, the
sheriff removed from office as an impediment to reconstruction, and this
was the reason this business was turned over to the city police
department.
When I reached the cabin guards, I found the young ladies crying and
asked them what was the matter. They told me that Colonel So-and-So, an
old acquaintance of theirs, had just been arrested, but they did not
know for what cause. It seems that these ladies and their mother lived
in Louisiana, not far from New Orleans, and had been on a visit to
Henderson, Texas, and were just returning home. It is hardly necessary
to say that I kept shy of these folks the balance of the trip.
The next day I met up with an old gentleman by the name of Wilkerson
from Columbia County, Georgia, who had been to Tyler, Texas, for the
purpose of getting his son, who had been acting deputy sheriff, and had
got in some trouble. I found the old gentleman a true Southern man,
expressing his unreserved sympathy for the fallen South and denouncing
in bitter terms the crime of reconstruction, as carried on. Needing some
one to talk to and confide in, I had no hesitancy in making a confidant
of him, which immediately enlisted his sympathy and kind interest and,
without hesitation, he extended me an urgent invitation to go with him
and make his house my home, saying that the armies had never touched his
section of the State; they had got his negroes, but he had plenty of
everything left and as long as he had a morsel left he would divide it
with me. He further said whenever it was safe to send for my family, to
do so, and we could stay at his home where we would be most welcome by
all of his own family, besides himself, his wife, daughter and two sons,
until I got out of my trouble.
Before reaching Marshall I had decided not to go to Mexico and place
myself out of mail communication with my wife, but to go to Memphis,
Tennessee, to see General Forrest, with whom I was well acquainted,
having served under him in the early part of his career. I wanted to ask
him to secure some kind of business for me, then to smuggle my family
there and remain until the military were withdrawn.
On a further consideration of Mr. Wilkerson’s generous offer, especially
the feature of being isolated away from any town and public travel, I
decided I had better accept, which I had no hesitancy in doing and on
our arrival at New Orleans, we took a boat for Mobile, thence by rail to
Atlanta and his station in Columbia County, somewhere between Atlanta
and Augusta.
My reception at the Wilkerson home by the rest of his family, especially
his wife and daughter, after learning of my troubles, was most cordial
and unreserved and certainly they tried to make me feel at home and
forget my trouble during my stay of six weeks. It was here that I
received my first letter from home. After six weeks, doing nothing,
having nothing to occupy my mind, I decided that I ought to do something
more than kill valuable time and try and get into business somewhere,
where I might make a new start in life. For this purpose I requested Mr.
Wilkerson to give me a letter of introduction to his commission merchant
in Augusta, Georgia, where I must try and get into business. The whole
family tried to persuade me to not take such a great risk. I,
nevertheless, parted with them with expressions of my high appreciation
of their kind interest in my behalf and proceeded to Augusta, armed with
Mr. Wilkerson’s letter of introduction to the commission merchant, whose
name I have forgotten.
On arrival at Augusta I put up at the best hotel and, I forgot to
mention, having assumed the name of James E. Smith while at Mr.
Wilkerson’s, I registered under this name. Having to pay five dollars
per day for board and room, I decided that I must get a cheaper place,
some good boarding house if possible. Presenting my letter of
introduction to Mr. Wilkerson’s commission merchant, they stated they
were not making a living for themselves, which was the condition of most
of the business houses in Augusta, as some of the rich people in the
country were sending in and drawing rations. These gentlemen then
referred me to the only good boarding house they knew of which was
reasonable in their rates. It was kept by Mrs. Oakman on Green Street,
where I called and was informed by the lady that she could board me, but
had only one place for me to sleep and that was in a room with two
double beds in it, one of which had only one man sleeping in it, a
printer and ex-Confederate soldier from Macon; if I was willing to sleep
with him, she could take me and to which I agreed.
At the supper table that night I was shown a seat by a one-legged
Federal captain, who was the Provost-Marshal of the place. When I
entered my room that night I was introduced by my bedfellow to a Mr.
Rice of Syracuse, New York, and a telegraph official, whose name I have
forgotten, both occupying the other bed.
I found that Mr. Rice had been sent there by Henry A. Wilson of
Massachusetts, the ex-Vice President of the United States, and Kelley of
Pennsylvania, who were touring the South inciting the negroes to riot
and murder of the whites, which will be remembered by the Mobile riot,
which surpassed perhaps all the other places they visited.
Rice had instructions to buy out the Augusta Chronicle and Constitution,
perhaps the most influential Democratic paper in Georgia and run it in
the interest of the Radical Party, the object being to create a strong
sentiment among the negroes and stimulate their hatred toward their old
masters and the white race generally, and also to keep the scalawag
white element of the country well in line with their fanatical scheme of
making a finish of the South.
