"GENERAL BUNKER."
FOUR YEARS
A SCOUT AND SPY.
"GENERAL BUNKER,"
ONE OF LIEUT. GENERAL GRANT'S MOST DARING AND SUCCESSFUL SCOUTS.
BEING A NARRATIVE OF THE THRILLING ADVENTURES, NARROW ESCAPES,
NOBLE DARING, AND AMUSING INCIDENTS IN THE EXPERIENCE
OF CORPORAL RUGGLES DURING FOUR YEARS' SERVICE
AS A SCOUT AND SPY FOR THE FEDERAL ARMY;
EMBRACING HIS SERVICES FOR
TWELVE OF THE MOST DISTINGUISHED GENERALS IN THE U. S. ARMY.
By E. C. DOWNS,
MAJOR OF THE TWENTIETH OHIO VETERAN VOLUNTEER INFANTRY.
Illustrated.
ZANESVILLE, OHIO:
PUBLISHED BY HUGH DUNNE,
North Fourth Street, adjoining Court House.
1866.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by
E. C. DOWNS,
In the Clerk's Office of the United States District Court, for the
Southern District of Ohio.
STEREOTYPED AT THE
FRANKLIN TYPE FOUNDRY,
CINCINNATI, O.
TO
Lieutenant-General U. S. Grant,
Whose undaunted energy, heroic valor, superior generalship,
and devotion to his country,
have proved him
"THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE,"
And won for him
A WORLD-WIDE FAME;
And to the gallant Officers and Soldiers
who have nobly assisted in sustaining our glorious nationality
by crushing the great rebellion,
THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED.
PREFACE.
It was with much difficulty that I was induced to give to the public a narrative of my experience as a scout and spy. It was the intense interest with which the people have listened to my narratives, whenever I have related them, and their earnest entreaties to have them published, that have prevailed upon me to do so.
I entered the army from purely patriotic motives. I had no vain ambition to gratify, but simply a desire to sustain and perpetuate the noble institutions that had been purchased by the blood of our fathers. I valued the cause of liberty as well worth all the sacrifice that it might cost to save it. I saw at once that the conflict was to be one involving great principles, and that in the end Truth and Justice must prevail.
The part that I have borne in putting down the great rebellion is the one that naturally fell to me by the force of circumstances, and entirely unsolicited. My relation in the affairs of life seems to have been such as to have just adapted me to that part that fell to my lot to act.
I have, without doubt, been indiscreet at times. Who has not? But the reader must remember that he who goes from the peaceful pursuits of life, for the first time, to engage in the art of war, does so with a lack of experience. Soldiering was not my trade. War is demoralizing in its tendency. This fact, I trust, will very much lessen any feelings of prejudice that may arise, in the course of these narratives, from passages clothed with the rough-and-tumble of army life.
Rough language and blunt manners are characteristics of war, because its tendency is to destroy the finer feelings of our natures. Some of the language used is of that character, and it would fail to be a truthful representation of the reality if rendered less so. The incidents that I have narrated are all of them facts that have occurred in my experience, and, without further apology, I submit them to an indulgent public.
Lorain Ruggles.
CONTENTS.
| CHAPTER I. | |
| Parentage—Early discipline—Childhood incidents—Subsequent occupations—Driven from Mississippi—Works on rebel fortifications—Escape to Illinois—Enlists as a soldier—Supposed to have deserted—How he got his name—Examination by the Surgeon—Roster of the Regiment | [11] |
| CHAPTER II. | |
| Moves to Cincinnati—Detailed to guard the forts—Meets a secesh lady—First scout—Unexpected visit of the Colonel—The drill— Bad report—The mischief investigated—Attempts to discover the rogues—Innocent man accused—The accusers skedaddle—Who got the chickens | [22] |
| CHAPTER III. | |
| "Marching orders"—Arrives at Fort Donelson—The surrender—Goes North with prisoners—Meets an old friend as a rebel Captain—The Captain attempts to bribe him—Expedition up the Tennessee River—Touching incident—Battle of Shiloh—Captures an Enfield—Recommended as a scout | [30] |
| CHAPTER IV. | |
| Rumored attack upon Grand Junction—"General Bunker" sent out as spy—Passes himself as a rebel soldier—Falls in with rebel cavalry—Visits a rebel camp—Attempts to deprive him of his revolver—Discovers a Yankee forage party—Undertakes to return— Captured by Yankees, and robbed of his revolver and money—Passes as a rebel spy—Sent to the Provost-marshal—Sent to General Hurlbut—Returned to Grand Junction | [38] |
| CHAPTER V. | |
| Fired at by a citizen—The sick overseer—How he was cured—Pickets fired on—Trip to White Church—Visits General Van Dorn—Meets a rebel spy—Reports to General Leggett—Grand Junction evacuated—Again sees the rebel spy—Attempt to arrest him— Drinks wine with the rebel General Jackson—Discovers a hole in the fence | [53] |
| CHAPTER VI. | |
| The value of the Oath—Attempt to take "Bunker's" life—Sent to Grand Junction—The hazardous ride—Shoots the picket—The chase—Unfortunate occurrence—The chase abandoned—Meets with guerrillas—They invite him to drink—Renewed vigilance—The battle of Middleburg | [69] |
| CHAPTER VII. | |
| Attempts to visit the enemy's camp—Learns the strength and position of the enemy—Return intercepted—Perilous situation— Loses his mule—Frightened by men of his own regiment—The plan to capture the enemy—The negro's report—The forces discovered—Disposes of a rebel picket—Reports his discovery | [76] |
| CHAPTER VIII. | |
| Sent to find the enemy's pickets—Suspicious circumstance—Sick child—Captures three citizens standing picket—Releases them —Falls asleep—Perilous situation—Fortunate turn of affairs— Attack on the pickets—A very pious man—He proves a rebel spy | [85] |
| CHAPTER IX. | |
| Sent to Somerville—Finds himself a prisoner—Taken to Cold Water —Meets with old acquaintances—Is paroled—Runs with the 2d Arkansas Cavalry—Goes to Lumpkins' Mills—Interview with General Price—Stays all night with his brother, the rebel General—Return to Bolivar—Reports to General Ross—"Steals the Colonel's horse," and returns to the enemy—Runs away from the enemy | [93] |
| CHAPTER X. | |
| Sent to Grand Junction to capture guerrillas—Suspicious incident— Strategy to get out the guerrillas—Orders disobeyed—The rebel flag—The very kind secesh lady—The mistake—Out of the frying-pan into the fire—Guerrillas watching for them—The attack—The prisoner—Result of the trio | [103] |
| CHAPTER XI. | |
| Sent to Lagrange—Observes two cavalrymen—Arrival at Lagrange—Waits for the cavalry—Accompanies them out—Takes his departure—Is pursued—Evades the pursuit—Finds himself cornered—Crosses the Cypress Swamp—Robbed by outlaws—Disloyal citizen—The fate of the robbers | [115] |
| CHAPTER XII. | |
| Starts to find General Bragg's forces—"Wools" the secesh farmer—Receives a bottle of rum—Guerrillas washing stockings—Finds Bragg's advance—Recognized as a Yankee spy—Ordered off his mule to be shot—The clamor of the crowd—Recognized as a Confederate spy—Rebel Surgeon vouches for him—Is released—Gray-headed rebel brought to justice—The Sutler of the 2d Arkansas Cavalry a prisoner—What became of the guerrillas that were washing stockings | [127] |
| CHAPTER XIII. | |
| Reconnoiters Hickory Flats with a squad of seven men—Shoots at the mark—Orders to march with two days' rations—Cause of the alarm —Reconnoiter beyond Whitesville—Major Mudd's trap—"Bunker" entices the rebs into it—Rides into the trap behind rebel Captain— Sent out beyond Pocahontas—Passes as a rebel artillerist—Secesh citizen stands guard for him—The a very kind secesh lady—The anxious wife—Discovers guerrillas burning a human being | [139] |
| CHAPTER XIV. | |
| Starts on a trip for General Lauman—Hisinstructions—A Confederate widow—Discovers a squad of rebel soldiers—Captures part of their arms—Learns the whereabouts of guerrillas—Attempt to capture them—Guerrillas escape—Captures a prisoner—Cause of guerrillas' escape—The "General" and squad get arrested—The charges and specifications | [157] |
| CHAPTER XV. | |
| Unfortunate state of affairs—Informality of charge and specifications—Assistance of friends—Fails to get a trial—Gloomy prospects—Evidence accumulates—Guard-house incident—The "General" concludes to help himself—Narrow escape from guerrillas—The capture—Reaches his regiment—Himself and squad released | [169] |
| CHAPTER XVI. | |
| Starts for Grenada—Instructions—Is captured—Returns to Water Valley—Starts again—Arrives at Grenada—Condition of Price's army—He returns—Again sent to Grenada—Proposes some fun—Plan of strategy—Plan unnecessary—Returns with rebel cavalry—Bivouac at Big Springs—The attack—More fun than bargained for—The result | [182] |
| CHAPTER XVII. | |
| The forage party—Runaways—Daring scout—Narrow escape—The line of battle—Safe return—Scout reports—Assumes the character of a rebel prisoner—Finds a friend—How he introduced himself—Where he belongs—The burning of Holly Springs—The heroine —What she captured—Shows partiality—Offers assistance—Rebel doctor executed | [192] |
| CHAPTER XVIII. | |
| Arrival in Memphis—Daring robbery—Detailed by the Provost-marshal General—Assumes the character of a rebel Major—Secesh acquaintances—Captures a rebel mail—A jollification—A rebel trader—Plan to run the pickets—The escape of the outlaws | [204] |
| CHAPTER XIX. | |
| Reports to Major-General McPherson—Instructions—Disguise—Starts for Vicksburg—Changes his route—Reports to General Denver—Acquaintance with a cotton-buyer—Plan to make money—Visits guerrilla Sol. Street—The arrangement consummated—Visit to General Price—Arrival at Jackson—Robbed of his field-glasses—Introduction to President Davis—Visit to Vicksburg—Visit to Edwards' Station—Meets his bear-hunting comrades—Visits Black River bridge—Robbed of his horse—The return—Reports to General McPherson—Reports to General Grant | [217] |
| CHAPTER XX. | |
| Return to Mississippi—Instructions—Visit to Troy—Movement of cavalry—Reports to General Denver—Is arrested—Federal cavalry driven back—Is released—Visits Greenwood—Journey to the Mississippi River—The perilous crossing—Again arrested— Interview with Gen. Prentiss—Takes the oath of allegiance—Meets a friend—Makes his escape—Reports to Gen. Grant | [233] |
| CHAPTER XXI. | |
| Return to the regiment—The Henry rifle—The march from Milliken's Bend—The tug of war—The army crosses the Mississippi— Capture of Port Gibson—Battle of Raymond—Amusing Capture —The charge on Jackson—Battle of Champion Hills—The rebel courier—Sharp-shooting—The gallant charge—The march to Vicksburg—The place besieged | [245] |
| CHAPTER XXII. | |
| First sharp-shooting at Vicksburg—Silences two guns—The rifle-pit— Shoots a Carolinian—The Carolinian's comrade—Outshoots a squad of sixteen—The defiant rebel—Shoots for Gens. McPherson and Logan—Beats the Parrot rifles—Joke on the Adjutant-General—Visit to Admiral Porter—The French spy—The disclosures—Capture of a rebel dispatch—The fate of the spy | [259] |
| CHAPTER XXIII. | |
| Sent for by General Grant—Instructions—Crosses Black River—Is captured by rebel cavalry—Sent to General DeVieu—The interview—Passes as Johnston's spy—The attempt to escape—The pursuit—Fired at by Federal pickets—Again fired at by the enemy—The pursuers driven back—Again fired at by Federal pickets—The alarm—Reports to General Osterhaus—Reports to General Grant | [275] |
| CHAPTER XXIV. | |
| Visit to Chickasaw Landing—Surrender of Vicksburg—Visit to the city —The paroled Major—The Yankee trick—Returns to Vicksburg —Made detective—Is sent to Yazoo City—Attends a guerrilla organization—Makes them a speech—Returns to Vicksburg | [286] |
| CHAPTER XXV. | |
| Taken sick with the ague—Encounters his Satanic Majesty—The Devil afraid of General Grant—Expedition to Bogue Chitto Creek—Captures a rebel Colonel—Enlists as a veteran—Makes a speech to the soldiers | [295] |
| CHAPTER XXVI. | |
| Frightened by a dead Colonel—Burns Confederate corn in face of the enemy—Gets into a tight place—A frightened Major—Captures information—A headstrong Captain gobbled up—Captures a rebel Provost-marshal General—Encounter with General Ross' cavalry —A strange adventure—Races with a rebel Colonel—A hard- hearted woman | [305] |
| CHAPTER XXVII. | |
| Starts home on veteran furlough—Trouble at the table—Bluffs the Captain—Suspected of being a rebel spy—Commissioned officer serves him at the table—Kind attentions at home—Silences an old maid—Returns to the front—Shot at twenty-one times—The remedy—A Union lady—The dwarf weaver—The weaver beheaded—Goes into Marietta as a spy—Confederate side of the lines—Escape from the rebs—General McPherson's death—Hard fighting | [331] |
| CHAPTER XXVIII. | |
| Goes to Ohio to recruit—Raises twenty-one men—Difficulty with the Governor—Visits Lieutenant-General Grant—Order from the War Department—Again in difficulty—Runs away from the Governor—Reports to General Sherman—Georgia raid—An amusing coincident—Reports to General Granger, at Mobile—Reports to General Grierson, in Texas—Makes a trip to the Upper Colorado—Incident at General Grant's head-quarters—The war over | [358] |
| CHAPTER XXIX. | |
| Ludicrous effect of fear—A Corporal outflanks a Captain—A good Union man—A touching appeal—A scene among the wounded— An old Secesh discovers his mistake—Suggestions from experience—Concluding thoughts | [390] |
INTRODUCTION
Lorain Ruggles was enlisted by me in December, 1861, at Columbus, Ohio. The name of "General Bunker" was given to him by the men in his company, and it was by that name that he was most generally known in the army, and very many knew him by no other name.
Mr. Ruggles is a man possessed of great presence of mind, a strong memory, and not a little of native wit, and great power of physical endurance. These, with his knowledge of the Southern people and country, admirably fitted him for the duties of a scout.
The narratives here related are of facts that actually occurred in his experience, and very many of them are as well authenticated as any facts in history can be. There has been no aim at making this a work of general history, but simply a narrative of personal experience, coupled with only so much of the general history of the war as is necessary to explain the cause of the events that transpired in his experience. Many of these are incidents of daring that are without parallel in the scout service. The following testimonials of the value of his services and the truthfulness of his reports will be read with interest:
"Head-quarters 1st Brigade, 3d Division,
"17th Army Corps, December, 11, 1863.
"Captain E. C. Downs, 20th Ohio:
"Captain—I have known Mr. Ruggles since December, 1861, when your company was first mustered. I remember very well his first expedition as a spy, in June, 1862, when the 20th was at Grand Junction, then an exposed outpost, under command of General Leggett.
"Since that time he has been continually employed on such duty, often on expeditions of extreme hazard. He has shown as much address as daring. Many a camp-fire has been enlivened with stories of his adventures while commanding officers have set high value upon his reports.
"I remember Mr. Ruggles as one of our best sharp-shooters in the war. His skill as a sharp-shooter, as well as scout, often got him leave to go out from the line on somewhat independent duty. At Champion Hills I gave him leave to go out with company A, which was sent out as skirmishers to open the way for an advance, on account of his skill.
"At the siege of Vicksburg, he had a special permanent permission to be among the sharp-shooters on the advanced lines. On the day of the general but unsuccessful charge in May, he was mainly instrumental in driving away the artillerists from two of the enemy's guns on the right of the Jackson road.
"His Henry rifle, given to him by General Grant, was one of the marked pieces among the sharp-shooters of the 17th Corps at that siege.
"Very respectfully, your ob't serv't,
"M. F. Force,
"Brig.-Gen'l. Vols., late Colonel 20th Ohio."
"Head-quarters 3d Div., 17th Army Corps,
"Vicksburg, Miss., December 7, 1863.
"Captain E. C. Downs:
"Dear Sir—Mr. Ruggles (or 'General Bunker,' as he is better known) has acted as scout and spy for me on very many occasions since the early part of June, 1862, and is now acting in that capacity. In this character he has been remarkably successful, seldom ever failing to satisfactorily accomplish the mission on which he was sent.
"Many scenes of his life as a spy are intensely interesting. It has been my fortune to meet in life very few persons who could so successfully act an assumed character.
"At some future time, I shall probably be at liberty to relate a few incidents of considerable interest in his career, of which he himself is as yet ignorant.
"Very respectfully,
"M. D. Leggett,
"Brigadier-General."
"Memphis, Tenn., November 28, 1863.
"Captain E. C. Downs:
"Dear Sir—You wrote me sometime since, inquiring as to the services of Mr. Ruggles as a scout and spy for the Union army. In reply I would state that Mr. Ruggles was a superior man for the work assigned him, and the information obtained through him of the movements of the enemy was always reliable.
"In the discharge of his duties, he was active, energetic, and heroically brave. His gallantry in the service deserves honorable mention in the work of which you speak.
"I am truly yours, etc.,
"Leeman F. Ross."
"Head-quarters 17th Army Corps,
"Department of the Tennessee,
"Vicksburg, Miss., December 15, 1863.
"To whom it may concern:
"This is to certify that Mr. Ruggles has been employed by me at various times during the past year, and I have always found him brave, adventurous, and truthful.
"His services as a scout have been very important, and he deserves well of the military authorities.
"Jas. B. McPherson,
"Major-General."
"Zanesville, O., July 31, 1866.
"Major E. C. Downs:
"Dear Sir—It affords me pleasure to state that I am personally acquainted with Mr. Lorain Ruggles, known in the army as 'General Bunker.' He belonged to my command, and I know he was regarded as one of the most intrepid scouts in the 17th Army Corps. He was in high favor with all our general officers, and I think rendered more efficient service in the capacity of scout and spy than any man with whom I am acquainted. He certainly deserves well of his country.
"I never knew him to give false intelligence, and in his forthcoming work should recommend it as a truthful narrative of his personal adventures, many of which I am known to.
"G. F. Wiles,
"Late Colonel 78th O. V. V. I., and Brevet Brig.-General."
"Carrollton, Ohio, June 27, 1866.
"Major E. C. Downs, Zanesville, Ohio:
"Major—I am glad to add my testimony to the reputation of 'Bunker' as a scout and spy. I believe him to have been the most reliable and successful scout in the Western army.
"'Bunker' had the confidence of Lieut.-General Grant and Major-Generals McPherson and Logan, which he earned by skillful labor during the campaign which resulted in the capture of Vicksburg and its garrison. 'Bunker' deserves well of his country.
"Yours truly,
"B. F. Potts,
"Late Brevet Major-General U. S. Vols."
"Carbondale, Ill., July 1, 1866.
"Major Downs:
"Dear Sir—I am well acquainted with Mr. Ruggles, or, as we called him in the army, 'General Bunker.' He was certainly a very excellent scout, and performed great service in that branch of duties. He served as scout for me, as well as for many others, and at all times performed his part well, ran great risks; was not only a good scout, but one of the best sharp-shooters perhaps in the army.
"Yours truly,
"John A. Logan."
"Washington, D. C., July 9, 1865.
"Major E. C. Downs:
"Dear Sir—In the work of which you speak, you are at liberty to refer to me concerning the value of the services rendered by Mr. Ruggles as a scout and spy. His reports were always reliable, and were held in high estimation by me.
"Yours truly,
U. S. Grant,
"Lieutenant-General U. S. A."
Such testimonials as the foregoing give the narratives contained in the following pages a reputation of reliability that can not be doubted. Whenever a mission of great danger was to be executed, Mr. Ruggles was the man that was usually chosen to perform it. His quick comprehension and heroic daring enabled him to address himself to the work, which he rarely ever failed to accomplish. Often the boldness of his designs proved to be the reason of his success. Very few have equaled, while none have excelled, him in that line of duty. Many of the incidents in his experience are so wonderful that in them the "truth seems stranger than fiction."
The Author.
FOUR YEARS A SCOUT AND SPY.
CHAPTER I.
Parentage—Early discipline—Childhood incidents—Subsequent occupations—Driven from Mississippi—Works on rebel fortifications—Escape to Illinois—Enlists as a soldier—Supposed to have deserted—How he got his name—Examination by the Surgeon—Roster of the Regiment.
I was born in the town of Copley, in what is now known as Summit County, Ohio, on the 17th day of June, 1823, and at the time that I entered the army I was thirty-nine years of age. My father's name was Alfred Ruggles. At the time of his death he was living with his second wife. His family numbered twelve sons and seven daughters. I am the youngest of seven children by my father's second wife.
My father was a blacksmith by trade, and all of his sons, except myself, were learned the trade, under his personal instruction. Lorenzo Ruggles, my father's second son by his first wife, after having finished his trade, was sent to college and educated. He is the General Ruggles of the Confederate army.
When I was ten years of age my father died, leaving a large farm disposed of by a will. The children went to law, and spent the entire property in breaking the will and settling the estate. In consequence of that I was thrown upon my own labor for my support at a very early age.
My father was an old-fashioned strict disciplinarian; in the government of his family "he ruled with an iron hand." His government was not only rigid but chilling. The deviation of a hair from the paternal command was usually followed by a whipping, and sometimes one was administered without proper investigation.
People often ask me, "What is the essential qualification of a good spy?" My answer is, "It requires an accomplished liar." I mean by that, a man that can successfully practice deception. I do not mean by that that a man must be an habitual liar. There is nothing that I despise more than a man whose word can not be relied upon. Whether deception, as I have practiced it in the discharge of my duty as a spy, is a moral wrong, I shall not here attempt to argue. Of this much I am sure: it has many times saved my life, and perhaps the lives of thousands of others, besides saving immense sums of money to the Government.
Whatever of the art of deception I possess has been somewhat shaped by the chilling discipline administered to me by my father. An incident or two from my early life will serve to show what that discipline was, and what effect it may have had in my after career.
In my childhood days I was noted as "a mischievous boy." I suppose that means that I was constantly devising or hunting some sort of diversion. My father usually kept wrought nails of his own manufacture to sell to his customers. These I used to get and drive into the fence, firewood, shade-trees, or any thing else that came in my way. This my father had forbidden me to do, but sometimes the impulse of the moment would cause me to break over, and as often I would be whipped for my disobedience.
One day, as my father was going away from home he charged me particularly not to go into the shop during his absence. While he was gone I became so much interested in play that I never thought of going to the shop. Near the close of the day my father returned, and it so happened that he needed a few wrought nails to use the first thing after his arrival. On going to the shop after some, he found his nail-box empty. His last impression, on leaving, had been that I would get them, and now his first impression was that I had got them. Consequently, I was immediately summoned to give an account of them.
"My son, what made you go into the shop during my absence?" inquired my father.
"Father, I did not go into the shop," I replied.
"Somebody has been there and carried off my nails. Nobody else was here but you; you must be the one that got them."
"I did not get them, father; neither did I go to the shop. I certainly did not."
My father knew that I had been in the habit of getting them, and, though he had never known me to tell him a willful lie, nevertheless, he thought that I had carried off his nails. I had not only disobeyed, but had lied about it. It was too aggravated an offense to let pass without punishment. Taking a hickory gun-wiper that stood in a corner of the shop, he gave me a severe whipping, and then said, "Lorain, what did you do with the nails?" Again I denied getting them, and again he whipped me, which was repeated several times. At length "forbearance ceased to be a virtue"—at least, my poor back felt so—and I said to him, "Father, if you won't whip me any more, I'll tell you what I did with them."
"Well, what did you do with them?"
"I drove them into the grind-stone block."
