USA > Tennessee > Old tales retold; or, Perils and adventures of Tennessee pioneers > Part 16
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
245
Old Tales Retold.
Feeling that they had a prize, the soldiers placed their captive on horseback (as he was quite unable to walk) and conducted him in his forlorn plight to the Texan camp. On their way they passed a group of Mexican prisoners being guarded near the road. "El Presidente! El General Santa Anna !" came in a sub- dued expression of surprise from the Mexicans. It was indeed the "mighty and glorious" dictator of Mexico. In a few moments the humiliated tyrant, smeared with slime from head to foot, was in the tent of the commander in chief of the Texan army. Hous- ton lay in bed suffering from his wound, but he raised himself sufficiently to receive the important prisoner in proper form. And presently his pain was forgotten in deeper feelings as he began to tax the Mexican with his crimes at Goliad and the Alamo. In answer to Houston's charges Santa Anna had the effrontery to declare that he had not been responsible for those massacres. He said that his government had ordered him to execute the Texans, and that he was bound to obey his government. Houston was indignant. He raised himself upright in bed and looked the Mexican full in the eye while in his stern, deep, bass voice he said: "General Santa Anna, you are the government. A dictator has no superior."
Many plain truths were told the fallen despot by his conqueror, and he was assured that the brutal methods of warfare he used must always fail in the end. He was made to understand that liberty-loving people are only made more determined by cruel, un- just treatment. Houston further informed him that the American soldiers were prepared by his atrocities to starve rather than yield their right of self-govern-
246
SAM HOUSTON.
A Tennesseean in Texas.
ment. "See!" said the heroic Tennesseean, holding up an ear of dried corn he had taken from his pocket, "do you ever expect to conquer men who fight for freedom when their general can march four days with one ear of corn for his rations ?"
The shame of that hour was the chief punishment that fell upon Santa Anna; for although a few mem- bers of the Texas cabinet thought that he should be immediately executed, the government finally con- cluded that its wisest policy was to deal generously with the vanquished general. Thereupon a treaty was made by which Santa Anna agreed to take every Mex- ican soldier out of Texas, and never again to molest the Texan settlers. Thus peace was fully restored, further bloodshed was avoided, and the great country of Texas was thrown open to Americans, all through the "military miracle" performed at San Jacinto by a man who was originally an obscure boy in the back- woods of Tennessee.
247
XXIII.
SAM DAVIS .*
BEFORE the War between the States there was a comfortable country home in Rutherford County, Tenn., near the small town of Smyrna, which is to- day of interest to all humanity because under its roof a world's hero was born.
Those who honor the memory of Sam Davis, the hero whose birthplace it was, will not be surprised to learn that his father was known far and wide as a man who feared nothing on earth. Noted equally for honesty of character and unswerving principle, he was also remarkable in personal appearance for his greatness of stature, being six feet two inches in height. As a direct contrast in size, Sam Davis's mother was an unusually small, gentle woman, with soft, sorrow-haunted black eyes that seemed ever moistened with unshed tears, as if nature had fore- casted in her features the tragic fate of the son she idolized.
Beneath the oaks and elms that spread above the ample farmhouse, her dark-eyed boy Sam had grown up to the age of nineteen years in loving companion- ship with the mother he closely resembled in refine- ment of tastes and quietness of manner. The tall, rather stern-looking father of the nine Davis children
*The data for this sketch is from the Confederate Veteran, by courtesy of Mr. S. A: Cunningham.
248
Sam Davis.
thought it best for the boy at this age to be sent else- where to complete his education. Taking counsel, as was his custom, with his wise, though tiny, wife, to- gether they selected the Military Academy at Nash- ville, then under the able management of Bushrod Johnson and Kirby Smith,* as the school to which they would send their second son.
It might well be thought that the prospect of spend- ing several years in the capital city of the State would have been alluring to the country-bred youth. And was there ever a boy who could withstand the tempta- tion to shoulder a musket and march in brand-new uniform to the sound of fife and drum? Yet it was doubted at the time, by those who knew him best, if Sam would be willing to stay through one session so far from home, even for the sake of the advantages afforded by the military school. For although his character was distinctly firm, Sam Davis was above all else a "mother's boy." He had always clung to his little mother with peculiar devotion, and had sel- dom been separated from her longer than a day at a time. He loved home and all that pertained to home life, and was tenderly attached to his younger brothers and sisters. Altogether similar to his mother in mod- esty and purity of thought and speech, he was, on the other hand, like his herculean father in being an ever- ready champion of all who were weak or unfortunate. . Also like his father in unflinching courage, Sam Davis did not know the meaning of fear. Induced, per- haps, by this combination of traits, the lad consented to receive the military training which as a man would
*Both Confederate generals later.
