Plantation Sketches Part 8

"How I gwine help him? G'long, you don't know what you talkin' 'bout."

"Whar'bouts did dey come across him?" Mammy inquired.

"Right down yonder at de mill," Jim answered, nodding his head in the direction.

"Good Lord," exclaimed Mammy, "dey must 'a' ketched him directly after he went away!"

This conversation was carried on in such low murmurings that even a listener at a short distance could not have distinguished what was said; the three were very intent, but did not omit occasional cautious glances in the direction of the house.

"Dat's so," Jim replied; "an' den dey shet him up in de mill house, and den I never seed no mo', 'cause I was skeered an' runned away."

Then, after an uneasy pause, he added, "I come 'long dat-a-way soon dis mornin'," and here he murmured so low into Mammy's ear that Dinah, though she stretched her neck, could not catch the word, which turned Mammy's brown face to ashen gray. She stood for a minute like one turned to stone, then staggered to her own doorstep. Sitting down, she buried her head in her ap.r.o.n, and so sat motionless for half an hour, while Jim and Dinah continued their guarded murmurings by the hencoop.

At the end of half an hour she rose, took a bunch of keys from her pocket, went into her house and, closing the door behind her, unlocked her chest. Drawing from it a little workbox, which had, in years gone by, been one of Caroline's cherished Christmas gifts, she opened it.

From beneath her Sunday pocket handkerchief, and a few other articles of special value, she produced another and smaller box which she opened, and, taking from it a gold coin, looked at it tenderly.

"Po' little fellow! G.o.d bless him! he give me this that fus' time he come home from school. I never 'spected to part with it, but ef it's de Lord's will, it may help him now."

With these thoughts, Mammy quickly replaced the things in her chest, put the coin into her pocket, and, taking up the man's hat, which upon week days she always wore, she strode off towards the mill.

As she pa.s.sed by the piazza, she paused one moment irresolute, but murmuring to herself, "'T ain't no use upsettin' Mistis, po' cretur, and I can do it better by myself anyhow," she walked briskly forward, revolving in her mind her plan.

The mill house consisted of two rooms, and in the one in which Jim had reported Sedley to be confined there was a small trap-door. It had been used for regulating the working of the machinery, and led from beneath the house directly to the creek, which ran close to the walls of the house. This trap Mammy had once happened to see opened, and in that way knew of its existence, otherwise she would never have suspected it, as, from its infrequent use, it was usually covered with dust and dirt and could not be distinguished from the rest of the floor. Her plan was to endeavor to get speech with Sedley, tell him of the trap-door, and leave the rest to him. Her great fear had been that she might be refused admittance to him, and hence it was that she had thought of her gold piece, as she hoped by its potent influence to be given a few minutes alone with the prisoner.

There would be no great difficulty for Sedley to lift the trap without noise and, when it was lifted, to swing himself through to the ground, to creep until he came to the thick tangle upon the creek banks, then to swim across and escape into the shelter of the woods beyond. That would be simple enough, and Mammy, full of hopeful thoughts, was walking briskly forward, when suddenly a turn in the path brought into view a small body of Federals, all mounted, and evidently coming from the direction of the mill. They seemed in haste, and she could hear the rattle of their sabres as they cantered by.

Standing amid the broom-sedge, Mammy watched them, casting eager, anxious looks upon them, fearing, dreading to see her boy in their midst, a poor, defenseless captive. Finally, as the last horseman disappeared, she heaved a sigh of infinite relief. "Bless de good Lord, dey ain't took de po' chile wid 'em," and so went on her way.

At length the gray gables of the little mill house came into view, and Mammy, feeling in her pocket to a.s.sure herself that the gold piece was safe at hand, went boldly forward, telling herself that, if she spoke politely, the Yankee guard would not shoot her. So she went on until the little mill came into full view, but with no guard or any other object to inspire fear. All seemed quiet, and the place quite deserted. There were footprints about the door, and broken bushes showed the trampling of both men and horses, but now all was very quiet. The old mill house looked very peaceful, with the yellow autumnal sun shining upon its moss-grown roof, with no sound to break the deep silence, save the low, continuous warbling of a solitary mockingbird which, perched upon an overhanging bough, seemed to review its past joys in low, sweet notes of retrospection.

Upon seeing that the place was quite deserted, Mammy paused, and, after looking around to satisfy herself that this was really the case, ascended the steps and, lifting the latch of the door, looked into the outer room.

