USA > New York > History of the Tenth regiment of cavalry New York state volunteers, August, 1861, to August, 1865, pt 2 > Part 44
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I thought it an excellent place to consign Jeff Davis; strip him naked and tie him in that rice swamp, and the mosquitoes would eat him up in twenty-four hours. Fearing the guards, who were behind us, had heard our splashing, we hastened and came at last into the South Santee. Here my guide stopped and said : "Now, I'se got yo' pas' all de pickets. Yo' mus' keep close to dis right-han' bank ob de ribber. No matter 'bout any water yo' see on de lef' han', yo' jess keep to de right bank. I mus' hurry back, 'fore de tide is gone. When yo' get down to de ocean, yo' will be by Seed Island. South Island lays on de udder side ob de bay. Jess below here a piece you'll come to a creek dat runs into dis. Stop dare and fill yo' jug wid fresh water, for dat's de las' place you'll fin' fresh water Yo' mus' watch out, fo' dare might be some guards on dis bank b'low yere. Keep a good lookout for de gunboats' headlights-dey are down dare somewhar. If yo' don't fin' 'em, buil' a fire on de island and cook yo' 'taters. Good-by, massa. I hope you'll get frew to yo' folks : I'd go too, but can't leab my wife and friends, yit."
Pulling a large silver ring off my finger that I obtained in Andersonville, I gave it to him, and, grasping his hand, we parted, never to meet again. But no matter how long life might be ours, we could never forget that midnight parting on the South Santee, the black man risking his life to do a good, brotherly act for his white brother.
"Farewell, farewell-perhaps forever."
We parted, they going up stream and I down. I plied my paddle with a will and sent the old dug-out through the water fairly spinning. The front end of it was rotted out, and I had to remain in the rear end to keep the front raised up to prevent the water from flowing in. As I paddled along, some kind of im- mense fish would jump out of the water and fall back with a loud noise and splash. I could not see them, but they seemed almost as big as a horse, and I felt that if one of them should land on my dug-out they would send it to the ' bottom. I got my boat as close to the bank as possible, so in case I got swamped I might reach the bank. From what I saw next day I concluded these sea monsters must have been porpoises. After paddling in this way about eighteen miles I began to hear the friendly roar of the Atlantic. About this time a gale of wind and rain came up, and I was compelled by the rising waves to pull for the marsh. Sticking my paddle down into the mud, I tied my boat to it and then tried to sleep off the remaining hours of night. But so cold did the wind blow, and I being wet and chilled, I could not sleep, but lay awake awaiting day- light. It dawned at last-the 1st day of October, 1864-clear and warm. 1 unloosed my boat and began to paddle down the stream until I came to a good place, where I landed and concluded to eat breakfast. While eating I looked over to the opposite side of the bay, and saw a man on the shore of South Island, walking up and down the beach. I concluded that he was a Yankee, and, jump- ing into my old dug-out, I pulled for the other shore. The bay was about three miles wide, or it appeared so at that time. My dug-out looked frail to attempt to cross while the tide, with quite a strong swell, was making up the river. Still, I paddled my dug-out over in about twenty minutes. I marked the spot where I had seen the man and paddled to that point. When I reached it I found the footprints in the sand, which I thought those of a negro. I pulled my dug-out up on the beach. Just then I discovered the negro up in an old deserted
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PRISON LIFE AND ESCAPE OF R. H. FERGUSON.
fort, and motioned for him to come down. He motioned for me to come up. I went up and asked him what he was doing there and how long he had been on the island. He replied that he only reached there that morning. He had been trying to get away for a week, and only succeeded the night before. Ile said : " I's been in Massa Tom's swamp for a week in de water up to in' knees widout a mouf'ul to eat, old Massa Tom and Missur Jones huntin' fo' me wid a gun and de hounds, but I dun tire 'em out : dey tink I ain't in dare, kase I dun so long widout nuffin to eat. But las' night I got out and fin' a boat and come down heah. Soon as I got heah I so tired I lay down on de beach and go to sleep. While I sleep de tide dun rise and float de boat away. I mighty glad yo' come, massa, for I spect to starve to death heah." I asked if he had seen any gunboats, and he said one was there that morning, but it had gone to some place, he didn't know where.
" Well, you go down and bring iny boat around and tie it up to that log down there, so it won't get away."