While stopping here I claimed to be an ex-Confederate soldier from
Tennessee, seeking employment. I had frequent discussions with Rice
about the causes of the war and especially its cruel conduct by the
Lincoln Government, which he approved unhesitatingly, saying that we
deserved no better and he had come down here for the purpose of getting
a slice of what was left. He said that he expected to make a cool
hundred thousand and go back home and live on it for the balance of his
days, in peace and plenty. On one occasion in our discussions, he seemed
to get mad and said if he had his way about it, he would hang the last
d—— one of us and commence by hanging Jeff Davis. He had hardly
finished the sentence when I had a chair over his head and if it had not
been caught by the telegraph official, I would likely have knocked him
senseless.
On another occasion, when he was organizing his publishing force, he
offered me the position of mailing clerk at a salary of $75.00 per
month, which I turned down contemptuously, telling him that whenever I
got ready to go to the dogs, I would affiliate with his sort. He said he
thought he ought to have one good Rebel in his office. Now, I do not
recall whether he succeeded in buying out the Chronicle and
Constitution, or brought on new material for his paper.
After spending a few days in Augusta, I found that one of my old
commanders, General Lafayette McLaws, was then acting clerk of the
Superior Court, with his office at the court house. I scouted for
General McLaws from Savannah, Georgia, to Bentonville, North Carolina,
and immediately called upon him. I found him wearing his old Confederate
gray, with buttons and trimmings shorn off, and in conversation,
referred to his love of the old uniform, still preferring it, but he
said it was not a matter of choice, but a matter of necessity. He had a
large dependent family and his fee, or salary, hardly furnished him
sufficient means for a decent support; besides, he expected to be ousted
most any day, as the Radical sheriff, whose name I have forgotten, and
Foster Blodgett, the mayor of the city, a renegade ex-Confederate major
of artillery, would no doubt, succeed in their efforts to oust him. It
is hardly necessary to say that during my stay here of several months, I
made him daily visits and had a most pleasant, but sad, intercourse with
him. He seemed to be at a loss as to his future; said he was educated a
soldier, which he had always been and never tried to make a living as a
civilian, in fact, didn’t know anything else. He had an urgent
invitation from General Pope, he said, who was in command of Georgia,
with headquarters at Atlanta, and who was an old classmate of his at
West Point, to make him a visit, but was almost afraid to accept,
fearing unjust criticism by leading men of the State of Georgia, who
would suspect that the object of this visit was to get office and join
the Radical band. This he never expected to do, though the State of
Georgia had treated him badly and especially his rich acquaintances, at
one time friends, and he seemed to feel he was an outcast with no
prospect of ever re-entering the army, therefore, not knowing what to
do.
He declined the visit to General Pope, with due and proper thanks, but,
after a few years, during General Grant’s administration, was appointed
marshal of the Southern District of Georgia and subsequently, by some
other administration, postmaster of the city of Savannah, Georgia, in
which position, he died. I had several nice letters from him while
postmaster at Savannah; one just before his death.
I never cultivated or had much to say to our one-legged captain, the
Provost-Marshal of the place, and in a few days, induced Mrs. Oakman to
give me a seat at another table, thereby keeping my distance. No one at
Augusta, Georgia, ever knew my secret but General McLaws, nor ever
suspected anything wrong.
After spending nearly two months in Augusta, with no prospect of any
business of any character, and having received notice from my wife that
it was thought that they had got on my track, I concluded best to leave
there for Lebanon, Tennessee, where I formed some pleasant acquaintances
during the war, notably Captain James Britton, commanding a company from
that town, called the Cedar Snags, which formed a part of the Fourth
Tennessee Regiment. Captain Britton advised me to stay there until it
became too dangerous, as quite a number of people knew me and I had to
retain my own name in order to keep down discussion of my case among
these people that knew me, thereby making it too public if I had assumed
another name.
At Lebanon I found the family of General Anderson, whose son, Dewitt,
became an intimate friend of mine, while in the army. He insisted on my
spending a couple of weeks at his father’s ranch, about five miles out
on the Nashville pike, which I decided to do. In the meantime, I was
introduced by Captain Britton to Judge Green, the Dean of the great Law
School at Lebanon, also to ex-Governor Campbell, and the Motley
brothers, bankers, over whose bank I roomed with Captain Britton and
boarded at Mr. Toliver’s, his brother-in-law. The above mentioned
gentlemen, except Mr. Toliver and General Anderson, were influential,
strong Union men during the war, but on account of the fanatical
reconstruction policy, had just turned Rebels. I confided my trouble to
ex-Governor Campbell and Judge Green and was assured by Governor
Campbell that if I ever had the misfortune to be captured and my life
was spared before my case could reach Washington, he would personally
proceed to Washington, being an intimate friend of President Johnson’s,
and intercede to have my life spared.