"Thank G.o.d!" she murmured, upon finding it empty. "Thank G.o.d! dey's all took deyselves off to town an' lef' him here, locked up by hisself. It raly is 'stonishin' to think how foolish dem creturs is; dey mout ha' knowed as someon' would ha' come an' let him loose."

While thus thinking, she had crossed the room, and was now endeavoring to open the door, which gave admittance to the inner and larger apartment. Finding, as she had antic.i.p.ated, that this door was fastened, she first called to the prisoner within, and, when no answer was returned, she shook the door until at length the crazy old lock gave way and the door creaked slowly back upon its rusty hinges.

"Honey, whar'bouts is you?" Mammy questioned, as, pausing upon the threshold, she peered into the obscurity beyond. The windowless room was dark, and Mammy, after again calling, groped her way in, straining her eyes into the gloom, but unable to discern any object. Then, suddenly, the deep silence and the gloom smote upon her senses, and a great horror came over her. She turned to rush from the room, when her eyes, grown more accustomed to the darkness, fell upon an object which froze the lifeblood in her veins. It lay almost at her feet. She stooped and bent over it, with thick, laboring breath. Very still it lay, with set white face and wide-open, unseeing eyes.

WAR REMINISCENCES

I remember when Wheeler's cavalry pa.s.sed through town that the men, when halted, just dropped in the streets and slept, so that pa.s.sers-by were forced to step over them, but in spite of starvation and weariness the old indomitable spirit would a.s.sert itself. One of the poor fellows, while the column was pa.s.sing by Christ Church, looked up at the weatherc.o.c.k and remarked to a comrade that it was the first and only instance of Wheeler's boys seeing a chicken which they could not get at.

We were singularly fortunate in the neighborhood of Raleigh in having no lack of wholesome food, and in being able to send boxes of provisions to the army around Petersburg. We, in particular, were plentifully supplied from the plantation, a four-horse wagon being constantly engaged in hauling supplies.

One of the greatest taxes upon our resources, and the event that brought the war very closely home to us, was the advent of the cavalcade and ambulances referred to in my notes concerning My Own Early Home.

Most of the hors.e.m.e.n who had come with the ambulances returned to the front the next morning, leaving behind them six or more sick and wounded, with their surgeon and friends to look after them.

Fortunately, the office in the yard (a house with two comfortable rooms) was easily made ready and the wounded men were installed in the quarters which they kept for a month. The wound which afterwards deprived one of the wounded, a young man by the name of Nat Butler, of his arm, was by far the most serious. The attempt to save the arm came very near costing him his life. Instead of healing, the wound constantly sloughed, with great loss of blood. As the wound was between the elbow and the shoulder, the danger attending amputation increased with each sloughing, but the poor boy was deaf to all that his doctor could urge, positively refusing to have the arm amputated, and he grew weaker and weaker with every hemorrhage. Meantime several of the sick and wounded were so far cured as to be able to return to duty. Captain Butler (an older brother of Nat Butler), Dr. Thompson, Mr. Taylor, and several others whose names I have forgotten, and the bugler, named Glanton, still remained. One morning, while I was in the mealroom getting out dinner, I heard Captain Butler's voice calling loudly that young Butler was bleeding to death. I just took time to call out to my daughters, Annie and Kate, who were just starting to town, to drive as quickly as they could to Dr. Johnson's and to ask him to come. Then I ran down to the office, where I found the poor old captain frantic with terror and quite unable to do anything for the patient, who lay senseless and bleeding upon the bed. I can never forget his ghastly appearance; I never saw so bloodless a face. The mouth, partly open, showed a tongue bluish like new flannel. I went to the bedside and pressed the arm above the wound, as hard as I could, and I held it so until the arrival of Dr. Johnson. I had thus succeeded in partially arresting the hemorrhage, and possibly may have saved young Butler's life. I started to leave as soon as the doctor came, and when I arose from my knees, I realized for the first time that I was covered with blood. The amputation could no longer be deferred, and the operation took place as soon as the patient's strength permitted, which was, I think, two days after the hemorrhage.

There was then barely a chance that he could survive in his weak condition. I shall never forget how the girls and I sat upon the front steps and watched the silent men standing before the office,--it seemed as though the suspense would never end. After the amputation, Butler lay for twenty-four hours like one dead. Finally, when he did rally sufficiently to be given something, I sent our excellent nurse, Caroline, to take care of him, for I could not trust him to the ignorant though kindly meant attentions of his friends. At this time General Galbraith Butler was our guest, and, as the Norrises had now left for Richmond, I gave him a room in the house. He was quite ill there for several days, during which time the house was thronged with messengers from the front. It gives me pleasure to say that they conducted themselves like polished gentlemen, who appreciated the comforts which they received.

