Part 4

Now, as I continue the sad tale of my life, I would not like to rehearse the tale that Henry revealed to me of his escape in an endeavor to get through to our lines after he left me. He had gone south a short distance and had come back to the plantation, not finding any clue as to my whereabouts. He had crossed the river, which I have already mentioned. He then concluded to go east, in the direction of Richmond, for he had learned that it was a great deal less distance to travel to get through to our lines in this way than to go west to Knoxville, Tenn. So he continued to travel for several days until he came to a plantation where there was no one at home. He said that he succeeded in getting into the plantation house, but he did not find anything to eat of any account. He found a ten dollar bill in an old pair of pants that he took possession of. He then continued to travel for some distance in the day-time, as well as night, and finally came to a small place where there was a log hut, and located in this hut was an old man, working at shoemaking. He went to the door of this hut and here he found, to his amazement, three rebels in full uniform, who invited him in, but he declined to go in, and remained at the door of the hut. There was some corn in a pile close to the door, and he got some of it and put it in the fire that was close at hand, and as soon as he stepped inside to help himself to the parched corn the enemy tried to get between him and the door, but he kept them back with a large club that he carried in his hands. These rebels, it seemed, had not brought any arms with them.

Well, soon Henry left this place and went right back in a piece of woods in the same direction from whence he had come, and just as soon as he could he went straight back to the same house and this old man’s yard. He had a large rooster and some chickens running about. He killed the rooster and gave the old man the ten dollar Confederate bill and stayed right there, while the rebels took his back track. Henry started as soon as the old man had stewed this fowl for him.

The only other incident that I remember was getting through the rebel picket lines on the James River, near Richmond, and his making a signal of distress to a gunboat and their coming ashore and getting him, while on the high banks there were lines of rebel pickets that he had succeeded in getting through. He was taken into our lines at City Point, and here he reported that he thought the rebels had killed me at the negro shanty. This story my comrade had told the captain of my company about and he had sent this word to my parents at home.

I will continue my story. As I have already told you, dear reader, my journey lay in a northwesterly direction from Florence prison, and at the negro shanty where we were separated it was very much nearer to our lines at Richmond than it was to Knoxville, Tenn., but while we were together we thought it was more difficult than to try to get to our lines at Knoxville, but after we were separated Henry made up his mind to try the nearest point. So I continued on my sad and lonely journey, not knowing what there was in store for me. If I had known what was going to befall me, it is possible this story would never have been written.

After I left the river and continued my journey I was now nearing the lines of West Virginia and the Blue Ridge mountains. I traveled a good many dark nights after I came in sight of the Blue Ridge before I came to them, and such nights—laying in swamps and the loneliest places that I could find—to avoid being discovered, and eating raw sweet potatoes and hard corn. It was very seldom I stopped to ask for anything to eat until I was starved into doing so.

Oh, how often since have I learned to put all my faith in God! I have frequently thought of the passage of scripture where the Saviour said the foxes have holes and the birds have nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head. How much I feel at this time that this was truly my condition.

Soon I felt as I neared the mountains, and at this time near the lines of West Virginia, that I must have something besides the stuff that I had been subsisting on or I would have to give up. I finally came to an old deserted house and at this time there was snow on the ground, some two or three inches deep. Then imagine a poor starved skeleton, weighing less than one hundred pounds, traveling the forests and swamps without anything but a pair of drawers and an old shirt; no hat or cap, no shoes, nothing but old rags tied around the feet, thinking of home and its warm fireside. Well, dear reader, this was my sad plight!

As I was saying, I had stopped at an old plantation to look around. Soon I saw a man about half a mile away toward the mountains, gathering corn from the field, with an old gray horse. I made myself known to him, for by this time I was getting very weak, not having had anything to eat since Henry and I had been separated at the negro shanty. If I remember right, there had been at least a week, if not better, since I had tasted food. When I got to the old man I gave him to understand that I was a fugitive and was on my way to Ash county, West Virginia. My way and manner of talking was not like that of the people here, so the old man told me he reckoned that I was a Yank from Salsbury prison, but he seemed to receive me so kindly that I told him who I was after he had told me that most of the people there were Union folks. This he did to win my confidence. Oh, how sorry I was as soon as I went to the house, for the old lady was, I believe, the hardest looking old woman, with a Roman nose, and such eyes I never saw, as she glared on me when I uttered the word that we were rebels. Here there was a son about thirty years old, seated in a chair, who was a sad sight, for he appeared to be perfectly helpless and he would repeat just like some parrot the same words, “Yes, we are rebels here,” and how simple he seemed to act. Now the old man told the old lady to give me some hoecake if there was any and he at this time showed his true colors, for he told me that there was a company being raised and I had better wait and eat some hoecake until he would return, and I would get a good suit of rebel gray, worth thirty or forty dollars a suit, and fifty dollars bounty. On saying this he left me, and jumping on the back of the old gray horse went off on the run to a small town four miles to the west and south of his place. This old man, I think, told me that he was eighty years old. As soon as he was gone I told the old lady if there was any hoecake in the house that I must have it. She still insisted that they were rebels and had nothing for a Yankee. Then I told her that I would have to help myself, for I was determined to have something to eat or die in the attempt. I had almost become mad on account of going so long and having so little to subsist on. You see the harvest had gone by and the cold, bleak rains and some snow would fall every few days.