I finally went down to the Anderson ranch to fish and hunt squirrels, in
company with Dewitt, and found the old gentleman in charge, he
preferring the ranch to his home in Lebanon. Returning from a hunt one
day, alone, I found a horse at the gate and was met by Dewitt before
reaching the gate, anxious to explain the object of the visitor’s
presence and especially his character.
Dewitt stated that he was a captain, whose name I have forgotten, who
commanded a company in Stokes’ Regiment, a notorious renegade; Captain
Blackburn, commanding another company, was frequently on scouts with
this gentleman and his company. During the war a Lieutenant Davis of the
Terry Rangers, with eight of his men, were surrounded in a house by
Captain Blackburn, with his company and this man’s company. They
demanded Davis’s surrender, which Davis refused and kept them from the
house all night, until their ammunition, gave out. Davis was badly
wounded, in the nature of a broken ankle, unable to stand up, when he
agreed to surrender, Blackburn promising that their lives should be
spared and they should retain their horses, provided they would leave
Tennessee at once, which Davis agreed to do and advised his men to move
out and turn over their arms. After being disarmed, Blackburn had them
led out into the woods and shot down in cold blood; he, himself,
dragging Davis out to the gate post, cursing him and emptying the
contents of his pistol into his head. Now this man, the guest of General
Anderson, was present with his company, and Dewitt was anxious to
apprise me of his great friendship to his father, during the war. When
the Federals entered Lebanon the first time, General Anderson had some
very fine horses and about eight thousand dollars in gold, with which he
fled to the mountains near Middleton and made this man’s house his home,
being old friends and acquaintances. While staying there a short time,
this man came to him one day and told him that he felt that he could not
stay at home longer, that he was a Union man in principle and, on
account of it, was ostracised by some of the neighboring families and
said he had decided to go and join Stokes’ cavalry, but his joining the
Federal Army should make no difference with General Anderson, that he
wanted him to continue making his house his home, assuring him that he
would be as safe, although he had joined the Federal Army, to stay
there, as though he had joined the Confederate Army. Knowing the man as
he did, General Anderson had no hesitancy in accepting his generous
offer, but remained there for several months with his fine horses and
eight thousand dollars in gold, and this man never betrayed him. This
was the man, then, that was a visitor at General Anderson’s, with his
horse at the gate, of whose character Dewitt was anxious to have me
acquainted, satisfied if he learned that I belonged to the Texas
Rangers, he would refer to the Davis murder.
I entered the house and was introduced to him by General Anderson as Mr.
Graber, formerly of the Texas Rangers. At the table this gentleman
brought up the case of Lieutenant Davis and his man, and denounced it as
a brutal murder, saying that he did his best to keep Blackburn from
executing them, begged and plead for their lives, but to no purpose; he
was second in command and could do nothing.
It seems strange that I should have met with a man who was present at
the murder of Davis and his companions, which happened when I was a
prisoner at Fort Delaware. Had any of Blackburn’s men been caught by any
members of our command, they would certainly have been given a like
treatment.
After spending a week with General Anderson and his son, Dewitt, at
their ranch, I returned to town and had a conference with my several
friends, deciding it would be prudent to leave there and go to Hickman,
Kentucky, where Captain Britton had a cousin, a prominent attorney of
the place, by the name of James Lauderdale, to whom he gave me a letter
of introduction and told me not to hesitate to make a confidant of him
and he would, no doubt, have influence to get me into some kind of
business. Hickman, and a section of country tributary, were considered
somewhat prosperous, at that time, and Hickman was doing a fair
business. Being right on the Mississippi River it was a shipping point
for considerable territory.
On my arrival, I presented my letter of introduction, in the name of J.
D. Roberts. He received me very kindly and made me make his house my
home until I could get into business. Here I found only his wife and his
old father, who were exceedingly kind to me. He soon told me of a young
lawyer, who used to be a member of our regiment, by the name of Theo O.
Goalder, who resided there and practiced law. I immediately called on
him at his office and asked him to assist Major Lauderdale to get me
into some kind of business position. He said he had a young friend by
the name of John Murphy, who was clerking for a Mr. Bailey in a grocery
store. He said that Murphy was getting $50.00 per month and didn’t need
the position, as he was well fixed, and was satisfied that he could
induce him to resign in my favor and he could, no doubt, make it
satisfactory with Mr. Bailey. We called upon Mr. Murphy, to whom I was
introduced as Mr. Roberts, and also to Mr. Bailey, and after stating to
him and Mr. Bailey that I had been a Confederate soldier and was out of
business, seeking work, said I would very much appreciate the position,
which was readily tendered me, through Goalder’s influence. I
immediately went to work at this place, on a salary of $50.00 per month,
and board, which was furnished me at the Bailey home, and a room in the
store.