Under Caroline's devoted nursing Nat Butler slowly returned to life and to a degree of strength. When it became evident that Raleigh would soon be in possession of the enemy, Nat Butler declared that he preferred the risk of dying by exposure to that of being captured. It was with the saddest forebodings that we prepared for his departure.

The ambulance was made comfortable with pillows, blankets, etc., and nothing was omitted that could contribute to the well-being of the poor sufferer. It was a painful parting, as we all knew that we were on the eve of horrors that we dared not contemplate. The moon shone upon the sorrowful little cortege, as it pa.s.sed beneath the trees, and we were too sad for tears, as we watched it go slowly out of sight.

Nat Butler lived, and visited us a year later, but his life was a brief one.

We were up late that night, bidding adieu to many friends. Indeed, the past few days had been days of varied and intense excitement.

People who under ordinary circ.u.mstances would have scarcely recognized each other as acquaintances now met and parted as old and dear friends. Mounted officers would come cantering up just for a handshake and a G.o.d-keep-you. We were admonished to take off rings or any little bits of jewelry which we might wear. A gentleman sitting by me had concealed my watch in my ball of knitting cotton. People everywhere were wildly seeking places wherein to conceal their valuables. We had no reason to imagine that our house was safer than others, but we could not refuse to receive the trunks and boxes brought to us in desperation, by refugees chiefly, who were leaving town in a panic, and going they knew not whither. All that we could promise was that they should be as well cared for as were our own; and so the garret was packed with all sorts of trunks and boxes, many of which were not claimed until the next autumn.

I cannot pretend to give you an idea of the excitement and turmoil of that last week of the Confederacy. Every minute of your grandfather's time was taken up with his duties as a state officer, until he, in company with Governor Graham and Dr. Warren, were despatched by Governor Vance to meet Sherman with a flag of truce and to surrender the town. He was absent upon this mission upon a night that I happened to go into the dining-room and found several rough-looking men, whom I took to be Confederates, seated at supper. Robert was waiting upon them, and Adelaide talking, while one of my little children was seated cosily upon the knee of a particularly dirty-looking man. This did not please me, for there was a freedom of manner about them which I had never seen in one of our men before. Still, I had no suspicion that they were not what they seemed, and, being called off, I left them, although a certain uncomfortable feeling caused me to do so unwillingly. Just as I left, a clatter of horses' feet was heard outside, and Adelaide (always loquacious), exclaimed, "Here comes the General and his staff!" The words were scarcely uttered before the men jumped from their seats and dashed from the room. We were afterwards convinced that they were some of the sc.u.m of Sherman's army, and while we (myself and daughters) were sitting quite unsuspectingly, they were lurking near us.

I omitted to mention that, at our urgent invitation, our dear friends the Burgwyns had come to us, and, in the midst of other distractions, I was occupied in disposing of their numerous boxes, barrels, and pictures. There was a universal feeling that there would be a degree of safety in numbers, and we could not possibly have enjoyed more congenial companionship than that of our cousins, the Burgwyns. Upon that day we prepared twenty lunches, which were most thankfully received. I recollect that towards evening some hot tea was made for our old friend, Mr. John Robinson. He had been at work all day, shipping freight and provisions, and transferring engines to Greensboro, to which place he was now going. He had had nothing to eat, and was, as you may imagine, very tired, and so hungry that his lunch of cold ham, bread, and b.u.t.ter, with many cups of tea, was so much enjoyed that in after life he often spoke of it with real grat.i.tude. When he said good-by, he gave into my keeping a little box of trinkets, requesting me to keep them for him, as he had no idea what his destination might be. I, of course, said that I would try to keep them safely; and I did, returning them just as I had received them, some months later.

Upon that day, our dinner was but a meagre one, consisting chiefly of soup, and, as the very last of the silver had been hidden out of sight, we were compelled to take it from teacups. Upon that night, after the stir and bustle of the day had subsided, after the last good-by had been uttered, and the last horseman had galloped away, a most intense stillness followed, which, if possible, increased our melancholy, and magnified our fearful apprehensions of what was to come.