249
Old Tales Retold.
fit him to protect the oppressed and right the wrong in his country's cause.
However that may be, he left home for Nashville in September, 1860, and during all his stay there stood the separation from his family with quiet fortitude. It was only natural for one of his kindly temperament quickly to become a favorite at the Academy. His dealings with his companions, as well as his relations with his professors, were characterized by the same directness of purpose and fine sense of honor for which his father was conspicuous at home, where the worthy man, on account of his upright principles, was ยท better known to his neighbors as "Old Straight" than as Mr. Davis. With his schoolfellows Sam Davis's "word was as good as his bond," and his preceptors could well afford to trust him implicitly.
It was while he was at the Military Academy, in the spring of 1861, when he was not yet twenty years of age, that the war drums, rolling ominously through- out the land, interrupted his studies with a call to arms in defense of the South. The situation of the im- pulsive yet unprepared Southern States, confronted by the strong, well-equipped North, appealed to all that was chivalrous in Sam Davis's nature. Being among the earliest to volunteer for service, he joined the Rutherford Rifles of the First Tennessee Infantry at the very beginning of the conflict. With the blessing of his father and a few memorable words from his mother, Sam Davis was off for the war.
From time to time good reports of the brave boy reached his home. In the autumn of 1863 word came that Sam had been selected because of his proven courage and discretion to become a member of a
250
Sam Davis.
company of mounted scouts under Capt. H. B. Shaw, which General Bragg had organized for the protec- tion of the Army of Tennessee. The duty of the scouts was to keep the general minutely informed of the movements of the Federal army in Middle Ten- nessee. In order to do so more successfully, they must be daring, active, and keen-witted beyond the ordinary soldier. They were expected to penetrate into the enemy's lines when necessary to get informa- tion. Yet their mission being of a dangerous and secret nature, they were obliged to be seen as seldom as possible in public. Consequently, they traveled chiefly by unfrequented paths and byways in pursuit of their aims, and seldom indeed was it that they slept in a more luxurious place than a thicket or a cornfield where their chance for a full meal de- pended largely on the kindness and courage of those brave Confederate women who dared to take them food by stealth.
In order to conceal his identity, and thus obtain more readily the information desired concerning the enemy's movements, Captain Shaw disguised himself as a wandering herb doctor, and under the assumed name of E. Coleman went unsuspected through the country surrounding Nashville, Franklin, Columbia, Smyrna, Pulaski, and other Tennessee towns then in possession of the Federals. But the private scouts, including Sam Davis, wore "the gray" with daring pride even when inside the Federal lines.
During the autumn Davis and five other scouts were detailed to get positive information as to the plan of action of General Grant's army in Tennessee. They were not to fail; the information must be had at any
25I
18
Old Tales Retold.
cost. The enterprise was full of peril. To be seen in a gray jacket was to risk being attacked by overwhelm- ing numbers. Yet young Davis entered on the service without fear or hesitation. While engaged in the dangerous work he found himself in the vicinity of Smyrna ; and being overcome with a desire to see the dear home folks, he resolved to slip into the house at the first opportunity, no matter how great the risk. To be captured with the paper he carried on his per- son was, he well knew, to be at the mercy of his foes ; for his pass read as follows :
. HEADQUARTERS GENERAL BRAGG'S SCOUTS, MIDDLE TENNESSEE, Sept. 25, 1863.
Samuel Davis has permission to pass on scouting duty any- where in Middle Tennessee or north of the Tennessee River he may think proper.
By order of General Bragg.
