It is needless to relate the valuable items of information which I was enabled to glean upon this journey—information which in later days was of vast importance to the Union commanders, but which at this time would only burden a narrative of the events which they so ably assisted to successful results.
Here, as in many other places, I found that my best source of information was the colored men, who were employed in various capacities of a military nature which entailed hard labor. The slaves, without reserve, were sent by their masters to perform the manual labor of building earthworks and fortifications, in driving the teams and in transporting cannon and ammunition, and, led by my natural and deep-seated regard for these sable bondsmen, I mingled freely with them, and found them ever ready to answer questions and to furnish me with every fact which I desired to possess.
Here and there I found an unassuming white man whose heart was still with the cause of the Union, but whose active sympathy could not at this time be of service to the country, as he dared not utter a voice in defense of his opinions. From all these sources, however, I was successful in posting myself fully in regard to the movements and intentions of the rebel authorities and officers, and, as I believed, had also succeeded in concealing my identity.
"Fo' God, Massa Allen, ye'll be a dead man in de mo'nin'!" P. 195.
On the third evening of my sojourn in Memphis, however, my dreams of fancied security were suddenly dispelled, and I was brought face to face with the reality of danger.
I had retired early to my room, according to my general custom, and had scarcely been seated when I was disturbed by a faint but quick and distinct knocking at my door. I arose hastily, as it was something unusual for me to receive visitors after I had retired, and throwing open the door, I was somewhat surprised to see, standing before me, in a state of unmistakable excitement, the colored porter of the hotel.
Before I had time to question him, he sprang into the room and closed the door behind him. His countenance evinced a degree of terror that immediately filled me with alarm. His eyes were fixed wildly upon me, his lips were quivering, and his knees trembled under him, as though unable to sustain the weight of his body. Indeed, so frightened was he, that he appeared to be struggling forcibly to do so.
"What is the matter, Jem?" I inquired, in as calm a tone as I could assume, and with a view of reassuring him. "What has happened to frighten you so?"