After having talked to me about the wickedness of telling a lie, he sent me into the house, little thinking that he had been forcing me to tell one.
The next morning, as I was standing by, a customer entered the shop for some nails. He had called the day before, and finding nobody present, and needing them for immediate use, took all that he could find, weighed them, and returned home. "There, father," said I, "I told you that I did not get your nails!" His heart smote him for the whipping that he had given me, and he wept like a child. The incident, however, had its effect, and not many days passed until I was again placed on trial.
Myself and sister Electa attended the district school. Our nearest neighbor, Mr. Moss, had a daughter about the age of my sister, who used to attend the same school; her name was Cordelia. She was a very proud-spirited girl, and improved every opportunity to show off. Her mother bought her a new work-pocket; this she would frequently display, and say to my sister, in a proud, haughty way, "You haint got no new work-pocket bought out of the store." It displeased me considerably to have her assume to be any better than my sister; so I resolved to stop it at the first opportunity.
One day, as we were returning from school we espied a squirrel that had taken refuge in a small tree by the roadside. Cordelia laid her work-pocket at the roots of the tree, and she and my sister mounted the fence, and commenced to climb the tree to catch it. Discovering the work-pocket, I picked it up unperceived, and started on. Coming to a bank of loose earth, where a tree had been recently uprooted by the wind, I buried it, and then returned toward my companions and called to them to come along. The girls had started to overtake me, when Cordelia, missing her work-pocket, returned to get it. She searched for it a long time, but without success. Failing to find it, she accused me of getting it, which I stoutly denied. At last, complaint was made to my father. Both of the girls had seen it lying near the tree, but neither of them had seen me have it. My father asked me what I had done with it; but I denied having seen it. "You must have taken it," said the old man, "for nobody else was there that could have taken it."
"I must have got the nails too," I replied. This outflanked him; he remembered having whipped me once wrongfully, and feared a repetition of the same thing. The result was I evaded punishment, and my father never found out what I had done with the work-pocket.
The next summer, after my father's death, I hired out on board of one of the packet-boats running on the Ohio Canal, as cabin-boy. I continued for three summers to follow the canal in that capacity, and for four summers following I was a canal driver. The last three seasons I drove the same team, and at the end of the third season I received from the Transportation Company a prize of ten dollars for having kept my team in the best order.
The winter following, my seventh season on the canal, I went down the Mississippi River to Arkansas, and spent the season chopping steamboat wood. While thus employed on Island Twenty-eight, I had the fortune to kill a very large black bear, which I sold to a steamboat captain for what seemed to me at that time a great price. The incident turned my attention to trapping and bear-hunting. I spent several successive winters in hunting and trapping in the wilds of Arkansas. In the winter of 1851 and 1852 I was employed in hunting wild hogs in the Yazoo bottoms for a man in Vicksburg, Miss. I was thus engaged at the same time that the fourteen French hunters were killed by wild hogs in the Yazoo bottoms. I spent one year as an overseer for Mr. James Ford, of Memphis, Tenn., on the French palace plantation, near the fort of Island No. 60. My summers were usually spent on the Mississippi and its tributaries. In the summer of 1859 I went to Pike's Peak, and thence to Salt Lake. The winter of 1860 and 1861 I was at work on White River, Ark., and had several hands at work with me, filling a contract for shingles for a man by the name of Hanner, in Bolivar County, Mississippi.
In the spring, I commenced to deliver the shingles, but Mr. Hanner refused to receive them, on the ground that the country was engaged in war. His refusal to receive them provoked me, and I said to him, "All you need is a good thrashing, and then you'll behave yourself and not talk so." That enraged him, and he turned and left me, muttering vengeance as he went. An hour later he returned with a party of men, threatening to hang me if he should catch me, but I was not to be found. Mr. Hanner did not accuse me of being an abolitionist or a Northern man. He was soon after made Colonel of the 17th Mississippi Zouaves. Knowing that my life was in danger there, I made my way to Memphis, Tenn.
At Memphis, Tenn., I found the secession element decidedly too hot for me. I saw no other way for me to do but "aid and comfort" the secession movement or leave the country.
Lying at the levee was a steamboat just getting up steam, destined, it was said, for St. Louis, Mo. She had on board a cargo of picks, spades, wheelbarrows, and whisky. I took passage in her and went to Columbus, Ky., and there she stopped and commenced to discharge her cargo. I soon learned that she was going no further.
At that place I came across Mr. James Ford, for whom I had been an overseer on the French palace plantation. He gave me a warm greeting, and said that he was glad that I had come. He was at that time in command of the post, and engaged in fortifying the place. He persuaded me to take charge of a gang of negroes and work on the forts, which I did, to kill all suspicion until an opportunity occurred for me to escape. When I had been there engaged for five days, the steamboat Amelia came up the river and landed, on her way to Cairo, Ill. I happened to know the pilot, and told him that I was in a tight place, and by his assistance I secreted myself on board the boat and went to Cairo. It was the last steamer that was allowed to pass by Columbus, Ky., until the place was captured by the Federal army.
From Cairo I went to Toledo, O. Recruiting for the Federal army was going on rapidly all over the North. In the fall of 1861 I visited the principal cities in Ohio, in search of a company of sharp-shooters, in which to enlist. I found several such organizations, but none of them were officered by men that suited me. In the month of December, while at Columbus, Ohio, I met Lieutenant Downs, of the 20th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, with a squad of ten men, on his way to Trumbull County to recruit. Liking his appearance and that of his men, I enlisted, on condition that he would furnish me with an Enfield rifle.
From Columbus we took the first train of cars to Cleveland; it was late in the evening when we arrived. Passing a boot and shoe store that was yet open, I obtained leave of the Lieutenant to stop and purchase a pair of boots before going to our place of lodging. The Lieutenant and party did not stop, but continued on to the hotel where we were to stop. After having purchased a pair of boots, I got into an interesting conversation with the shop-keeper, and remained somewhat longer than was necessary. I had been intrusted to the care of Corporal Grinnell by the Lieutenant, and my long absence had created a suspicion in the mind of the Corporal that I had deserted. He had also heard Lieutenant Bostwick, while in Columbus, advise Lieutenant Downs not to enlist me, for fear I would run away. At last he started out with three men in search of me, and found me still at the shop. I have since had many a joke with Lieutenant Bostwick and Corporal Grinnell about their suspecting that I would desert. They have been among my warmest friends in the army. The next morning, at eleven o'clock, we reached Warren. At that place the party dispersed to their homes, and I was furnished boarding at the Eagle House, where I remained for ten days.
On Monday, January 8, 1862, we met to go to the regiment, then at Camp King, near Covington, Ky. The squad had increased by accession of recruits to twenty men. Our journey passed off pleasantly, and in two days' time we reached our regiment. The party that went home with the Lieutenant had carried their knapsacks with them; not knowing at that time the name for them, I asked the Lieutenant if he had a "Bunker Hill" for me to wear on my back. From that I received the name of "Bunker," and have been more generally known by that name in the army than any other.
The next morning after our arrival in camp, we were marched over to the Surgeon's quarters for examination. From a list of names that the Lieutenant had handed him, the Surgeon called "Lorain Ruggles!"
"Here I am, Doctor," I answered; "what do you want of me?"
"I want to examine you, and see if you are sound."
"Oh, that's it, is it. You need not be to that trouble, I'm sound enough."
"Well, but I must see whether you are sound or not; hold out your hands; work your fingers; touch your hands over your head."
Going through the motions, I added, "Oh, I tell you that I am all right."
"Are you ruptured," he continued.
"Ruptured! what is that?"
"Are you bursted?"
"No, I ain't quite busted yet; I've a couple of dollars left."
"You don't understand me, Mr. Ruggles," continued the surgeon, placing his hands on my abdomen. "Are your bowels all right?"
"Oh, I understand you now! They are a little thin; the rations don't relish well yet."
The doctor succeeded at last in making me understand, and having finished his examination, we were accepted as a soldier in the United States army.
Like all other recruits, as soon as mustered in I was placed under drill. To me the "steps" and "facings," "times" and "motions," were perfectly incomprehensible. I formed a dislike to them that I could never get over. I was expert in the forest at handling my piece, and I did not see why the same times and motions that would kill a bear would not kill a "reb."
The following is a list of the commissioned officers that were in the 20th Ohio Volunteer Infantry at the time that I entered it:
Charles Whittlesy, Colonel,
M. F. Force, Lt. Colonel,
J. N. McElroy, Major,
E. L. Hill, Surgeon,
J. G. Purple, Asst. Surgeon,
E. N. Owen, Adjutant,
P. M. Hitchcock, Qr.-Master,
James Knapp, Chaplain.
| Elisha Hiatt, | Captain | Co. A. | W. W. Updegraff, | Captain | Co. F. |
| William Rogers, | 1st Lt. | Co. A. | D. R. Hume, | 1st Lt. | Co. F. |
| L. N. Ayres, | 2d Lt. | Co. A. | W. D. Neal, | 2d Lt. | Co. F. |
| John C. Fry, | Captain | Co. B. | J. N. Cassel, | Captain | Co. G. |
| A. J. Edwards, | 1st Lt. | Co. B. | G. L. Melick, | 1st Lt. | Co. G. |
| R. M. Colby, | 2d Lt. | Co. B. | Nathan Bostwick, | 2d Lt. | Co. G. |
| J. M. McCoy, | Captain | Co. C. | James Powers, | Captain | Co. H. |
| Z. P. Atkins, | 1st Lt. | Co. C. | E. C. Downs, | 1st Lt. | Co. H. |
| Conrad Garris, | 2d Lt. | Co. C. | H. M. Davis, | 2d Lt. | Co. H. |
| C. H. McElroy, | Captain | Co. D. | F. M. Shaklee, | Captain | Co. L. |
| V. T. Hills, | 1st Lt. | Co. D. | Harrison Wilson, | 1st Lt. | Co. L. |
| Henry Sherman, | 2d Lt. | Co. D. | W. L. Waddell, | 2d Lt. | Co. L. |
| George Rogers, | Captain | Co. E. | Abraham Kaga, | Captain | Co. K. |
| B. A. F. Greer, | 1st Lt. | Co. E. | David Rhinehart, | lst Lt. | Co. K. |
| W. H. Jacobs, | 2d Lt. | Co. E. | Seneca Hale, | 2d Lt. | Co. K. |
CHAPTER II.
Moves to Cincinnati—Detailed to guard the forts—Meets a secesh lady—First scout—Unexpected visit of the Colonel—The drill—Bad report—The mischief investigated—Attempts to discover the rogues—Innocent man accused—The accusers skedaddle—Who got the chickens.
Shortly after I joined the regiment it moved to the city barracks in Cincinnati, Ohio. It was the duty of the regiment at that time to guard the fortifications that had been built to protect the cities of Cincinnati, Covington, and Newport. Not long after we arrived at the barracks, company "H," to which I belonged, was detailed for a three days' tour at guarding the line of defenses. Lieutenant Downs, with a squad consisting of three sergeants and twenty-seven men, were sent to guard that part of the defenses known as the Three-mile Batteries. I was one of the squad.
These batteries formed a chain of defenses running eastward from the Licking River at a distance of two miles and a half south of the city of Newport. Beginning near the Licking River, was situated Fort Shaler; a mile and a half east was Fort Stuart, and a mile and a half east of that was Beechwoods Battery.
The detail was divided into three squads, of a sergeant and nine men each, for each of the three forts. I was one of the squad that went to Fort Stuart. That fort being between the other two, was made head-quarters of the officer commanding the detail.
We crossed the Ohio River on a ferry-boat to Newport, and then marched out. When we had gone about half-way to the forts, we were met by a lady in a carriage, who, as we passed, called out, "Hurrah for Jeff. Davis!" We took it as a downright insult, but passed along without making any disturbance. We soon overtook a young man, who told us where the lady lived, who she was, and also that she was secesh, and that her sentiments were well known in the neighborhood. She was a widow.
The next morning I asked Lieutenant Downs for the privilege of taking three men with me to scout the neighborhood for information concerning the secesh woman's disloyalty. He granted the request, with the condition that we report back promptly by 2 o'clock in the afternoon. We were allowed to take our arms with us.
We visited all the neighbors living in the immediate vicinity of the lady's residence, and they all confirmed what we had heard of her disloyalty. We then went to her house, but found that she was absent. The members of her family said that she was not disloyal, but very strongly sympathized with the secession movement. Her negroes said she was secesh. We were treated courteously by the family, and urged to stay to dinner, which we did. While the dinner was being prepared, we enlivened the time by narrating our camp stories, very much to their amusement. When we were about to take our departure, we were invited to come the next day and bring our Lieutenant. The invitation was pressed so hard that we promised to come.
At the hour specified, we reported to our Lieutenant, and gave him all the information that we had gathered concerning the woman's disloyalty and the feeling that existed against her among her neighbors. It was determined, in consequence of the insult that we had received, and her known sympathy with the enemy, to lay the matter before the Colonel on our return to the regiment.
The next day was very rainy, so we did not repeat our visit as we had promised to do. About the middle of the afternoon we were very much surprised by the appearance at the fort of Colonel Force. Had he come in the night it would not have surprised us, because he had become proverbial for "making the rounds," especially in bad weather. At the time of his arrival the Lieutenant was absent, inspecting the other forts.
The manner of the Colonel seemed strange. He was very inquisitive about our rations—whether they held out and whether we had had any other than Government rations; he also inquired whether any of us had been absent from the fort at any time. I then told him of our trip the day before. He then inquired if we had any of us been there since, and we answered in the negative. He then inspected our ration-boxes, and the grounds all about the fort, examining carefully the wood-pile, fence-corners, and bushes, evidently looking for something on the ground. After having finished his search he did not seem satisfied, but acted as if he was disappointed in something. We were all satisfied that "something was up."
Having finished his inspection, he told me to get my gun and he would drill me in the manual while he was waiting for the return of the Lieutenant. I got along finely in all the movements until he gave the command, "Charge—bayonet."
It being the most natural for me, I brought my piece down to my left side, with a half-face to the left instead of to the right, as I ought to have done.
"Not so, not so—the other way; there—fix it so," said the Colonel, fixing it in its proper position.
"I can never charge bayonet that way."
"Hold it fast; let me try it," said he, putting his hand against the muzzle of the piece.
"I will if I can." He pushed, and over I went to the ground. Springing up and resuming my old position of half-face to the left, "You can't do that again; now try."
The Colonel did try, but could not budge me. He then told me to put up my gun. I had become extremely anxious to know what had brought him over, and I resolved to give him a hint to that effect; so I said to him, "Colonel, you must like the military profession pretty well."
"Why so? what makes you think that?"
"Because you came all the way over here from Cincinnati just to drill me."
The Colonel smiled, but said nothing. By this time the Lieutenant made his appearance. The Colonel took him out to one side and had some private conversation, and then left. We learned from the Lieutenant that complaint had been made at head-quarters that a squad of men from the forts had been to Mrs. ——'s house the night before and taken possession with fixed bayonets, and demanded meat, butter, chickens, and potatoes, and threatened, if the articles demanded were not given them, they would help themselves. The lady remonstrated, and finally begged of them not to disturb her property, but all to no purpose. They then helped themselves to such articles as they wanted, including about thirty chickens.
The Lieutenant seemed surprised and grieved to hear such reports about his men. He questioned us closely, as the Colonel had done, but all to no purpose; every man denied knowing any thing about the outrage. He searched the premises for any traces of chickens, such as offal, bones, or feathers, but none could be found.
The lady had represented to the Colonel that the soldiers that committed the outrage wore dark-blue blouses, and carried muskets with bayonets. The soldiers of no other regiment about there wore that kind of uniform or carried that kind of arms. When the Colonel left Fort Stuart, he went over to the Beechwoods Battery, and there the same investigation was made, but with no better result. Five of the men that accompanied me to the lady's house were taken over to see if they would be identified as having been there in the night, but the members of the family said they were not among the number. It was then arranged that the members of the family should go over to the barracks the day that we would return, and see if they could identify the men that did the mischief, on dress parade.
During the balance of our stay at the forts, the Lieutenant was very strict with us, and watched narrowly every movement that we made, but discovered no evidence of guilt. On our way back to the barracks, as we passed through the streets of Newport and Cincinnati, we seemed to be observed with more than usual interest, on account of the notoriety given us by the report. Dress parade came, and with it two members of the family, one a son of the lady, to point out the guilty soldiers. When parade was over the companies were all dismissed but company "H." The two persons then passed along the line, and succeeded in pointing out one man. He was a man of unexceptional character, and the very last man in the company that would have been guilty of such a thing; and besides he had been on duty at the fort next to the river, which was more than three miles distant from the lady's house.
Whatever suspicions the officers of the company might have had of men in the company, they were then well convinced that an innocent man had been wrongfully accused. The Colonel still believed that some of the men in the company had done it. It was then arranged that the son should return the next day and bring another member of the family—a young man that was teaching there—and see if he would have any better success.
Passes were prohibited us for ten days. Each one of the men on detail at the forts was examined separately, and I was called in for examination several times. After he had questioned me over and over again about it, I said to him, "Look here, Colonel, that would be a right smart trick for new recruits to do, wouldn't it? Besides, they tell me, Colonel, that you are like a comet; that you come when no man knoweth it. Supposing that you had "made the rounds" that night, and found Lieutenant Downs' men all gone. He would have been in a pretty fix! By and by the guard would call out, 'Halt! who comes there?' 'Chicken thieves!' would have been the reply. That would have been nice! You would have sent every man of us home in disgrace! I tell you, Colonel, Lieutenant Downs aint so big a fool as to let his men get disgraced in that way! He aint, indeed he aint."
The Colonel then walked his room back and forth, as if in a deep study, and then stopped, and facing me, said: "Is this the first time you were ever caught in a scrape of that kind?"
"You haven't caught me in that yet," I replied.
"That will do," said he; "you are either innocent or very well drilled! You can go to your quarters."
The next afternoon the two young men came over. When they arrived, the battalion was on drill, except the new recruits. While watching the drill, the son of the lady undertook to point out to the man that had accompanied him the person that he had previously pointed out. That, I thought, was not fair. I told the new recruits what was being done, and they all began to gather around the two young men to frighten them off. Some would cackle like hens; some crow like roosters; some pinned paper on their coat-tails; others would slip pork rinds into their coat pockets, and then accuse them of stealing soap-grease from the poor soldiers!
It was a rougher reception than they had bargained for, and, as soon as the crowd opened, they broke for the street and never came back again.
The "chicken scrape" is among the incidents of the past. Several of the men of the detachment that were on the forts at that time have nobly sacrificed their lives, and others their health, in the cause of their country; and, however well they loved chickens, they have all since proved themselves brave, heroic soldiers. In a future reckoning, the depredations committed that night will vanish when weighed by the "hurrahs for Jeff. Davis" by the lady in the carriage.
I leave the reader to draw his own conclusions, but I am inclined to think that somebody got the chickens.
CHAPTER III.
"Marching orders"—Arrives at Fort Donelson—The surrender—Goes North with prisoners—Meets an old friend as a rebel Captain—The Captain attempts to bribe him—Expedition up the Tennessee River—Touching incident—Battle of Shiloh—Captures an Enfield—Recommended as a scout.
On the 9th day of February, 1862, the regiment received "marching orders." It was a day of hurry and excitement. The order was received with delight by the men, for they had become tired with the dull monotony of guard duty, and were eager for a change.
It was a wet day, and the streets were filled with mud and slush from the rain and melting snow, and our feet dragged heavily as we marched to the levee, but, nevertheless, our hearts were light and cheerful. Little did we realize the hardships, the privations, and the sufferings that were in store for us, or think of the change that would take place ere we returned to the soil of our own loved State.
Two transports—the Emma Duncan and the Dr. Kane—were ready for us at the levee, and we embarked on board of them, and were soon under way. At Warsaw, Ky., we took on board two companies that had been doing duty there, and then proceeded on our way. We had an abundance of room—which added much to our comfort—and a pleasant trip all the way to Paducah, Ky., where we reported for orders on the 13th of February.
We were immediately ordered to report to General U. S. Grant, near Fort Donelson, without delay, and in a few hours we were under way. We reached our destination Friday afternoon, February 14th. The fighting had commenced, and at the time of our arrival our gun-boats were engaged with the rebel batteries in sight of where we landed.
The regiment was ordered to report to Colonel—since Brigadier-General—McArthur, commanding a brigade on the extreme right of the Federal lines. To reach our position we had to make a march of ten miles. The weather was cold, and the ground covered with several inches of snow. We started very early on the morning of the 15th to take our position. Being unused to marching with heavy knapsacks, the march was fatiguing to us in the extreme. We succeeded, however, in getting our position in line of battle by 10 o'clock, A. M.
At the time we took our position the battle was raging with intense fury. The roar of musketry, the crash of artillery, the scream of shells, the whiz of bullets, and the sight of the dead and wounded were not calculated to fill the minds of inexperienced soldiers with very pleasant sensations; nevertheless, every man of the regiment exhibited a coolness and firmness that would do honor to veterans in battle.
Toward night the enemy withdrew within his fortifications. That night we slept on our arms, in line of battle, on the snow-covered ground, expecting to renew the battle in the morning. The next morning—Sunday—about nine o'clock, the news came that Fort Donelson had surrendered.
Such shouts as went up from that army had never been heard before. From one end of the line to the other, cheer after cheer went up, until it seemed as if the trees of the forest were repeating the shouts. It was a glorious victory! It exceeded by far any victory previously achieved since the commencement of the rebellion. Over 14,000 prisoners were captured, besides an immense amount of artillery and small arms.
The 20th Ohio was one of the regiments that was detailed to guard the prisoners to the North. Companies A and H were assigned to the steamer Empress, and were intrusted with the guarding of 2,300 prisoners. Soon after daylight on Monday morning we were on our way down the Cumberland River.
Nothing of unusual interest occurred until we arrived at Bloody Island, opposite St. Louis, Mo., where we were to land the prisoners and embark them on board the cars, for Chicago, Ill. It was in the evening when we arrived there, and the prisoners remained on board until the next day.
I was on guard that night, and my post was at the gangway, with instructions to prevent, at all hazards, any attempt of prisoners to go ashore. About 1 o'clock at night a rebel Captain stepped up to me, and addressing me by name, said, "How are you?"
I recognized in him an old acquaintance by the name of Captain Brown, with whom I had formed an acquaintance at Island No. Twenty-eight, in the summer of 1852. At that time he was the owner and captain of the Memphis and Nashville packet steamer Sligo. When the rebellion broke out he raised a company at Nashville, and was made a captain in the —th Tennessee Infantry. At one time, while in difficulty in Memphis, Captain Brown had rendered me valuable assistance.
"How are you?" said I, as soon as I discovered who it was. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm a prisoner, and my old friend is guarding me."
"Yes, I see! Quite a change since you and I last met."
"Yes, something of a change! I hardly expected to meet you in arms against me! You have lived a long time in the South. Do you think that you are doing exactly right to take up arms against us?"
"The old government and the old flag are good enough for me," I replied, "and I mean to stick by them so long as I live."
"Do you expect to pin the States together again with bayonets?" he asked.
"I don't know whether we shall pin the States together again or not; but I do know one thing; we'll have the soil back again, whether we have the people or not."
"See here!" said he. "Do you remember of my assisting you one time in Memphis, when you was in trouble?"
"Certainly I do! And you had my gratitude for it."
"Well, I am in trouble. Can you render me any assistance?"
"I will if I can."
"Well, you can."
"How?"
"By letting me cross your beat and go ashore."
"I can't do that."
"Why not? I helped you; why not help me?"
"Because I am no traitor to my country! I never asked you to raise your hand against your country to assist me."
"Here, take this watch; perhaps I can buy you," said he, offering me a splendid gold watch.
"Not much you can't buy me! I think too much of the stars and stripes for that."
