Sword and Pen Part 17

Consequently, from the deep-mouthed baying of the blood-hound, or the mastiff, to the sniff and snarl of the rat-terrier, their music was not agreeable to the fugitives, who had, however, to contend with this difficulty, and surmount it.

Confining themselves to the pathless forest, the roads were now frequently lost sight of for miles. Occasionally, in the effort to shun the high-road, they would come suddenly upon a dwelling, and the inevitable lank, yellow dog would pounce out upon them, and add wings to their feet.

It was always a pleasant interruption of their lonely tramp to meet any negroes. These people, so patient under oppression, so humble under correction, were ever faithful and devoted to those whom they believed to be the friends of their race. Our hero, of course, had rare opportunities of observing the characteristics of this people. Simple, harmless and gentle, crimes of violence among them were very rare, and the cruelties practised upon them seem rather to have opened their hearts to sympathy than to have hardened them into vindictiveness.

With the aid of many of these devoted people, Glazier and his friend reached and crossed the North Edisto, the latter a task of some magnitude. The river, at the point where they reached it, is not a single stream, but a maze of creeks and bayous, all of which it was necessary to cross in order to attain the opposite bank of what is known as the South Edisto River.

While pa.s.sing over a bridge that spanned one of the creeks, Glazier heard footsteps upon another bridge in their rear; and so trained and acute does the ear of man become when disciplined in such a school of perilous experiences, that he knew at once they had nothing to fear from those who followed; for, instead of the bold, firm tread of the man who hunts, it was the uncertain, hesitating, half-halting step of the hunted.

"Escaped prisoners," whispered our two friends simultaneously, and Glazier, stepping boldly forth, gave the challenge, "Who goes there!"

"With a trembling start," says our fugitive hero, "the foremost man replied, 'Friends!'

"'Halt, friends! and advance one,'" commanded Lieutenant Glazier.

Very cautiously, and with the manner of one ready to turn at any moment and dash into the recesses of the swamp, one of the strangers came forward to within a few feet of his interrogator, and craning his body over, peered nervously into his face. Thereupon a mutual recognition as Federals was the result, and Lemon discovered that one of the new comers had been a fellow-prisoner with himself. This made matters pleasant, and although it was mutually agreed that it would be wise to separate, and take different routes, both parties unconsciously protracted the meeting until they were startled into caution by perceiving almost directly in front of them, surrounding a large fire, a Confederate encampment. "It proved to be a squad of tax-gatherers, going about the country with quartermasters' wagons, collecting supplies."

Further progress was now impossible. The enemy occupied the only practicable road in front, and they were flanked on both sides by large ponds of water. Our party thereupon stealthily retreated into the woods, where they finally concluded to make themselves contented for the remainder of the night.

CHAPTER XXII.

PROGRESS OF THE FUGITIVES.

Parting company.--Thirst and no water.--Hoping for the end.--The boy and the chicken.--Conversation of ladies overheard.--The fugitives pursued.--The sleeping village.--Captain Bryant.--The _alba sus._--Justifiable murder, and a delicious meal.--Darkies and their prayers.--Man proposes; G.o.d disposes.--An adventure.--_A ruse de guerre._--Across the Savannah.

On emerging from their place of concealment, the following morning, the road proved to be once more open. The tax-collectors had departed.

Warned by the experience of the previous night the newly found friends reluctantly parted company, Glazier and Lemon pursuing a separate route from the others.

Our friends had suffered much in various ways since they shook the dust of Columbia from their feet, but now a dire misfortune overtook them in the total absence of water. The waters of the swamps were poisonous, and their longing desire and hope was that they might soon come upon a spring or stream to slake their burning thirst, which threatened to unfit them for the exertion necessary.

The land, in the region of country they had now entered, was waste and arid--for the most part sand, a few stunted trees being the sole vegetation. These trees had nothing pleasant in their appearance, as forest trees usually have. The branches seemed dest.i.tute of sap, as the leaves were of verdure; they had not reached maturity, and yet possessed none of the lithe grace of saplings.

