History of the Tenth regiment of cavalry New York state volunteers, August, 1861, to August, 1865, pt 2, Part 43

Author: Preston, Noble D
Publication date: 1892
Publisher: New York, D. Appleton and co.
Number of Pages: 882


USA > New York > History of the Tenth regiment of cavalry New York state volunteers, August, 1861, to August, 1865, pt 2 > Part 43


Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).


Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42 | Part 43 | Part 44 | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47 | Part 48 | Part 49 | Part 50 | Part 51 | Part 52


" Where is the house ?"


"Just up here a piece."


As we started I observed that his right arm appeared to be useless. I asked him if he had been wounded.


" No," he replied, " I was born so."


" Where is your father ?"


" The Yankees have got him prisoner on Johnson's Island."


" Oh ! that's bad, very bad."


" Yes," he said, " he's been a prisoner fourteen months."


By this time we had reached the house, and, as we entered the gate, who should


.


649


PRISON LIFE AND ESCAPE OF R. H. FERGUSON.


walk out on the porch but the very man I had dodged on horseback the first part of the day! His saddle lay on the stoop, where it had apparently just been placed. I stepped up on the stoop, and bid hin good-morning. He handed me a chair, and then we both sat down, with our chairs tilted back against the side of the house. He then directed a little colored boy to draw me some water from the well. After I had drunk, I asked, " What is the news ?" He said there was not much news, only that the Yankees had "James Island."


" Why, they have always held that island."


"I don't mean James Island, I mean " (thinking) "South Island."


"Oh, indeed ! I had not heard of that. How long since they got it ?"


" Well, it is some time now," he answered. Then the old gentleman said, " Did you meet any soldiers down the road this morning ?"


" Yes, I met three on my way here."


" Well, they stopped here last night."


" Where are they going ?" I asked.


" Down to Florence, to guard Yankees in the Florence pen ; there are so many Yankee prisoners getting away lately, that they have to go to look them up. The woods are full of escaping prisoners."


" Who were those men, and where did they come from ?" I asked.


" They belong to Captain White's battery, and have been up to Georgetown."


" How far is Florence from here ?" I asked. By this time I thought the old planter began to suspect me, but evidently did not want me to think so. He therefore said to me, in his blandest manner :


" Will you be kind enough to let me see your furlough ? I never saw one."


"Oh, certainly," said I, " with the greatest pleasure." And, reaching into my pocket, I pulled it out and handed it over to him. Putting on his spectacles, he leaned back in his chair and was fully ten minutes scrutinizing and reading it. He soon handed it back, and thanked me politely. Then, looking at me for a moment or two, he said :


"So you are going to see some of your friends, are you ?"


" Yes," I replied. "I was wounded in June, and have been in the hospital until about six weeks ago, when I succeeded in getting a leave of absence for a few days, and concluded I would come round this way and see my friends." In- stantly there flashed through my mind the thought, What if he asks me who my friends are? He undoubtedly knew every person within fifty miles. I tried for an instant to think of the white man's name I had stayed with all night the night before, but could not, so I arose, saying, " Well, I must hurry along."


Moving down the steps, I turned and said, "Good-by, sir." I left without giving him a chance to ask the next question, which would undoubtedly have caught me. There was not a break or a chance for him to put in the question. I walked rapidly for the balance of the day. Came to Sampit bridge, turned off, and in fifteen minutes found the house of Philip Hartly .* It was ten minutes to one p. M. when I entered his door, as I saw by a clock on his mantel. Philip


* Attention is again called to the letter in the addenda signed Philip Hartly, dated at Sampit, S. C., December 19, 1889. It was only in December of that year that I learned Philip's name in full, and that he was living. His letter partly explains itself .- R. HI. FERGUSON.


650


HISTORY OF THE TENTH REGIMENT OF CAVALRY.


was away, preaching, but I found his wife, who kindly bade me welcome, told me where Philip was, and when he would be home; then showed me into a back room, and gave me a blanket to lie 'down on, and closed and locked the door, mistrusting at a glance who I was. Then handing me a bowl of rice and milk, I was left alone until Philip returned, about 3 or 4 p. M. I saw he was a very bright, intelligent man, and one whom I could trust implicitly. I then began to ask him about South Island and its approaches, and was surprised as well as sadly disappointed to learn that the soldiers had all been put back to guard the ap- proaches to that island, as there were so many Yankees getting away. He said :