Now, kind reader, comes one more sad incident of my experience in life. I had finally started for the cupboard, when the old lady told me that she would give me some hoecake, and that I must not try to go until “Pa” came home, and if I did she would have to stop me. I sat and ate the corn cake, which was done very soon, and then I started for the door. It seemed so strange that every time the old lady would say anything the poor crippled young man would repeat most everything his poor old mother would say. When I started to go to the door the old lady stepped between me and the door and I told her if she did not step aside that I would have to use force enough to put her aside, for go I must. She had in her hand a fire poker and I felt afraid that I would have to war with a poor old woman. I told her that go I must, and she stepped aside, sending curses after me.

I must say right here that I had at last reached the Blue Ridge mountains, or at least this old man’s place was less than half a mile from the foot of the mountains. Just before I could reach the foot of these mountains I had to cross a large, deep stream. I found that I could not get anything to cross on, though I looked diligently for a boat, and to cross a stream some one hundred rods or so across at such a time of year as it was then meant something. Believing it meant death or capture by the rebels, who would soon be on my trail, I nerved myself for this perilous undertaking. This was surely one of the coldest baths that I had ever before experienced. Now before me was one of the worst things that I had ever encountered in all my life, for if any of the readers of this story ever have been near the Blue Ridge mountains they know that unless a person finds a trail to cross the mountains with it is almost an impossibility to get over them. I knew nothing of any trail and knew from all appearances, and from what I could hear, that bloodhounds would soon be in pursuit of me, so I commenced to climb the side of the steep, rugged mountains, several hundred feet in height, which seemed to be almost perpendicular. After I had climbed for a long way up I could hear the hounds in pursuit of me way below, but I was sure that I had climbed where no human foot had ever been before. Well, I did not dare to look back.

This reminds me of the time when two certain people were commanded to flee and not to look back. My position reminded me of those two. You cannot imagine my feelings when I would get hold of some large bush that grew in the crevices of the rocks to have them give way and seem as though they would tear loose and let me fall some three or four hundred feet below. Now, to tell the whole truth, dear reader, it was over half a mile or more, and nearly perpendicular. The hounds could not climb after me, and once more I was satisfied that I had escaped another Southern hell, or I might say, death.

But what is death if the soul is in God’s care? Well, praise God, it does seem that His hand was with me and is still with me in this last sketch of my life.

Still I continued to climb the mountain side until I got on top of one of the highest points before I dared to look down, and oh, what a sight you never have had, dear reader, being several thousand feet above the common level. Looking down you would be surprised at your enormous height. I must say that I believe I had climbed at least two thousand feet. At last I had gotten to where it was not so steep, yet it was still quite a distance from the top of the Blue Ridge mountains. After I had traveled some distance further I finally found it to be quite difficult to make much headway on a strange mountain, and that after night, and if, dear reader, you have ever been on any mountain you will find it more or less uneven and hard to climb, even in the daytime.

As I still continued to travel along, I soon came to a place which seemed impossible for me to get over. It was a very deep gorge or a cut, which seemed to be at least eighty or ninety feet from top to bottom, and over ten yards across. On either side it seemed to be perfectly straight up and down. Well, after some thought, I climbed down on what seemed to be a tall spruce tree, and after I got down in the bottom I found a stream of cold water which seemed to be running in the direction from which I had come. Here I was right under the solid rocks and in a cave immediately underneath from where I had climbed down. I had a curious desire, though it was very dark in this cave, to go in and see how far it extended under the rocks. I thought how much I would have given at this time for a torch. Upon the impulse of the moment, I started into this cave and wandered for several rods. I continued for some distance. I had several times stepped from side to side of this cave and fell on the slippery and slimy stones in the bottom. There were many leaves that would rustle under my feet, and, oh, the many thoughts that would pass through my mind of some deep, unknown space that I might step off into, fall on the rocks and be killed. And if I should lie down to sleep and never awaken again! Such thoughts would crowd themselves upon my mind until I finally concluded to go back and climb another tree on the other side of the chasm. As I turned to go, to my surprise I heard, further back in the cave, a hoarse growl. This seemed to come closer, and if ever anyone needed help it seemed I needed it just now, for I could see two bright orbs or eyes looking right at me, and it seemed that every minute that what I had at this time encountered would soon bounce upon me. I continued to look right at the object until I had backed myself nearly to the mouth of the cave, and I soon got out on the opposite side by climbing another tall evergreen. After having crossed these mountains and gotten on the other side I met with a West Virginian. He told me that he had been for many years an old trapper, and had killed bears in this part of the mountains that weighed fully four hundred pounds. Now, it might be if I had stayed in that cave that this tale would never have been written.