E. COLEMAN, Commanding Scouts.
Therefore it was with the utmost caution that Sam Davis approached his home one night in November, 1863, and gently tapped on the window. The signal was understood. The door was softly opened, and once more the soldier boy's arms were around his mother's neck. Again his head rested contentedly on her bosom, in the old family room, so dear to memory, while they talked in low tones, not to awaken the two little sisters lying asleep (or supposed to be asleep) in the familiar trundle-bed. Truth to tell, the younger one lay listening to every word, though she understood little of what was said until Sam, rising to leave, turned and bent above the low bed as he said im- pulsively : "Mother, I must look at the children." "Sh-sh! Be careful," whispered Mrs. Davis, in terror
252
Sam Davis.
lest the little ones should learn of their brother's re- turn and by incautious words to the servants be the means of betraying him to the Federals. She was nervously alarmed, therefore, when Sam's dark head bent still lower to snatch a kiss from the lips of each childish slumberer. The one who feigned sleep, bat- tling with her longing to throw her arms around her soldier brother's neck, managed still to keep quiet while he was hurried from the room by the apprehen- sive mother, who sped him on his errand of danger once more with a fervid "God bless my boy."
It was the final parting of mother and son, who were never to meet again on earth. Only a few weeks later news came by "grapevine"* that a scout named Davis had been "caught by the Yankees" and hanged as a spy at Pulaski on Friday, the 27th of November.
Judging from the direction Sam had taken, and knowing his probable whereabouts at that date, his parents at once feared it was their boy who had been executed. The agony of suspense was not to be borne without an effort to learn the truth. Some one must go to Pulaski to ascertain the facts. Some good friend was needed to aid them in their extremity. Such a one was at hand in the person of Mr. John C. Kennedy, whom they knew to be both bold and prudent as well as trustworthy in every respect. In his pathetic appeal to him the distressed father said : "Go, John ; see if it is our son. If it is Sam, do your best to get his body and bring it to us."
It was decided that little Oscar, the youngest son, should accompany Mr. Kennedy. As soon as Mrs.
*"Grapevine" news was intelligence conveyed privately by other means than telegrams or official reports,
253
Old Tales Retold.
Davis could supply food for both and clothing for the child sufficient for the journey, they were ready to mount the farm wagon and start on their melan- choly errand. But before they departed, Mrs. Davis took their kind friend aside and, placing a scrap of plaid linsey in his hand, falteringly said : "It is a piece of the cloth with which I lined my boy's jacket. You will know certainly it is Sam if his jacket is lined with the same."
It was necessary for the travelers to go by way of Nashville to procure a pass from General Rousseau, who, as it happened, was under obligations to Mr. Kennedy for kindness received from him before the opening of the war. Rousseau remembered the ben- efit gratefully, and readily granted the request for safe conduct through the lines. The pass, however, included only territory as far south as Columbia, Gen- eral Rousseau declaring that he had no power to give one beyond that point. Compelled to be satisfied with the document as it stood, Mr. Kennedy proceeded to Columbia, trusting to chance and his own ingenuity to take him farther on his way. He drove through Columbia without interruption, and was not halted until he neared Pulaski, where he was challenged by a soldier in blue. The soldier, who happened to be a Dutchman, was unable to decipher all the words of the lengthy pass. Glancing over the paper, which looked somewhat like a fifty-dollar bill and was quite awe-inspiring to the foreigner, the Dutch guard saw plainly the name of General Rousseau attached, and promptly motioned for the wagon to pass. Another picket was hoodwinked in the same way, and Mr.
254
Sam Davis.
Kennedy was soon in the presence of the provost mar- shal. "How did you get in here?" questioned the Federal officer sternly.
"On a pass from General Rousseau," was the reply.
"Let me see it," demanded the provost. When he had carefully examined the paper, he turned on Ken- nedy, exclaiming: "You know that pass isn't any account."
"Yes, I know," was the quiet retort; "but I am in here now."
"Well, what do you want?" asked the irritated Fed- eral.
"I have been sent," explained Mr. Kennedy, "by the parents of a boy named Sam Davis to take up the body of a Confederate soldier who was hanged here on the 27th of November, to see if it is their son."
The whole manner of the provost changed. He sprang forward eagerly, as he grasped Kennedy's hand in both his own, and said with genuine emotion : "Tell that boy's father that he died with the honor and respect of every man and officer in this command. You are at liberty to take up his body. If you need protection, I will give you a company, sir ; if necessary, you shall have a regiment."