On the following morning, I saw three odd, rough-looking men come galloping up from the barn. They were mounted upon mules, were seated far forward upon the withers, and had their knees drawn up after a most ungainly fashion. I saw at a glance that they were not our countrymen. They rode furiously into the yard, where they halted abruptly. The servants stood gaping at them in stupid bewilderment. I went forward and asked them the meaning of this intrusion. Their reply was an insolent demand for my keys. Then I knew that they were b.u.mmers. During the whole of this period your grandfather had had more than his hands full at his office, taking care of and sending off government stores, and doing a thousand other things, so that all the domestic offices rested with me. I told the b.u.mmers, with a great show of courage, that I had no idea of giving them my keys, and as I walked off, feeling quite triumphant, I had the mortification of seeing them dismount and swagger to the doors of the mealroom, smokehouse, and storeroom, slip their miserable, dastardly swords into the locks, and open the doors, with the most perfect ease. Conscious now of my own weakness, I would not condescend to parley with them, and watched them at their insolent and thievish game, until their mules were almost hidden beneath the load of hams, sausages, and other plunder.

Then they remounted, and dashed off at the same furious pace as they had come. In a little time after others came and played the same game, only adding to their abominable thievishness by driving off our mules and all our cattle. Our horses, I am glad to say, had been sent away.

It was towards noon upon that fatal day that we espied a long blue line crawling serpent-like around a distant hill. Silently we watched, as it uncoiled itself, ever drawing nearer and still nearer, until the one great reptile developed into many reptiles and took the form of men. Men in blue tramping everywhere, hors.e.m.e.n careering about us with no apparent object, wagons crashing through fences as though they had been made of paper. The negroes stood like dumb things, in stupid dismay. It was at a later period that their time of joy came (in many instances it never came); then the only feeling was one of awe.

In an incredibly short time tents were pitched, the flag run up, and the Yankees were here. The crowd grew more dense. A large column was pa.s.sing through the grove at almost a run, when, to my horror, I saw Adelaide and Lizzie, each with one of my little girls in her arms, rushing along in their midst in a state of such wild excitement that they had almost lost their reason. Almost in despair, I rushed after them, sometimes seeing them, only to lose them again in the moving ma.s.s. As I pa.s.sed a soldier I signed to him for help; I do not think I could have spoken. He saw the danger that threatened my children, and, overtaking the two nurses, took the children and brought them to me.

The women had meant no harm, and did not realize the risk.

As I before remarked, every one during this period of panic entertained an idea that he must commit his valuables to the keeping of some one else; for instance, my sister gave her set of pearls to her maid Sally for safe keeping, and Sally, in her turn, brought them to Caroline (her mother). Caroline, not knowing a safe place of concealment, lifted a stone from her hearth, placed the casket in the cavity, and replaced the stone; this, however, caused the stone to fit loosely in the hole from which it had been displaced, and Caroline, in her fear lest this should lead to the discovery of the pearls, sat all night with her feet resting upon it. She came to me in the morning, looking perfectly haggard, and told me that she had never before pa.s.sed through such a night of horror, for her house had been crowded with Federals, prying into every corner and taking whatever they fancied. With my sister's casket, she handed me a red cotton handkerchief tied up and full of silver coins, belonging to herself and her husband. She had no place in which to keep it, and asked me to take care of it. I, of course, took charge of it and kept it for her until the last bluecoat had left the place, which was not until August; for, after the departure of the army, a regiment was left in our grove.

One day General Logan came to the door and said that he had reason to believe that a Confederate officer was concealed in the house, and, if I kept his presence a secret, he threatened me with the consequences. The Federals, while searching for buried treasure, had discovered the amputated arm of poor young Butler, and had jumped to the conclusion that he was concealed in the house. At all events, it served as a plea for them to claim that he was there. When I a.s.sured him that this rumor was quite false, his manner was so utterly incredulous that I requested him to satisfy himself of the truth of my a.s.sertion by making a search of the entire house and outbuildings. I entreated him to do this, for his threats had so alarmed me that I felt that in that alone lay our preservation. His reply, with an insolent, jeering laugh, was: "I will not take that trouble, for my boys will settle that question."

The safeguards stationed both at the back and front protected the house. For, whatever might have been their feelings, they dared not relax in their vigilance. The discipline in that army was perfect.

Not long after the above-mentioned interview with Logan, we were told (by a servant, I think), that the whole division was going to leave that night. This was true. It was before the articles of the surrender had been signed, and Logan was in pursuit of General Johnston. It was a night of such commotion that not one of the family retired to rest.