"Take it," said he, "and let me cross your beat, and I'll give you a hundred dollars in gold besides."
"I can't do it," said I; "don't you ask me again."
Captain Brown went away quite chop-fallen, satisfied, I presume, that gold was not at par with genuine patriotism.
We guarded the prisoners to Camp Douglas, near Chicago, Ill., where we remained nine days, and then returned to Bloody Island, where we arrived on the 6th day of March. That night the regiment embarked on board the steamer Continental, for Paducah, Ky., which place we reached in time to join in the grand expedition up the Tennessee River.
At Paducah, General Sherman and staff came on board the Continental, and made it his head-quarters; and that boat, preceded by the gun-boats, led the fleet.
When under way, that vast fleet of steamers, loaded down with troops, as they moved along, one after another, at nearly equal distances apart, presented a grand and imposing appearance. The weather was mild and pleasant, which added much to the interest of the trip. The banks of the river often presented crowds of people that had gathered to witness the grand display of force that was penetrating the territory of the rebellion. Sometimes we were cheered by the crowds that lined the banks, indicating their loyalty, and at other times a sullen silence told plainly that we were not welcome.
One little incident occurred that I shall never forget. We had on board a citizen of Tennessee, who owned a large plantation on the left bank of the Tennessee River, about eight miles below Savanna. He was an exile from home on account of his devotion to the Union. An attempt was made by his neighbors to capture and hang him, but he succeeded in making his escape, and in getting through to Paducah, Ky., after having suffered a great deal from hunger and exposure, incident to traveling by night, through forests and swamps, to evade discovery. The last that his family had heard from him was that his disloyal neighbors were in pursuit of him, determined to hang him, and they did not know whether he was alive or not.
As we neared his plantation, a group of persons was observed standing on the bank of the river not far from his residence. He requested the captain of the boat, as we passed, to run the boat near the shore, so that he might recognize his wife and children, if they were there. The crowd on the deck of the steamer moved back, to give him a large clear space, that his family might more readily recognize him. As the boat neared the shore the group proved to be his wife, children, and servants, gazing with intense interest at the passing fleet. It was a touching scene, when that exile from home recognized his loved ones.
"I am alive! It is me!" he shouted, swinging his hat. "I am coming home! Glory to God! The Union forever! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory!" etc. He jumped and shouted as if in ecstasies of delight.
Such manifestations of love for home and country are unmistakable evidences of patriotism and loyalty. The incident is but one of thousands that have been witnessed in the prosecution of the war.
From that time on, nothing of special interest occurred in my experience until the battle of Shiloh, or Pittsburg Landing. The battle was fought on the 6th and 7th of April, 1862. I acted my part in that bloody conflict, but the details of the battle I must leave to the pen of the historian. At that battle I succeeded in capturing an Enfield rifle. My "handspike" was turned over, and with it dissipated the disgust with which I had carried it.
The next day after the battle of Shiloh, a circular was sent to the company commanders, from brigade head-quarters, requesting them to send in the names of such men as were trustworthy and suitable for scouts. Captain Downs (formerly Lieutenant Downs) sent in my name as one, which opened the way for the experiences that I shall narrate in the following chapters.
Early in June, soon after the evacuation of Corinth, the 20th Ohio Regiment moved to Bolivar, and soon after to Grand Junction, Tenn.
CHAPTER IV.
Rumored attack upon Grand Junction—"General Bunker" sent out as spy—Passes himself as a rebel soldier—Falls in with rebel cavalry—Visits a rebel camp—Attempts to deprive him of his revolver—Discovers a Yankee forage party—Undertakes to return—Captured by Yankees, and robbed of his revolver and money—Passes as a rebel spy—Sent to the Provost Marshal—Sent to General Hurlbut—Returned to Grand Junction.
Soon after the evacuation of Corinth by the forces under General Beauregard, a part of General Grant's army was distributed along the Ohio and Mississippi and the Mississippi Central, and also the Memphis and Charleston Railroads, to garrison the principal towns and open up communication for supplies by railroad instead of by the Tennessee River, which was becoming so low as to be an uncertain route for supplies.
At the time I speak of, Grand Junction was garrisoned by a small brigade of infantry and a battery of artillery, under command of Brigadier-General M. D. Leggett. Grand Junction is situated on the Mississippi Central Railroad at its junction with the Memphis and Charleston Railroad, and was an exposed outpost.
A rumor had become current among the citizens that a large force of the enemy's cavalry was in the vicinity, preparing to capture the brigade garrisoning the post. General Grant, who was still at Corinth, informed General Leggett by telegraph that his command was in danger; that an attempt would be made to capture his force; that he would be attacked on his right by cavalry and on his left by infantry, and advised him to vacate the place and fall back to Bolivar, twenty miles north of Grand Junction, where the Mississippi Central Railroad crosses the Hatchee River. The enemy's force was represented to be 900 cavalry at Davis' Mills, and three brigades of cavalry at what is known as the White Church, on Wolf River, the former nine and the latter twelve miles from Grand Junction, in a south-west direction. An additional force of a division of infantry were said to be at Salem, seventeen miles south-east of Grand Junction.
General Leggett had some doubts about the rebels having very much force near the place, and the large quantities of cotton that were being brought in, and the abundance of corn for forage, made it an object to hold the place as long as prudence would admit, and he resolved to ascertain whether there was any cause for alarm before vacating it.
General Leggett sent for me and told me what he wanted, and asked me if I was willing to undertake the job. It was the first opportunity that I had ever had of working as a spy, and I had for a long time been anxious to try my hand at it, and I felt certain that I could do the Government more good in that way than in any other. It was my time to strike, and I determined to improve it. I told General Leggett that I was willing to try, and would do the best that I could, and if I got back safe, "all right;" if not, my fate would be no worse than that of others before me.
I returned to my quarters and made the necessary arrangements, and the next morning, at daylight, I started out on the road to Salem, disguised as a Confederate soldier belonging to infantry.
The day was clear and pleasant, and a recent shower had laid the dust and cooled the air, and made it much pleasanter traveling than is apt to be the case in that country in the month of July. I was on foot, and the coolness of the atmosphere very much facilitated my progress. I was not interrupted in my progress until I had gone about eight miles, when I observed, as I approached a planter's house, a negro woman in the yard, engaged in churning. Being somewhat fond of buttermilk, I resolved to pay the inmates of the house a visit. As I approached the house, a lady came to the door, and, observing my Confederate uniform, seemed pleased to see me, and asked me to walk in and be seated, to which I complied.
"Where have you been?" she inquired.
"I have been out to the Yankee pickets, and I had a fight with them last night and killed three of the d——d Yankees. They killed my horse for me in the fight, and I am going back to Salem to get another that I left there. I have walked until I am tired. Seeing the woman churning in the yard, I thought I would stop and rest myself, and see if you would have the kindness to give me a drink of buttermilk."
"I am glad you did. You shall have all the buttermilk you want. You are not a-gwine to walk to Salem, are you?"
"Yes. I've got another horse there, and I don't like to trouble any body for the use of one."
"Well, now, you are not a-gwine to walk down thar; we've got heaps o' horses and mules, and you shall have one to ride. Bob! Bob!" calling to a darky in the yard, "you run right quick to the cotton-gin and fetch your master."
While Bob went on a double-quick for his master, the lady ordered me some buttermilk and wheat biscuit. While I was eating, the planter came in.
"Lord bless you, John!" exclaimed the lady, as her husband entered, "here is one of our soldiers, and he has had a fight with the Yankee pickets and has killed three of them! He says he's gwine to walk to Salem after another hoss. I tell him that he's not a-gwine to walk when we've got heaps o' mules! I think any of our soldiers that has killed three Yankees is entitled to a mule to ride!"
"You can have a mule in welcome; there's no occasion for you to walk," said the planter.
"Thank you!" said I, "I am under very great obligations to you for your kindness, but it may not be possible for me to return this way. I will not take a mule, but I am a thousand times obliged to you."
With many blessings from them, and an urgent invitation to call if I returned, I took my departure. When about twelve miles from Grand Junction, I was overtaken by a squad of thirteen rebel cavalry, including one Sergeant, under command of a Lieutenant.
"How are you, boys?" said I, as they came up.
"Fine!" said the Lieutenant. "How do you do?"
"I'm getting pretty near well, I thank you."
"Where do you belong?" he inquired.
"To the 13th Tennessee Infantry, Col. Vaughn's regiment."
"Ah—yes, yes; he's all right. I remember of seeing him in Corinth last spring," said the Sergeant; "I have a cousin in the same regiment."
"Where do you belong?" I inquired.
"To Jackson's First Battalion of Cavalry," answered the Lieutenant. "Where are you gwine?"
"I am gwine down to my regiment," said I. "I have been sick, and have been home in Osceola, Mississippi County, Arkansas, and I am gwine down to Salem to report myself to the nearest head-quarters. I have heard that there is some of our forces there, and I want to find out where my regiment is."
"You are mistaken," said the Lieutenant; "there is none of our forces there. And besides, it is not necessary for you to report at any head-quarters. Your regiment is at Tupelo, where you will have no difficulty in getting to it. We have some spare horses here; get on one of them and ride."
I mounted one of the horses and rode along with them. I learned, from conversation with them, that their regiment was stationed at Tupelo, Miss., and that they were detailed to traverse the country and visit all the planters, and tell them to haul their cotton, corn, and bacon to a place known as the Double Block-house, where it would be guarded to prevent the Yankees from stealing it.
We only went about a mile after I mounted the horse before we turned to the right, and a half a mile more brought us to the double log-house. At that place three regiments of infantry were camped, and their principal object appeared to be to guard the stuff that the planters were hauling in for protection. Several thousand bushels of corn and large quantities of bacon had already been hauled there.
We dismounted and remained in the camp about an hour. While there the Lieutenant told me that I had better not be in a hurry about going to Tupelo; "for," he said, "the times are rather tough for a man just recovering from sickness, and the rations are not such as a sick man can relish." He told me that he was going round on to the lower Tupelo road in a day or two, and that I had better run with them till that time, and he would put me on to a road where I would find clever people and plenty to eat. It all seemed very good advice, and favorable to my purpose, and so I accepted it.
The balance of the day was spent in visiting every plantation on the roads to the west and north of the block-house, and when we halted for the night we were within three miles of Davis' Mills.
There I was like to have a little difficulty with the Sergeant. I had with me a very nice navy revolver that I had borrowed of Colonel Force preparatory to starting out. The Sergeant discovered that I had it, and was going to take it away from me.
"What business has an infantry soldier with such a revolver as that?" said the Sergeant. "Infantry soldiers don't need them, and cavalry soldiers do. It will never do you any good if you keep it; so give it to me."
"Sergeant," said I, "you are superior to me in rank, and if you insist I shall have to obey; but if you take that revolver away from me I'll report you to Billy Jackson! I will indeed!"
"Sergeant," said the Lieutenant, who heard our words, "if Colonel Vaughn is willing that his men should carry such things, it is none of our business. Let the soldier keep his revolver!"
"Thank you, Lieutenant," said I. "I prize that revolver very highly. I bought it in Memphis, about the time the war commenced, to kill the Yankee sons of b—hes with, and when I enlisted Colonel Vaughn told me I might carry it, and I mean to do it."
"That's right!" said the Lieutenant. "Turn up as many of the d—d Yankees' heels with it as you can! Soldier, what road did you come in on this morning?"
"I came down on the Somerville road, across the Hickory flats, by the old man Pruett's, and then over on to the Salem and Grand Junction road."
"You came a very good route, indeed."
"I am aware of that," I replied. "I know this here country all through in here. Lieutenant, where did you boys stay last night?"
"Haven't we got a cavalry force there?"
"No. There was only us fourteen there last night."
"The old man Pruett told me yesterday that there was, that we had three brigades of cavalry at the White Church on Wolf River."
"The old man was mistaken. There is none of our forces nearer than Tupelo, except the three regiments that you saw to-day, and a few of the same company that I belong to, that are scattered about the country on the same business that we are on."
In the morning our operations of notifying the planters was renewed, and our route lay along the bottoms of Davis Creek, toward the head-waters of the creek. About noon we very unexpectedly found a Yankee forage party.
"There is some of the Yankee sons of b—hes now!" said the Lieutenant.
"Where?" said I.
"There, up on top of the hill to the left," said he, pointing toward them.
I looked, and sure enough there they were. There was about thirty of the Yankees, and eight teams. They had halted to feed, and had stacked arms. They did not see us. We moved along a little further to a cow-path that led to the right up a ridge of ground parallel to the one occupied by the Yankees. The hollow that intervened was filled with a growth of bushes extending to the path which we were in, which screened us from view and enabled us to approach within fifty yards of the Yankees without being seen.
I now recognized the detachment as belonging to my own regiment, and one of the men was my own bunk-mate!
The Lieutenant told us to be quiet and not to speak a word, and if the Yankees ventured away from their arms, we would make a dash upon them and capture their arms and mules, and burn the wagons. Little did they mistrust the relation that I bore to these Yankees. I determined, if a dash was attempted, to do what execution I could upon my butternut companions with my revolver, hoping to dispose of four or five of them before my true relation was discovered. It was a moment of fearful suspense as we watched those Federal soldiers; but my butternut companions were too deeply interested in the watch to observe any feelings that my actions might have betrayed.
For about twenty minutes we watched them, but they did not move away from their arms. The Lieutenant, fearing his own safety might be endangered by too long a stay, silently withdrew his men, and made his way back toward Davis' Mills by another route. That night we stayed at a planter's house, ten miles from Grand Junction.
At three o'clock the next morning we were again on the move, and a two hours' ride brought us to four corners in the road somewhere south-west of Lagrange, and three or four miles distant from that place. There we halted, and the Lieutenant told me that one of the roads was the one that I wanted to take to go to Tupelo. He gave me the names of several planters that lived on the road, and advised me to stop two or three days at a place and recruit my health all I could on the way to my regiment, and assured me that the planters he had named were clever people, and that I would be welcome with any of them. I thanked him and bade him a good morning, and started on the road that he had pointed out, not caring whether it led to Tupelo or not, if I could get away from him and his squad.
As soon as the cavalry was out of sight, I made a detour through a large cotton-field to my left, and continued on until I came into a road that I supposed led direct to Grand Junction; while in company with the cavalry, we had zigzagged through the country so much that I had become somewhat confused, and I was not sure where the road did lead to. I took it, however, and moved along very fast to get, as soon as possible, as far away from the vicinity where we parted, lest, by some chance or other, I might be found going toward Grand Junction instead of Tupelo. I kept, as I supposed, a sharp look-out as I moved along, and had gone, as near as I could judge, three miles, when I was very unexpectedly interrupted in my course by a challenge of "Halt! halt! you son of a b—h!"
I was considerably alarmed, for I supposed that I must have encountered a rebel picket. On looking to see where the challenge came from, I found that it emanated from a Federal picket. A clump of bushes had prevented me from seeing him until I was close on to him. My position was clear enough now. I had taken a road to Lagrange, instead of Grand Junction, and had encountered General Hurlbut's pickets.
"Ha! ha! my butternut soldier!" exclaimed the guard, as I halted; "you got caught rather unexpectedly."
"I reckon I did," I replied.
"Where do you belong?"
"To the 13th Tennessee."
"You've got tired soldiering on short rations, I suppose?"
"I reckon I a'n't starved yet."
One of the pickets then took me to the Captain in command, at the reserve. There I was subjected to a rigid questioning and search, but I was determined to carry out my disguise until I could report to some commanding officer. My revolver and money, and other articles, were taken from me by the Captain, and then I was ordered to stand up by a tree until further orders. I remonstrated with the Captain about depriving me of my revolver and private property, and told him that "we always respected a prisoner's right to his side arms and personal effects." The Captain replied that I might be d—d glad to get off so, and if he had his way about it, he would shoot every rebel in the Southern Confederacy.
While standing at the tree, I observed a plantation house that stood within less than a hundred yards from me, and that it was occupied. My early start and the distance I had traveled gave me a ravenous appetite, so I asked the Captain if he would be so kind as to allow me to go to the house and get some breakfast.
"Yes," said he, "you may go; but, G—d d—n you, if you undertake to get away, I'll have you shot!"
"I won't run away," I replied; "I didn't come in here to run away. I'll come right back as soon as I get my breakfast."
When I got to the house, I met the man of the house at the door. He had evidently seen me coming, and my uniform attracted his attention.
"Good morning!" said I, as he came out.
"Good morning; won't you come in?"
"Yes, I don't care if I do; and I should like right well to get some breakfast here, if you please, for I am mighty hungry."
"Walk in; you shall have all the breakfast you want. Where do you belong?"
"To Col. Vaughn's regiment, the 13th Tennessee."
"You do?"
"Yes."
"Well, I belong to Colonel Strawl's regiment, the 4th Tennessee. I am a surgeon in that regiment; my name is Biggs. What is your name?"
"My name is Ruggles. I am a brother to General Ruggles."
"Is it possible! I know the General very well. What are you doing up here?"
"I am going through the d—d Yankee lines to-day, if I can."
"You are? A'n't you afraid they'll get you?"
"No; I expect they'll get me into the guard-house, but I'll soon manage to get out."
"Well, do the best that you can. If they do get you into the guard-house, you sha'n't want for anything to eat. I'll see to that myself."
Breakfast was announced as ready for me, and I sat up to the table. They had got me fried ham, baked sweet potatoes, warm biscuit with butter and honey, and coffee with sugar and cream. I think the condition of my appetite enabled me to do that meal ample justice. When I had finished, I asked the doctor how much I should pay him.
"Oh, Lord! not a cent! Do you think I'd charge one of our soldiers for a meal of victuals! I feel thankful that I have it to give you!" Then turning, and pointing toward the pickets, he said, "But them d—d Yankee thieves down there I make pay me fifty cents for a meal of nothing but bread and meat!"
"You've got them rightly named, doctor," said I; "for they took my revolver and my money, and every thing else I had, away from me this morning."
"You needn't be surprised at such treatment as that," said he; "for there are officers down there that would steal the Lord's supper, and men that would steal the table-cloths!"
"You are about right, doctor; but I see they are looking as if uneasy about me, and I must go back."
"Well," said he, "if you get into trouble, I'll do all I can for you. I have got things fixed pretty smooth between me and the pickets, and I think I can help you carry out your plans."
"Haven't you taken the oath, doctor?"
"Oh, yes! I had to do that in order to get along smoothly."
"Well, you be careful and not get yourself into any scrape by it. I would advise you to say nothing, and if I get into the guard-house, you see that I get plenty to eat, and I'll wriggle out some way."
I then bid him good-by, and returned to my position by the tree. When the new pickets came out to relieve the old ones, two of the old guards took me in to the Provost-marshal. As I entered his office, I was saluted by, "Well, old hoss, who are you?"
"I am an Arkansas school-master," I replied.
"What do you want?"
"I want to see General Hurlbut."
"What do you want of General Hurlbut?"
"I want to see him. I've heard that he's a very red-faced man, and I want to see for myself how he looks!"
"Yes, you want to see him! You'll go to the guard-house!"
"No I won't!"
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"You give me those two guards and send me to General Hurlbut, and find out who I am!"
"Guards," said he, "take him off; take him down to General Hurlbut's. I don't know who the h—l he is!"
The guards took me to the General's quarters, and one of them went in and told the General that they had got a fellow that they had captured at the picket-line, and that he was dressed like a rebel soldier, and that the Provost-marshal could not find out who he was, and had sent him there. The General came out of the tent, and, seeing who it was, said:
"Ah, yes! I know him! Guards you can go to your quarters."
"Hold on, General," said I; "the Captain that had command of those guards took a revolver away from me that belongs to Colonel Force, and took my pocket-book, and every thing else I had in my pockets."
"What kind of d—d thieving and robbing will take place next! Guards, go and tell that Captain to march his men up here!"
In a few minutes, the Captain marched his men into the yard and formed them in a line; when that was done, "Captain," said the General, "give that man the things that you robbed him of!"
The Captain handed out the articles, one after another, and last of all he handed me an old fine-tooth comb! That was too much for the equanimity of the officers and men that were looking on, and they burst into a roar of laughter. The poor Captain looked as if he would sink into the earth. "That will do," said the General, when he had handed me all; "you can dismiss your men."
I told General Hurlbut the result of my trip, and he complimented me very highly upon my success, and then gave me a "little smile" of brandy and loaf sugar, and a pass to Grand Junction.
The pass saved me any further annoyance by the Federal pickets, and Dr. Biggs from the trouble of visiting the guard-house with "commissary supplies."
I reported my trip to General Leggett, and, for some reason, the brigade did not vacate the place for more than two weeks after.
CHAPTER V.
Fired at by a citizen—The sick overseer—How he was cured—Pickets fired on—Trip to White Church—Visits General Van Dorn—Meets a rebel spy—Reports to General Leggett—Grand Junction evacuated—Again sees the rebel spy—Attempt to arrest him—Drinks wine with the rebel General Jackson—Discovers a hole in the fence.
It was my duty, while the brigade remained at Grand Junction, to watch for any demonstrations of General Van Dorn's, Wheeler's, or Jackson's cavalry. For that purpose I used to ride out on a road running east and west, that lay three miles to the south of Grand Junction. I used to scout that road for about ten miles regularly every day. One morning, before going out, I called upon Captain Jacobs, Provost-marshal of the post, on business. While I was there, an overseer that I had frequently seen in my scouts came in, and requested a renewal of his pass, and a permit to carry out certain articles that he wished to purchase. He had with him the oath of allegiance. As soon as my business was completed, I started out on my scout, as usual, leaving the overseer there. I made the trip out, and had returned to within a few yards of the overseer's house, when he stepped out from a fence-corner, with a squirrel-rifle in his hands, and said to me, "Are you a Yankee soldier?"
"No, sir, I'm not a Yankee soldier, I'm a Federal soldier."
"What are you doing out here?"
"I'm watching for rebel cavalry."
"I'll soon stop your watching Confederate cavalry."
"Are you going to shoot me?"
He said nothing, but the click of his gun, as he cocked it, said "Yes." As he was bringing it to his face, I put the spurs to my horse, and as I passed, he fired, but missed me. I went in and reported to General Leggett, who replied, "You had better look out, or some of those good Union men will kill you." He issued no order to have the man arrested; and perhaps it would have done no good if he had, for such characters, with their oily tongues, are as slippery as eels. As a general thing, they manage to evade justice, and get released from the Federal authorities. I well knew that if the overseer was allowed to live undisturbed my own life was in jeopardy, so I telegraphed to General Grant, then at Jackson, Tennessee, to know what to do with such a man. His reply was, "If you are a scout for the Government, you ought to know yourself."
That night I went to the 20th Ohio Infantry and got two Sergeants, whose real names I shall not give, but designate them as the "big Sergeant" and the "little Sergeant"—both of them belonged to company H—to assist me in bringing the overseer to justice. Knowing that if we accomplished our purpose there would be complaints entered at head-quarters the next day, I resolved to proceed as noiselessly about it as possible. Instead of getting the countersign, and thus letting it be known that we were going out, we stole through the picket line, and nobody knew that we had left camp.
It was about four miles to the overseer's house; thither we proceeded. When we came to his yard, myself and the little Sergeant went at once to the house, and the big Sergeant went to the negro quarters. The overseer and his family had retired for the night. Our rap for admittance was answered by "Who is there?" My reply was, "Federal soldiers; get up and open the door." The summons was obeyed by the overseer's wife. As we entered we heard the groans of a man as if in distress, proceeding from an adjoining room. On going into the room I found the overseer in bed, and feigning to be laboring under severe pain. Approaching the bedside, I said to him: "You are sick, are you, old hoss?"
With great difficulty, seemingly, he answered, "Yes—I'm—very sick."
"How long have you been sick?"
"It's—going on—two weeks—now."
"You lying whelp," said the little Sergeant, unable to contain himself; "I saw you in Grand Junction this morning."
