A verbal provision was attached to the pass, that they must not attempt to reach the Federal lines on Red River, but return by way of Harrisonburg, thence to the Federal forces on the Mississippi River. This pass, Captain Micot informed them, would be respected by all regular Confederate soldiers, but probably not by the guerrillas, as they were not subject to the discipline of the army. Thus was Williams’ oft-repeated prediction, “Our journey is only a round-about road to Texas again, it would be better for us if we had gone with the crowd,” not likely to be realized.
The three prisoners returned to Swafford’s house, accompanied by Captain Micot and a private named Meecum. Meecum, who found an opportunity to unbosom himself, advised them to call upon his father, a Baptist clergyman and member of a league of Jayhawkers, residing about seventeen miles from Swafford’s, directly on their way, who would mark out a course to pursue that would be of assistance. He had a brother serving in the Federal army, and his sympathies were with the Union cause; his service was compulsory with the Confederates.
Wednesday, May 4th, Wentworth, Hersey and Williams again commenced a tramp of one hundred and seventy-five miles, after an adieu to their Confederate friends who had treated them very kindly; since their recapture it appeared to them as though they were friends upon a visit, so considerate had been the treatment they received from everybody with whom they came in contact. Mr. Swafford presented Wentworth with a blood-hound “pup” of fine breed, as a remembrancer of him, and also as a reward for those songs Wentworth sang at his house and the marvellous yarns he told, the like of which they never heard before and will probably never listen to again.
They were hospitably entertained that night by Rev. Mr. Meecum, the next night by Mr. Paul, twenty miles beyond, and then travelled onward carefully in order to avoid guerrillas, especially a band known as “dog” Smith’s (a name given them on account of their use of bloodhounds in hunting victims), until May 8th, stopping each night with some friendly Unionist, to whom they were directed by the preceding host.
It was on Sunday, May 8th, after remaining over night with a Mr. “Jack” Wharton, as he was called, they walked into a guerrilla camp, situated in the dense woods near Tensas River. The “pass” did not satisfy the motley crowd of ill-clad, villainous-looking men, who heaped the vilest epithets upon them, and several men threatened to shoot them down but were held back by their comrades.
The guerrilla chief, Captain Smith, was absent, and the prisoners were taken before a Lieutenant Eddington, a young man about twenty-five years old, tall and well shaped, with features indicative of refinement and intelligence, whose parents lived in Missouri. The prisoners told their story and plead for their lives. After talking the matter over, Eddington was satisfied the “pass” was genuine, and told them the only thing he could do was to pass them out of his tent by the rear, while his men were ordered away, and advised them to “run for it” to the river bank, where they would find a regular company of Confederate cavalry, commanded by a Captain Gillespie. His men, so he said, were much exasperated over the loss of some of their comrades, captured in a recent skirmish with colored troops, and who had been shot.
A Colonel Jones, an officer in the Confederate service, wounded at Shiloh, owner of some four thousand acres of cleared land along the Tensas River and vicinity, invited them to his house and provided supper and sleeping apartments. Colonel Jones knew they were paroled Federal prisoners on the way to Natchez, and the reason of his hospitality was unfolded when he called Hersey aside and requested him to inform General Tuttle at Natchez, with the utmost secresy, that three hundred bales of cotton were on the way down Black River, coming from Colonel Jones.
The three men started shortly after sunrise, on Monday, May 9th, for Natchez, expecting to walk the distance that day. The danger of again encountering guerrilla bands was all they had to fear. By nightfall they were within hearing of the evening guns from the forts around Vidalia. While walking rapidly along the road three United States colored cavalry-men, in a menacing manner, ordered them to halt, and demanded to know who they were. No explanation would be believed by these wide-awake soldiers, who marched the prisoners into town to the provost-marshal’s office, where the mistake was rectified, and they received good treatment at the only hotel in the place. At Natchez, the following morning, their appearance in such ridiculous clothes as they wore created considerable commotion in the streets. Whenever they stopped a crowd of curious people gathered around, enabling Wentworth, with his fertile genius for story telling, to relate in a most thrilling manner the story of their escape, embellished with a few deeds of bloodshed and heroic action. A Mr. Marsh, in charge of the New England Aid Society store, offered to clothe them, but the offer was declined, as the Quartermaster Department provided for them.
From Natchez the three escaped men were sent to Vicksburg, and from there got transportation to Washington, by way of Cairo. Williams parted company with Wentworth and Hersey at Cairo, not desirous to go on to Washington, and remained to seek employment upon the transport-steamers on the river; Wentworth and Hersey proceeded to Washington, obtained their pay without trouble, and reached Boston, home again, June 1st, 1864, having passed over sixteen months of their lives as prisoners of war.
Charles Williams, “Transport,” was last heard from May 24th, 1864, when he was furnished transportation from Chicago to Utica, New York, by a United States quartermaster, as Williams claimed to be a private of Company D, Forty-Second Regiment, Massachusetts Volunteers, on sick leave, granted by Brigadier-General Tuttle.