It was discovered, when too late for redress, that Logan had withdrawn our safeguards, taken every commanding officer with him, and had left us to the mercy of his wagon train of b.u.mmers and of negroes. That night of terror terminated in a violent storm, in the midst of which your grandfather set out for the headquarters in town for the purpose of demanding a safeguard. With daylight came a greater feeling of safety, so we separated, the girls going to their rooms, and I to mine, in order to refresh ourselves and make a fresh toilet. While so engaged, I kept hearing the bells ringing and tinkling incessantly, and, while I was hurrying to put on my dress in order to inquire the meaning of this, Caroline and Adelaide rushed in, exclaiming that men were climbing the walls of the house, and the tinkling of the bells was caused by their twisting them off the wires. These women, whose natural color was bright mulatto, now looked ashy. I do not think that I spoke a word, but just flew into the nursery, took the children, and ran up the stairs. As I pa.s.sed by the sitting, room, I met Kate, all disheveled, running out and saying that men were climbing into her window. I just took time to lock the door between her room and the sitting-room, and then we all ran upstairs, where the Burgwyns and my other girls were quietly dressing, in entire ignorance of what was taking place. It seems strange that I should recollect every trifle so vividly; I remember, even now, that, as I ran up the stair, my throat and mouth became so dry that I could not speak. From the window at the head of the stair nothing was visible but a sea of upturned faces; not just by the house, but away down the slope, as far as the eye could reach, were men's upturned faces. I can never forget the look upon Mrs. Burgwyn's face as she whispered, "We can throw ourselves from the window." My poor, craven heart might have failed me, but I am convinced that she could have done it. While we thus stood, a poor, cowering, terror-stricken group, steps were heard approaching, and a tall figure slowly ascended the stairs, and a grim, saturnine-faced man stood before us, and said, "I don't know that I can save you, but for the sake of my mother and sisters I will do all that I can do." I do not remember whether any one made a reply or not, I only recollect that he went as deliberately as he had come. When your grandfather returned, having with difficulty succeeded in procuring the permit for a safeguard, the mob had begun to disperse. Our deliverer was a man named Fort. He was division quartermaster, and had been left in charge of the wagon trains. He was from one of the Western States, Iowa, I believe. He was a good man, and was G.o.d's instrument to save us from destruction. He remained near the house all through the day, and at first said that he would sleep that night inside the dwelling, but afterwards told your grandfather that, upon further consideration, he thought it best that he should stay outside, so his tent was pitched close to the house, and there he remained until his command left. He was forbidding in manner, and would accept no thanks. I think that he hated us as Southerners, but acted from humanity.

Mr. Burgwyn was suffering from an apoplectic stroke, and was lying insensible. My son had not returned from Appomattox. Had any man been with us, he would have been utterly helpless, and would probably have been murdered.

One day, either immediately preceding or following the incident just related, our ever-faithful man, Frank, stealthily entered the house.

He was evidently afraid of being observed, for he slipped in, and, closing the door after him, asked to speak a word to his master. When your grandfather came, Frank almost whispered his communication, as though afraid of being overheard. "Master," he said, "I come to ask you, please, sir, don't go out of the house to-day;" he would not say why he gave this warning, and it was not until afterwards that we found that the Federals had intended to hang your grandfather up until he told them where our silver was hidden. I rejoice to say that they did not get one piece of it, although a part of it was buried in the branch that runs at the foot of the grove, and, in digging out a place for watering their horses, they had actually thrown the sand upon the box, thus burying it deeper.

I could relate many other incidents of this period, some of them rather amusing; but it is time to bring my reminiscences to a close.

But before doing so, I must say a word about our last safeguard, Monhagan. He was Irish, and possessed all of the best attributes of the Irish character. After the departure of Logan's division, with the rest of Sherman's army, this man was deputed to guard the place, as a regiment was still quartered in the grove. He stayed until August, and, besides faithfully discharging his duties, he exerted himself in other and various ways to ameliorate the inconveniences to which we were subjected. Our servants, lounging in idleness, contented themselves with professions as idle. Frank, acting upon his master's advice, had taken his family to the plantation. Adelaide was ill the greater part of the summer with brain fever. Monhagan worked the garden, gathered fruit and vegetables, and performed many other services. I felt a little amused when he one day brought me all his money and asked me to take care of it for him. At first I positively refused to take upon myself this responsibility, but yielded at last, and made him count it, and kept it as long as he remained. Every Sat.u.r.day afternoon he would come and ask me to let him have one dollar and allow him to go to town for a little while. He left with the regiment in August, and he wrote once to your uncle Tom from New York, but omitted to give his address, which we regretted, as we would have liked to have him as a gardener.