"Get up, old fellow," said I, "you need a little exercise; it will do you good to move about."
"I can't—gentlemen,—I tell you—I'm sick," (still groaning, and letting on to be in great distress.)
"Yes, that wolfish-looking face of yours looks sick! Get out of that!" He commenced to rise, trembling all over as if with nervous fear. "Your nerves a'n't so steady as they were this morning," I added.
"I should think your conscience would make you tremble."
"Are you—gwine to—kill me?" he asked, getting more and more agitated with alarm.
"No, we won't kill you, but we'll give you a furlough to a warmer climate. I think it will improve your health."
"You will give—a body—time—to pray—won't you?"
"Praying won't do you any good; you will go to the warm climate, anyhow; so, hurry on them clothes and come along with us." We then walked him out of the house; we found that he could travel as strong as we could.
The wife took on dreadfully, wringing her hands and crying out, "Have mercy! have mercy! Don't kill him!"
"Yes, traitors are pretty objects of mercy. You stay where you are." She was too much frightened to follow. As we passed out into the yard, we met the big Sergeant, accompanied by a nigger who had an iron collar on his neck, with a chain fastened to it, with the other end fastened around his waist.
"Here, Bunker," said the Sergeant, "see what I have found."
"That chain is just exactly what I want. Bring your nigger around here," said I, as I led my prisoner around to the rear of the house, and out to the stable. There we found two crotches standing upright, and a pole laid from one to the other. A large box was rolled out from the stable and placed under the pole, and the overseer made to get on to the box. The nigger had been sent to the rebel fortifications to work, and had run away. The overseer had captured him, and had punished him by putting him in irons, as described. In the morning he would chain him to the plow, and at night release him and make the chain fast around his body. On searching the pockets of the overseer, I found the key that unlocked the chain. I then unlocked the chain from the negro, and placed it upon the overseer's neck, and made the other end fast to the pole overhead; and having fastened the overseer's hands behind him, I said to the negro, "This man has been your overseer for a long time—you may change about now, and be his overseer awhile."
"Lor' bress you, massa!" he exclaimed. "Thank de Lord fur dat; he's dun druv dis nigga long enuf."
"Well, you drive him now."
"Shall I drive him thar?"
"Yes, drive him where you please."
"I reckon he won't do dat box no good standin' there," and suiting the action to the word, he jerked the box from under him, leaving him suspended by the neck; adding, "Now, I specs he'll drive hisself. I'se more important business to 'tend to."
The overseer being in a fair way to have his "furlough approved," we returned to camp by the same way that we went out. The next morning, early, the wife came in with a complaint to the Provost-marshal that a party of Federal soldiers had been to her house the night before, and had taken her sick husband out of bed and had hung him, and begged for protection from further outrage.
The Provost-marshal said to her, "I don't believe a word of it; for no soldiers have been permitted to go out through our lines during the night. Perhaps you had a husband and perhaps not. I advise you to go back about your business and not be in here blaming Federal soldiers with that which they have never done."
During the day a forage party, on its return to camp, visited the plantation and brought away sixty contrabands, and among them was the one that we had liberated from his chains. The overseer was dead, but had been taken down and carried into the house. On his arrival in camp, the negro reported that the Yankees had made him hang his master. Outside of the lines it was generally believed that the Yankees had done it, but the soldiers generally believed that the negroes on the plantation had done it. It was never suspected that I had had a hand in it. "My personal safety as a scout demanded that he should be disposed of," is all the excuse that I have to offer. I continued to scout the road for several days after, but met with no further interruption.
Early in the month of July, the first train of cars that was to run through from Memphis to Grand Junction started out, and, when only a short distance from Memphis, was captured, and the railroad badly destroyed.
Owing to the difficulty of protecting the road from the raids of the enemy, the opening of it was abandoned for a time, and the roads from Columbus, Ky., to Grand Junction and Corinth were relied upon for the transportation of supplies. When the opening of the road was abandoned, the forces at Lagrange, under command of General Hurlbut, moved to Memphis, which left the small brigade at Grand Junction without any troops for support nearer than Bolivar, a distance of twenty miles. The exposed position of so small a force undoubtedly emboldened the enemy in their plans for capturing the post. As I have explained in the preceding chapter, the abundance of cotton and forage was an object to hold the place as long as the safety of the force would admit.
After General Hurlbut's forces left Lagrange, our pickets were frequently fired upon, and small squads of cavalry were seen, indicating a boldness on the part of the enemy indicative of a strong force not far off.
It was under that state of affairs that General Leggett requested me to go out as a spy, and learn the position and force of the enemy.
On this occasion I rode out on a mule, disguised as a rebel soldier, taking the road that led to the White Church. I saw several squads of rebel cavalry, but at some distance from me, soon after passing our own pickets, but none of them interrupted me. Just after I had crossed Wolf River, I discovered the rebel pickets; how I was to pass them was more than I knew. I resolved, however, to go on and try the effect of a bold front. With as much unconcern and freedom as though I was one of their number, and perfectly at home, I rode up, and without halting or letting on that I expected to be halted, I said, "Good morning, boys! have our forces all got up yet?"
"Yes," said one; "where have you been?"
"Out to the Yankee lines by the old cotton-gin near Grand Junction," I replied, still riding along.
By this time I had got clear by, without any attempt being made to stop me. At the White Church I came to the rebel camp; there I dismounted and inquired of a soldier for head-quarters.
"Whose—General Van Dorn's?" was asked.
"Yes," I replied.
He then showed me General Van Dorn's tent. I had supposed that if I found much of a force it would be that of General Van Dorn. I proceeded to the tent that had been pointed out. In front of it was the usual head-quarters guard. Saluting him, I inquired if General Van Dorn was in, and was answered in the affirmative. The moment I entered, I saw two Generals. One I instantly recognized as the Confederate General Wheeler; I had known him in Memphis before the war. Without speaking to him, I turned to the other and addressed him; I said, "General, I wish to get a pass, if you please, to go outside of the lines."
"Who are you?" the General inquired.
"My name is Ruggles."
"General Van Dorn," said General Wheeler, "don't you know him? He is a brother of General Ruggles, and belongs to the 2d Arkansas Cavalry."
"Ah! Indeed!"
"Yes, and I want to go out to the Yankee lines and see what they are doing out there."
"I wish you would, Ruggles," said Van Dorn, "and see if the Yankees have obstructed the Grand Junction and Salem road with timber. That's the road that I want to take a part of my forces in on in the morning."
General Van Dorn instructed his Adjutant to write me a pass, which I received, and then went out and mounted my mule. "That's the road I want to take a part of my forces in on in the morning!" was something that needed my immediate attention. I rode leisurely through the camp. Every thing was bustle and activity preparatory to a move, and confirmed what I had heard at head-quarters. As near as I could judge, the camp contained 9,000 or 10,000 men.
Having satisfied myself of the probable force of the enemy, I started back on the road I came in on. I stopped at the pickets and showed my pass, and then went on. After I had crossed Wolf River, I made a detour across the country to the right, in order to get on to the Grand Junction and Salem road, as General Van Dorn had directed me, so that if by any mishap I should be captured and sent to head-quarters, I could show that I was captured right where I had been sent.
About five miles from the White Church, I dismounted at a large, beautiful spring of water, to drink and rest myself. While there, a cavalryman rode up and halted for the same purpose; I immediately recognized him as having been one of the squad I had fallen in with and accompanied so far in my former trip. He rode a Texan pony, with a peculiarly constructed saddle, that I could not mistake as having seen before.
"Where have you been?" I inquired, as he stopped.
"I've been up to the Yankee lines."
"You must be a scout, then."
"Yes, I am a spy; where do you belong?"
"I belong to the Yankees!" I replied, placing my hand on my revolver, as if to draw it.
My movements agitated him. Raising his hands in a supplicating attitude, as if he thought I meant to kill him, he said, "D—don't shoot! hold—hold on! don't lets you and I quarrel; let us help each other, since we are both in the same business."
"Very well! just as you say about that."
"You played off the spy pretty well the other day when you was with us," he continued, somewhat composed.
"Yes, I did well enough for that time; but I am in a hurry this time, so you and I must make short visits."
At that, we both mounted and started in opposite directions, eyeing each other, with revolvers drawn, until out of sight. I might have shot him at the time he thought I intended to do it, but I did not think my own safety would admit of it.
At 5 o'clock that afternoon I arrived at General Leggett's head-quarters, and reported what I had learned, and before daylight the next morning the brigade was on its way to Bolivar, and it had not been gone an hour until General Van Dorn's forces were in possession of the place.
The movement on the part of General Leggett was a masterly one, and was conducted with such skill that, though pursued by a force chagrined with disappointment, which several times outnumbered his entire command, his brigade reached Bolivar without the loss of a single man or a dollar's worth of stores.
Shortly after our arrival at Bolivar, I was in town, accompanied by Sergeant Wonders, of the 20th Ohio. Hitched in front of one of the stores was the same little Texan pony and peculiar saddle that I had seen twice before. I knew that I could not be mistaken in them. I did not like the idea of his running at large. An encounter with him in the enemy's camp would prove fatal, so I resolved to find him and have him arrested. After searching for some time, without success, I returned to where I had seen the pony, and found that it was gone. From a soldier I learned that somebody had ridden the pony out toward the depot. I followed after, and when about half way to the depot, I saw the pony coming. I sent the Sergeant back and told him to see where the man went, and I would join him after awhile. Just before we met, he halted and commenced to fasten his pony. Stepping up to him and speaking very low, I said, "Hallo, old fellow! are you in here?"
"Yes, h—h—how d—do you do?" he said, trembling from head to foot.
"Never mind, you needn't be afraid. It's all right," I added in a confidential way, "you need not be afraid of me; I am in a great hurry this morning, so you must excuse me." Without further words I walked on rapidly, as though I cared nothing about him. As soon as out of sight, I made my way around to the office of the Provost-marshal. There I was joined by the Sergeant, who remained outside to watch.
On entering his office, I found him asleep on a cot. I woke him up and told him the circumstances about the spy, and that I wanted some guards to capture him. By the time I had finished telling him, he was fast asleep. I again woke him up, and commenced to tell what I wanted, when he said:
"Do—you—know—the—man?"
"Yes! I know the man!"
"Do—you—know—the—hoss?"
"Yes! I know the horse and I know the saddle."
"W-a-l—a-l-l—r-i-g-h-t!"
By this time he was again fast asleep. I tried again to wake him, but with no better success. I do not say that he was drunk, but I do say that he acted just as I do when I am drunk. The result was, the spy escaped, and I have never seen him since.
As we were passing along by Adams & Brother's store, a few hours after, the door chanced to be open, and we observed that the room was occupied by many citizens, engaged in a spirited conversation, and so we dropped in to see what was going on. One of the persons present I knew to be Brigadier-General Neely, of the Confederate army, who had been captured by the Federal troops when they first took possession of the place, and he was on parole of honor within the limits of the town.
When we first entered, the conversation stopped, but it was soon gradually resumed. A great deal was said about the Yankees stealing corn, cotton, and niggers, and they complained that it was ruining many of the planters. I listened a few minutes, and then, addressing myself to General Neely, said: "Gentlemen, so far as I am concerned, I have never yet stolen a cent's worth of property since I have been in the Federal army, and if I had known that a United States soldier had got to steal corn, cotton, and niggers from the citizens of the South, I would never have enlisted."
"Nor I either," said the Sergeant, "I didn't think when I enlisted that this was going to be made a nigger war!"
"For my part," I continued, "I'm getting tired of fighting for niggers, and if I wasn't afraid they would hang me for a spy, I'd go and join Billy Jackson's cavalry."
"And so would I," said the Sergeant; "I think I'd like the Southern people very much. I have often heard "Bunker" talk about them; he used to live in the South."
"Yes, I did, indeed! and I'm almost ashamed to be fighting against them. I used to live in Mississippi, and I have spent several years in Arkansas and Tennessee. I am well acquainted in Memphis. General, do you know Jim Ford and Charlie Ford, of Memphis?"
"Yes, I know them very well; they are wholesale dealers in produce. I get my supply of pork from them every year."
He then motioned to me and the Sergeant and one of the citizens in the room, who had been listening with a good deal of interest to our conversation, to accompany him into a back room, which we did. He then called for two bottles of wine, and asked us to drink with him, which we were not in the least backward about doing.
The citizen then said that he had not time to stay longer, and, shaking hands with us, bade us good-by, and went out.
"General," said I, when the citizen had gone, "do you know where Billy Jackson is?"
"Yes! He's not far off; if you want to join his cavalry you would have no trouble in getting to him."
"If I wa'n't afraid General Jackson would get me and hang me for a spy, I'd run away, and so would this Sergeant, and we'd join his cavalry."
"There is no danger of that," said the General, "for that was General Jackson that drank the wine with us, and has just left. He heard all you said about joining his cavalry. If you want to go, boys, you will have no trouble in doing so."
"Well, General," said I, "since you are acquainted with General Jackson, can't you give us a pass that will make us all safe after we get out of the Yankee lines?"
"I'm on parole of honor," he replied, "and I have no right to do that."
"There would be no harm in it; the Yankees would never find it out." Pulling out my wallet, I said, "General, how much did you pay for that wine? We must have another bottle—not at your expense, but mine. It's my treat this time."
"Oh, no! no, no!" said the General, "I'll pay for the wine! Mr. Adams, bring us another bottle. Boys, you come over to-morrow and I'll have your passes fixed out for you!"
I assured him that we would, and, having drank the wine, we left and returned to camp, considerably elated with our adventure.
Unfortunately, Billy Jackson and the spy both got away. The only good that I could then do was to find the "hole in the fence" where they had gone out, and prevent a repetition of it.
I knew that Mrs. Dr. Coleman was a daughter of General Neely, and I thought that she, probably, knew where Jackson and his spy went out through our lines. I had been there a number of times, and had become considerably acquainted, and Mrs. Coleman had not yet found out that I belonged to the Federal army. Doctor Coleman was a practicing physician, and was absent from home the most of the time, visiting his patients.
The next morning I went over to see her. After we had conversed awhile, I said to her, "'Melia, did you see Billy Jackson in town yesterday?"
"Yes, did you?"
"Yes, I saw him, but I was wondering how in the world he managed to get out; the Yankees are getting mighty particular who they pass out."
"Why, I can tell you; he went right through our corn-field, and out at the water-gulch under the fence."
"Yes, yes; I do remember that place now; that's a good place to go out. By the way, how does the doctor like the Yankees being so strict?"
"He don't like it at all; he had to go and take the oath before they would give him a pass to visit his patients."
"Did he?"
"Yes; and I never felt so bad about any thing in my life as I did about that. The nasty, dirty thieves! I perfectly hate the sight of them. I assure you the doctor don't consider himself bound by it; no, indeed he don't."
She was very indignant to think that her husband had been compelled to take the oath. From there I went to see her father, General Neely, who gave me the pass that he had promised me the day before. Thus prepared, I went to head-quarters and reported.
That day Doctor Coleman's corn was all cut down, so that the pickets had a fair view of the ground without changing the line, and General Neely was sent North for a violation of his parole.
CHAPTER VI.
The value of the Oath—Attempt to take "Bunker's" life—Sent to Grand Junction—The hazardous ride—Shoots the picket—The chase—Unfortunate occurrence—The chase abandoned—Meets with guerrillas—They invite him to drink—Renewed vigilance—The battle of Middleburg.
The troops stationed at Bolivar, Tennessee, at the time of the evacuation of Grand Junction, were under the command of Brigadier-General L. F. Ross, and my next labors in the secret service of the United States was under his orders and instructions. I made frequent expeditions from Bolivar, but many of them were so similar in the incidents experienced that I shall not undertake to give a narrative of all of them. These expeditions elicited the fact, however, that nearly all of the citizens of that part of Tennessee, in the face of the military occupation of the country, professed loyalty to the Federal Government, and to give their pretensions the color of reality, and secure the privilege to be obtained from the military authorities, took the oath of allegiance.
Every trip that I made in the disguise of a Confederate soldier revealed to me Confederate wolves clad in Union garments. On one occasion, I had been sent for, and was in the act of receiving my instructions from the Adjutant in regard to a trip that I was required to make, when an old gray-headed citizen called in to procure some military favor. The Adjutant, not supposing the little he had yet to communicate to me would give the citizen any clue to the plans I was about to carry out, finished his instructions in his presence. I observed that the old man paid more than usual attention to what was said, and, from the expression of his countenance, I suspected that he comprehended the move that I was about to make. I became so impressed with the idea that the old man meant me evil, that after I had left and the old man had taken his departure, I went back and obtained permission to take a squad of men with me.
I made the trip in the night. My route was on a road that passed the old man's house. I came upon two men by the roadside, evidently watching for somebody to pass. As soon as they discovered that a squad of men, instead of a single man, was approaching, they fled without waiting for me to come up. Had the old man succeeded, it would have been my last scout. I ascertained from the colored people on the place that the two men were the old man and his son, and that they were watching to kill a Yankee spy that they expected would pass that night.
When General Van Dorn gave up the pursuit after General Leggett's brigade, he fell back with his command to Coldwater and Holly Springs, Mississippi, and for a few weeks every thing remained quiet.
Toward the latter part of August rumor became prevalent that an attack was intended against the forces garrisoning Bolivar, which rendered it necessary to watch closely. On the night of August 27th, General Ross told me that he had heard that a force of the enemy had again got as far north as Grand Junction, and that he wanted I should ride down that night and find the enemy's pickets if they were north of the Junction; if not, to go on to the Junction and then return.
I started at 9 o'clock. The weather was warm, but the night was extremely dark, which rendered the undertaking unpleasant and hazardous. It was impossible to distinguish objects at a distance, and it would require the utmost precaution to prevent running into the pickets before I was aware of their presence.
After having arrived within three miles of Grand Junction, the ride became more dangerous than before. Knowing that my safety required increased vigilance, I slackened my pace to a very slow walk, peering forward into the dark distance with all the powers of my vision, hoping if there was any pickets I might be able to see them in time to escape.
In that manner I felt my way along in suspense, until within three-quarters of a mile of Grand Junction. Here a single sentry stepped out in the midnight darkness, not more than six feet ahead of my mule, and challenged:
"Halt! who comes there?"
I had got too close to venture an escape by running, and I resolved to make the best use of my position that the circumstances would permit, and take my chance for the result.
"A friend, with the countersign," I replied, at the same time drawing my revolver and hanging it down by my side.
"Advance one, with the countersign!" said the sentry.
"There a'n't but one here," said I; "my mule is so ugly that I don't like to dismount, and so skittish that I don't know as I can advance;" and at the same time I pretended to urge my mule forward to the sentry, who stood with his piece at "arms port." "Bring your piece to an 'order,'" said I, "if you please, so that I can get my mule up without dismounting." He brought his piece to an order, and as the mule moved forward, he stepped one foot forward and leaned toward me to receive the countersign. I leaned forward, and, thrusting my revolver to his breast, gave him my countersign! The heavy thug, as he dropped, told me that the "countersign was correct!"
I did not wait to observe the effect of the report of my revolver upon his sleeping companions, but, putting spurs to my mule, I dashed back toward Bolivar. On did I press my mule at the top of his speed, fairly flying over the ground until I reached Van Buren. As I was passing old Billy Moore's house, his dogs sprang at my mule, from the side of the road, with an infernal yelp, and the next instant I lay sprawling in the road—stunned from the shock of the fall. How long I lay there I do not know—probably not long—but as soon as I came to consciousness, I was alarmed for my safety, and made an effort to get up. My mule had stopped when I fell, and stood facing me, only a few feet from where I lay. I managed, however, to get on my mule and go on.
A short distance from Van Buren I came to a cross-road that led to another road that came out into the one that I was on. There I halted, thinking that, perhaps, the same dogs that had done me an evil turn, by barking at me, would do me a good one by barking at my pursuers, if any there were. I had waited but a few minutes when they commenced to bark, and in an instant more I could hear the tramp of horses approaching.
I again dashed ahead down the cross-road into the other one and on to Spring Creek bottoms. Where each of the roads crosses the bottoms the water spreads out over the roads to the width of a hundred yards. I crossed to the opposite side and there halted, and listened for the splash of the water as my pursuers came up, but none came. At the cross-road, not knowing which I had taken, they abandoned the pursuit. Feeling satisfied of this, I moved on leisurely toward Bolivar.
At daylight I reached Mr. Dicken's plantation, which is within five miles of Bolivar. I had called there several times, and had become considerably acquainted with the family. Being sore from my bruises, and much fatigued and hungry from my night's ride, I concluded to give them a call. As I rode up I observed three strange horses feeding in one of the out-sheds. My rap at the door was responded to by Mrs. Dickens, who received me with a hearty welcome; and Mr. Dickens was equally glad to see me. I had, on a former occasion, introduced myself as a citizen of Tennessee, living in Memphis. My mule was cared for by one of the servants, and in a few minutes we were engaged in a free and easy conversation about the news from our army; and likewise we congratulated each other upon the future success of the Confederate cause. The Lincoln tyranny also came in for its share of discussion. While thus engaged, three strangers entered, without rapping, to whom I was introduced as one of "our folks" from Memphis. I soon learned that they had been there all night.
Shortly after the three men entered, one of them said that he had something to drink in another room, and proposed that we retire by ourselves and "take a smile." So we men folks all repaired to the other room, where we indulged pretty freely. It was not long until the conversation of my new acquaintances flowed as freely as their liquor had done, and I learned from it that they were guerrillas, who had stopped to spend the night on their way to Middleburg, to attend a jollification to come off that day. By this time breakfast was announced, and we repaired to the table. I have rarely eaten a meal that relished better, though it was only a plain one.
When breakfast was over, my guerrilla acquaintances invited and even urged me to accompany them; but I declined, stating as a reason that I had business of great importance, the nature of which I was not at liberty to divulge, and that several of our most reliable friends were waiting in anticipation of my arrival at the house of Dr. Coleman, in Bolivar. My mule was got ready, and, having bid them farewell, I resumed my ride back to camp.
Two days after, I accompanied an expedition to Middleburg to capture the guerrillas, but without success. My report at head-quarters caused an increase in vigilance on the part of scouts and pickets. On the 31st of August, the enemy, 6,000 strong, was found to be advancing in the vicinity of Middleburg. General Leggett, with less than one thousand men, mostly from the 20th and 78th Ohio regiments of infantry, met them there, and a desperate fight ensued, in which our loss was trifling and that of the enemy severe. So badly punished was the enemy that he withdrew his forces.
CHAPTER VII.
Attempts to visit the enemy's camp—Learns the strength and position of the enemy—Return intercepted—Perilous situation—Loses his mule—Frightened by men of his own regiment—The plan to capture the enemy—The negro's report—The forces discovered—Disposes of a rebel picket—Reports his discovery.
After the fight in the vicinity of Middleburg, a part of the enemy went into camp between the battle-ground and Van Buren. Soon after, General Leggett requested me to visit the enemy's camp and learn his force, and whether he had any artillery. He gave me a pass to go out, in the presence of the field-officer of the day, who said that no passes were being given out at division head-quarters, and objected to my going out. General Leggett told the officer that I was a privileged character, and that he would take the responsibility of passing me out, but that he would give passes to no others.
Dressed like a citizen, and mounted on a mule, I went out and made my way to the rebel picket line, where I tried to pass in, but was informed by the pickets that they had orders forbidding them to pass citizens in or out. I passed along the line to other posts, but found that they all had the same orders. I made myself quite familiar with the pickets, and those not on duty did not hesitate to enter into conversation with me, by means of which I learned that the force consisted of three regiments of cavalry, and that there was no artillery.
Having gathered up what information I could, I went to visit the battle-field, and while there I came across a young man who was on his way from Saulsbury to Somerville, and had met with the same difficulty I had encountered about getting through the lines, and, in order to continue his journey, he had made a detour round the lines. My own observations and his gave me a correct knowledge of the rebel lines on three sides, and also the position of the rebel camp.