He went and got the boat and fastened it, while I lay down on the east- ern side of the fort on top of the magazine in the sun, for I was quite exhausted from the previous night's labor and exposure. Before lying down I took three wet matches out of my pocket (all I had) and placed them where the sun would shine on them, laying a stone on the ends to keep them from blowing away. I was soon asleep, and I did not awaken until the afternoon. When I awoke my neck, body, and limbs were so stiff that I could not stir without great exertion. I had been exposed to the rays of the burning sun, and so soundly had I slept that the heat did not awaken me, for I was physically exhausted. When I did awaken I was sick with a raging fever, terrible headache-a sort of bilious fever. The terrible strain, excitement, and high tension that my whole system had been under for the last twenty days and nights had now reacted. The physical frame had given out, and for the first time in my three years and a quarter's service I was sick. "Water! water! water!" was my cry, but there was no water. I had sent Adam, the negro, all round the island looking, but not a drop of fresh water could be found. The only way was to paddle up the Santee and dip it out of its yellow, muddy waters. Oh, how I wished for a good, cool draught of water! The next thought that troubled me was how to get a fire started. As I had only three wet matches, this became quite a serious matter. I split and shaved up some of our pitch pine, and then tried to light a match. I spoiled it. I then tried another and spoiled that also. Now I had but one left; I dare not try the last and only one. Fire we must have to dry our wet gar- ments and bake our sweet potatoes and to drive away the mosquitoes ; in fact, our every comfort depended on that one match. If we had possessed a piece of iron or flint we could have got along, but we had nothing of the kind. I took the one match and put it out in the sun for an hour longer. Then Adam and I went down in the magazine and got two pieces of dry pine board. We took one piece and turning it on edge, Adam sat astride of it on one end and I on the other, leaving about two feet between us. Then we took the other piece in both our hands, and putting its edge crosswise or at right angles to the other piece be- tween us, we began rubbing the edges together, trying to obtain fire by friction. We could get it to smoke and smell hot, but not a spark could we raise. Finally, after a long, continuous rub until we were both exhausted, we stopped. Putting
42
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HISTORY OF THE TENTH REGIMENT OF CAVALRY.
my finger on the place we had rubbed, I. found it was very hot. Quickly grasp- ing my match I rubbed it over the hot place and it immediately ignited. Taking my pitch-pine shavings and lighting them, our fire was an assured success, and we never let it go out while we were on the island. Piling on all the old wood we could get, we kept things hot day and night. Then taking off our wet garinents we soon had them drying. At night we cut grass and weeds and put on the fire in order to smoke away the mosquitoes. Thus we passed the first day and night.
I will here add that we found South Island neutral ground; there were no Yankees nor rebs there. I was like Robinson Crusoe with his man Friday. We were free and independent, but we could not get away. Sunday morning I sent Adam over to Seed Island after a boat that I saw, for I thought something might happen to our boat, or we might lose it, so that it would be a good thing to have two on hand. Adam went and got the boat. On returning, the tide was out and we could not tie the boat ; so, hauling it up on the beach, Adam came up to get something to eat, before starting up the river for fresh water. I gave him directions how to proceed, and he departed. In about five minutes I heard him shouting : "De boat! de boat! de boat !" Thinking the gunboat had come, I rushed out on top of the fort. Judge of my feelings when I saw, not a gunboat, but our own boats floating out into the bay as fast as wind and tide could carry them ! They were then about twenty yards from shore, and in all probability, when Adam first saw them, had he waded out, he could have reached them ; but he stood and looked at them in amazement until they were beyond his reach before he called to me. No one, unless placed in my position, could understand my loss or my feelings. There we were, on an uninhabited island, without water, without food, and no means of getting any with our boats gone. I ran down to the beach and was going to jump in, when I recollected my wounded limb, and knew that I could not hold out to swim so far. Turning to Adam, I said :
ยท
"Jump in and swim after it!"
" Lor', massa, I'se 'fraid o' shark !"
"Go in ! go in ! There are no sharks there. If you don't go, we will die here. There is a plank. Get that, and swim out quickly, before they get too far out into the bay !" I got the plank and launched it, but he was afraid to go. At last I said to him :
" You shall not have another mouthful of what I have to eat unless you bring those boats back !"
"Oh, I get dem sure. I won't come back till I get dem."
