After all was over, the men sat down to a fine dinner prepared at the Cave City Hotel, for the passengers.
Colonel Morgan now directed his march toward the Cumberland again. He had retaliated, in some degree, for the injury he had received, and could meet his comrades in the South, fresh from a success instead of a disaster. The column marched steadily and encamped at twelve o'clock at night, fifteen miles from Glasgow. An incident happened at this place well illustrative of Colonel Morgan's kindness, and of the manner in which he could do things which would have been undignified in other officers and destructive of their authority. It was customary for each officer of rank, to have his horses attended to by his negro, and the men were rarely required to perform such duties. Colonel Morgan's groom, however, had been captured. "When we dismounted," said the man who related to me the story, "Colonel Morgan gave his horse to Ben Drake, requesting him to unsaddle and feed him. As Ben had ridden twelve hours longer than the rest of us, he thought this very unkind, to say the least, in the Colonel. He, however, paid no attention to Ben's sour looks, as the latter took the horse and obeyed the order. When Ben returned to the house, Colonel Morgan had reserved a place by the fire for him to sleep in. The next morning Ben was awakened by the Colonel, who told him to get up and eat his breakfast, as the command was ready to move. "Why did you not have me roused sooner, Colonel?" asked Ben, "my horse has not been fed." "I wished you to sleep longer," answered the Colonel, "and fed, curried and saddled your horse, myself." Would any other Colonel in the army have done the same for a "poor private"?
Major Coffee was paroled, on condition that he would exert himself to procure his own exchange for Lieutenant-Colonel Wood, and that he would report again as prisoner if he failed.
Passing through Burkesville on county-court day, capturing a few Federals, and making many horse trades, the command passed on to a ford of the Cumberland, twelve miles from the little town, and crossed. Sparta was reached on the next day, where the Tennessee companies were left—and Colonel Morgan marched on toward Chattanooga, which place he reached by easy marches. Some twenty or thirty more refugees and survivors of the "Lebanon races" soon joined him here. Leaving these men at Chattanooga—to recruit and refit as well as was possible there, he immediately set out for Corinth to see what could be effected in the way of obtaining guns and the necessary equipment for his men, and to obtain permission to make another expedition into Kentucky—that he might recruit his regiment. About the middle of May two fine companies of Texas cavalry, commanded by Captains R.M. Gano and Jno. Huffman, both native Kentuckians, arrived at Corinth, and requested to be assigned to Morgan, that they might see service in Kentucky. Their application was granted, and they at once marched for Chattanooga.
I had been severely wounded at Shiloh, and left behind when the command started upon the expedition just described. Upon my return to Corinth, I collected some thirty men of the squadron (who for various reasons had not accompanied Colonel Morgan into Tennessee), and marched with Captain Gano to Chattanooga. We marched through a country, where the people were friendly and hospitable, and had no difficulty in supplying the men and horses. We had a few skirmishes with Federal troops posted along the Tennessee river, in one of which Captain Gano took some prisoners, and burned a good deal of cotton, collected by the Federals for transportation to Huntsville. The last two days of our march showed us the grandest and most beautiful scenery. We traversed the ridgy summit of the mountain range, which runs just along the southern bank of the Tennessee and connects with the group of bold mountains around Chattanooga. At one point the view is exceedingly striking. From the immense hight we occupied, we could see a vast and varied expanse of country. In our front and to the right, the mountains rose like blue domes, piled closely together—a tremendous gulf—the bottom of which eyesight could not fathom—spread between the range (where we were), and their hazy, azure sides. Directly before us "Lookout"—giant chief of all—loomed high toward heaven.
Sheer down, hundreds of feet beneath us, flowed the Tennessee—I could almost believe that my horse could leap from the top of the precipice to the opposite bank of the river. On the other side the land was low and nearly level. The green fields ran back from the river's brink, in a gentle imperceptible ascent, until miles away, the eye lost them in the horizon. The noisy cavalrymen were hushed by the scene, and the grand silence was not disturbed.
CHAPTER VIII
At Chattanooga we found and were welcomed by Colonel Morgan and our gallant comrades, and never did brothers meet after separation and danger, with more hearty joy. For the first time, then, we learned who had been lost, and as we talked it over, the pleasure and congratulation, so natural at our reunion, gave way to sadness as we named the dead and counted up the captives. Although much reduced in numbers, the squadron was unbroken in spirit and courage; the men who had safely gone through the dangers of the late expedition, were more eager than ever for another, and burned to wipe out any stain that might dim their reputation and to avenge their comrades. They had completely recovered from the fatigue of the raid, and their first thought (when they welcomed the accession to the command that we brought), was of instant march to Kentucky.