"Only yist'day dar was a lot o' guards down yere to see me, an' dey ask' me to keep a sharp lookout fo' Yankees, fo' dey would soon be 'long yere. I'm lookin' fo' de guards to come yere to-night, on der way to guard Sampit bridge an' de ol' muster-house ; reck'n de only way fo' yo' to git frew is to try an' git 'yond de muster-house 'fore any o' dem get dar." He then gave me directions about find- ing the muster-house, and said I would save much time and distance by cutting across through the woods by an old cart-road. His directions were these : " Fo' miles up dis road you'll come to a bridge. Dis is Penny Royal; cross de bridge, an' you'll fin' de road to de right jess at de udder end. A mile up dis road yo'll come to Collins's place, an' de nex' place, 'bout five miles, is de muster-house. Go pas' de muster-house fo' 'bout one mile, den turn to yo' lef' an' go fo' 'bout 'nother mile, when you'll come to watah. Cross this watah, an' yo'll be on Cat Island. Den 'quire de way to Dr. Day's place. Den ask fo' cullud man named ." (this name I have forgotten). "He'll show yo' de rest o' de way to South Island."


I had taken out a piece of paper and a pencil, and mapped out my route as he described. Then bidding them all good-by, I started. Turning to Philip I said : " Philip, I want you to tell me what you think of my chances for getting through. I don't want you to flatter me. I want to know the worst side of it, so I may be ready to meet it." He paused a moment, and then, slowly shaking his head, said : "If yo' keep down in de rice swamps, on Cat Island, yo' may pos'bly git frew, but I reck'n yo' chance is very small. But 'member, if yo' heah any noise ahead jump into de bushes, fo' I 'spect de guards down from Georgetown every minit." I started off, keeping eyes and ears open for rebs-thus begin- ning one of the hardest nights of my escape. The night was inky blackness. After I had crossed Penny Royal bridge I began looking for my road to the right, but could find no trace of one. I passed up the road nearly half a mile, when I came to a cabin, and approached it for the purpose of seeking informa- tion, and I heard singing. Peeping through the open door I beheld an old white lady, apparently sixty years of age, sitting by the blazing fireplace, singing away quite merrily. I thought to myself, "Oh that I were as happy and free from anxiety as you seem to be to-night!" Then I knocked at the door.


" Come in," was the cheerful response.


" No, I can't stop. Won't you please give me a drink of water ?"


She brought the water, and then I said, " Isn't there a road that turns off this side of the bridge that runs over into the old Georgetown road by the muster- house ?"


She replied, " There is a road that turns off the other side of the bridge that runs through Mr. Lee's place."


651


PRISON LIFE AND ESCAPE OF R. H. FERGUSON.


" But there is one this side of the bridge at some place, but it is so dark I can't find it. How near the bridge is it ?"


"Oh, there is an old cart-road right close to the bridge."


I went back and looked again, but could see nothing. Finally, I concluded to step into the woods and look. This proved more successful. I found an old path only; outside of it was all grown up with bushes. I had gone but a few steps when it became so very dark I could see nothing. I never saw blacker darkness; I might just as well have closed my eyes. I lost my road, and went stumbling over stumps and fallen trees searching for my path ; but I could not find it. First I would go to my right, then to my left, then forward, then round in a circle. Finally, by feeling with my hands, I succeeded in finding it after an hour's search. Then the only way I could keep it was by putting down first one foot and then reach out the other and place it around and around until I found the place smooth, and then take another step. Whenever I found too many bushes I halted and began feeling for a smooth spot. In this way I went some six miles or more, through water and mire, oftentimes holding myself up by bushes and limbs of trees until I could swing around some mire-hole. This journey was the hardest, most trying, and tiresome on my entire body, mental, nervous, and physical, that I ever expect to pass through. At last I came to the muster-house. After peering through the bushes cautiously to see if I could hear or see any guards, I stepped into the road and passed quickly beyond the muster-house, as I supposed, in the direction Philip had directed me to go, but which subsequently proved to be wrong; and fortunately so, too, as will appear later. Walking very rapidly, I discovered that the road I was on was a great broad pike and gave evidence of being well traveled. It was like Fairfax pike, Virginia, while the road I had expected to travel was but a cart-road, with only room for one wagon. I said to myself : "You are going toward Georgetown ; this is the wrong road ; " but finally decided that I would keep on for about one mile, as I had been directed by Philip, and if I did not find another road turning off I would retrace my steps to the muster-house. To make matters worse, I had lost my bearings, or the points of the compass, something that never happened to me before or since, and would not have occurred on this occasion only for the inky darkness and my terrible journey through the woods. I did not know whether I was traveling north, south, east, or west, but knew I must go east to go right. Being in the woods I could not find the north star, and every twenty or thirty rods I would stop and try and locate it, but unsuccessfully. At last, when I con- cluded I had gone far enough on this road, I found one coming into it from the woods to my right. I stopped, and taking out my chart, which I had made at Philip's, I tore a piece of the lining out of my coat, and taking a match I lighted it, then blew them both out. and, holding the rag over my chart and blowing the spark, I could see my chart without being seen. I saw I should have turned to the left, while this road came from the right, and seemed to lead back in the same direction I had been coming from-namely, toward the muster-house ; but it was another road. I tried again for the north star, but could not find it. Then my instinct asserted itself and compelled me to take this road. I felt that safety lay in this road, and if I had seen one turning to the left at that point I doubt if I should have taken it. I therefore determined to follow it for a mile, and if at that time I did not find another road leading off at right angles I would