The offer of troops was courteously declined, as they were not thought needful, and Mr. Kennedy pro- ceeded to the grave, accompanied by Oscar and Maj. A. R. Richardson, who was at that time Clerk of the County Court of Giles County. As they neared the spot they were joined by a number of Federal soldiers, who, far from molesting them, doffed their caps and offered to assist in opening the grave. But the two Southern men preferred to perform the task in privacy.
255
Old Tales Retold.
Accordingly, with the help of a negro man they had employed, they threw out the dirt and brought to the surface the rough case in which the hero had been buried. The lid was removed, and there was dis- closed the mortal form from which a pure, patriotic, brave, and faithful soul had been suddenly wrenched through the cruel exigencies of war.
The height, about five feet seven or eight inches, the apparent age, near twenty-one years, and the slender build all corresponded to that of Sam Davis. To more fully prove his identity, Mr. Kennedy turned back the coat and compared the lining of the gray jacket with the piece of linsey given him by Mrs. Davis. They were alike. To make assurance doubly sure, he unwound from about the neck the cords of the hangman's cap (a badge of shame which in this case has long since been transformed by the public heart into a crown of honor and glory), and, turning back the cap far enough to disclose the upper lip, marked faintly with the dark, silky growth of the young man's first mustache, he was fully convinced that the body was that of Sam Davis.
Before turning homeward Mr. Kennedy tried to gain all the information possible concerning the trag- edy of Sam Davis's death. Upon careful inquiry he learned the following facts :
On the 20th of November Captain Shaw and sev- eral of his scouts, having obtained all necessary knowl- edge of the plans of the Federals, were on their way back to Confederate headquarters, when they were captured by a band of "Kansas Jayhawkers." Shaw's identity was not discovered, through his having been known as "Coleman," and he was lodged with the
256
Sam Davis.
others in jail in Pulaski. About the same time Sam Davis was also taken prisoner, but at what point or under what circumstances could not be learned, though diligent inquiry was made of all persons likely to know the particulars of the capture. In his efforts to find out the truth, Mr. Kennedy went to Captain Armstrong, the sympathetic provost marshal, and said, "The boy's father will want to know where and how he was taken;" to which Captain Armstrong re- plied, "I don't know."
"Provost Marshal, and don't know?" exclaimed Ken- nedy incredulously.
"No," replied the officer, "it is a secret not men- tioned in the report of the arrest. Here are my books," he continued, opening out the army records to prove his sincerity, and allowing Mr. Kennedy to see for himself that there was no account of the details of Sam Davis's capture set down in the army records. He was informed, however, that when Davis was caught he was rigidly searched, and that accurate maps of the fortifications around Grant's front were found in the seat of his saddle. The soles of his boots, on being split open, were found to contain other important papers which proved him to be beyond a doubt a Confederate scout. This necessitated his be- ing carried to the headquarters of General G. M. Dodge, commanding the Sixteenth Army Corps at Pu- laski. While the prisoner stood before him, General Dodge sat at his desk looking over the captured pa- pers, his face growing more grave with every line he read. Finally, looking up, he remarked that the accu- rate information they contained concerning the Federal army must have been obtained from some one in a
257
Old Tales Retold.
position to have special opportunities for knowing the facts. He then appealed to the young Confederate to tell him who had given him the papers, making him an offer of life and liberty if he would speak the offender's name. As the prisoner remained silent, he was gently reminded that as he was a young man it would be a pity for him to lose his life, yet that un- less he told what he knew it would be the General's duty to call a court-martial and try him as a spy, and it was demonstrated to him that from the proofs at hand he would surely be condemned to death. Then the boy spoke, saying: "General Dodge, I know the danger of my situation, and I am willing to take the consequences."
Though the General pleaded. with him long and ear- nestly, trying to persuade him to take the course that would save his own life, the honest soul of Sam Davis did not falter. In his opinion it would have been treachery to tell, and he preferred death to dishonor. To all persuasions his one reply was: "I will not be- tray the trust imposed in me."
The court-martial met. Davis was condemned, and sentenced to be hanged on the following Friday, the 27th of November. Promptly at ten o'clock A.M. drums were beating time to the dead march, while a full regiment of infantry marched down to the jail. A wagon with a coffin in it was driven up, and the provost marshal went into the jail and brought Davis out.