After completing my visit to the battle-ground, I returned toward Bolivar. On my way out to the rebel lines, I had seen and conversed with an old man, a Mr. Knight, who lives about three miles from Bolivar. As I approached his house, on my return, and when within one hundred yards of it, I saw in his front yard two persons dressed like rebel soldiers, who had squirrel rifles. The moment they saw me, they brought their pieces to a ready, as if preparing to fire. I remembered distinctly that General Leggett had said that he would pass nobody else out; besides, I was a little suspicious of the old man Knight's loyalty; so I very naturally concluded that he, knowing that I had gone out, had went and got two soldiers to watch for me as I returned.
I immediately wheeled my mule about and went back behind a rise of ground, and then turned to my left into a corn-field. I dashed ahead about three hundred yards, when I discovered a company of rebel cavalry coming in a line toward me. I turned to my left again, and was dashing ahead toward Bolivar, when I unexpectedly encountered a deep water-gulch that was impassable to my mule. In my flight through the corn, I had already lost my hat. There I was, surrounded, with the enemy to my right, left, and rear, and a frightful ditch in front of me; it was no time for hesitation. I jumped off from my mule and left it, and clambered down into the ditch and then out on the other side, and ran for Bolivar as hard as I could go, bare-headed.
I made my way into camp, and procured a detachment of men and returned, hoping to find my mule, but did not succeed. I learned, however, that the two men that had caused my fright were Daniel Harris and Columbus Johnson, of my own regiment. They had been permitted to visit the battle-ground without arms, but, contrary to their instructions, had taken their arms with them.
On my return, I reported the force and position of the enemy, and also a plan for its capture. So well pleased was General Leggett with my plan, that he sent me with it to General Crocker, who was then commanding the post, during a temporary absence of General Ross. The position of the enemy was as follows:
Five miles from Bolivar, on the road leading south to Van Buren, the road forks; the right-hand road leads to Middleburg, a distance of two miles. On the left-hand road, at a distance of two miles from the fork, is a cross-road, called "Wash. Newbern's road," leading into the right-hand road at Middleburg. The three roads inclose a section of country in shape like a regular triangle. We will call the Wash. Newbern road the base, and the right- and left-hand roads the sides of the triangle; Wash. Newbern's house stands on the south side of the road constituting the base, and about three hundred yards from the left-hand road. On a line parallel with the base, and three hundred yards south of it, was the rebel camp. Two of the regiments were on the west side of the left-hand road, and one on the east side; the regiment occupying the left of the enemy's line was directly south of Newbern's house. In front of Newbern's house, north of the road, is a pasture-field extending north to the road leading from the fork to Middleburg; the fence along the road in front of Newbern's was thrown down. The pasture-field is narrow at each end, but in the center it is much wider, making the space in the center diamond-shaped. At the corner of the cross-road, near the rebel camp, was the reserve pickets, and about one hundred yards north of the reserve was the advance post. On the west side of the pasture-field was a large corn-field, and on the east side a piece of woods.
My plan to capture the enemy was to take four regiments of infantry, and place two regiments on each side of the diamond space in the field, in the morning, before daylight, and have them lay down in the corn-field and woods, so as to be out of sight. Then, at daylight, with what was known as the "mule cavalry," (infantry mounted on mules,) numbering one hundred men, make a dash on the reserve pickets and drive them in; then turn down the Wash. Newbern road, and, when in front of Newbern's house, break into confusion and disorder, and, with whoops and shouts of defiance, start leisurely down through the pasture. The enemy would naturally mount their horses and give chase, and, when once within the lines of the infantry, they would suddenly rise up, raise a shout, and close in each flank, and have them bagged.
General Crocker thought my plan would work, but, being only temporarily in command, did not like to assume the responsibility of executing it, and so it was abandoned.
The "mule cavalry" above alluded to was organized to facilitate scouting, and watch more closely the movements of the enemy, and to check the depredations of guerrillas that infested the country. It was composed of men from the infantry, selected for their daring and gallantry. On account of the thorough knowledge that I had obtained of the country, I was generally sent out with them, to guide them in their scouts.
Not a great while after the foregoing adventure, as the "mule cavalry" was going out on the road leading south from Bolivar, I accompanied them on my own responsibility. After we had got outside of the lines a short distance, I left the mule cavalry and took across the fields to the left, to Mr. Bill's plantation. I had got into a cotton-field on his plantation, and was riding leisurely along, when one of the niggers, who was picking cotton a short distance to my right, called out:
"Hallo, dar, Mr. Bunker! you come dis way."
I obeyed, and rode out to see what the nigger wanted.
"Mr. Bunker, hab we got forces down dar in de bottom?"
"No, we haven't got any forces there."
"Wal, dar's forces down in dar; for de horn souns down in dar reg'lar ebery mornin', ebery noon, an' ebery night, an' dar mus' be forces down dar."
"It must be rebel forces, then; probably rebel cavalry."
"Oh, Lord! Mr. Bunker, don't talk dat ar way, for dey will be up here for sure some night, an' dey will kill all de niggers Massa Bill hab got!"
"Well, I must go and see who is down there. Can you tell me of any path that leads down there?"
"Thar's heaps o' hog-paths dat leads down in dat ar way as yer go through de gate in de fur en' de field," said the nigger, pointing to the fence.
I rode on through the field in the direction pointed out, and following one of the hog-paths, I descended a hill, and was just rising to the top of another, when I discovered, on a ridge in advance of me, fourteen mounted rebels. They evidently had not seen me. I immediately backed my mule down the hill so far as to be out of sight, and then turned to the left and went down into a hollow, and then up a narrow ridge, or hog's back, leading in the direction of Bolivar. When I had rode along about four hundred yards through the scattering timber, I saw a fellow dressed like a rebel soldier, about fifty yards ahead, approaching me, with a double-barreled shotgun, which he carried, lying across the back of his neck, resting on both shoulders, with both his arms up over the gun. As he came along he was whistling a very lively tune, apparently perfectly unconcerned at my approach.
The moment I saw him, and before he discovered my movements, I drew my revolver, and held it down by my side out of sight, and when within about six feet of him, I presented my revolver and ordered him to halt. He did so, looking perfectly astonished. "Lay that gun right down on the ground," I continued. He did so, by raising it right up over his head with both hands and laying it down in front of him; then, straightening himself up in the position of a soldier, said:
"Well, sir; what will you have?"
"Step right back, away from that gun!" He did so. "That will do," said I, when about six feet away, at the same time riding up to the gun.
"What were you doing here?"
"I've just been relieved from the look-out post, out thar."
"Look-out post! What's that?"
"Don't you belong to that ar mule cavalry?"
"No, I don't belong to it, but I sometimes go with it. What command do you belong to?"
"Armstrong's 2d Battalion of Cavalry."
"How many are there of you here?"
"There are one hundred and sixty of us."
"What are you doing here?"
"We are sent out here to watch the mule cavalry."
"Where is your look-out post?"
"Well, sir, are you acquainted about here?"
"I am acquainted with all the roads, but not with your look-out post."
"Well, sir, our look-out post is in old 'Squire Knight's wheat-field. There is a big black stump there, with a plank across the top of it; we stand on that. From there we can see your mule cavalry at Joe Knight's, and we can see you at John Ursury's blacksmith-shop, and tell whether you take the Middleburg or Van Buren road; and the next place that we can see you is at Wash. Newbern's lane, and we can tell whether you go to Van Buren or to Wash. Newbern's. If ever you get down past Beaver's lane, going to Van Buren, it will be the last of you and your mule cavalry."
I then dismounted and picked up the shotgun. What to do with the soldier was hard for me to decide. If I undertook to take him to Bolivar, it was quite probable that I would lose my prisoner, and perhaps my life. To let him go would endanger my life and that of others; particularly my own, in case he should ever recognize me within their lines. I reflected a moment, and then disposed of him in the only way that I thought my own safety and the good of the service would admit; then shouldered the gun and started for Bolivar. I did not feel safe in carrying the gun, lest it should betray me in case I should be captured by a squad of the rebel cavalry; so, at the first stump I came to, I dismounted and broke it, and then went on. If I had had a gun of long range, I should have tried a pull at the man on the look-out post, but as it was, I did not think it advisable to molest him.
On reaching camp, I concluded that it was my duty to report to some body; but not having been officially sent out, I reported to Colonel Force. He listened to my report, and when I had finished, told me to report to General Ross. I did so, and he told me to have myself in readiness the next morning to guide a force of cavalry around to the rear of the rebel force, and that he would send a regiment of infantry in front, and try to capture the whole of them. Morning came, and I was ready to go, but received no orders. I have since learned that the plan fell through because the Colonel wanted his regiment to go, and the General wanted his old regiment to go, and finally did not send any.
CHAPTER VIII.
Sent to find the enemy's pickets—Suspicious circumstance—Sick child—Captures three citizens standing picket—Releases them—Falls asleep—Perilous situation—Fortunate turn of affairs—Attack on the pickets—A very pious man—He proves a rebel spy.
About a week after my attempts to get into the rebel camp near Wash. Newbern's, General Ross sent me down to the corners, at Newbern's lane, to ascertain whether the enemy had any pickets there. I was ordered to take three men with me, and to be very cautious in my movements, and, if I found any pickets near the place designated, not to fire into them, but to come immediately back and report. The place I was to visit was seven miles from Bolivar; we started out after 9 o'clock in the evening; I was mounted on a mule, but the three men that accompanied me were on foot. It was a starlight night—not so dark but that we could discern objects at a considerable distance, and yet dark enough to facilitate our movements.
Five miles from Bolivar, we came to a house occupied by Mr. John Ursury, and, as we approached it, we observed in it a light. We had moved along very slowly, and it had then got to be past 11 o'clock. Thinking it was rather strange that a light should be burning there at that hour of the night, I resolved to ascertain the cause of it.
Taking one man with me, and sending the other two to the rear of the house, to capture any persons that might undertake to escape, I rode up to the front door, with my revolver drawn, and, without dismounting, lifted the latch and shoved the door wide open. The persons present were Mrs. Ursury and children, one of them a small child, and a brother of John Ursury, about fifteen years old.
"What are you doing here with a light at this time of night?" I inquired.
"We have got a sick child," replied Mrs. Ursury, "and we are doctoring it."
"It's best to see whether the child is sick or not," said the man that accompanied me. He then went in and found it awake in the cradle, and, stranger as he was, soon had the child in a frolic, laughing and playing.
"It's a curious sickness that that child has got," said the man, coming out.
I then called the brother out, and, pointing my revolver at him, said: "There is something going on here besides doctoring a sick child, you young d—l, you! and if you don't tell me in a minute what it is, I'll blow the heart right out of you!"
"Mr. Bunker," said he, "is there any forces coming along here?"
"Yes, there is a large force coming."
"Well, my brother is standing watch up by the railroad. Hadn't I better go up and tell him to come down?"
"No; you go into the house and stay there. I'll go after him myself."
I then called my men and went into the road, where I ordered them to remain until I should call. I then rode forward to see what was going on. When I came in sight of the railroad crossing, I saw five men; three of the men were mounted and two were not; they did not seem to have any arms. I called to my men to come on, and then dashed up to them with revolver drawn, and demanded of them to surrender. As I was dashing up, the two that were not mounted fled, and the other three stood their ground.
"Don't shoot us, Mr. Bunker! Don't, for God's sake!" called out Mr. Ursury, who at once recognized me.
"March down into the road, then, if you don't want to be shot! Fine business, this! Good loyal men standing picket for rebel soldiers! March down there! I'll see about this."
I then marched them over to where I had left my men, who, failing to hear me call, had remained where I left them. One of the prisoners was an old, gray-headed preacher, by the name of Parson Hamers; I have forgotten the name of the other. The two that I have named I had seen several times before.
"What were you doing there at this time of night?" I inquired.
"We were watching for some niggers to come along that ran away from my brother-in-law," said Ursury.
"Who were those two men with you that ran away?"
"I don't know," replied Ursury.
I asked the other two, and they denied knowing who they were.
"Well, I can tell who they were," I continued. "There are rebel forces over in Mr. Dickens' woods, and those men belong to them, and you men were standing picket for them." This they stoutly denied, and said that if there were any rebel forces there they did not know it.
Addressing Parson Hamers, I said; "You are an old, gray-headed man—a preacher of the Gospel; you ought to be ashamed of yourself. An old man like you, with one foot in the grave and the other just ready to slip in, out at this time of night watching for niggers! That's a fine excuse! It don't look reasonable. You are a d—d old rebel, with the oath in your pocket, and you deserve to be shot!"
I did not know what to do with them; I had two miles further to go, and it was necessary for me to take all my men with me, and to be encumbered with prisoners, in case we should run into a force, would be hazardous. I finally took down their names and released them, and then went on.
Finding no pickets at Newbern lane, we returned. On arriving at the railroad crossing where I had captured the prisoners, I sent my men to camp by way of the railroad, which was a much shorter route than the wagon-road, and kept on myself the way I had come out.
Having slept but very little for several nights, by reason of being out on scouts, after parting company with my men I became very sleepy, and experienced considerable difficulty in keeping awake, and at last fell asleep.
All at once my mule came to a sudden halt, throwing up its head as if something was wrong. The movement woke me up, and there, stretched across the road, was a line of soldiers bringing their pieces to a ready. I could plainly hear the click-ick-ick as they cocked them, for they were not more than fifteen yards from me. I can not describe the horror and alarm that I felt at my situation; it was of no use to run, so I resolved to put on a bold front and sell my life as dear as possible. Surrender! no, never! thought I, if I die the next instant.
"Who comes there?" said I, drawing my revolver.
"Advance and give the countersign!" said the officer in command of the soldiers.
"Who are you?" said I.
"No matter!" said he; "advance and give the countersign."
"I sha'n't advance a step until I know who you are!"
"Well, you advance one," said he, "and I'll advance one."
"Very well; come on!"
As we met, each with revolver cocked, the officer exclaimed, "Why, Bunker! Is that you? I am frightened to think of it! Why didn't you stop? In an instant more my whole company would have fired into you!"
"I was asleep, Captain! It was a narrow escape, wasn't it?"
"Indeed, it was!"
It was no other than Captain Ayres and company A, of the 20th Ohio, sent out as a support for me to fall back on if I was discovered by the enemy and pursued. They had been sent out after I left, and I had no knowledge that they were coming. The result of it was, I came very near falling back without any support!
My suspicions of a rebel force being in Dickens' woods was confirmed in the morning by an attack on our pickets, by a force of five hundred men, by which two men of the 23d Indiana were wounded. After firing into the pickets, the enemy made a detour to the north-west of Bolivar, and there encountered a large Federal foraging party, that fired into them and killed seven, which made them skedaddle.
The next day I was sent out with a party of nine men to procure forage. Having found a fine lot of honey, some fresh butter, and a quantity of chickens, we loaded them into an open buggy, confiscated a mule to draw it, and then bent our way back to camp. We had proceeded but a little way, when I discovered a man a short distance ahead. As soon as he saw us, he sat down in the shade of a tree in a bend of the road, pulled out a Testament, and commenced to read. Coming up to him, I said, "Daddy, how do you do?"
"By the grace of God, I am well, and I hope you enjoy the same blessing," was his answer.
"You are mighty good, a'n't you? You are a soldier, I suppose."
"No, gentlemen, I am not a soldier. By the providence of God, I am a preacher of the Gospel pure."
"Look here, daddy; don't you know that this country is invaded? Over there lies the Federal army, and yonder the Confederate army. What business have you to be prowling about between the lines of the two contending armies?"
"I have got a Federal pass," said he, handing me one signed by General Ross, "and I have taken the oath. I have no connection with the Confederate army."
"Well, daddy, you don't look like a man with a clear conscience; we must search you." We proceeded to search him, which resulted in finding, in a leg of his pantaloons, between the outside and lining, a map eighteen inches by twenty-two, representing exactly our fortifications, intrenchments, camp, and picket line at Bolivar. It was skillfully executed, and was as accurate as it could well be made. Our discovery of the map took away the old man's sanctimonious dignity. "This is one of your sermons, I suppose!" I remarked, as I drew out the map. "A fine subject for a minister of the Gospel!" He dropped his head and made no reply.
"Now, daddy, you look tired; you get into the buggy and ride." So the old man got in. "Now, boys, take the rope from the mule's neck and put it on the old man's neck." So they changed places with the rope. By this time the man looked terribly frightened, and as white as a ghost. "One of you that is good at climbing mount that tree." There was a limb from the tree where the old man had been sitting, that extended out over the road where we had halted the buggy. To this the rope was made fast. Every thing being ready, I said, "Daddy, you are in a hurry to get to Canaan, and we are in a hurry to get to camp, so good day, sir." Our mule then gave a desperate plunge, leaving him to travel his journey alone to that place where, by the grace of God, he'll have no use for maps of Federal fortifications.
I carried the map to General Ross, and related to him the circumstances of its capture.
"Did you bring the man in?" he inquired.
"No, sir; we have brought in several disloyal characters, and they have all managed to get released; for that reason we thought it not worth while."
"You let him go, did you?"
"Yes, we let him go—by the jerk!"
General Ross sent the map to General Grant, then at Jackson, Tenn., accompanied with the particulars of its capture.
CHAPTER IX
Sent to Somerville—Finds himself a prisoner—Taken to Cold Water—Meets with old acquaintances—Is paroled—Runs with the 2d Arkansas Cavalry—Goes to Lumpkins' Mills—Interview with General Price—Stays all night with his brother, the rebel General—Return to Bolivar—Reports to General Ross—"Steals the Colonel's horse," and returns to the enemy—Runs away from the enemy.
About the middle of September, the enemy having disappeared from our immediate front, General Ross sent me to Somerville, with instructions to reconnoiter the country all about, and find out, if possible, where the enemy had gone to, and such other information as I could obtain.
I started out quite early in the morning, mounted on a mule, dressed like a citizen in easy circumstances. Whenever I met a planter, I would stop and converse with him about the "news from our army," and the prospects of the war, and the "d—d thieving Yankees that were robbing us of our cotton and niggers." In the course of such conversation, I learned there were no rebel forces in that immediate vicinity. About noon, I reached Somerville. There I found every thing quiet as a Sabbath morning. Passing through the town, I took the road to Moscow. Coming to a large, fine brick house that stands near the railroad depot, I drew up and alighted from my mule, and went in, in pursuit of some dinner.
"Stranger," said I, addressing an elderly gentleman that I found on entering, "can I get some dinner here?"
"I reckon so," he said, handing me a chair; "dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Sit down."
I complied.
"Where do you belong?" he inquired.
"My home is in Memphis, Tennessee, but"—
Just then I was interrupted by the entrance of two men, who came in from an adjoining room, one of whom asked me where I belonged.
"I was just saying to this gentleman," I replied, "that my home is in Memphis, Tennessee, but I came from Bolivar here."
"Do you belong to the Federal army?"
"No, sir; I am a citizen of this State, and my home, as I said before, is in Memphis."
"How came you to be in Bolivar?"
"I went out there to see General Neely and Doctor Coleman, and the Adamses, and several others that I am acquainted with, and when I got in there the Yankees would not let me out when I wanted them to, and I had to remain there several days."
"Did you get a pass from the Yank's to get out with?"
"Yes, sir; but it only passed me out, and was retained by the pickets."
"Have you got any fire-arms or papers with you?"
"No, sir; I had a nice navy revolver that I carried to Bolivar, but I was obliged to leave it with an acquaintance when I left, to keep the Yankees from taking it away from me."
"Well, sir, you may consider yourself my prisoner, and after dinner we'll go down to Cold Water and see what they can do for you there."
"Gentlemen," said I, "I am no Yankee soldier. I am a citizen, and I can't see what object you can have in taking me there."
"It don't matter whether you do or not. I think that they will have some use for you."
Dinner was then announced as ready, and we all sat up. "I think that they will have some use for you!" reverberated through my brain, and set me into a train of thought any thing but agreeable, I'm to be a conscript then! thought I. I tried to suppress my feelings, and feigned to be cheerful, as if nothing had occurred to disturb my equanimity. In fact, my only hope was in appearing cheerful.
When dinner was over, the two men had their horses brought out, and we all three mounted and started for Cold Water, forty miles distant. On the way I kept up a cheerful conversation, and on several occasions I had my butternut friends convulsed with laughter. I found out that the man who had made me a prisoner was Captain Daniels, a noted guerrilla, and the other person was a Quartermaster.
At 2 o'clock, A. M., we reached the outpost near Cold Water, where we halted until daylight, and then went in. As we were going in, we met a soldier, who, when he saw me, called out, "Hallo, Ruggles, is that you? Where in the h—l have you been? I hav'n't seen you since we made shingles together on White River!"
"A prisoner? the h—l you are!"
"Yes, Captain Daniels, here, captured me at Somerville, yesterday."
"Ha, ha! captured you? Why, Captain, I have known that man for years, and made shingles for him on White River, in Arkansas, and he is as loyal to the Confederate cause as you are! There are five or six other boys here that know him as well as I do!"
Captain Daniels then took me to the head-quarters of the regiment, and there I found, in the Colonel, another man that I was well acquainted with. His name was Slemmens; he used to be prosecuting attorney at Napoleon, Arkansas. When I entered his quarters—
"Lord bless me!" he said, "if here a'n't Ruggles! How are you?"
"Pretty well, I thank you. I am glad to meet you. I didn't know that you was in the service. The last time we met was at Napoleon, I believe."
"Yes; but pray what fetched you here?"
"Captain Daniels captured me and fetched me here."
"Captured you?"
"Yes; I told him I was a citizen of the South, but he did not believe me."
"I have known Ruggles these six years, Captain; he's all right. But, then, never mind—I see! we'll make him count one in exchange. I'll parole him. Where did you capture him?"
Daniels told him the particulars of my capture, and that I had been in Bolivar several weeks.
"Well," said the Colonel, "I'll parole him."
"Do you know the name of any Colonel in Bolivar, and the regiment that he commands?"
"Yes, I know one; his name is Force, and he commands the 20th Ohio Infantry."
"Well, that will do as well as any."
He then paroled me as belonging to the 20th Ohio Infantry, commanded by Colonel Force.
Captain Daniels and the Quartermaster then left me with Colonel Slemmens, and returned toward Somerville. My old acquaintances all got together at the Colonel's quarters, and we had a right lively visit. They were all urgent to have me join the regiment, and I finally consented to run with them awhile, and promised to join if I liked the regiment. I had found out, by this time, that the regiment was the 2d Arkansas Cavalry, and was there on outpost duty. It had been raised in a part of Arkansas where I was well acquainted. There was no other regiment there at that time. The principal part of the rebel forces in Northern Mississippi were then camped at Lumpkins' Mills, seven miles south of Holly Springs.
Among the acquaintances that I made during my stay in the regiment, was the Lieutenant-Colonel and the regimental sutler. The former was a Methodist clergymen, by the name of Rosebrook. He was very urgent in his endeavors to have me join the regiment.
Two days after my arrival, the regiment received orders from General Villipigue to move to Gun Town, on the Ohio and Mobile Railroad, seventy miles distant. I went with it. There it received orders from General Van Dorn to go to Ripley. We remained at Ripley a few days, during which time we made two or three cotton-burning trips. We then received orders to go back to Cold Water.
From Cold Water I accompanied Colonel Slemmens on a visit to Lumpkins' Mills. While there we called on General Price, and I was introduced as a brother of General Ruggles. In the conversation that was had with Colonel Slemmens and myself, General Price learned that I did not belong to any organized regiment, but that I had temporarily attached myself to the 2d Arkansas Cavalry. He told me that I would have to be assigned to some regiment as a conscript. I objected to that. He said that it would have to be done, and unless it was done I could not draw any pay or subsistence from the Confederate Government.
