They were always enabled to trace the windings of the Red River by tall trees that grew along its banks and marked its course. Most of the planters’ residences were situated near the river road, facing the river; the plantations extending back to the swamp-lands or forests. The land in this region was as level as a prairie, and the soil of the farms a rich, black earth, with scarcely the smallest pebble to be found upon it. They crossed Loggy Bayou on the twenty-second, went through Springville Village at night on the twenty-fourth, reaching the pine woods on the twenty-fifth, where it was almost impossible to conceal themselves from the eyes of anybody they chanced to meet, on account of the absence of undergrowth or shrubbery. In passing through the town of Compti, on the twenty-sixth, recently burned by the Federals, Hersey says: “We stopped in a ravine on the edge of the town until after midnight, and then quietly and cautiously went forward. The few houses remaining look deserted, and the whole scene, as we viewed it in the darkness of the night, was the picture of desolation. The silence of death reigned over the place, except now and then when an owl would hoot in the woods that fringed the suburbs. We had just reached a bridge crossing a little stream in the centre of the town when we were terribly alarmed by the sudden sound of horses hoofs on the road behind us. On looking back we saw through the darkness a number of horses galloping towards the bridge at a terrific rate, so rapidly as to give us no chance to escape them. The scare was of short duration, for when they rushed by we saw that they were riderless, and probably had taken us for their masters. The shock produced a sense of timidity upon us we could not shake off with all the assumption of gayety and laughter that we outwardly manifested, and we felt greatly relieved when we reached the woods and left the desolate town far behind us.”
They frequently saw officers and men, but managed to evade them, until on the night of April 27th they reached a bayou and were dismayed to find a soldier on guard at the only fording place they could discover. Hersey says: “This was the worst obstacle we had yet encountered, and we were at loss to find a way to overcome it. The banks of the stream were high and steep. We crept onward to get a better view of the situation, and could plainly see the sentry by the light of his bivouac fire. He was sitting or reclining upon an old log with the light shining upon his face, his gun across his shoulder. We soon saw he was fast asleep, and decided to cross while he was wrapt in slumber. The distance from bank to bank was short, but the fording place was narrow and almost barred by the form of the guard. The undertaking was venturesome, but there was no other way out of the difficulty, so we determined to run the gauntlet. Arranging to go one at a time, Wentworth started first, passed the sentry safely, climbing the opposite bank. As I drew near I felt a strange fascination which almost deprived me of action, and when I reached him was compelled to stop and gaze into his face before the spell was dissolved. Williams, who came last, was also successful, but we could not resist our suppressed laughter at the comical figure he cut in his endeavors to deaden the sound of his footsteps. With a sense of relief we made haste to gain the woods, and travelled on until morning.”
On the twenty-ninth of April, when within thirty miles of Alexandria, they accidentally stopped at the house of a Jayhawker (a name given to those secret bands of Southern Unionists who resisted by force the conscription acts and were the deadliest foes of the guerrillas), who provided them with food and excused himself from giving breakfast to a Confederate lieutenant of cavalry and three privates, who rode up while the three escaped prisoners were talking with their host upon the door-porch. By advice of this Jayhawker they endeavored to find a Madam Nowlan, who lived near the river, and who, he said, would find a way to assist them across the river into the Federal lines.
The next day, April 30th, while proceeding in the direction given them how to find Madam Nowlan’s Plantation, they encountered an army wagon and learned from a soldier that Harrison’s cavalry was not far away, stationed on that side of the river. This fact decided them to represent Texans, knowing they were on the south side, and they were well acquainted with the history of many Texas regiments. About noon they called at a house to procure a dinner, introducing themselves as Texas soldiers attached to Captain Clipper’s company, of Elmore’s regiment, on their way from Shreveport hospitals to rejoin their company. While awaiting dinner, conversation was carried on with the host, under some shady trees, about army matters, until Williams asked the nearest way to reach Madam Nowlan, when a red-headed man came from the house and demanded in a rough tone: “What do you know about Madam Nowlan?” The question was so abruptly asked, Wentworth and Hersey were disconcerted for a moment. They were subjected to a series of questions and cross questions, which were answered as best they could; Hersey’s information, gathered while visiting Colonel Harrison’s headquarters, about the Confederate troops in Louisiana and reënforcements expected from Texas and Arkansas coming in very opportune.
The red-headed man was a “courier,” named Harris, attached to the “courier line” carrying despatches between army headquarters and Shreveport, on the north bank of Red River. He suspected the three prisoners were spies, and was not to be duped. Disappearing for a short time, he returned followed by three soldiers, who apparently dropped in one at a time, as if by chance. Courier Harris laid his plans well. Offering no opposition to their departure, they started for the river road, when he followed them and began conversation, intimating a desire on his part to desert. They were not to be caught by this trick and resented such proposals, when he rode away, after directing them how to reach the river crossing. Feeling that the end was near, they kept on until a deserted log house built upon piles, beneath which was a little grass plot, tempted them to rest under its cool shelter.
While resting a pack of hounds surrounded them, soon followed by a cavalry squad, headed by Harris, who levelled their guns and ordered a surrender. The prisoners were taken to the house of Mr. Swafford, said to be the headquarters of the courier line, and there kept until their case was reported to Brigadier-General Liddel, commanding Confederate forces.
On Monday, May 2d, Captain Micot, chief of the courier line, arrived to take them to General Liddel, whose camp was about twenty-five miles distant, opposite Alexandria. Captain Micot was sociable and friendly, expressing his sympathy and promising to do what he could for them. He did so, returning from an interview with his general exclaiming: “Well, boys, I’ve got good tidings for you,” handing them a piece of paper, torn from the blank leaf of a printed book, upon which the following lines were written in pencil:
“Guards and pickets will pass Samuel R. Hersey, David L. Wentworth and Charles Williams outside the Confederate lines.