Messengers from General Dodge had been again and again to the prisoner, begging him to tell his informer's name and he would yet be spared. Con- federate comrades in the jail had also implored him
258
Sam Davis.
not to sacrifice himself for the sake of another. He met their entreaties with the invariable reply: "The man who gave me the information is more important to the Confederacy than I am." To the Federal offi- cers he persisted in saying : "I will not tell."
Having calmly made up his mind to die, he wrote the night before the execution a simple note of fare- well to his mother, and committed his soul to God in earnest prayer. Later he joined with the chaplain of the Eighty-First Ohio Infantry in singing, "On Jor- dan's stormy bank I stand," the old hymn which had nerved many a soul before his to cross the mysterious river of death trustingly. The good chaplain, Rev. James Young, rode with him to the place of execution and at the foot of the gallows awaited with him the final preparations for death. The bristling bayonets of a regiment of troops walled in the gallows place within a hollow square. In the center sat Sam Davis on his coffin, his head drooped low, his eyes fastened on the ground. Beside him sat the chaplain. The moment of execution was very near when a mounted officer of General Dodge's staff dashed through an opening quickly made in the hollow square for his passage. He rode up and dismounted near the pris- oner, and, addressing him with great earnestness, said : "I suppose you have not forgotten the offer of Gen- eral Dodge?"
Without looking up, Sam Davis replied: "What is that ?"
"Your horse, your side arms, and an escort into the Confederate lines, if you will tell who gave you those papers."
Without raising his head the prisoner replied: "I
259
Old Tales Retold.
will die a thousand deaths before I will betray a friend."
The staff officer, Captain Chickasaw, was deeply concerned that he was not able to move the resolution of the condemned man. Before leaving him to his fate he said : "I've one more question to ask you."
"What's that?" asked the prisoner, without lifting his head.
"I want to know if you are the man our scouts chased so close on the Hyde's Ferry pike last Tues- day that you beat their horses in the face with your cap and got away?"
Taken by surprise, Davis suddenly threw back his head, crying : "How do you know that ?"
"It is sufficient that I know it," replied the officer. "Are you the man ?"
"I've nothing to say," was the only answer, as Davis again dropped his head.
It was generally believed that he was the man, and would not make an admission which might incriminate some one else. Keeping faithful silence on this sub- ject and refusing to the last to tell who gave him the maps and plans found in his saddle, the young man ascended the scaffold and was hanged.
To learn the truth concerning Sam Davis's capture, Mr. Kennedy used every means of getting reliable in- formation, but found the mystery surrounding the circumstances to be impenetrable. In discussing the matter afterwards, the boy's father significantly said to his friend : "Don't you know, John, that if Sam was brave enough to beat the Yankees' horses in the face with his cap he would never have been taken alive- except through treachery?" Yet no evidence of
260
Sam Davis.
treachery has ever been discovered. The veil of mys- tery has never been lifted from the truth concerning the capture. Suffice it to know that Sam Davis "suf- fered death on the gibbet rather than betray his friends and his country."
The day after the body was exhumed Mr. Ken- nedy proceeded with it to Columbia on the homeward journey. There he found the river too high to be safely forded, and the ferryboat was in charge of the Federal troops, who were thick about the landing. As it was necessary to apply for permission to cross, he gave the lines to Oscar, warning the child not to do any talking if he should be questioned. Then, ap- proaching the officer in command, he said : "I have the body of a dead man in the wagon. If you will allow your men to take us across, I shall be thankful."
"Whose body is it?" asked the Federal.
There was no evading the reply: "Sam Davis, who was hanged at Pulaski last Friday."
The officer bared his head at the name whose uplift- ing influence stirs every honest heart with tender rev- erence for the young Confederate hero, and instantly gave orders for the wagon to be ferried across.
Mr. Kennedy, on his return, found Oscar sur- rounded by "bluecoats." Evidently the boy had been induced to tell whose body was in the coffin, for an air of sympathy pervaded the crowd of soldiers. With roughly expressed kindness, one of them insisted that Mr. Kennedy should not attempt to lead the team down the steep river bank to the ferryboat, saying to him: "Get up in that wagon, Mister; we'll attend to the horses." The soldiers crowded around the wagon and eased it down the incline, some grasping the
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.