"General," said I, "the Southern Confederacy is of more consequence to me than pay. I did not come into the army for pay. I have got six hundred dollars in my pocket, and I intend to fight on that until it is gone. I have got a rich sister in Memphis, and when that is gone, I will go to her and get more. Besides, I can do more good as I am, because when there is a fight coming off any where, I can go into it, but if I am fast, I can only go where the regiment goes to which I belong."
"Well," said the General, "perhaps you can do the most good as you are; you may remain so."
In the afternoon of the day before we were to return, General Price sent me word that my brother, General Ruggles, had arrived. I immediately went to head-quarters to see him. He expressed great delight at meeting me, and called me "Bub," as he used to do when at home, though I was forty years old. The Adjutant-General assigned us a tent by ourselves, and I remained with my brother all night. He had not been to Ohio for a great many years, and he was very much interested in learning the changes that had taken place in the neighborhood where he was raised. All I learned of him about the army was, that his command was near Baton Rouge, La., and that he had come there on business pertaining to his command. He did not ask me where I lived, nor allude to the subject of the rebellion. He knew that I had spent a great portion of my life in the South, and, naturally enough, supposed that I was identified with her interests.
In the morning I returned with Colonel Slemmens to Cold Water. I had learned, by this time, a great deal of information, and had been absent a much greater length of time than I had calculated on when I left Bolivar, and I began to feel anxious to get back and report. I had become quite a favorite with Colonel Slemmens, and I could generally get from him any favor that I asked for.
"Colonel," said I to him, the next morning after we returned, "all the rest of the boys have got horses of their own, and I have got nothing but that little mule of mine to ride, and I want something else. Can't you make a cotton-burning trip up into the vicinity of Bolivar? While I was there I found one regiment of Yankees camped out a little distance from the other regiments, and the Colonel of it has got a splendid horse; if you will go, I can get in there and capture it."
"Pshaw! You could not get into the lines if you were there!"
"Yes I can; I know right where to get in, and if I don't get that horse I'll get some other. I'm bound to have a horse."
"Well, I can't go now, but I'll see about it."
I waited two days, and then tried him again.
"Colonel," said I, "what do you think about that cotton trip to Bolivar now? I'm getting very anxious for that horse."
"If I thought you would succeed, I'd go."
"I know I'll succeed."
"How close can we get without getting into the Yankee pickets?"
"We can get as far as Jonathan Herse's place, and there you can halt until I go in and return."
"Well, then, I'll take five companies and we'll go up there to-day, and we'll have every thing ready to start at 10 o'clock A. M."
At the appointed time we started, and moved along rapidly until we reached Herse's plantation. It was in the night when we reached there. The Colonel retained three companies, and sent two, under command of a Captain, with me, with instructions to stop at such a place as I should designate, and wait three hours for me to return, unless I returned sooner, and if I did not come back at the end of that time, to return without me.
We went on until we came within about four hundred yards of the pickets, where I had the Captain halt his men, and, leaving my mule, I went on. I found the advanced picket right where I expected to. He was on the alert, and challenged me as I came up. There I cautioned the officer in command of the pickets to be on the alert, for two companies of rebel cavalry were within rifle-shot of him. The pickets were all called up, and I was sent, under guard, to General Ross. I had him called up, and reported to him what I had learned, and told him that, in order to carry out my plans, I wanted an order on the Quartermaster for a number one horse. I also told him that I would leave my mule on Mr. Herse's plantation, and requested him to send a forage party out the next day and bring the mule in. He gave me the order, and I went immediately to C. C. Williams, Assistant Quartermaster, and woke him up, and told him I was in a great hurry and wanted the horse then.
However strangely he may have thought of my movements then, I am sure that when he reads these pages he will know why I disturbed him at that unusual hour of the night. He furnished me with a beautiful nag. With an old gun-sling and canteen strap I rigged up a sort of bridle, mounted the horse, and returned to my rebel escort.
On my return, I was in ecstasies of delight over "my captured" nag. I told the Captain that I had stolen it from a Colonel, and that I found it not twenty yards from his quarters, and that I tried to steal his saddle, bridle, and holsters, but his d—d nigger was sleeping with his head on the saddle and I could not get them without waking him up.
The men were all highly interested with the narration of my exploit, and not only conceded that I "was a h—l of a fellow," but "that I had got a d—d good horse." We then returned to Herse's plantation, and I awoke the Colonel to show him my prize. He was as much delighted as the rest had been.
It was by this time daylight, and we started for Cold Water; I left the mule, as I had agreed to do, on Mr. Herse's plantation. On our way back we burned considerable cotton. I remained a few days longer at Cold Water, and then accompanied a detachment to Saulsbury to burn cotton; from there I ran away and returned to Bolivar. My mule had been brought in as I requested, and so I exchanged my horse for it. I had been gone in all twenty days.
CHAPTER X.
Sent to Grand Junction to capture guerrillas—Suspicious incident—Strategy to get out the guerrillas—Orders disobeyed—The rebel flag—The very kind secesh lady—The mistake—Out of the frying-pan into the fire—Guerrillas watching for them—The attack—The prisoner—The result of the trip.
A part of the duties assigned me, in the many trips I made to Bolivar, was to hunt up guerrilla organizations, learn their intended movements, and make arrangements for their capture. During my scouts, I had learned that there was an organized band of guerrillas at Grand Junction. On reporting the fact to General Ross, he requested me to go down and capture them, and gave me for that purpose a force of one hundred infantry, under command of a Captain, and forty cavalry, under command of a Lieutenant, with instructions to the officers that they should obey my orders in whatever plans I should choose to adopt. I was also furnished with a train of ten four-horse teams and wagons, and was instructed to let the infantry ride out, and, on my return, to load the wagons with forage.
It was about sundown when the detachment moved out from Bolivar. I rode about one hundred yards in advance, then came the cavalry, and in the rear the train bearing the infantry. My dress on this occasion was that of a citizen.
When the last lingering rays of daylight had disappeared, the night became extremely dark—so dark that it was impossible to distinguish friend from foe by the powers of vision. While crossing a piece of bottom land, with a forest of trees on each side of the road that seemed to make the darkness still more impenetrable, I met three persons. I saluted them with a "Good-evening," and inquired of them where they were going, and was told that they were going after some horses that had strayed away, and that they wanted to go on to Mr. Dickens' and stay all night, and resume the search for the horses in the morning. By this time the Lieutenant of the cavalry came up, and, on further inquiry, found that they had passes. He took their passes to examine, but could not find a match with which to make a light. He then concluded, from the feeling of the paper, that they were our passes, and allowed them to go on. When they passed the train, the infantry soldiers were sitting down in the bottom of the wagon-beds, and the most of them were asleep, and the men, in passing, probably did not discover any force but the cavalry.
When within three miles of Grand Junction, we halted and waited until nearly daylight, and then moved on to within a mile of the place. There I had the team's turned about, facing toward Bolivar, and gave the teamsters instructions to remain by their teams, and, if we were driven back, to push forward to Bolivar, if possible. I then moved the cavalry and infantry forward as noiseless as possible into the lane, within half a mile of town, and instructed the officers to remain there just half an hour, and, if I did not return, to make a dash into the town, for they might know by my absence that I was captured.
My plan was to leave my men there, and ride into town myself and find the guerrillas, and, if they were not concentrated, to find their leader and have him get out his men, to capture a small squad of Lincoln cavalry that I would report as feeding their horses near town, and while he would be getting out his men, I would reconnoiter to see if they were still there, tell the Federal officers where to place their men, and then go back and act as guide to the guerrillas.
Having given all the instructions that I thought were necessary, I rode on into town. As I drew up in front of the Percy House, the doors of the house were being opened, and "mine host" came out.
"Good morning, sir," said I, as he made his appearance.
"Good morning, sir," said he, eyeing me closely.
"Have we got any cavalry here?"
"No, there is none nigher than Davis Creek, three miles from here."
"Have we got any guerrillas here?"
"Yes, some. Why, what do you want?"
"Thar's a squad of Lincoln cavalry right up thar," said I, pointing toward my own men.
"Where are you from?" he inquired, as if uncertain whether I was right or not.
"Oh, I am all right. I am just from Memphis, and, as I was coming in this morning, I saw a squad of Lincoln cavalry feeding their horses, and I would like to get out a squad of our men and go and capture them."
"Well, I don't know how many guerrillas there is here; but there is Captain Robison, that keeps the corner grocery, and lives across the street as you go round the corner; he is Captain of the band, and he can tell you all about it."
"Thank you;" and I started off to find him.
When I got round the corner, I saw a nigger coming from a house that I took to be the Captain's; so I waited till he came out to me. I learned from him that it was the Captain's house, and that he was at home. Just then I was startled by the tramp of horses. Knowing that it was not time for my men to come in, I very naturally supposed that it was rebel cavalry. I went back to the corner to see what it was, and there came my own men, the cavalry on a gallop and the infantry on a double-quick. Instead of waiting thirty minutes, they had only waited eight! I was vexed to have my plans, through disobedience of orders, spoiled; and more so, because I had learned from experience that all attempts to convict a guerrilla after he was captured would be futile unless he was caught with arms in his hands fighting against us. With the oath of allegiance in their pockets, and the use of their oily tongues, they invariably managed to get released.
We then arrested Captain Robison, and such other persons as, from their actions, we had reason to believe belonged to the band.
Captain Robison kept, in addition to the grocery, a billiard saloon, which had been a favorite resort in the summer for the Federal officers, while the place was being garrisoned by the brigade under command of General Leggett. One day, while engaged in playing a game of billiards, Lieut. P. M. Hitchcock, regimental Quartermaster of the 20th Ohio, having occasion to look under the table for something, discovered, fastened up underneath the table, a large rebel flag, which he captured and carried to camp. The flag had been secreted there when the Federal troops first took possession of the place, and the officers had played on that table every day for weeks without having discovered it.
Having secured our prisoners, we proceeded to make the citizens of the place furnish breakfast for the detachment. This they were reluctant to do, but finally submitted. When all had been supplied, we returned to the teams. The teamsters had not fared so well, and, as soon as I returned, they requested me to make arrangements for their breakfast. I told them to drive on and I would do so. I then rode on, to find a house that looked as if its occupants had a supply sufficient to furnish the breakfast, and forage for the horses and mules.
About four miles from Grand Junction, I came to a large brick house on the right-hand side, a short distance from the road. I opened the gate, entered the yard, and rode up toward the house, and, as I drew up to the door, an elderly lady came out, whom I addressed, and inquired if I could get breakfast there for sixteen men, and feed for a hundred and fifty horses.
Supposing me to be a secesh Colonel, she replied, "Well, yes, so far as breakfast for the men is concerned; but really, Colonel, about the corn, I don't know as I have got enough here to feed so many; but if you are a mind to be to the trouble to send over to my nigger quarters, about three-quarters of a mile from here, you can get all the corn you want."
"Thank you, madam. I will ride down and halt the train, and send the men up for their breakfast."
As I rode away, I heard her order the niggers to get the breakfast. I halted the train, and set the niggers (who were returning with us from Grand Junction) to cutting up corn from a field on the opposite side of the road for the teams. The infantry soldiers immediately began to scatter about the plantation, in search of horses and mules, of which we had gotten several at Grand Junction.
The thought now occurred to me that I had been supposed by the lady to be a secesh Colonel, and that as soon as she saw the blue trousers, the getting of breakfast would be stopped; so I went back to the house to see about it. As soon as I came up, she met me at the door and commenced to complain.
"I thought that it was our cavalry coming; I was mistaken. Instead, I find that it is nothing but a parcel of confounded Lincoln jayhawkers!"
"We are all liable to mistakes, madam."
"Now, could you," she continued, "demand of a poor lone widow, like I am, breakfast for sixteen men and feed for a hundred and fifty horses?"
"The subject has changed appearances considerably since I was here before. I'll see about breakfast myself."
I dismounted and fastened my mule, and then went to a wood-pile and procured a big club, and then repaired to the cook-house. The niggers had evidently commenced to get things ready for the breakfast, but had stopped.
"What are you about, you black, woolly scoundrels! Why a'n't you cooking breakfast?" said I, addressing the niggers.
"Missus dun tole us not to get de breckfust!"
"Well, you go right to work and get the breakfast, or I'll thrash h—l out of your black hides! Start right away!" At that I made for them with my club.
"Hole on! hole on, massa! we'll dun an' get de breckfust!"
They all sprang to work in good earnest. One of the niggers told me that the woman had locked up the meat. I started for the smoke-house door, with my club, to break it in, but the woman, who had been watching me, followed with the keys, and, when she saw that I was going in any way, begged of me to let her unlock the door. On inquiry of the niggers, I found that she had butter locked up in a cupboard. I told her to get out some butter, and she declared she hadn't got a bit in the house. I walked toward the cupboard, with my club raised, without saying any thing further, when she came running to the cupboard, with the keys in her hand, saying, "Don't break it! don't break it! I'll get it out! I'll get it out for you! Do give a body time!"
By dint of perseverance, using a good many threats and some motions, I succeeded in having the breakfast made ready; which, having been accomplished, the teamsters were called in to enjoy it. While the teamsters were eating, a squad of soldiers came through the yard, with about thirty geese that they had confiscated. The lady saw them, and came to me to plead for them.
"Now, don't let the men take those geese; don't! they are great favorites of mine, and I hate to part with them!"
I had noticed, a few minutes before, a large, close pen in one corner of the yard, filled with nice, fat turkeys, which one of the darkeys had told me were being fatted to send to the rebel officers. The boys had not yet discovered them.
"Boys, put down those geese; don't be packing geese from here to Bolivar! Throw them down!"
"Why, Bunker!" they exclaimed, "you said we might get any thing that we wanted!"
"Throw them down!"
Down they went.
"Now, if you want any thing of the feathered tribe, pitch into those turkeys in that pen yonder," said I, pointing to it.
Away the boys went, a-flying.
"Good Lord! Now don't! don't get those turkeys! I'd rather you had took every goose on the place!"
"You are in a bad fix now, a'n't you?" said I. "Right out of the frying pan into the fire!"
Just then a little nigger girl came running in, and said:
"Missis, de Yankees dun got Lucy!"
"Where?" inquired the lady.
"Right out dat ar way," said the girl, pointing in the direction.
"Well now, I declare! Don't take that riding nag away from me, a poor lone widow, as I am; don't! Have a little mercy on me; do!"
"Yes!" said I, "you are a mighty poor widow! worth two hundred thousand dollars, and paying an overseer a thousand dollars a year; you are mighty poor! Soldier, fetch that mare back, and let the poor widow keep the d—d p—t-g—tt-d thing! It a'n't worth riding to Bolivar!"
As soon as breakfast was over, we again moved on. When within two miles of Van Buren, near where the Whitesville road takes off to the left, a little incident occurred to attract our attention. As I was riding along, in advance of the detachment, I saw a nigger coming up the road toward me, with his hat in his hand, and running as fast as he could, and appearing to be wonderfully excited about something.
"What's up?" said I, as I met him.
"Thar's a heap ob de secesh cavalry down by Massa's house, and dey are gwine to git you all!"
Here, then, was something to do. I was well acquainted with the features of the country all about there, and I knew where they would most likely be posted, and which way they would retreat if we were too much for them. I was also well satisfied that the enemy consisted of Hall's guerrillas, from Saulsbury, and that the men that we had met on our way down belonged to them, and, instead of going to Mr. Dickens' to stay all night, had gone down to Saulsbury and got out the band to capture our train, not knowing that we had any infantry force along.
I sent the Captain, with fifty men, to the right, to get to their flank in a piece of woods, where I was sure they would attempt to escape if we overpowered them. The Captain had a corn-field to cross, in reaching the woods, that would cover his men from view. I was to watch from the top of the fence, and see the Captain deploy his men in the woods, before ordering an attack in front.
I watched until I knew that the Captain had had plenty of time to have reached the woods; but, for some reason, he had not made his appearance. I waited as long as I thought it would do, and then, leaving ten men to guard the prisoners, I ordered the cavalry to charge, supported by the balance of the infantry.
As we dashed over the hill toward the house, a man was seen on the top of a large gate-post, watching for us to approach. He evidently had underestimated our force, and had not looked for a charge. In the yard by him was a splendid mule and a new saddle. He gave a look at them and then at us, and then broke for the corn-field on foot, leaving his mule and saddle for us. The saddle was a new one, and, I learned by the people in the house, belonged to Captain Richardson, who happened to be there, and was helping Hall's guerrillas to capture us. The saddle cost him thirty-seven dollars, and he had just received it the night before. As soon as the guerrillas discovered that we were charging on them, they fled to the woods where I had ordered the Captain to deploy his men, and they all escaped but one. The Captain had halted his men in the corn-field, and did not take them into the woods; had he done so, we might have captured the whole band, numbering, in all, thirty men.
The prisoner that we captured declared that he was no guerrilla, but a citizen; he told us that he lived in Memphis. At Van Buren, Mrs. Moore told me that she knew him, and that he was one of their nearest neighbors, and one of the finest men living in the county. At Mr. Marshall's we found a collection of neighbors, engaged in burying a child near the roadside. Mrs. Marshall, whom I saw there, told me that she knew him, and that he lived in Tupelo, Mississippi, and that he and his wife were out there on a visit, and that his wife was present somewhere in the gathering.
Just then the wife saw her husband, a prisoner, and she began to make a dreadful fuss, crying and wringing her hands, and begged of the Lieutenant to let him go; "for," said she, "I know that he will never take the oath, and they will hang him, sure, and I shall never, never see him again in this world!"
The Lieutenant passed on with his prisoner, and I remained behind until after the detachment had all passed, when I started on. Before overtaking them, I met the prisoner, coming back, with a written statement, signed by the Lieutenant, stating that he had been released. Before reaching Bolivar, the wagons were loaded with forage. Aside from the forage, mules, and contrabands that we gathered, the expedition was a failure.
The men we arrested at Grand Junction all managed to get released. I felt mortified at the result, because I felt sure that, if my plans had been carried out, we might have made a brilliant little affair of it. General Ross reprimanded the officers severely for not having obeyed my instructions.
The reader can see by the foregoing what might have been done on that expedition; yet it was a failure, because the parties concerned neglected to obey orders. It is a parallel case, on a small scale, to numerous others of greater magnitude, in the prosecution of the war.
Captain Richardson, who made his escape in the corn-field, has since been made a Colonel of a rebel regiment, raised near Lafayette, Tenn.
CHAPTER XI.
Sent to Lagrange—Observes two cavalrymen—Arrival at Lagrange—Waits for the Cavalry—Accompanies them out—Takes his departure—Is pursued—Evades the pursuit—Finds himself cornered—Crosses the Cypress Swamp—Robbed by outlaws—Disloyal citizen—The fate of the robbers.
Not long after my return from running with the 2d Arkansas Cavalry, General Ross requested me to make a general reconnoissance of the country along the railroad as far as Lagrange, and to examine carefully the trestle-work and bridges of the railroad, and to watch for any movement that might be intended as an attack on the post or a raid upon the railroad.
I went out, disguised as a citizen, mounted on a mule. Ten miles from Bolivar I stopped at Mr. M——'s, where I spent an hour or more in conversation with the members of the family. Mr. M—— was absent in the hospital, he having been wounded in the battle of Shiloh, and had not yet sufficiently recovered to enable him to get home.
While there I received an introduction to Miss Armstrong, a sister of the rebel General Armstrong. I found her a very frank, open-hearted woman, and very hopeful of the Southern cause. She did not evade the fact of the gloom and darkness that seemed to envelop the cause, but spoke cheerful and hopeful of the result. She inquired if I had any late news from "our" forces, and I, in turn, gained as much general information of Southern matters as I could.
When passing myself as a citizen of the South, I have always found the people affable in their manners, sociable, and extremely liberal in their hospitality. Whenever an occasion was offered them of rendering any assistance which they supposed was furthering the cause they had espoused, their kindness and generosity knew no restraint.
Two miles further on is the residence of Captain Rose, to whom I paid a visit. Captain Rose had served in the United States army eleven years, and is one of your genuine Union men, and has always been loyal to the Government. I have visited him frequently since, and was always made welcome. I did not disguise the fact of belonging to the Federal army to him, and have several times received from him valuable information. It was of rare occurrence that I found among the citizens of that locality such genuine sentiments of loyalty and devotion to the Federal Government as I found in Captain Rose.
I moved on leisurely, examining the railroad as I went, but saw nothing worthy of attention after I left Captain Rose until two miles west of Van Buren, where the road from Whitesville comes in. As I came near that place, I saw two rebel cavalrymen, who had been coming up the Grand Junction road, turn off toward Whitesville.
"Halloo, boys!" said I, hailing them, "stop a minute; I want to see you."
"We haven't time to stop," answered one; "our company has gone on to Whitesville, and we want to overtake it."
They dashed ahead without stopping. Their reply, however, answered my purpose. "A company of cavalry had gone to Whitesville," and it remained for me to find out what it had gone for. The two men were without luggage, from which I concluded they would return the next day; and, knowing that the rebel forces were principally at Lumpkins' Mills, it seemed probable that when the company returned it would pass through Lagrange, so I resolved to go on to Lagrange that night. It was then nearly dark.
I arrived at Lagrange about 11 o'clock at night, and halted at the depot. It was very dark, and every body had retired for the night, and, not liking to blunder about the place for lodgings, lest I might encounter some rebel cavalry, I lay down upon the depot platform, with my bridle over my arm, ready to spring up at the slightest alarm, and went to sleep.
In the morning I repaired to a house of entertainment, kept by a Mr. Lee, and procured some breakfast for myself and feed for my mule. There I waited for the return of the cavalry. About 1 o'clock, P. M., they came in and halted to feed.
I did not think that it was prudent to mingle with the cavalry while they remained in town, so I had my mule got ready, and remained at the public house until the cavalry commenced to move out, when I mounted and moved out on the same road in their rear, and, at a short distance from town, I came up with them. I rode along in company with them, as if I were a citizen returning to my home from town.
I asked the boys how they liked soldiering, and whether they had ever been in any fights, and what regiment they belonged to, and various other questions, such as I supposed a citizen would naturally ask; and, finally, I inquired where they had been, and was told that they had been to Whitesville, on a scout, to see whether the Yankees had been committing any depredations on the property of the citizens. In that manner I kept up my conversation until we were within three miles of the Cold Water Creek, without having excited any suspicion but what I was all right.
I had gone as far as I cared about, and began to think up some plan by which I could make my exit from their company without exciting suspicion. To accomplish my object, I gradually fell back to the rear, and the first rise of ground that the cavalry went over, that was large enough to hide me from view until I could get a good start on my way back, I turned about and left them.
I moved along on a good fast trot, occasionally looking back to see if I was pursued. I had made about four miles, when, on looking back, I saw a squad of fifteen or sixteen cavalry in full chase after me. My sudden departure had excited their suspicions. I put the spurs to my mule and dashed ahead at the top of its speed. My pursuers gained on me. I urged my mule still harder, and still they continued to gain. My situation seemed a hopeless one. I could not outstrip them in the chase, and they were rapidly gaining on me. If captured, my flight under the circumstances would be conclusive evidence against me. Still, on I pressed, the distance between myself and pursuers growing rapidly less. My mule, too, was becoming exhausted, and my pursuers were within five hundred yards of me. I had come full three miles since I saw them giving chase. Passing a bend in the road, with a growth of small trees and brush along the fence that hid me from view, I came to a gap in the fence, through which I passed into a field. The field was covered with stubble and tall weeds. I dashed ahead at right angles with the road for about two hundred yards, when I entered a basin or depression in the surface of the ground, that in a wet time would have been a pond, but at that time it was dry. The ground was considerably lower than the surface of the field between the basin and the road. There I dismounted and sat down, and, in an instant more, I heard the tramp of horses as my pursuers passed on.
I had despaired of making my escape, but as my pursuers passed on, hope began to revive. It was then about sundown. I waited there until dark, and then mounted my mule and started on. I knew that my pursuers would soon return, and I must manage so as not to be seen. When I arrived at the place where the road turns off to the right, that goes to Davis' Mills, I turned to the left into the edge of a piece of woods, where I could see without being seen, and halted.
In a few minutes I heard my pursuers approaching, who, when they came to the corners, took the road to Davis' Mills. I remained under cover of the woods until I thought all stragglers of the party, if there should be any, had passed, and then went on, watching carefully as I went.
As I was riding along, the thought occurred to me that, perhaps, my pursuers might have mistrusted that I had turned out into the field to evade them, and had placed a picket on the bridge across Wolf River, near Lagrange, to capture me if I attempted to cross. I rode on to within two hundred yards of the bridge, and there I left my mule and went forward to reconnoiter. When within a few paces of the bridge I stopped and listened, but did not hear any thing. I moved a few feet further, and then I thought I heard a footstep. I crept up still closer, and peered forward in the black distance, and there I could see, on the bridge, the form of a man. I watched and he moved. There was no mistake about it! My fears were realized! The picket was there!
The glimmerings of hope that had lightened me up as my pursuers passed me now vanished. I was completely cornered. The only bridge besides that one was on the Davis Mills road, and my pursuers were on that road. Between the two bridges was an extensive cypress swamp, and below the bridge that I was at was another swamp still worse. The only possible way that I could see to get away from my pursuers was to cross the swamp between the two bridges. To think of the undertaking was horrible!
I crept cautiously back to my mule, mounted, and rode through a dense growth of brush to my right, until I reached the edge of the swamp, where I halted. To undertake to cross in daylight would be hazardous, and in the dark utterly impossible; so I concluded to wait until morning before making the attempt. I laid down upon the ground, with my bridle over my arm, with the venomous insects and serpents as my companions, and the intervening brush over my head and the broad canopy of heaven, curtained with black clouds, my only covering. Such surroundings are not very conducive to sleep, but exhausted nature soon yielded, and I slept, and slept soundly—so soundly that when I awoke in the morning the sun was two hours high.
The mule, to satisfy its hunger, had eaten the boughs on the bushes, around where I lay, as far as it could reach, and yet it had neither pulled away from me nor disturbed my slumbers, but had been as careful of me and manifested as much attachment for me as a faithful dog would for his master.
The mule had been presented to me by General Ross, and had been a common sharer with me in the exposures and dangers that I had experienced, and had borne me safely thus far, and was, perhaps, to be the only friendly companion to witness the end that would befall me. When I thought of my situation, and witnessed the careful attachment expressed for me by that dumb animal, I could not control my feelings, but embraced the neck of that mule with joyous affection and wept.
I had not tasted a mouthful of food since I had eaten my breakfast, at the public house, the morning before, and I was not in a very fit state of body or mind to accomplish such an undertaking as was then before me. The tug of war had come, however, and the Rubicon had to be crossed.
Leading my mule by the bridle, I started in, sometimes at midsides in mire and water, and then on top of a bog or root, and then—splash into the water again! On I went, clambering, wallowing, splashing, and plunging! As all things earthly have an end, so had that swamp; and, in spite of venomous moccasins, tangled brush, cypress trees, mire and water, I arrived on the bank of the river. There I mounted my mule, and forded the river to the opposite bank.
Myself and mule were frightful looking objects, from the mire we had wallowed through, and, before going any further, it became necessary for me to clean off the mule to prevent suspicion. Several hours were spent in cleaning and drying before I felt safe to venture out.
As soon as I thought prudent, I mounted my mule and rode on across the country. I passed to the east of Lagrange, in sight of town, keeping a sharp look-out for cavalry. When I reached the Memphis and Corinth stage road, I took my course toward Bolivar.
When about two miles from Grand Junction, I saw approaching me from the east, and a long way ahead, three persons on horseback. I resolved to face the music this time, let come what would. My recent experience at running, had satisfied me. As they came nearer, I saw that they were dressed like citizens, which very much relieved my anxiety.
One of them was a very large man, of roughly-defined outline, with light hair and a red face; the second was a medium-sized man, of fair appearance, and the third was a little man, with small, round face, black hair, and sharp, black eyes. Their clothing was made of homespun cloth. As they met me, two came up on one side and one on the other, and halted; so I halted.
"Good afternoon, stranger!" said the big man, as we halted.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen!" I replied.
"That's a fine mule you are riding," continued the big man.
"Yes, it is a tolerable good one."
"Well, mister, we want that mule, and we are going to have it. Get off from that mule," said the big man. Each of them, at the same time, drew out a derringer and pointed it at me.
"You are the strongest party," said I, "and I suppose that you must have it."
I dismounted, and, at the same time, they dismounted, and the big man took possession of the mule. It was like parting with a last friend to give up my favorite, but "it had to be did."
"Have you got any money?" said the little man, coming up and thrusting his hands into my pockets. He took out every thing that I had in them, and then, casting his eyes toward my feet, said: "You have got a good pair of boots there; we want them."
"Strangers," said I, "that's going a little too far. You have got my mule and got my money, and now to take my boots and leave me to walk twenty miles to my home barefooted is too much. You can't have them, unless you take them off from my dead body; by G—d, you can't!"
"That is a little too hard," said the big man; "you may keep your boots."
They then mounted and rode away, leading my mule with them, in the direction from which they came, and I followed behind them, on foot. It is not often that I pray, but then I prayed. My prayer was, "that the 11th Illinois Cavalry would come dashing down on the road from Bolivar, and capture the lawless villains that had robbed me of my mule and my money."
Hungry and fatigued, with twenty miles to travel on foot, and that, too, upon the top of my misfortunes of the night before, made me any thing but good-natured, and I muttered vengeance to the robbers that had taken my favorite, if ever an opportunity occurred.
When I reached the house of old Mr. Pruett, hunger impelled me to stop. I found the people absent, except a daughter and a young lady from a neighboring family, that had called in. I found them obliging and sociable, and in a few minutes their fair hands, secesh as they were, had spread for me a bountiful repast, much to the delight of my ravenous appetite. I told the ladies that I had been robbed of my mule and money, and described to them the villains that had done it. The lady that had called in said that they answered the description of three outlaws that had robbed her uncle, a few days before, of $3,600 in gold, that he had just received for his cotton, and then they beat him on the head with their derringers, until they supposed he was dead, for having sold his cotton to the Yankees. She also said that they were supposed to live near Ripley, Miss.
Having satisfied my hunger, I resumed my walk toward Bolivar. When I came to the railroad crossing, I followed the railroad. I was too tired to make rapid progress, and made frequent stops to rest myself. When I arrived at Middleburg it was between 9 and 10 o'clock at night. As I was about passing a well near the depot platform, I saw a person drawing a bucket of water. Being thirsty, I stopped and asked for a drink. I recognized the man as the merchant that kept the brick store near by; he, however, did not know me. He handed me a drink, and when I returned him the cup, he inquired if I had any news. I told him there was no news.
"Have you got a Southern paper?"
"No, sir."
"I would give ten dollars for a Southern paper. I feel anxious to hear from Baton Rouge."
"I have no paper and no news from Baton Rouge."
"Where are you from?"
"Holly Springs."
"You from Holly Springs, and ha'n't got any news!"
"Look 'e here, mister, you are a stranger to me; I don't know who you are."
"Oh! I am all right!"
"Well, I don't know you. I am sent up here on special business," said I, in a confidential way.
"Oh! that's it, is it? I didn't know that!" Then, patting me on the shoulder, he said, "Go on! that's right! I hope you will have good luck and get through."
Before daylight next morning I was once more in camp at Bolivar.
The next January, as the army was on its way back from its campaign in Mississippi, while riding on ahead of the division to which I belonged, I came across my favorite mule. It was in company K, of the 7th Kansas Cavalry. I went to Captain Bostwick, who was in command of the company, and told him that he had my mule, and how I came by it and how I lost it, and also described the men that took it away from me. The Captain returned me the mule, and told me that, while making a raid near Tupelo, Mississippi, during the fall, he had captured three men of the description I had given, and with them eighteen mules, including mine, and that the men had been sent to Alton, Illinois, as guerrillas; so I never had an opportunity of retaliating on them for their outrage to me. I am fully convinced that they were professional robbers, and belonged to neither army.
CHAPTER XII.
Starts to find General Bragg's forces—"Wools" the secesh farmer—Receives a bottle of rum—Guerrillas washing stockings—Finds Bragg's advance—Recognized as a Yankee spy—Ordered off his mule to be shot—The clamor of the crowd—Recognized as a Confederate spy—Rebel Surgeon vouches for him—Is released—Gray-headed rebel brought to justice—The Sutler of the 2d Arkansas Cavalry a prisoner—What became of the guerrillas that were washing stockings.
The next trip that I made was under the following instructions from General Ross:
"I understand," said he, "by report from citizens, that General Bragg is coming this way with his forces, and I want to know whether he really is coming or not, and on what road and with how much force he is coming. I want you to go to Somerville, and if you find nothing there, go to Lagrange, and thence to Grand Junction, Saulsbury, Middleton, and Pocahontas, and then back. If you find a force at any place in your route, you will come immediately back and report. You will make the trip with as little delay as possible."
I received my instructions in the evening, and early the next morning, in the disguise of a well-dressed citizen, mounted on a mule, I was on my way. During the cool of the morning I traveled along at a smart trot, and by sunrise I had made about eight miles. When about twelve miles out, I was about passing a plantation house, when an old planter, who was feeding some hogs near the road, motioned me to stop.
"Good morning, stranger," said he, as I reined up.
"Good morning, sir."
"Where have you been?"
"Oh, ho, ho, ho; I have been to Bolivar," said I, laughing. "I have been there a week, and I know all about the Yankee forces in there, and now, if I can only find General Bragg, then I am all right!"
"Oh, indeed! I am delighted to hear it. Won't you alight and come in?"
"Well, yes, I don't care if I do; for I have been riding since before daylight."
I dismounted and went in, and, as soon as I was seated, the old man inquired who I was.
"I have been acting the Yankee, and I belong to General Bragg's command."
"You do?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Well, do you ever drink any?"
"Oh, yes, I drink when I can get it; but a man is very fortunate to get it these times."
"I have got some nice rum here; will you try some of it?" (offering me a glass and bottle.)
"Yes, sir! I'll take a drink of rum."
"How did you manage to get into Bolivar?"
"Oh, I told them that I was a Union man, and wanted to go in and take the oath!"
"Well, there is right smart of them gets in that way, but there a'n't many of them that thinks it binding."
"You have taken the oath, I suppose."
"Yes, we all do that, in order to get along smoothly. But, come, breakfast is ready; sit up and eat some breakfast."
"Thank you; my ride this morning makes me quite hungry."
The breakfast was just what I wanted, and his invitation saved me the trouble of asking for it. When I had finished, said I,
"Mister, look 'e here; have you got any more of that 'divine, adorable stuff?'"
"Yes, I have got more of it in the cellar."
"Well, can't you bestow a little more of your hospitality on a fellow, in the shape of about a pint, to put in my pocket and take along?"
"Yes, certainly you can," spoke the planter's wife, "if I can find any thing to put it in." She then went in search of a bottle, and soon returned with a pint bottle filled with it, which she stowed away in my coat pocket with her own hands.
With a profusion of thanks and good wishes to them, I bade them adieu, and resumed my journey. Somewhere near three miles east of Somerville is a beautiful spring, that makes its exit from the ground beneath a group of shady elm trees. There I saw three men, engaged in washing their stockings! It is not usual for men to wash their own stockings in the ordinary peaceful avocations of life, and the fact of their being so engaged, and also dressed like citizens, was conclusive evidence to me that they were guerrillas. Riding down to the spring and dismounting, I said, pulling out my bottle, "Look 'e here, boys; here is a present that I received this morning; won't you try some of it?"
One of the men took the bottle and drank, and the other two declined, saying that they never drank. I then took a "little smile" myself, mounted my horse, and rode on.
Finding no troops at Somerville, on my arrival there, I continued on, taking the road that leads south to Lagrange, which place I reached late in the afternoon. There I found four regiments of infantry and two regiments of cavalry. They had just arrived, and had not yet thrown out any pickets. The advance cavalry had but just entered the town, and the other troops were coming in the distance.
I rode along into town among the soldiers, as familiarly as if I belonged in the place, and stopped near the drug store. Standing within a few feet of the drug store, was a large, corpulent, red-faced old man, with hair almost white, leaning upon a walking-staff; near by was a Colonel, dismounted, and leaning with his left hand upon his saddle; all about were cavalry soldiers, dismounted. As I reined up, the old man pointed to me, and said, "Colonel, there is a d—d Yankee spy; he ought to be shot. I know him, Colonel, and know that he is a Yankee spy."
"If he is a Yankee spy he shall be shot."
"I have seen him before. I know that he is a Yankee spy."
IF HE IS A YANKEE SPY I'LL HAVE HIM SHOT.
"A Yankee spy!" "A Yankee spy!" "Shoot him!" "Hang the d—d son of a b—h!" cried out the soldiers, rushing up to get a sight of me.
"Where do you belong?" inquired the Colonel.
"My home is in Osceola, Mississippi County, Arkansas; but I am from Memphis now."
"What are you doing here?"
"I have been out to Somerville, and beyond toward Bolivar, to see some friends."
"Yes, Bolivar," cried the old man; "the d—d rascal has just come from Bolivar, and there is where he belongs. I tell you, Colonel, I know him; I know that he is a Yankee spy."
"Well, if you know him to be a Yankee spy, I'll shoot him." (Addressing me, and drawing his revolver and cocking it:) "Get off from your mule."
I dismounted, and one of the soldiers led my mule to one side, and the crowd opened behind me. The excitement was intense, and the crowd dense, and, in its excitement, it swayed to and fro like an angry mob, and cries went up from every direction, "Hang him!" "Shoot him!" "Shoot the d—d rascal!" I can not picture the horror that filled me. In all that vast multitude, there was not a friendly eye to witness my doom. To escape was utterly impossible! Die I must by the hands of traitors, and my fate be wrapped in oblivion to my comrades and relatives! The color left my face and a cold tremor crept over me, and such indescribable sensations filled me as makes me shudder at this when I think of it.
Just then Doctor Biggs, surgeon of the 4th Tennessee Infantry, stepped out of the drug store to learn the cause of the excitement. As he came out, he saw me and recognized me as the Confederate spy that had been captured by the Federal pickets near his house, and who had eaten breakfast with him.
"Colonel, you are gwine to shoot the wrong man thar," said the doctor. "I know that ar man, and I know who he is and whar he belongs. He is no Yankee spy."
"I know that he is a Yankee spy," said the old man.
"I know better," said the doctor; "and if you kill him, you kill the wrong man. You ar not a gwine to find out his business; and if you kill him, he'll not tell you. I know that he is all right. I have seen him in a tighter place than he is in now." Then stepping to the soldier that held my mule, he snatched the bridle out of his hand, and, turning to me, he said: "Here, take your mule; they are not a gwine to shoot you." Then turning to the Colonel, and stamping his foot on the ground, he said: "You are not a gwine to shoot that man, for I know that he is all right!"
"Well, doctor, if you know that he is all right, and are willing to vouch for him, I'll let him go."
"I will vouch for him, for I know who he is." Then turning to me, he said: "Get on your mule and go about your business; they are not a gwine to hurt you."
I mounted my mule and the soldiers opened the way for me, and I went a sailing out of town; and I don't think I was very long in getting back to Bolivar.
I tell you, reader, in that Doctor Biggs I fully realized that "a friend in need was a friend indeed." His appearance at that critical moment was as unexpected as would have been a visit from an angel in heaven. When I reported to General Ross, I narrated to him my adventure.
"Bunker," said he, "don't you know that when you go out as a spy, you go, as it were, with a rope round your neck, ready for any body to draw it tight?"
"Yes, I think I had a slight hint of that fact on this trip."
I resolved that, if ever an opportunity offered, the old, gray-headed rebel at Lagrange should be brought to account for his treatment; so I went to the Provost-marshal and gave him a narrative of the adventure, and a description of the rebel, so that in case he should ever visit the place he might be captured.
About two months after the foregoing adventure occurred, Lagrange was occupied by Federal troops, and the same officer that was Provost-marshal in Bolivar now commanded the post at Lagrange. As I was passing along the streets, one day, I saw, not ten feet from the place where I first saw him, the old, gray-headed rebel, with his staff in his hand. His appearance was permanently stereotyped in my mind, and I could not be mistaken in the man who had so nearly deprived me of my life.
Drawing my revolver, I walked up to him, saying, "You d—d old, gray-headed rebel! do you remember the 'Yankee spy?' Do you 'know him' now? Have you 'seen him before?'"
"What do you mean?" said he; "I don't understand you!"
"You don't know what I mean! You don't remember telling the rebel Colonel, standing in the tracks where you now stand, 'I know him; I have seen him before; I know that he is a Yankee spy!' Don't tell me, you old, gray-headed villain, that you don't know what I mean! You start with me to the commander of the post, or I'll blow your brains out here!"
The old fellow led the way and I followed, with, my revolver cocked.
"Colonel," said I, as we entered his office, "here is the old, gray-headed devil that said to the rebel Colonel, 'Kill the Yankee spy;' and I have brought him in for you to dispose of."
"Bunker," said the Colonel, "a'n't you mistaken?"
"No, I a'n't! I know him, and I found him standing in the very place where he tried to have me shot!" Then turning to the old man, I said: "Didn't you tell the rebel Colonel that I was a Yankee spy, and try to have him shoot me? Tell me the truth, or I'll kill you right here!"
"Ye—yes, I—believe I—d-do—recollect it now."
"You old whelp! you deserve to be shot!" said the Colonel. "Here I have been guarding your house, and guarding your mules, and boarding with you; and you representing yourself to have always been a Union man, and the oath in your pocket that you took last summer!" Then turning to me, he said: "Bunker, I'll dispose of him as he ought to be."
"Thank you, Colonel, I wish you would."
The next morning the guards were removed from the old man's premises, and he was put aboard the cars, in irons, destined to go North.
A day or two afterward I happened to be passing by where a number of rebel prisoners were confined, and there I saw the sutler of the 2d Arkansas Cavalry (the regiment that I run with so long). The sutler knew me, and motioned to me to come in; so I got permission of the officer in charge to go in and see him. He still supposed that I was secesh.
"Ruggles," said he, "I am here under arrest as a guerrilla. Now, you know that I am no guerrilla, but a regularly authorized sutler in the 2d Arkansas Cavalry. I wish you would see the commander of the post and explain that fact to him, so that I may be treated as a prisoner of war, and not as an outlaw."
"Well, I will tell him what I know about it. Perhaps he will recognize you as a prisoner of war."
"Thank you! Do what you can for me. But, between you and I, (speaking confidentially,) I quit sutlering and joined a band of guerrillas, because I thought that I could make more money at it. It was all bad management that we got captured."
Just then another prisoner came up, and, taking me by the hand, said, "Don't you know me?"
"No, I don't remember you, as I know of."
"Do you remember of seeing three men at the spring, three miles east of Somerville, last summer, when you was riding by, and of offering them some rum to drink?"
"Oh, yes! I do recollect it now."
"Well, I am the man that drank with you, and the other two are here."
"Are they?"
"Yes. Now, you know that we are only citizens, and that we don't belong to any guerrilla band."
"Of course I do! You are no guerrillas!"
"If you please, I want to have you go and see the commanding officer, and tell him that we are not guerrillas, but peaceable, quiet citizens."
"Certainly, boys! I'll help you out of this, if I can?"
I went to the commander of the post and told him what "I knew about them," and did all I could to "get them out of that," and a few days after they were all sent North in irons.
CHAPTER XIII.
Reconnoiters Hickory Flats with a squad of seven men—Shoots at the mark—Orders to march with two days' rations—Cause of the alarm—Reconnoiter beyond Whitesville—Major Mudd's trap—"Bunker" entices the rebs into it—Rides into the trap behind a rebel Captain—Sent out beyond Pocahontas—Passes as a rebel artillerist—Secesh citizen stands guard for him—The very kind secesh lady—The anxious wife—Discovers guerrillas burning a human being.
Near the close of September, General Hurlbut arrived at Bolivar, with his division, from Memphis, and assumed command of the post. General Ross recommended me to him as a reliable and successful spy. I knew the General, but had never worked for him. I will here acknowledge that I am indebted to General Hurlbut for some of the best lessons that I have ever received in regard to my duties as a spy.
The first time that I went out for General Hurlbut, he told me that he wanted I should go out to the Hickory Flats, and scout all over the flats and see if I could find any rebel cavalry. I asked the privilege of taking seven men with me, which was granted, and I was told to select such men as I preferred. At that time detachments of the enemy, mostly cavalry, were scattered about the country, watching for opportunities to annoy us, by attacking our forage parties, and making raids upon the railroad that we depended upon to transport our supplies. It had been extremely difficult to find such detachments, because they usually stayed but a short time in a place, and generally encamped in some back, out-of-the-way place, concealed by swamps, woods, and cane-brakes, reached by unfrequented roads or paths. The object of my trip was to examine thoroughly the Hickory Flats and its vicinity for any such detachments.
I selected my men, and proceeded to the place and examined it, so far as I could, on the day that I went out. I remained there over night, and in the morning resumed my work, and by noon had thoroughly reconnoitered the locality, without having discovered any detachments of the enemy. We then eat dinner, and prepared to return.
As we were about to leave, Sergeant Downs, one of my squad, proposed that, inasmuch as we were fifteen miles away from camp, I allow the men to shoot a few rounds at a mark, for practice. Not thinking that there might be any serious consequences resulting from it, I consented. We all engaged in shooting, following one after the other in quick succession, until we had fired, in all, forty-seven shots. I was not aware that any other scouting party had been sent out. Having finished our shooting, we returned to camp. It was late when we arrived, and, being very tired, I deferred reporting to General Hurlbut until the next morning.
About 2 o'clock in the morning the troops were wakened up, and given orders to put two days' cooked rations in their haversacks, and be ready to march at a moment's notice. It seemed a strange move for me, for I thought that I was as well posted as any body of the whereabouts of the enemy. I could not comprehend what the move meant.
My curiosity became so excited about it, that I started for head-quarters to report much earlier than I otherwise would have done. As I passed the different camps, every thing was bustle and hurry, with preparations for a march. The cavalry horses were saddled and the artillery horses harnessed, in preparation for a move. Something was up, sure, and I wondered what it could be.
"What's up? What do you think is the matter?" said I, calling to an artilleryman, as I passed.
"The cavalry that went out yesterday reported a large force of rebel cavalry on the Hickory Flats, and I expect that we are going out there," was the reply.
It was all clear enough then! I had done the mischief! I felt badly worked up about it. I knew that I had no business to fire a gun; but I was so far away that I did not suppose any of our forces would hear it. It was my first scout for General Hurlbut, and I expected that it would destroy his confidence in me. I expected a severe rebuke, at least, and I dreaded to report. I determined, however, to face the music, let come what would; so I went in.
"Good morning, General," said I, saluting him as I went in. "I have got back."
"Good morning, Bunker. What's the news?"
"Nothing; I haven't got any news this morning."
"Where did you go?"
"I went right where you told me to go—out to Hickory Flats, and back, by way of Middleburg, to camp."
"Have you been out to the Hickory Flats?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you see any rebel cavalry there?"
"No, sir, I did not."
"Well, Bunker, your report and that of the cavalry don't agree at all."
"I can't help it, General; I have been right where you told me to go, and I did not see any rebel cavalry."
"Bunker!" said the General, with emphasis, "do you come here and tell me that you have been down on the Hickory Flats, and that there is no rebel cavalry there?"
"Yes, sir, I do. I know what the trouble is. I expect that I'll catch "Hail Columbia" now! I caused the mischief."
"How so?"
"After I finished my reconnoissance yesterday, before starting back, I allowed the men to fire at the mark, and they kept up a pretty brisk fire until they had fired forty-seven shots. I suspect that the cavalry has been out there and heard it. I knew that we were fifteen miles away from camp, and I did not think that we might cause an alarm by it."
"That's a fact, is it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well; that will do. Be careful the next time."
An hour later all was quiet in camp; the horses were unharnessed, and every thing moved off as usual.
A little incident took place during a reconnoissance to a small town on the right bank of the Hatchee River, west of Whitesville, some time in September, 1862, that I will here narrate.
A brigade of infantry, a regiment of cavalry, a battery of artillery, and the detachment known as the "mule cavalry" constituted the force. The cavalry was the 2d Illinois, under the command of Major Mudd. When within four miles of the town, the infantry and artillery halted, and the 2d Illinois and mule cavalry went on to the river.
On several occasions, scouting parties of cavalry had dashed into the town, and they had always found some rebel cavalry, who, on the approach of the Federal cavalry, would skedaddle, taking a path that led to a ford across the river, and hide themselves among the canes that grew upon the bottoms along the river. To prevent their escape, on this occasion, Major Mudd sent two companies and the "mule cavalry" by the road into town, and took the balance of his command down the river to the ford that I have mentioned, and disposed his men among the canes in such a way as not to be seen from the side of the river next to the town, and, at the same time, be able to capture all that crossed at the ford.
I accompanied the Major, and, after he had got his men satisfactorily arranged, I undressed and waded to the opposite side to see how things looked there. Having dressed myself, I proceeded to examine the locality. I found that, at a few paces from the river, there was a path that turned down the stream and crossed at a ford below where the Major had set his trap. It was then too late to change the disposal of the men, so I resolved to act as "stool-pigeon" to the Major's trap. I stationed myself where I would be in plain view of any person that might take the wrong path, and whenever a man would incline to turn down the river, I would motion to him to come toward me, as if I mistrusted there was something wrong down below, and as he came up, I would say to him, as if by way of caution, "There is Lincoln cavalry down there; you had better cross here."
Some rode across the ford without any enticing, and others inclined to take the wrong path; such I would entice to take the right path. In this I was successful at every attempt. My dress being like that of a citizen, they did not mistrust my character. I had succeeded in enticing five men into the trap, when a rebel Captain made his appearance, with a pair of beautiful mouse-colored mules, as sleek as moles, and manifested a disposition to take the wrong path. He was riding one of the mules himself, and a colored boy was riding the other. I motioned to the Captain to come toward me. As he came up—
"There is Lincoln cavalry down that way," said I; "you had better cross here. What's the matter up in town?"
WHOA, MULE! CAPTURED, BY G—D!
"The town is full of Lincolnites!"
"They'll be down here directly, then, I reckon. I had better get out of this. Won't you let me get on behind you and ride across?"
"Yes, come this way." He rode alongside of a bank of earth, and I straddled the mule, behind him. We crossed the stream, and had ascended the bank on the opposite side, when, discovering the Lincolnites, with their carbines leveled at us, he exclaimed, "Whoa, mule! Captured, by G—d! Both of us! I swear, that's too bad! Here I am, within five miles of my command, and captured!"
"That's a fact, Captain, but we can't help it now. I expect we had better ride on up; it's no place to trade jack-knives here!" So we went on.
"Whew!" said the Major, "that's the way I like to see you come; when you come, come double!"
We rode up to the Major, who ordered us to dismount, and, taking possession of the mules, he said, pointing to the group he had already captured: "There, you had better go right down there, out of sight; that's the best place for you. How do you like my trap, Captain?"
"I think it's a very good one; it caught me mighty nice!"
He felt sold over his capture, and doubly so when he learned that I had enticed him into the trap. The Major having succeeded in entrapping eighteen "very fine" rebs, we returned with the brigade to Bolivar.
On the 3d day of October, General Price attacked General Rosecrans at Corinth, Miss., and, after a severe engagement, was defeated and compelled to retreat. General Hurlbut immediately marched the troops under his command to General Rosecrans' assistance. On his way, he met the rebel army on its retreat, while it was crossing the Hatchee River, and completely routed it.
A few days after the return of General Hurlbut's command to Bolivar, he sent me out to find where the scattered fragments of General Price's army were concentrating. I was allowed to take a man with me, and was requested to make the trip as quickly as possible. As I was about leaving the General's quarters, he called to me, "Here, come back!" I went back, and he continued: "I want you to understand that you are to work for me now. I don't want you to tattle on the picket line. I have been told that you have sometimes reported to your Colonel; you might as well report to a corporal as to a Colonel, unless he sends you out. I want you to report to me."
"General, explain to me, if you please, what that means. I have never reported to a Colonel but once."
"Well, that's once too much. That's the reason the detachment of Armstrong's cavalry was not captured, that you reported to General Ross, the other day."
I begged the General's pardon, and promised to do better. I have been very careful since not to report to any body but the officer that sent me out.
I selected Sergeant E. W. Quackenbush, of the 20th Ohio, to accompany me. He had been with me on previous scouts. We were on foot, disguised like rebel soldiers belonging to artillery.
Owing to the lateness of the hour of our departure, when night came on we had made but about seven miles. Stopping at the gate in front of a farm-house, just before dark, and, addressing the man of the house, who was standing on the porch, I said: "Halloo, mister, can we get a little supper here, and stay all night?"
"Well, no, sir; the Yankees have done taken all that I had; you can't get any supper here."
"Partner," said I to the Sergeant, "let us go on. Blast that man's picture! he'll hear from me some day to pay for treating his own soldiers in that way!"
"Hold on, soldiers!" said the man; "where do you belong?"
"I am Orderly Sergeant of Price's 1st Battery of Artillery," I replied, "and this man with me belongs to the same battery. We were captured by the Yankees, and have succeeded in getting away from them; we have been without any thing to eat for twenty-four hours."
"Yes, yes!" said the man's wife, who had heard what had been said; "you can have something to eat, and you can have the best bed in the house! Come in, boys, come in."
We went in and sat down. "You were in the fight on the Hatchee, the other day, were you?" said the man.
"Yes, till we got captured."
"Well, how did the fight come off?"
"I can't tell you very much about it. When we had fired only three rounds, some Lincoln cavalry charged right up to us, and captured us and our battery, and immediately sent us to the rear; consequently, I don't know much about it."
"I declare!" said he; "I would like to hear from the fight!"
"Have you lived in these parts long?"
"Yes, I was raised in this county."
"You have taken the oath to the Lincoln Government, I suppose?"
"Yes, we all do that. I was obliged to do it, but I don't consider it binding at all. I have been in the Confederate army fifteen months! You didn't know that, did you, boys?"
"No; you had better keep that thing to yourself, for if the Yankees find it out they'll hang you."
"Pshaw! I am not afraid of their finding it out. But, come boys, I see that supper is ready; sit up and eat some supper."
The lady of the house had prepared us a meal worthy of veterans in a nobler cause than we feigned to represent. The table was bountifully supplied. In times of peace a better table would rarely have been set. It had been a long time since our eyes had rested upon such a meal. I think, however, that we did the subject justice.
Having finished our supper and shoved back, the Sergeant began to show signs of drowsiness, and in a few minutes was asleep in his chair. "That's a brave, gallant soldier," said I. "Very few men have the daring and the courage that he possesses; but I see that the poor fellow is tired out with his hardships, and has gone to sleep."
"Poor soldier!" exclaimed the lady. "How the poor soldiers do have to suffer!"
"Yes, and there are very few persons, outside of the army, that realize the hardships and sufferings that the soldiers have to endure."
"God bless their brave hearts!" she exclaimed; "How I do pity them!"
The "poor soldier" was wakened up and shown to bed. Before retiring, I took off my belt and revolver, and, handing it to the man, I said: "Now, mister, I would like to ask another favor of you. Can't you take this revolver and keep watch for us to-night, while we sleep, so that we can both get one good night's sleep? Can't you afford to do that much for us? We have got away from the Yankees, and we don't want to be captured again."
"Yes, I'll stand guard for you. How did you keep the Yankees from taking your revolver?"
"I had it rolled up in my coat, and I carried my coat under my arm; they did not suspect that I had one."
"Well, that was lucky, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was lucky for me, but my partner lost his."
I then retired to bed. Before I had gone to sleep, the man visited my room, and said: "If the Yankees come, you must unhook the window-blind, shove it open, and jump out, and run down into a gully behind the stable and hide, and when the Yankees are all done gone, I'll come down and tell you." For some time before closing my eyes in sleep, I could hear the man pacing back and forth across the floor, like a sentry pacing his beat. The night passed away and we enjoyed a most refreshing sleep, under the "guarding influence" of our secesh friend. We arose early in the morning to renew our journey, and found our guard still on duty. We were about to leave, when the man said, "You'll stop with us to breakfast, won't you?" "No, I thank you; we should be glad to, but we must go, for I am afraid that the Yankees will be after us by-and-by, and we do not want to get captured again. We are under very great obligations to you for our excellent supper and the refreshing sleep that we have had. You have been a soldier, and you know, by experience, how very grateful a soldier feels for such kindness." We then shook hands with him and his wife, bade them a good-by, and went on.
When we had traveled about six miles, we came to a large, fine, white house, with every thing about it that indicated wealth and refinement. Our walk had created an appetite for breakfast, and we concluded to give the people of the house a call. I noticed, as we entered, that breakfast was about ready. Addressing myself to the lady of the house, said I, "Can we get some breakfast here this morning? We are in rather a tight place. We were captured by the Yankees in the fight on the Hatchee, and we have run away from them; they have robbed us of all our money, and we have got nothing to pay you with."
"Why, certainly you can have some breakfast. How you poor soldiers do have to suffer! Sit down and rest yourselves."
We sat down, and but a few minutes elapsed before breakfast was ready, when we were invited to sit up with the family. The Sergeant was seated next to the lady, and I next to him. I had finished my breakfast, and was about shoving back, when the lady of the house said: "Don't be in a hurry, my dear soldiers; eat all you want; we have got plenty. You don't know when you will get any thing to eat again."
I thanked her, and shoved back. When the Sergeant had finished, she said: "Now, dear soldiers, fill your pockets with those nice wheat biscuits. The Lord only knows when you will get any thing more. How I do pity you!"
The Sergeant declined, but she insisted. "You must take some. As likely as not you won't get any thing again for several days; do take some. Here, take these," (and she began to stuff them into his pockets, which she continued until she had filled them full.) "There; how nicely they will relish."
"Partner," said I, "we had better be getting back to the woods again, for the Yankees might come along and find us."
"Yes," said the lady, "do be very careful. Don't let them take you if you can help it, for you don't know how much you might have to suffer. How glad I am to help you!"
Thanking her for her good wishes and kindness, we proceeded on our way.
That lady was a noble, generous-hearted woman, and her eyes sparkled with crystals of sympathy while she was bestowing upon us those little acts of kindness. So full had she filled the Sergeant's pockets with cakes, that they rendered him uncomfortable while walking, and he was obliged to throw part of them away.
The next house that we stopped at was occupied by an elderly lady, who, when we entered, was engaged in churning. She invited us to be seated, and then said: "Have you been in the fight?"
"Yes, we were in the fight and were captured, and have made our escape."
"Dear me! how anxious I do feel about my husband!"
"Was he in the fight?"
"Yes, he took his gun and went down to help whip the Yankees; I am so afraid that he is killed that I don't know what to do! What a dreadful thing it would be if he should get killed!"
We listened to the lady's expressions of anxiety about her husband until the churning was finished, when she gave us some buttermilk to drink, which, with some of our nice wheat cakes, made us an excellent lunch.
From there we went on, without seeing any thing of interest until we came to the vicinity of Middleton. As we approached that place, we saw a dense smoke arise, and smelt a peculiar odor, which was so strong and peculiar as to attract our attention, and lead us to suspect that all was not right. We moved along cautiously, keeping a sharp look-out for soldiers or guerrillas. As we rose to the top of the hill to the west of the town, we could see a large fire, and about thirty men standing around it, with long poles in their hands. The odor that arose was almost intolerable. This was about 3 o'clock in the afternoon. We crept up as near as we could without exposing ourselves to full view, and then—oh, horrible to tell!—we could see the men move about excitedly, and push with their poles something into the fire. Then sparks would fill the air, and we could hear screams like those of human beings. Amid the screams would arise horrid oaths, and cries of "Bring on another!"
I did not see a human form in the fire; but that odor, those screams, intermingled with such horrid blasphemy, was unmistakable evidence that some poor mortal was suffering the hellish torture of a band of guerrillas! Perhaps some brave soldier, unable to keep up with his command on its return from the late battle; or some citizen, whose loyalty made him dare to breathe his sentiments; or, some poor mortal so unfortunate as to possess a sable complexion, was there, immolated upon the altar of fiendish revenge. As much used to sights of suffering as I have been, the recollection of that scene, as I call it to mind, makes me shudder to think of it.
We did not dare to remain there long, lest it might be our turn next to gratify their hellish barbarism. We went back down the hill, and took off in another direction. We soon found the country full of guerrillas and squads of soldiers, that had become routed during the fight. They were gathering together in small squads wherever they could, some with arms and some without. The victory to the Federal troops had been a complete route of Price's army.
I did not go as far as I had intended to go, because the state of the country was such that I deemed it imprudent to venture further; so we returned to camp the next day. I did not find out where the scattered troops were concentrating.
CHAPTER XIV.
Starts on a trip for General Lauman—His instructions—A Confederate widow—Discovers a squad of rebel soldiers—Captures part of their arms—Learns the whereabouts of guerrillas—Attempt to capture them—Guerrillas escape—Captures a prisoner—Cause of guerrillas' escape—The "General" and squad get arrested—The charges and specifications.
When General Hurlbut took command of the District of Jackson, with his head-quarters at Jackson, Tenn., Brigadier-General Lauman took command of the post at Bolivar.
On the 13th day of October, 1862, I reported to General Lauman for orders to go out on a scout. I received instructions to take with me a squad of ten men, and reconnoiter thoroughly a strip of country that lay south of Bolivar, between the road to Grand Junction, which would be on my right, and the road to Pocahontas, which would be on my left. I was ordered to kill all the guerrillas that I could find, bring in all that I had strong suspicions were guerrillas, and capture all the straggling rebel soldiers and arms that I could find. The General also told me that he would send out cavalry on my right, on the Grand Junction road, and, on my left, on the Pocahontas road. He did not limit me in time, or the distance to go, nor instruct me to take rations. I have usually, when out as a scout or spy, got my subsistence wherever I went.
The men that I selected to accompany me were Sergeants W. G. Downs and Thomas Watson, and eight privates, all of them from the 20th Ohio Infantry. It was nearly noon of the day I received my instructions before we were ready to march. The day was extremely warm, and we made but slow progress. We did not follow any road, but took our way across the fields and woods, and examined all the valleys that lay along our route for any signs that might exist of cavalry or guerrillas.
At 5 o'clock in the afternoon, we called at a house about eight miles from Bolivar, which we found to be owned and occupied by a widow lady by the name of Cheshire, who, by the way, is what might be called a Confederate widow. Her husband had belonged to the Confederate army, but had deserted. He came home and took the oath of allegiance, but, unfortunately for him, was captured by the Confederate authorities, and the oath found in his pocket. He was carried back to the rebel army and hung. In my scouts in the Southern Confederacy, I found that widows were of frequent occurrence, and the proportion of them to the population remaining at home was astonishingly large. I am inclined to think that many of the ladies chose to call themselves widows, rather than admit to Union soldiers (if they knew them to be such) that their husbands were in the rebel army. I call them all, whether real or professed, that have become such on account of the war, Confederate widows.
At Mrs. Cheshire's we procured our supper, which was provided and served up by her with a cheerfulness and willingness not characteristic of an enmity to the Federal Government. I offered to pay her, but she positively refused to receive any compensation.
After we had finished our supper, we moved a mile and a half, to Mr. Campbell's, where we halted for the night. Mr. Campbell was absent from home, but his wife extended to us every assistance that she could to make us comfortable. She gave us a room in the house to occupy during the night, and in the morning a bountiful breakfast was prepared for us, of which sweet potatoes and chickens formed no inconsiderable part. I offered to pay her, but she refused to accept any remuneration, and expressed astonishment at the gentlemanly behavior of the whole party. She said that it was the first time that Federal soldiers had ever visited her house, and she had heard that they were nothing but a set of thieves and robbers, and, for that reason, she had been happily disappointed in our behavior.
Thanking her for her compliments and hospitality, we bade her a good morning, and resumed our march. We had proceeded only about two miles, when we discovered a small squad of rebel soldiers, in a large cotton-field, at some distance in advance of us and to our right. As soon as they saw us, they broke for the woods; the distance that they had in advance made it useless for us to pursue.
Near the road, and between where we saw them and ourselves, stood a dwelling-house. Having observed that but one of the rebs had arms, the thought occurred to me that the others might have left theirs at the house, and that our approach had been discovered too late to allow of a return for them; so I determined to institute a search. On entering, I inquired of an elderly man present if there were any arms about the house. He said there was not. I told him that I had reason to believe that there was. He insisted that there was not. A search was made, and three guns were found, which we carried with us.
At night we halted fourteen miles from Bolivar. On former trips, I had learned that a squad of guerrillas were stopping somewhere in that vicinity; during the day we had obtained a partial list of their names, and had learned that they were harbored by a Mr. W. S. Perry, who was also supposed to be one. This information we gathered from the people that we saw in our route.
At 3 o'clock the next morning we were again under way, on a road leading direct to Mr. Perry's. When we had gone about a mile, we came to a farm-house, where I halted my men, and aroused the inmates by rapping upon the door, which was answered by, "Who is there?"
"A friend," I replied.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to get up and come to the door." Hearing some one come to the door, I inquired where Mr. W. S. Perry lived, and was asked,
"Who are you?"
"I sha'n't tell you," was my reply.
"Then I sha'n't tell where Mr. Perry lives," was the response.
Fearing to make any disturbance that might spoil my plans, I proceeded on my way, without obtaining the desired information. At the next house I inquired again for Mr. Perry, but the occupant refused to inform me. These refusals increased my suspicions that he was not all right. Not knowing certainly but that I was already at his house, I distributed my men among the negro-quarters in the yard, to capture any persons that might attempt to escape. It was time for daylight to make its appearance, but a dense fog had arisen, which made it difficult to see.
Having arranged my men to my satisfaction, I returned to the door of the house, which I found open, and was met by an aged woman, who told me that her name was Tabitha Perry, and that she was grandmother of W. S. Perry, and that W. S. Perry lived in the next house.
While I was engaged in conversation with the old lady, two men were seen to run out of one of the out-buildings that stood in the yard; the density of the fog prevented shooting them, or observing whither they went; so, they made their escape. On examining the building they were seen to emerge from, it was found to have the appearance of being nearly filled with cotton-seed, but in the center of the building there was a large vacant space, and in it was a bed that was yet warm from the animal heat of the persons that had occupied it.
We then searched carefully all the buildings in the yard, but without success. From there we went to the residence of W. S. Perry, only a short distance from the residence of the old lady. We found Mr. Perry at home, and arrested him. In searching his house, we found considerable quantities of goods, that looked as if they might have been remnants from some dry goods store; or, what is more probable, the booty of some band of outlaws.
We captured at W. S. Perry's one horse and two mules, and at the old lady's house one horse and one mule. The bed that we found in the cotton-seed at the old lady's we gave to the niggers on the place, except two quilts that we used to put upon the mules' backs, to ride on.
Very much against Mr. Perry's wishes, I compelled him to furnish myself and men with breakfast, which was no more, perhaps, than he would have done willingly to as many guerrillas, if we had not been seen in the neighborhood.
When breakfast was over, we commenced our return to camp, taking with us our prisoner and captured property. The men were much in need of saddles and bridles, with which to ride the captured mules and horses, and requested the privilege of taking them if they could be found; to which I consented, providing they could be found on the premises of the man who refused to give me information about Perry. The man's name, I had learned, was Dougherty.
When we arrived at Dougherty's place, we halted, and the men commenced to search for saddles and bridles, and, in a few minutes, reported to me that they had found twelve United States army saddles and as many bridles. I told them to take five of them. Dougherty remonstrated, but the men told him that he had no business with that kind of property in his possession, and took them along.
On our way back to Bolivar, I learned the reason why we did not find any more guerrillas at Perry's. A colored boy, belonging to Mr. William Moore, of Van Buren, had been sent to mill, and, while on his way, he happened to see us. On his return, he told his master that he had seen some Yankee soldiers in the woods, and that they were going south. Dr. Tansey Russel, a man of disloyal proclivities, happened to be present, and heard what the colored boy said. The doctor had some Enfield and Whitney rifles in his possession, that he had managed to get of unprincipled Federal soldiers, which he had collected for the benefit of the guerrillas. As soon as he heard of the Yankee soldiers being in the woods, he concluded, readily enough, what their business was; so he took his guns, eight in all, and carried them over to Perry's, and gave them to the guerrillas, and warned them that there were Yankee scouts in the vicinity. There was eleven of them, besides W. S. Perry. On hearing about the scouts, they all left and went to Saulsbury, except W. S. Perry, John Shaw, and Gid. Galloway. The two latter were the persons that escaped from the out-building in the old lady's yard.
When we arrived within six miles of Bolivar, I sent the five men that were not mounted across the country, by the shortest route, to camp, and the rest of us went on by way of the road. At Mr. Lawhorn's, near Dunlap's Springs, we halted a short time, and three of us went into the house. Mr. Lawhorn was absent from home. One of the men asked Mrs. Lawhorn for some milk, which she refused, saying that she had none. From the colored people about the house the man learned that she had milk in abundance, and where it was, of which he helped himself, and then passed some to the rest of the squad. None was wasted and nothing else was disturbed.
Having rested ourselves, we went on to Bolivar. I immediately turned over my prisoner to the Provost-marshal, Lieutenant W. S. Dewey. I also gave him a list of the names of those that I had been informed were guerrillas. It was after noon when we arrived, and we had eaten nothing since breakfast, and, being very hungry, I took my men into camp to get my dinner, before reporting to General Lauman. On my arrival in camp, I told Colonel Force what property I had brought in, and asked him what I had better do with it, and was told to turn it over to the post Quartermaster. I told him that I would, as soon as I had eaten some dinner.
I had eaten my dinner, and was on my way to see about turning over the captured property, when I was met by some guards, with an order from Lieutenant W. S. Dewey, Provost-marshal, to arrest me. I accompanied them to the Provost-marshal's office, where I found Lieutenant Dewey, in a dreadful rage.
"What do you want of me?" I asked.
"I want to hang you, and all the rest of the G—d d—d robbers that were with you!" was his reply.
"What is that for?"
"For going through the country and deceiving the people, and representing yourself as a citizen of Tennessee."
"I have never been through the country, except as I have been sent on scouts by my commanding officer."
"I'll scout you, d—n you! I'll scalp you! What's the names of the men that belong to your band?"
"I haven't got any band."
"What's the names of the men that were out with you?"
I then gave him a list of the men that accompanied me, and was then ordered to be put in the guard-house. The court-room of the court-house was used as a guard-house. The Provost-marshal's office was in one of the lower rooms of the court house.
The Provost-marshal had all the men that had been with me arrested, and when he had got us all together in the guard-house, we were marched, under guard, into his office. Addressing us, he said:
"There has been a great deal of stealing and robbing going on in the country about here, lately, and I believe that you are the men that have done it, and I mean to make an example of you, and I shall use my utmost endeavors to have every man of you shot."
"What have we done," I inquired, "that you should have such an awful antipathy against us?"