Up the beach he ran, and I went back to the fort, confident that he would not bring back the boat. At dark I looked out, and could just see a speck, away out in the bay, some four or five miles up the river, and still drifting. I went and lay down outside the fort, and soon fell asleep. About twelve o'clock some one be- gan shaking me. Turning over, half aroused, I said :
" D-o-n't you wake me unless you have got the boat !"
" I'se got 'em bofe ! I'se got 'em !"
Springing to my feet, I asked, " How did you get them ?"
" Well, I foun' a ole boat up de beach, mos' cov'd up wid san', an' I dun dug de san' out, an' got de boat in de water, an' paddled out in de bay an' got dem bof, sur'."
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PRISON LIFE AND ESCAPE OF R. H. FERGUSON.
" That's a good man! Have you got them tied up now, so they won't get away again ?"
" Oh, yes ; I got dem tied so tight, de bery debble can't get 'um loose."
Without further incident worthy of note we passed four days and nights. On the morning of October 4th the topsails of a boat were discovered by Adam. I stationed him on the top of the fort with a long pole, on top of which we tied an old white shirt-the only white rag that we possessed-and had him wave it back and forth. How can I describe the anxiety with which I watched that boat, as its sails gradually enlarged, and finally the hull began to be visible, and then the old starry banner, the first one I had seen for four long months ! How it made my blood tingle to again see it so near me! But would the men on the vessel see us, was the query that agitated my mind. I thought it was a transport, going to Charleston, and in all probability they would not dis- cover us. We watched them very anxiously. At last, about noon, they cast an- chor right abreast of where we were. About 3 P. M. a sail-boat, or captain's cutter, put off from the vessel and came toward shore. I have neglected to say that about half a mile from where we were, out at sea, was an old sunken blockade-runner,. stuck in the sand, having evidently been chased there while attempting to run up the Santee. It was this hull that the gunboat saw, and was coming over to examine for pieces of brass and plumbing, etc. - When they got near the wreck they discov- ered us and tried to come ashore, but the water was too shallow for their cutter. They shouted for us to paddle out to the wreck; so Adam and I launched our old dug-out for the last time, and paddled out to the wreck, and there, for the first time in four months, I found myself again under the protection and folds of the old flag.
They then took us in their boats and rowed us to the vessel, which proved to be the gunboat Patomska, doing blockade duty off the coast. As soon as I got on board, who should I meet but Sergeant Crinnian, the man who saw me cross St. Thomas's branch, and one of the two who had spoken to the negro in the woods the morning I crossed Strawberry Ferry ! He and his companion had both got on the gunboat the night before with thirteen rebel deserters from Captain White's rebel battery at Georgetown. The sailors on the Patomska were very kind to us. They made new shirts and pants for the boys, and gave their money and other things to make us comfortable. Here I got the first cup of tea and salt junk I had had for four months. Reader, this was the 4th day of October-the very day my rebel furlough expired. But in place of my reporting to Beaure- gard at Petersburg, Va., I reported to Uncle Sam on board the Patomska. Of course, they thought I was a Confederate, but when I explained that I belonged to the Cavalry Corps of the Army of the Potomac and handed my forged furlough to the Captain, explaining its purpose, they were satisfied as to my identity. (I ieft my furlough with the Captain, and in my hurry when leaving the Patomska for Charleston, forgot to get it, and have never been able to find it in the Navy Department. If any naval officer is living to-day that was on the Patomska Oc- tober 4, 1864, I would like to hear from him. I should be pleased to recover that furlough, as a souvenir of the past. If I had it, no money could buy it.) The next day the dispatch-boat Burnham came up with letters. We were all put on board of her and sent to Charleston. On the way down the boys on the Burn- ham were going to raise a subseription for me, but I told them not to do it. It, however, illustrates the generosity of the sailor laddies. We arrived in Charles-
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HISTORY OF THE TENTH REGIMENT OF CAVALRY.