I continued to travel until I came to a large farm on the top of this mountain, a farm of over one hundred acres, and all cleared. It seemed so funny to find a large farm away on top of such a large and high mountain. I went up to the house and found it to be very large and black in color, which had a large, old-fashioned, fire-place, made of stone and sticks. There was but one door and one window, but it was a large house. The roof ran very low on the north side, and on the south side was the door and window. I went to this door and looked in the window and saw three or four pairs of cavalry boots, with spurs attached to them, sitting by the fire-place on the hearth. I made up my mind that it was best not to disturb these folks, for I did not like the looks of those boots and spurs. I went around the house and found on the north side a mess of shelves and on them quite a number of old-fashioned crocks all full of nice sweet milk. I drank a sup of it and then went on and looked for a mountain trail that I knew must lead down off this mountain somewhere. Soon I found it and followed it until I arrived in the village below. I went but a very short distance before I came to a log house, and found myself so hungry and faint that I had to call on the occupants of this house for a bite to eat. This night’s travel had been well spent in getting over the mountains thus far. I went up to the door rather tremblingly and knocked for admittance, when a kind old man came to the door. I told him what I desired and he invited me into his house. This was about two o’clock in the morning. This proved to be one more hard spent night of travel. The whole family, composed of a very kind wife and a daughter, got up and in a very short time had a good breakfast. We all sat down and ate. It was about half past three o’clock. I told these people that I wished to go as soon as possible. I told them in as few words as possible how I had suffered and about the perilous times that I had experienced. He now told me that he had hunted in the mountains that I had just crossed and told about killing bears that weighed over four hundred pounds. Now when we all had eaten, I started again on my journey, and I felt anxious to get away, for I had great encouragement that I would soon get to our lines. As we parted, after so short a stay, the kind old lady and her daughter shook hands with me and bade me God speed. The kind old gentleman went with me some distance from their place to direct me to the line of Tennessee. Now this kind old man told me to keep in line with the Blue Ridge mountains and to keep them to my left and follow the Chestnut Ridge, along in range with the Blue Ridge. He told me to be sure and not leave this Ridge, and it would bring me to what was called the Iron and Doe mountain. This mountain I would have to cross in order to get into our lines in Tennessee. So after a kind greeting and a wish for God’s speed he parted with me.

I have often wished that I could have kept a diary of the names of the people who had befriended me on my journey. How many times have I thought of God’s hand being in my travels.

I was instructed to be sure and keep in range of the mountains—that is, the Blue Ridge—and I would be sure to go all right. As I have said before, I had no intention of doing any traveling in the daytime. Thus far it had all been done nights, but after the old man left me and I had got on the Chestnut Ridge I found some of the largest chestnuts that I ever saw in my life. So I thought that I would pick up some of them and carry them along with me, and as I was doing so I heard a man down in the valley calling hogs, and it seemed as though he was looking in the direction I was in. He seemed to be armed with a gun, so I got on the other side of the ridge and hurried along for some distance, when I again stopped where the nuts seemed to be very thick, when I looked up to find the object of my pursuit holding his gun on me and not over thirty rods away. This was the first time that I had been caught in so close a place.

