He that fights and runs away
May turn and fight another day.
--RAY.
After the lamented death of General Jackson the divisions of the Army of
Northern Virginia were organized into three corps, commanded,
respectively, by Longstreet, Ewell, and A. P. Hill. General Heth was
assigned to the command of the Light Division, and the senior colonel of
the first brigade, John M. Brockenbrough took the command made vacant by
Heth's promotion.
In forming his staff Colonel Brockenbrough selected me to be his acting
assistant adjutant-general. As this new sphere of duty required that I
should have a horse, and as it was useless to search for one in the
neighborhood of Fredericksburg, I sought and obtained a furlough in
order that I might seek one in my native county. The time was limited to
five days,--not long enough, as Colonel Brockenbrough knew; but there
was an understanding between us that if I overstayed the limit nothing
would be said about it.
A tramp of a hundred miles was before me, but that was a matter of
indifference to my buoyant body and practiced feet. It was my intention
to cross the river at Tappahannock, and proceed down the Neck to my
brother's home, but the southern bank was picketed by the 15th Virginia
cavalry, which prohibited my passage. Walking back into the town and
finding Colonel John Critcher, who was in command of the regiment, I
explained my mission and requested the liberty of passing through his
line. He informed me that on the other side the 8th Illinois cavalry
were making a raid, and urged that I should not cross and run the risk
of being captured. Telling him that I was familiar with the country and
that I would avoid the enemy, I persisted in the request, being as
desirous of a horse as was Richard III in his final battle. Having
obtained his reluctant written permission I decided that instead of
crossing at Tappahannock I would walk down as far as Owen Hill in
Middlesex county and thence seek a passage over into Lancaster. A negro,
whose service I secured in return for Confederate money, transported me
in a canoe, and landed me at Morattico. During the passage I kept a
sharp lookout up and down the wide river for Yankee gunboats, fearing
that even if I should escape Scylla I might fall into Charybdis; and
indeed some of the marauding bluecoats had but recently departed from
the farm.
Having dined with the hospitable family, I set out for my brother's home
fifteen miles away, not knowing that one part of the enemy was encamped
on his farm and another part in the yard. Being informed that the
hostile invaders were traversing all parts of the county in search of
booty, I sought to evade them by walking not upon the familiar roads but
in the woods parallel with them. When I drew near the county-seat,
instead of crossing the road as prudence suggested I thought I would
walk the road a short distance and then pass over, for my shoes had
become uncomfortably smooth by treading on the fallen foliage of the
pines. Rash procedure!
I had come into the road near what is called "the court-house mill
hill," intending to go down, cross the bridge, and turn again into the
woods in the rear of the village, scouting as I proceeded. When I had
come nearly to the brow of the hill, I met a squadron of ascending
Federal horsemen. If I had been two minutes earlier and they as much
later we would have met as I was descending the hill; and then my
capture would have been inevitable, because the steep banks on either
side would have precluded all hope of escape. I heard the foremost
riders say, "Here're the Rebels, boys; come on." I did not wait to see
more than their heads and breasts as they were coming up the hill. I was
in my full uniform, having a gray overcoat on my shoulder and a felt hat
on my head. In the twinkling of an eye the coat was dropped, and the
hat flew off as I made such a leap into the friendly forest as perhaps
was never equaled by any athlete in the Olympic games. I had no time to
become frightened, but I was angered by being pursued on my native soil
by men who had no right to invade it. It is a wonder that they did not
catch me. I heard them swearing, crying "Halt," and firing pistols.
Three things favored me: the trees and undergrowth were coming into
leaf, I was fleet of foot, and I took an unsuspected direction. Instead
of running at right angles to the road, or obliquely backward, I ran
obliquely forward, in the direction from which they had come. When I was
nearly out of breath, I stopped to listen, and was glad to hear no
sounds save those that were made by my thumping heart. The pursuit had
ended, and I lay down to rest and to recover my wind,--not unlike the
stag that had been chased by Fitz James' hounds.
In a little while rising refreshed from my rest, I went onward and
crossing the mill stream higher up than I had purposed, I arrived at the
residence of my cousin Robert. I had been there but a few minutes when
his wife, who had glanced up the lane, cried out, "Run, run; the Yankees
are coming!" At the first utterance of the word "run," I was making
rapid tracks for the forest in the rear of the house; but before I
reached it she called me back. Two of the Yankees had been there before,
and her excited imagination had mistaken a Rebel officer for two more.
It was her brother-in-law, Ned Stakes, major of the 40th Virginia. He
and I then set out for a place near Wicomico church, where, as he told
me, a few Confederates were in hiding. Having spent the night with them
in the forest, we were in the morning informed by a faithful negro, who
had been acting as commissary, that the Yankees had all gone. Although I
trusted his report, it was with circumspection that I traveled homeward.
The departed Yankees had carried away teams and wagons loaded with
plunder from meat-houses, barns, and cabins, and as many of the negroes
as desired to take advantage of "the year of jubile?" which old Spencer
said "had come." One girl, who refused to depart, was thus upbraided by
her father: "You's a fool, gal, not to go where there's a plenty to eat
and nothing to do." That regiment of cavalry had robbed my brother, and
had treated many other peaceable citizens in the same way. Large was the
booty they carried away, and long was the train of negroes, horses, and
loaded wagons. It is said that "all things are lawful in war"; but this
adage, like many others, sails under false colors. War is lawless, as
Cicero observed: "_Silent leges inter arma_." There was neither
constitutional nor statute law that justified the invasion of the South
by armies from the North; none for the emancipation proclamation; none
for the cruel and destructive deeds that were perpetrated by the Federal
armies.
My furlough had run out, and my object was yet ungained. The next day I
found a bay horse to my liking, five years old, large, tall, and strong,
named John. The owner sold him to me for Confederate money, knowing that
the sale bore close resemblance to a gift. After a night's rest I set
out for the army. Riding in the wake of the retiring sons of Illinois, I
recrossed the river at Bowler's, and on the second day rejoined the
brigade near Fredericksburg. After having been chased by the Yankees, a
feeling of safety came over me as I mingled again with my veteran
companions.
That was not to be my last experience with the 8th Illinois. It was they
who in less than two months afterward took me prisoner in Maryland. Some
of them were riding horses that they had stolen,--no; impressed,--from
my county. They showed me their repeating Spencer carbines, and asked
that if I should be exchanged I would tell the 9th Virginia cavalry that
they would be glad to meet them. The lapse of fifty years has made old
men of them and me. I have forgiven the wrongs those brave fellows
inflicted on my country, and I would be glad to meet them to talk over
the stirring events of the past.