Our fugitives were parched, fevered, and weak before they emerged from this inhospitable tract of country, but at length reached a point where the vegetation was fresher, and finally, to their great joy, discovered a spring. Here, to use Glazier's own words, they realized "the value of cold water to a thirsty soul." "The stream ran through a ravine nearly a hundred feet in depth, while high up on the banks were groves of pines."

After their pa.s.sage through the "Desert," they were in excellent condition to appreciate the wild and solemn grandeur of the spot they had now reached, and for a considerable time they could not make up their minds to leave the place. At length, however, they resumed their journey. December second found the two friends still far from their destination, and by no means out of danger. It was one week only since they bade adieu to Columbia, and yet many weeks seemed to them to have pa.s.sed. Still they were making considerable progress, and had by this time reached a swamp near Aiken, South Carolina.

Having journeyed all night since quitting the secluded ravine, they were ready once more to cast themselves upon the soft moss under a venerable tree, near which was a bubbling spring. Here they slept soundly until dawn, when a colored boy pa.s.sing down a road which came within their range of vision, attracted attention. The boy was carrying a basket, and they were suffering very seriously again from hunger. Lemon followed, and called to him: "Hold on, my boy; I want to see you!" The lad muttered something, but the only word they could distinguish was "chicken!" He then ran off as fast as his legs would carry him. The lieutenant, with great emphasis, endeavored to rea.s.sure him, but it was of no use. He ran as if a legion of evil spirits was at his heels, and Lemon returned to his comrade very much disappointed and chagrined. "Now they are sure to overtake us," said he, "we shall be prisoners again before night!"

"Never fear," was the reply of his cooler companion; "as long as there is a swamp in the neighborhood, we'll lead them a lively dance."

So the friends gathered up their belongings, and in a few minutes put a considerable distance between themselves and their resting-place of the preceding night. Finally they concealed themselves in a swamp about a mile distant. A road bordered the margin of their sanctuary so closely, that they distinctly overheard a conversation between three ladies who pa.s.sed. The chasing of a negro boy by a Yankee was the topic of their discourse.

This information made our friends more cautious, and it is well they were so, for, towards evening, several mounted men armed with guns were seen by them upon the main road leading to Aiken; their evident purpose being to intercept the fugitives, of whose presence in their neighborhood the boy had made report.

Forewarned was forearmed, and our hero and his companion determined to give the enemy a wide berth. Again, therefore, plunging into the recesses of a neighboring swamp, they went quietly to sleep, and slept until midnight, when Glazier awoke to see thousands of stars glittering through the spectral branches of the pines, and away off toward the western horizon, a flood of silvery effulgence from the waning moon.

Entranced by the beauty of the scene, he awoke his comrade, and all around being buried in profound silence, they proceeded on their way. It was not long before they found themselves upon the outskirts of the village of Aiken, and no practicable path upon either side presenting itself, but one resource remained, namely, to steal cautiously through, although this involved the imminent risk of discovery. On, therefore, they walked until they came to the border of the village. They found it dumb with sleep. Not a sound disturbed the silence. The very dogs, their usually sleepless foes, appeared for once to have become wearied and gone to rest.

There is something solemn about a sleeping town. The solitude of the swamp and wood is solemn; but the ghostly stillness of a town, where all its inhabitants lie buried in sleep, and no sign or sound proclaims the presence of life in man or beast, is of so weird a character as to produce a sensation of awe, akin to fear. The shadows that enwrapped them as they came beneath the buildings, and the fitful gleams of moonlight that fell upon them when streets were crossed, seemed not lights and shadows at all, but strange, intangible things. And when at length they reached the outer limit of the village, and the distant woods were seen by the moon's rays, our travellers felt as if they had been wandering in a graveyard, where the tombs were houses, and they wished they were in the swamp again, where such uncanny fancies never troubled them. When the toad and lizard, snakes and other loathsome things, crawled around their swampy bed, they cared nothing; but the dead silence of a cloudless night, brooding over a swarm of their fellow-beings, brought with it a feeling they could not account for or understand; and therefore it was with a sense of great relief they found themselves at the outer edge of the town.