652


HISTORY OF THE TENTH REGIMENT OF CAVALRY.


then lie down and wait until the moon rose, and that would show me the points of the compass. Every few yards I would stop and try to find the north star, but on account of the small space between the trees I could not get it placed. I went on in this way for a distance of a mile, as nearly as I could estimate it, and then halted, having fully decided to lie down and wait for the moon. Taking another last look for the star, I saw right off to my left a road through the tree- tops. I immediately stepped into the bushes and found a well-defined cart-road; and then for the first time since I had left the muster-house I felt a decided im- pression that I was going in the right direction. I passed down the road rapidly, soon came to a gate, climbed over it, and found a house in the yard. I went around one side looking for negro quarters. Finding none, I turned down a path at the other side, with no better result, only to add to my already weak and ex- hausted condition. I then thought I would go up to the house and see who was there. After creeping up to it very carefully I found it empty and deserted. Then I resolved that, come what might, I would find out what was at the end of the road. Down I went and soon came to a negro cabin. Going to the door, I saw it also was empty. As there were so many weeds growing around the door-step, I passed on and soon came to a large stream of water. "There," I thought, "you haven't got this on your chart ; you must be lost." However, over I went, passed along a road over a dam, and came to a gate across the road and saw a mill beside the dam. Creeping up the stairs to the mill door, I listened for evidences of occu- pation, but all was silent. Climbing over the gate, I passed on, and soon found myself near a large three-story plantation house. Going up to the nearest negro cabin, I knocked at the door. No answer. I knocked again. This time the hounds in a near-by kennel set up a baying, which soon brought some one out, for I heard a voice telling them to be quiet. I recognized the voice as that of a colored man. So I walked around to the first cabin, met the man, and said : " Good-evening, sir. Can you tell me where I am ? Am I anywhere near Dr. Day's plantation ?"


" You's 'bout a mile from Dr. Day's place."


"Can you direct me there ?"


" Dis road you's on will take yo' dar."


" What place is this ?"


" Dis is Cat Island."


" Are there any soldiers between here and Dr. Day's place ?"


" No, sah."


" Do you know where they are stationed up and down the river?"


" Oh, yes, sah !"


" Well," I guess I won't go any farther to-night. Something seems to tell me to stay here."


"Yo' kin stay heah, if yo' like. Come in, sah." We stepped into the cabin : he locked the door; swung to and closed the window shutter, so no one could see in ; put some fresh pine knots on the fire, and, raking the coals together, put some sweet potatoes in the ashes, blew the fire until it blazed up bright and cheerfully, and then, from his kneeling position before the fire, he turned up his black face toward mine and asked :


"Is yo' a Yankee?"


I said : " Yes; I want to get to the gunboats. Do you know anything about them?"


·


653


PRISON LIFE AND ESCAPE OF R. H. FERGUSON.


" Yes; I see de lights on one o' dem only yes'e'day. Dey cum up de ribber las' week, an' carried off 'bout twenty-five han's from one plantation."


" Now, do you know where all the'pickets are stationed ?"


" Yes, sah."


" Do you think you could get me by them safely ?"


" Oh, yes, sah."


" Well, if you will put me by the pickets I will give you my overcoat, and that is worth fifty dollars of your Confederate money."