I had now got some five or six hundred miles from Florence prison. As soon as I saw the rebel I thought I would run. Then I started to walk very fast, and it seemed that he would soon shoot me, judging from the way he acted. So I turned and spoke to him, and he told me that he reckoned he would have shot me if I had not stopped. We sat on an old log and talked for a long time, and I must say that this was the first time in my life that I ever talked politics, but it seemed as though I never had such power of speech before, for I told this rebel plainly that the South had seceded and rebelled from the best government on earth, and if Jeff Davis was hung that the war would close. The rebel would say the same about our martyred Lincoln, and at last this rebel home guard, or guerilla, told me that I would have to go with him. This seemed hard after having suffered what I had to get away from those rebel hell pens to be taken back. It discouraged me so much that I concluded to die rather than go where he would turn me over to any home guards, for I knew it meant almost certain death to any Yankee to be retaken after trying to get away from prison. Oh, how I plead for him to let me go, and told him no one would ever know except God if he did. I plead as I never plead before in all my life, and shed fountains of tears, but still it seemed all in vain. The rebel told me that he would have to take me to a home guard about four miles distant, and he ordered me to get up and go with him. Now when I saw that my entreaties would not prevail, I concluded that I would get away from him some way or die in the attempt. So I pretended to be very lame and could hardly go, and as we traveled along told him that I would still live in hopes of getting through to our lines and to friends. He allowed me to walk a little in his rear, and still sobbing and pleading for him to let me go. I had my mind made up to get his gun out of his left hand as he seemed to be trailing it along and to brain him and get away and leave his carcass on the Chestnut Ridge to feed the fowls, or to be found by some other home guards. Now, as I was contemplating this and still pleading for him to let me go, having already attempted to reach his gun, I spoke of my poor old mother, who was waiting at her sad fireside, after losing one of her boys in the Battle of the Wilderness, and whose bones were lying in the Alexandria cemetery, and who died before he was sixteen years old. When I spoke of this and my poor suffering mother at home it seemed to break him up and he turned around just as I was about to make the final attempt to snatch his gun. He looked very pale, and, sobbing, told me that he had a good mother once who used to pray for her wayward boy, but she was gone now. He said: “If you will promise not to tell who you are or where you came from we will go down to that house in the valley and get something to eat and you can go,” and then it was that my heart was lifted, for I could see that he meant what he said. Still I continued to be very careful not to trust him too far. Well, we went to the house and found two nice looking women there, one weaving the sheep’s gray cloth, and they asked me very kindly where I came from. I told them that I was only a refugee. That was all my guide allowed me to tell. Now the food that was set on the table for me to eat was something immense. The good hostess sat on the table one full old-fashioned gallon crock of milk and a nice dish of butter, a bowl of nice apple sauce, a plate of biscuits and a loaf of corn bread. Oh, how, I thought of my own home as I sat eating. It seemed that I never would get through. They all sat and gazed at me while I ate, and after eating nearly all that there was on the table—at least nearly a whole gallon of milk, and most all that I have mentioned—the rebel came to me and placed his hand on my shoulder and told me that he reckoned I had better stop eating if I did not want to kill myself. The two ladies of the house looked sadly after me when I started off, and as soon as we got out of the house the rebel told me to keep straight east and that I need not be afraid to stop anywhere. I concluded that he wanted some one else to take me, but did not go a mile before turning to the northwest, the same direction I had traveled all the way when the stars were my only guide.

Henry and I had found on an old southern map where Knoxville, Tenn., lay from Florence prison. I had not gone over half a mile when I began to get sick, and I vomited all that I had eaten. It seemed as though it would kill me, eating so much milk and apple sauce. It caused gas in my poor, weak stomach.

It came on foul, cold and rainy weather and traveling without the guide of the stars was very difficult. I traveled for several nights and parts of days, to find myself back to the very house that I had left, and to my joy found them good Union folks. The women received me kindly and concealed me in the loft of the small barn. The next night found me again on my way.

It seemed as though I had traveled in the last preceding days, and had made no headway, over seventy-five miles. I got started again before night and came to where there was a large chestnut orchard, of over ten acres, and the limbs of the trees grew close to the ground. In this orchard there was a large drove of hogs fatting on the nuts that they got to eat, and right to the left of this was a large field of over one hundred acres of pasture and a vast herd of cattle was feeding in this field. Down to the north of the field I spoke of, in which the hogs were, was a large brick house and just south of the house stood several graycoats looking at me. The cattle were following me while I crossed this large field and their bellowing made me very nervous.

Well, after I had traveled again for nearly three nights and days, in cloudy weather, I found myself crossing this same field, in the same place, going in the same direction. Now this kind of traveling nearly broke my heart. I saw the hogs, to make sure, and the chestnut orchard and the brick house. Oh, how I cried to see what a waste of time I had made. I came to the conclusion that I would not travel any more unless I had settled weather. This event caused me to shed bitter tears once more, and to recall this to my memory makes me feel extremely sad, but I do thank God from the depth of my heart that I have learned to trust Him under every circumstance, and when I look back over these scenes and memories of the past I feel to praise God for preserving my unprofitable life.