Their satisfaction, however, was somewhat moderated when, at a sudden turn of the road, they abruptly came upon a man and a boy, who were picking their way with such velvety tread that the two parties were face to face before either was aware of the proximity of the other. The strangers appeared to be the more alarmed, for they were just making a secret and rapid detour with the view of debouching into a side street, when, feeling sure that none but fugitives would be so anxious to escape an interview, Glazier hailed them:

"Don't be uneasy, boys! We're friends! We're Yankees!"

His conjecture proved correct. The strangers were Captain Bryant, of the Fifth New York Cavalry, and a friend. "They had," says Captain Glazier, "a negro guide, who was to secrete them in a hut until the next night, when they were to proceed, as we had done, and reach the line of freedom by the nearest route."

The interview was brief, the parties differing as to which was the most expedient route, and the discussion terminated by each taking the one he thought best. Glazier and his comrade made off to a swamp, and upon securing a safe resting-place, were overjoyed to find a venerable sow and her litter approaching. They greeted the porcine mother, says our friend, "otherwise than did wandering aeneas the _alba sus_ lying under the hollow trees of ancient Italy," for, "enticing them with crumbs of hoe-cake," they both in unison struck a juvenile porker on the head with a heavy stick, and a mammoth knife, the gift of Uncle Zeb, came into requisition, and did good service. Over the embers of a fire kindled in a hole in the ground, they roasted the little fellow, and made a delicious meal.

They had scarcely finished their unexpected feast, when the thud of an axe in the distance smote on their ears, and Glazier crept cautiously out to reconnoitre. The wood-cutter proved to be a colored lad, and having a vivid recollection of their scampering friend of "chicken"

fame, he hailed him in this wise: "h.e.l.lo, Sambo!"

This manner of salute left the party addressed, in doubt as to the colors under which the young white stranger served. Off went his hat, therefore, and he stood grinning and waiting to hear more. Our hero walked quickly up to him, and frankly explained the situation, concluding, as usual, with a request for information and aid. Both were promptly tendered, and shortly after, the fugitives were concealed in a corn-fodder house. Here, in the evening, a motley and humorous delegation of darkies waited upon them and after ventilating their sage opinions upon the conduct of the war, organized a prayer-meeting; and, if the fervor of human prayer availeth, they doubtless damaged the cause of Secession materially that evening.

The topographical knowledge of these well-meaning friends appears to have been at fault for had Glazier followed the route they advised, instead of striking the railroad running from Charleston to Augusta, on the west side of Aiken, which would have enabled them, by pursuing it to the westward, to reach Augusta, they would have struck it on the east side, and consequently by mistake have followed it towards Charleston, precisely the place to which they did _not_ want to go.

"How far is it, my boy, by this road, to Drainside?" asked a mud-splashed traveler of a shrewd lad by the roadside.

"If you keep on the way you are heading, and can manage the Atlantic and Pacific on horseback," replied the boy, "it is 23,999 miles. If you turn your horse's head and go right back, it is one mile."

Our friends were in a somewhat similar condition. Soon, however, in the darkness, they came to a small village, where a freight train was in waiting for an early start. They tried to conceal themselves on board this train, but very fortunately for their safety they could not find a hiding-place in or under the cars, and shortly afterwards discovered that Charleston was its destination and not Augusta. Had they boarded this train they would certainly have been recaptured in Charleston and sent back to imprisonment. "A merciful Providence interposed," Glazier writes. "Thus 'man proposes,' often to his own ruin, but 'G.o.d disposes,'

always to His own glory, and the good of his creatures."

A blood-hound was on their track in the course of the night, the deep bayings being plainly audible, but his scent being at fault, the trail of the fugitives was lost, and he shortly barked himself out of hearing.

When daybreak came and a pa.s.senger train filled with rebel soldiers and recruits swept past them, setting up a savage yell at sight of the pedestrians, it was feared by the latter that the train might be stopped with a view to their capture, so they once more concealed themselves in the wood.