"I dun want nuffen for it ; I's glad to do it fo' yo'. I spect a brack man dat. lives on Seed Island up heah to-morrow night, an' if he comes, he'll know jess whar de pickets are, an' whar de gunboats are, too."


By this time the sweet potatoes were done, and, while eating them, I asked him what his name was. He said it was Jackson; * that he was the overseer of the plantation ; his master was an officer up at Georgetown, S. C .; and that he had charge of the officers' horses here. I asked him if he would not like to get away, to which he replied that he would not, as his mother lived a few miles away, and, if he should go off, the white folks might make her suffer for it; and as he had a good place, he thought he had better stay where he was. I told him I thought he was sensible ; that if he went North, he would have to work hard, and possibly not do near as well as where he was. After some further talk, I threw myself upon the floor and stretched my tired, wet, and weary limbs out and was soon fast asleep, while Jackson watched by the fire. About 4 A. M. he came and awakened me, telling me to follow him. I did so, and he led the way to the barn. Going into the loft, he made a hole in the corn-stalks and hay, and told me I must hide there while he went to look for the gunboats. He said soon as it was daylight the field hands would come in for their mules, but they wouldn't come up there ; I was to remain quiet, to prevent discovery ; he said he wouldn't tell anybody I was there, not even his wife. He went down-stairs, saddled a horse, mounted and rode away. I lay down and fell asleep. At daylight the field hands took out their mules and went to work. I continued to doze until about 10 A. M., when I heard Jackson return. I heard the door open, and the horse go into the stable. As his head appeared above the stairs, I saw his eyes snapping with intense excitement-so excited he could scarcely speak.


" Well, well! it's good ting yo' didn't try to go no furder las' night." .


" Why?" I asked.


Jackson .- "When I go down dis mornin', an' 'tween dis an' Dr. Day's, ten guards step'd out o' de bushes an' halt me, an' ask me whar I am goin'; whar I git dat hoss. I tole 'em I was goin' down to de oder plantation to see to de work;


* Attention is again called to two letters in the addenda signed Joseph A. Jackson. The first one. dated October 17. 1889, at Georgetown, S. C., explains itself. I only wish every white man North could see the elegant business-like penmanship shown in this letter. The language of the letter speaks for it- self. This man thinks it was his father whom I describe above. Philip Hartly also thinks his father was the man. I alone think my Jackson was too young for his father, but I may be wrong. It is certainly a remarkable coincidence, if not the same person. It was through this Jackson, now at Georgetown. that I suc- ceeded in finding Philip Hartly, and learning his name and address, which is explained in Jackson's second letter herewith, dated December 7, 1889 .- R. H. FERGUSON.


654


HISTORY OF THE TENTH REGIMENT OF CAVALRY.


dat if dey want to know whar I git such good hoss, dey must go up to George- town and ask de Cap'n. 'Bout tree 'clock dis mornin' dar was a whole com- pany up to de muster-house, an' dey fired at a cullud man dat was goin' up to Georgetown to work fo' de Gov'nment. If yo' went any furder las' night, yo' dun been caught, sur'. Now yo' hab to wait till Wednesday night, to see if de man from Seed Island comes. I sent word down to him. Yo' hab to be berry still heah, fo' de guard's all aroun' de yards."


Reader, just look back a moment at my route, by following Philip's caution and advice to cut through the woods, and coming out at the muster-house. At the muster-house I take the wrong road; by doing so, I miss the guards that have been stationed down below the muster-house, on the road Philip told me to take. I then, by instinct, stumble on a road that leads to Jackson's, and, although Jack . son said it was only a mile to Dr. Day's place, and I would find no guards, that strong impression comes over me saying, "Stay here." So I stop, just as I was about to run into the jaws of the enemy again. It does seem as if I had been guided in between them, twisted and turned, and then stopped, at the only point where capture was avoided, and future success made possible. Jackson con- tinued : "Don' be 'fraid ; I'll take care ob yo' an' feed yo', but keep quiet."


This was not a very flattering outlook for me, but there was no other course but to be patient and wait-three long, weary days to wait before I could go out; every nerve strung up to its utmost tension. But the next move meant liberty or recapture. I sent to the house for books, and tried to put in the time reading. About 4 P. M. of this Monday I heard the hounds, and, going to the side of the barn and peering through the cracks, I saw three or four soldiers con- versing with Jackson. I could not hear their conversation, but felt sure it re- lated to the Yankees. In about half an hour they went away, and when it was dusk Jackson came over to the barn and I asked him who they were. He said it was the captain, lieutenant, and sergeant of the company that had just been placed on the island. They asked Jackson if there had been any Yankees around there.


" What did you say to them ?"


" I said, 'Lor's, massa, how I know one when I see him? I dun tell one dem from one yo'. How's dey dressed ?"


" What did the Captain say ?"


" He said : ‘Some dem wear red pants, some blue, some black, some one way and some anudder. Well, dey hain't been any dat kind 'round yere, sure 'nnff ; but if dey come I cotch 'em, sartin.'"


" That's right : you let us know as soon as you see one."


At last Wednesday night came, but no man from Seed Island. Thursday morning Jackson said if he didn't come that night he would look up a boat and take me down Friday night. Thursday passed with like result. Friday my guide went off some four miles, and bought a boat, giving my overcoat for it, or, at least, promising to do so. He also paid two dollars out of his own pocket to get a man to go with him and help. Then he put a lot of pitch pine in the boat, a peck of sweet potatoes, a kettle to boil them in, a jug of fresh water, about four pounds of corn-bread, and a bottle of sorghum. Then, when the shades of night settled down. we silently crept out of the barn, and, running along, came to an old rice-field ; through this we went as fast as we could go,


655


PRISON LIFE AND ESCAPE OF R. H. FERGUSON.


until we came to a bunch of willows. Here he stopped, and, giving a peculiar kind of whistle, told me as soon as the boat came to get into it and tell the man to move on, and he would meet us with another boat. Very soon a boat swung around the corner unheard by me. I stepped in and waved him off.


" Whar is de udder man ?" he asked.


" Never mind ; go on ; he will catch us."


Then we rounded out into the North Santee. As we came around the point from one direction, Jackson came around from the other. Getting our boats end to end. we started. The night, as if to spoil our chance, was as clear as crystal. The stars shone forth in all their brilliancy, and reflected their light and sparkled in the mirror-like surface of the river, rendering every object near by distinctly visible. The air was still, and the slightest sound was conveyed upon the waters to a great distance. Every stroke of the paddle was heard dis- tinctly, and caused me great uneasiness, for we had a whole line of pickets to pass, stationed up and down the shore. Our hired man could not dip his paddle without splashing the water, to the imminent danger of our discovery. Jackson took the paddle away from him. Soon we came in sight of the picket-fires; hauling our boats close to the shore and taking in our paddles, we let the tide take us down, assisting by pulling ourselves along by the grass and weeds on the bank. Jackson told me to hide my face and hands, in order to keep from being seen. The others being black enough, there was no need of their hiding. I doubt very much if a soldier would have challenged had he looked right at us, so silent were our movements. We probably looked like a couple of logs floating down the river. Not a sound was heard except the grass as it brushed the sides of the dug-outs. The voices of the guards could be distinctly heard in their ordinary conversation as we glided past. They little dreamed that the hated Yankee was so near them. We passed the first post without discovery. In crder to avoid the next one. which was the most dangerous on the whole river, we decided to go into a rice ditch or canal, and flank them by crossing over into the South Santee, and returning to the river way below the pickets. After paddling, crooking, and turning for about a mile, the guide came to a place where he said we must turn in order to reach the river. Swinging round into this ditch, we had not pro- ceeded far before we found the ditch was blocked by two logs a few feet apart. Lifting our heavy dug-out, we pushed it over into the water on the other side. It struck the water with a report that could have been heard a great distance. Then we got it over the next one, but not until we had been in the water all over and were thoroughly wet through. Then we got the other dug-out over in the same way, and, jumping in, began paddling, when we ran right into the bank and grounded at the end of the ditch. The guide had made a mistake, and had turned into the wrong ditch. Backing out (for we could not turn round, and, the tide going out, there was not much water or time to lose), we again lifted our boats over the two logs, and got back to the main ditch all sound, except the wetting, and my being nearly eaten up by mosquitoes. While Jackson was getting the boats over the logs in returning, I stood on the bank, and with both hands wiped my face and neck as fast as I could, killing a thousand mosquitoes at each pass of my hands. The air was blinding with them : they would get into my nostrils when I inhaled my breath. So badly was I bitten in that brief five minutes that my neck was numb, and it did not recover its normal feeling for three months afterward.


656


HISTORY OF THE TENTH REGIMENT OF CAVALRY.




Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.