ton Harbor at sundown, and were put on board the receiving-ship John Adams. Here, as before, the officers were very kind to us, giving us all the attention pos- sible, and leaving orders for careful medical treatment. This I needed very much, being so sick I could scarcely hold up iny head. On Thursday morning I left the John Adams and went on board the steamer Home, bound for Port Royal. Sailed all night, reaching Port Royal early Friday morning, October 7th. Here, after moving us around half a dozen times, they finally concluded to send us to Hilton Head. We reached that place just at dark, and were assigned to the rebel hospital, where I received medical treatment until the 14th. Part of the time I was unconscious and delirious. On the 15th I was able to go out, and Captain Pratt, the genial provost-marshal, promised to have me sent to New York by the first boat. This proved to be the steamer Arago, which arrived on the 17th and left Hilton Head on Friday the 21st, with myself among its passengers. On Saturday, toward night, the sea began running very high, and by the time night set in we were having a heavy gale. We were off the coast of the dreaded Cape Hatteras. About 10 P. M. one of the sails was blown to ribbons, with a report like a cannon. Having occasion to go on deck about 3 A. M., I was blown clear across the deck, and only saved myself by catching the railing at the side of the vessel. Saturday, the 23d, the wind and storm abated, but the sea still ran very high. On Monday we arrived in sight of land, and soon after saw signs of active life on shore. We reached New York city about 10 P. M. and were taken to Broome Street barracks, where we were quartered for a week. On our passage up was a Captain Boyd, a rebel officer, returning home, having been a prisoner on Johnson's Island for fourteen months, also on Morris Island, under fire from rebel guns. He was finally released by Vice-President Johnson, and was .now on his way home. Monday, the 31st, we were sent to Fort Columbus, on Governor's Island. On Tuesday, November 1st, we were put on board the transport Ashland and sent to . Fortress Monroe, arriving there about 1 A. M. November 3d. At 10 A. M. started up the James River for City Point. On Friday I saw a freight train loaded with troops headed for the front, and, slipping by the guards, ran and boarded it. Ar- riving at the front, I made inquiries as to where the Cavalry Corps lay. I got off the cars, and about 4 P. M. reached General Henry E. Davies's headquarters. As I drew near I saw our old friend Billy Clarke, of Corning, chopping wood, and was soon received with open arms by all my old comrades. I found some vacant seats around the camp-fire that night. Where was Burt Orser ? I had to spend half the night telling my experience to the boys. The gallant General Davies ordered my discharge papers made out at once, and on November 7th I bade farewell to the comrades who had so long shared with me the dangers and privations of my armny life. I reached my home November 10, 1864.
My story is done. Little is left to add. During the year 1889, while carrying on an extensive correspondence with the officials of South Carolina in relation to the cost of land, with an object of colonizing that genial country with our Northern working men, I received a letter from a man named W. G. Palmer, from Wren, Berkeley County, S. C. When he described his land and its location to me, I was satisfied that I had been near his place when I crossed the Santee River in making my escape during the war. So I wrote asking him if he lived near Gordian Ferry and if he knew Captain Boston. He replied that his uncle owned Captain Boston, and that Gordian Ferry was on his father's estate. So that it was his father's
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PRISON LIFE AND ESCAPE OF R. H. FERGUSON.
house-Dr. Palmer's-where I went to get the ferryman to take me over the Santee. He also said that Captain Boston died about seven years ago, a good, faithful negro. I also asked if he knew Carter and John Aiken, of Irishtown. He replied that a son of John Aiken worked for a man by the name of Greig, who was a commission man in Charleston. But this son lived at Salkehatchie, S. C. I wrote Mr. Greig, saying to him that if this boy was the one I was interested in he stuttered some. After a while Mr. Greig replied that he guessed this was the boy, for he stuttered yet. In the addenda will be found two letters from this boy-T. P. Aiken-one of which gives the dates of the deaths of Carter Aiken and his wife, also John Aiken; so that four of those faithful negroes who were of such great service to me are dead. The next one, Philip Hartly, is living, and atten- tion is called to his letter. This leaves my friend Jackson, who piloted me down the Santee, not found yet, although the letters of J. A. Jackson attached would seem to indicate that he, too, had passed over the silent river.