The sound of heavy cannonading rea.s.sured them as to the proximity of Federal troops; but, where was Augusta? Accurate information on this point was absolutely essential before further progress was made; and Lemon was commissioned to obtain it. He was so far successful that he learned from some negro wood-choppers--much to the chagrin of both--that they had been walking all night in the opposite direction from Augusta, that is, on the direct road to Charleston! They also learned, what was much more cheering, that they could cross the Savannah River, at a point twenty miles below Augusta, at Point Comfort; that Sherman was making straight for Savannah, and therefore their chances of ultimately falling in with his army were by no means impaired.

No time was lost in moving forward in the direction indicated, and during the night our hero met with an adventure which we cannot do better than relate in his own words; he says: "We came to a fork in the road, and after debating some time as to which course we should pursue, I leaped over the fence and made for a negro hut, while several hounds from the plantation house followed hard on my track. I managed, by some tall running, to come in a few feet ahead, and bolted into the shanty without warning or formality, slamming the door behind me to keep out the dogs. A great stupid negro was standing before the fire, his hands and face buried in fresh pork and hoe-cake, which he was making poor work at eating. His broad, fat countenance glistened with an unguent distilled partly from within and partly from without. Turning my eyes from the negro to the untidy hearth, they were greeted, as were also my olfactories, with a skillet of pork frying over the coals.

"Without troubling him to answer any questions, I opened the mouth of my haversack and poured into it the dripping contents of the skillet. I next observed that the ashes on the hearth had a suspiciously fat appearance, and, taking the tongs, began raking among them. My suspicions were verified, for two plump-looking hoe-cakes came to light, which were also deposited in the haversack.

"Looking around still farther I saw what I had not observed before, _Dinah's black head_, as she peered out from among the bed-clothes, rolling two of the most astonished white eyes that ever asked the question, 'What's you g'wine to do next?' Not seeing any practical way in which I could answer her mute question, I said to Sambo, 'Call the dogs into the house.' This he did hastily. I then asked, 'Uncle, what road must _this rebel_ take for Tinker Creek?' 'De right han' one, out dar', I reckon,' he answered. Again bidding him keep the hounds in the house till morning, I rushed out to the road and joined my companion. We made lively tracks for about three miles, after which we took it more leisurely, stopping to rest and refresh ourselves at every stream that crossed the road."

The winter was by this time fairly upon them, and sleeping in the open air by no means a pleasant experience. They therefore made long marches, and by the aid of an occasional friendly push from their negro allies at length arrived in the vicinity of Point Comfort. This was on the seventh of December, and the twelfth day of their pilgrimage. After being somewhat alarmed by the proximity of a pack of dogs, with which some boys were hunting, they escaped discovery, and securing another negro for a guide, they on the same night found themselves upon the banks of the Savannah River.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Escape--crossing The Savannah At Midnight.]

A colored man's cabin, as usual, sheltered them during the day, and their host and his dusky neighbors (many of whom flocked around to see the Yankees, as was their custom) proving to be fishermen well acquainted with the river, our friends prevailed upon one of their number to undertake the task of carrying them across. The first difficulty that presented itself was, where to find a boat; but their host remembered, he said, a place upon one of the tributaries of the Savannah where one lay, not exactly in good sailing trim it is true, for the authorities had ordered the destruction of boats along all the streams where escaped prisoners were likely to seek a pa.s.sage, and this craft had not escaped their vigilance; but he thought, by the liberal use of pitch and cotton, materials easily obtainable in that neighborhood, it could be made sufficiently water-tight to answer their purpose. Accordingly, accompanied by their friendly Charon, with his pitch-pot and cotton, they reached the spot indicated and found the boat.

It was in a very dilapidated state, but "all night long the faithful fellow worked, caulking and pitching," while the fugitives "lay concealed in an old hollow beech log."

It was long after midnight before he had finished his task, and launched the boat into the stream. She looked very shaky, but the extemporized shipwright rea.s.sured them by saying confidently: