CHAPTER XXIX.
That evening I donned my disguise as a citizen, and advanced, as before, to go through their lines as an alien. I rode as before as far as my judgment would permit to prevent the capture of my escort, when I took it afoot to carry out the program first suggested. I walked about four miles and day was breaking. As two nights previous, the country indicated depredations by fires. When I again, as the night before, saw obstructions in front of me, I walked within twenty-five or thirty paces up to it when I was commanded to halt and challenged as to who comes there, their muskets pointing at me. I said, "Me no speaky English, je parle Francais." Where are you going? Me no stand English. They made me a sign to sit down by the side of the obstructive fence, after having let me cross their barricade. About fifteen minutes later an officer with the relief guard came up. Who's that you got there? How did he get here? They answered I walked up. He is a foreigner and can't speak our language. Turning to me he said, where are you going? "Je ne comprenspas, je parle francais." So he made me signs to following him, which I did. He conducted me to a large camp fire where I saw several men guarding others and recognized them to be Confederates. This was the first time I felt my danger; I was afraid that there might be some among the prisoners that might have seen me before and might recognize me. However my fears were without cause as I did not know any of them. About eight o'clock a. m., the Provost Marshall General came around and addressed himself to me. Who are you, said he. As before, I said je parle francais. Oh, you are a Frenchman. Well, I will get some one that can speak to you. He ordered one of the guards to go to a Canadian Company and ask the Captain to send him a man that could speak French and English. Presently a young soldier presented himself. The Provost took him aside and I pretended not to notice them. They stepped to within a few paces of me; when I heard the Provost say to him, Pump him. I thought, He will be welcome to all he will get out of me. He stepped up to me and talked to me in French. I appeared to be so glad to meet one I could talk to, that I did not give him an opportunity to ask me a single question. I told him how I came here in the fall of 1859, pulling out my passport which he scrutinized and handed over to the Provost, who in turn looked at the same. I told him that I made a mistake coming here, that the people made it very unpleasant to me because I would not enlist; that I had to leave Georgia, and I am now on my way to New Orleans, which I heard the port was open so as to see the French consul to assist me back to France; that I am tired of this land where people murder each other. During all of our conversation the Provost said, What does he say. My interlocutor explained and then they all would laugh. Finally I said that I was hungry, that I had had nothing to eat in 24 hours. So the Provost said, Boys, can you fix up something for him among you, and they all contributed some from their rations and filled my haversack full of substantial food, and besides contributed $10.00 in money. I thanked them and started off, after being told that I could go, but as I was apparently green I asked my questioner how far I was from New Orleans and if there were any more places where I might be delayed, when the Provost intervened with his, What did he say? Which after being explained to him, he said, I had better give him a pass, they might take him up on the other end of the line, and so he wrote on a slip of paper, "Pass the bearer through the line," and signed his name in such chirography that I could not read it. I arrived into Montgomery late that afternoon, and reported, as per previous arrangement with Col. Paul to Judge Pollard, whose daughter he married, and told that family how the boys were getting along. Judge Pollard was a stately old gentleman of great prominence in that section of the country. He received me in his large library and we had quite a long conversation over the situation. I told him that I was directed to him with the understanding that he would provide me with a horse so that I might continue my journey to Selma. He shook his head and said I'll see what can be done, but I don't believe there is a horse to be got within ten miles of here; the Yankees stole every horse and mule they could lay their hands on, and sure enough he was unable to furnish me with an animal, but thought I might, by making a long detour beyond the flanks of the enemy's columns, be able to proceed. That morning one of the ladies presented me with a tobacco bag, made out of a piece of pink merino, and the initials of my name embroidered on it with yellow silk and filled with smoking tobacco, and a shaker pipe stuck in it. It was quite a novelty and was highly appreciated. After having partaken of a substantial breakfast I bid my host and his family good bye, visited my friends Faber, Lewellen, Coleman and other acquaintances of the city, all of which had their tales of woe and sufferings to account at the hands of the enemy. I departed for Selma on foot. I was weary and depressed. I heard that I was again in close proximity to the enemy who routed Forrest from that city and came within a fraction of either killing or capturing him. He was surrounded by four troopers who demanded his surrender, when he threw his saber, spurred his horse and ran the gauntlet among a shower of bullets. I heard that in the melee he received a saber cut in the face. I felt sick at heart and physically worn out and took a rest and wended my way to Col. Bowen, who was glad to see me and offered me all the comforts to recruit my strength. I remained there nearly a week. I really did not know where to report to, General Beauford being on the retreat before Wilson's corps who came from via Pensacola, Florida. I was surrounded on every side, so I concluded to retrace my way back to Montgomery but when a few miles from Greenville as I emerged from a long lane at the end of which the road turned into a forest I noted some Federal soldiers. I came within a very short distance of them before seeing them; my first impulse was to run back, but I was tired, it being a warm day and nothing to protect me from the bullets, having an open lane where they might play at my fleeing figure. I concluded to give up on demand, but on close approach, seeing that they were negro troops I regretted not having taken chances, however great, of escape, especially when I was asked to surrender my arms, which consisted of a couple of colts 6 inch pistols, one of which I carried in a scabbard buckled around me and the other in the belt of my pants, which were tucked in my boot legs. In unbuckling my belt I contracted my body allowing the one in my pants to slide down my leg into my boot and thus only surrendered one of them. The other I carried on as I marched. The friction of the barrel on the ankle of my foot gave me excruciating pains but I continued on until I could feel the blood on the inside of my boot. There were other prisoners, among them General Pillow and his son, George. Arriving in Montgomery we were locked up in the Lehman Brothers building which had served as a shoe factory for the Confederate Government. I intended to use my weapon at the first opportunity I saw to gain my liberty. That night I asked for a doctor to dress my wounded foot. He came and asked me how that happened. My socks adhered to the wounds and the pains it gave me were unbearable. I told him I had snagged myself. He dressed my wound and I felt relieved to a great extent. The next morning I sent word to my friend Faber to come to see me and he did so. I said to him to see if he could not get me a parole, after he had told me that he had had some Yankee officers quartered at his house, saying that they were all Western men and seemed to be clever fellows. He promised to use his influence. Presently he returned with an officer and I was turned out on parole, but to report every morning at nine o'clock. The following morning I reported, when the officer commanded one of the men to take charge of me and lock me up. I thought the jig was up, that probably I had been reported by some one and that I might fare the worst for it. There were fifty prisoners; we were all called out to form into line and from that into column, and marched up the hill to the capitol, where we received some salt pork and hard tack to last us three days. We were informed that we would be sent to Ship Island, a country of yellow fever, close to New Orleans in retaliation of Andersonville, there to take the chances to live or die; undoubtedly they would have preferred the latter. About one o'clock p. m. a courier rode up to the capitol, followed by another. Presently we were informed that the war was over, that General Lee had surrendered and that Lincoln was assassinated and instead of being sent to Ship Island we were to be paroled under promise not to take up arms again against the United States, until properly exchanged. This brings us up to the early part of June 1865, or latter part of May.