R. H. Ferguson, Esq., Buffalo, N. Y. SAMPIT, S. C., December 19, 1889.
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MY DEAR SIR : Your very kind letter of the 12th inst. is to hand, and I am truly glad to hear from you, and also to know that through the mercy of God that you were successful in making your escape from the hands of the enemy, and also that God has spared me to see the day to receive a letter from one whom I had not the slightest idea were alive. I can not express how glad I was to have re- ceived a letter from one which mark every respect upon earth for me. Iand my wife oftentimes spoke of you. We have wondered to ourselves whether or not you had made your escape. Mr. R. H. F., well do I remember that Sabbath afternoon when I came from church and met you to my house, and while in con- versation with you one white woman came in by the name of Mrs. Wiggins, who told me and wife how they were going to whip the Quakers, while at the same time you were in the room listening to the discourse. Very soon after the woman had left my house you came out of the room and did not leave my house until it was dark, when I directed you on the road running east and west from my place to Penny Royal, a distance of four miles. I told you to cross the bridge and turn to your right, and a mile from the bridge would put you to Collins's residence, and the next place would be the muster-house. I am living at the same place as yet. I and my wife are both alive. Do you remember the two little children that were in the house with me? They both are married. Do you remember the little girl that brought you something to eat through the back door of the room while the white lady was in the house? Do you remember when you told not to be afraid of you? I am now nearly seventy years of age. Is known now by the name of Rev. Philip Hartly. Well, you do not know how glad I would be to see you. My wife sends her kind regards to you, with the best wishes to hear from you soon.
I am sincerely yours, etc., PHILIP HARTLY. GEORGETOWN, S. C., October 17, 1889.
R. H. Ferguson, Esq., Buffalo, N. Y.
DEAR SIR : I noticed in to-day's issue of The Georgetown Enquirer a letter from you, inquiring for a colored man by the name of Jackson, who was on San- tee in September, 1864.
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HISTORY OF THE TENTH REGIMENT OF CAVALRY.
My father, James Alonzo Jackson, who is now dead, was at that time living on Santee, at Cat Island plantation, with headquarters at Georgetown, taking care of the horses for the Confederate officers on the island.
After the close of the war, he opened a livery-stable at Georgetown, and con- tinued in that business until his death, on the 18th day of March, 1881. After his death I took charge of his business, and am still conducting same in his name.
His widow-my mother-is still living, but is very old and feeble, and almost helpless. She is living with my family.
I have a wife and five children, and do the best my moderate means will per- mit to make them comfortable.
I inclose you a tribute of respect on my father's death, and beg that you will return same to me after you have read it, as I can not obtain another copy, and of course I would not like to lose it.
If there is any other information you wish concerning my father, that I can give you, I will do so with pleasure.
In returning tribute of respect, direct to
Yours very truly, JOSEPH A. JACKSON, Georgetown, S. C.
GEORGETOWN, S. C., December 7, 1889. R. H. Ferguson, Esq., Buffalo, N. Y.
MY DEAR SIR : My delay in answering your communication of a recent date was caused by my delay in gaining information from the party who you desig- nated as " P. H." The man who you described as above is one Philip Hartly, who resides at Sampit Post-Office, in this county, should you care to write him concerning our correspondence. Upon receipt of your communication I at once supposed him to be the party, and wrote him to call on me when he came in the city. When I saw him and mentioned the subject to him, he related the circum- stances of the whole case to me, but said of course he did not know the man's . name. He said he remembered of having met you, and directed you on your way. He says, to the best of his recollections, on Sunday evening he returned home from church and found a man in his house, and, after talking awhile, a white woman came in, and he hid the man in one of his rooms; after dark I took him out and pointed out the direction to a small place called Penny Royal and from there to South Island.
Hartly is a man about sixty-eight or seventy years of age, and is of a ginger- cake color. He is now a local preacher, and belongs to the A. M. E. Conference of South Carolina. He says my father, J. Alonzo Jackson, was at Santee at the time, attending to the officers' horses, and, while he can't say positively, yet he firmly believes that he is the man Jackson for whom you have been inquiring. Hartly recognized your diagram of the roads, and said it was done remarkably well for a man who had not been in these parts for twenty-five years.
If there is any other information I can get for you, do not hesitate to write me. Should you wish to write Hartley, address him at Sampit Post-Office, George- town County, S. C. Yours very respectfully,
JOSEPH A. JACKSON.
663
REPORT OF MAJOR-GENERAL SHERIDAN.
REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON THE CONDUCT OF THE WAR.
Report of Operations of the Cavalry Corps, Army of the Potomac, from April 6 to August 4, 1864, by Major-General P. H. Sheri- dan, U. S. A., Commander.
HEADQUARTERS MILITARY DIVISION OF THE GULF, NEW ORLEANS, LA., May 13, 1866.
GENERAL : I have the honor to make the following report of the operations of the Cavalry Corps, Army of the Potomac, from April 6, 1864, to August 4, 1864 :
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