Shortly after arriving in Houston the Confederate officers began to inquire after Romain, their actions indicating they suspected he was among the prisoners.
A great difficulty to overcome was passing him through the roll-calls, as Confederate officers attended these calls of names, which were made one company at a time. Romain would dodge from one company in line, ready for roll-call, to the ranks of a company whose roll-call was over, assisted in this by various devices of those most active in getting him through, and managed with success for some time in this way. Feeling confident he was among the prisoners, a last effort was made to detect him when the men were ready to march for the depot.
The companies were separately ordered into line, outside of quarters; as each name was called the man stepped to the front and had his name checked. Romain, who saw that his chances to get off with the rest were very slim, prudently remained in the building, and the rolls were found correct. Company G had passed out of the gate, leaving the other companies inside, when Sergeant Phil. Hackett obtained permission to go into the quarters for some few things he stated were left there, and in a short time came out followed by Romain, whom he rated soundly with abuse and curses for having left the ranks to go back to quarters without leave. On his approach towards Confederate Lieutenant Todd, who stood at the gate, Romain was the picture of a devil-may-care sort of man, puffing away at a large pipe, with a broom thrown over his shoulder. Lieutenant Todd sharply asked why he was there, and Romain replied that Sergeant Goodrich had sent him back to get a broom to sweep the cars, because they were covered with charcoal dust. Todd asked his name, and Romain gave one suggested to him by Hackett. Calling for Sergeant Goodrich, Todd inquired who he had sent back, the Sergeant answering with the same name that Romain used, for Hackett and Goodrich were acting in concert. Examining the roll of Company G the name was found, and Romain was ordered to “get out of here.”
The whole thing was so neatly planned and carried out by the two sergeants that the Confederates were completely hoodwinked, and Romain got off with the prisoners. After leaving Houston it was easy work to pass him along.
He left a wife and child at Galveston, who probably thought him dead. He was able to give valuable information to General Banks regarding Texas, and Andrew Romain was afterwards in the secret service corps of the Gulf Department. He was a brave man. It required uncommon fortitude to bear up under the constant dread of capture which must have haunted him, as death was certain were he discovered. From the fact that Romain was armed with a revolver, furnished by some friendly hand, it is surmised, if discovered, he would have sold his life dearly, if not contemplating suicide rather than fall into Confederate hands. A man of quiet reserve, seldom making any conversation with others, it was thought by the paroled men he had no gratitude for the assistance rendered by them, because he never expressed any. When Phil. Hackett was buried at Gentilly Camp, Romain was present, and his presence at those last sad rites is good proof he was grateful for what had been done to save him.
The train left Houston with a speed of about four miles an hour, crossing San Jacinto Bayou at midnight, not reaching Beaumont until four o’clock in the afternoon next day—distance eighty-three miles by rail. This was a tiresome ride for it rained all night, rendering sleep impossible, besides the charcoal dust upon the cars became wet, and in the shifting and turning about hands would get covered with it; these same hands were often applied to faces, and in the morning the men were a sight to behold. As the locomotive could not draw the entire train at once, sections were taken and run until a siding was reached, when the engine would go back for the remaining cars. There appeared to be plenty of cattle in sight grazing on the prairie lands through which the railroad ran, and this was also noticed to be the case on the trip from Galveston to Houston.
At Beaumont the men remained until the twenty-ninth, awaiting the return of a steamboat that had preceded them with baggage, horses, beef cattle, commissary stores, and wagons brought from Houston, to be used on the march to Alexandria. Occupying several abandoned shanties near Drake’s Bayou, the time was made to pass quickly by various expedients. Pigs were plenty in the neighborhood, so that pork was not a luxury, four or five being killed each day, the owners not missing them. They were caught by the lassoing process from a trap-door in an old blacksmith shop, underneath which they congregated. Wild mules were also plenty, whose backs the soldiers and sailors did not miss any opportunity to ride, affording great amusement to spectators by their antics.
Finally the steamer Roe Buck arrived, and a start was made at half-past one o’clock in the afternoon down the narrow Neches River to Sabine Bay; proceeding up the Sabine River, at daylight on the thirtieth, the steamer tied up at Novell’s Bluff, Louisiana, for a short time, and then proceeded to Morgan’s Bluff to remain over night, arriving there at half-past six o’clock in the afternoon.
After wooding-up the trip was resumed early next morning on the crooked and narrow river, lined with forests upon either bank, causing the boys to keep a sharp lookout, as the boat would often snap limbs off the trees to fall upon the deck. At six o’clock in the afternoon a stop was made at Possum Bluff for the night. Here the men had to use fence rails, near at hand, for fuel to cook rations, as all of the cut wood was required for the boat.
The boat steamed along, with occasional stops to take in wood and tie up each night, until half-past four o’clock in the afternoon, February 4th, when the journey by boat was over, on arriving at Burr’s Ferry Landing. The weather had been cloudy, rainy and cold almost the entire trip, creating great inconvenience to the men, who were obliged to use rubber and woollen blankets to stop rain-water leaks in their sleeping-places. Several were quite sick. Private David Chapin, Company I, nineteen years old, died at night, February 2d, at quarter-past eleven, when the boat was stopped at Starks’ Ferry Landing, Newton County, Texas. Chapin was not well when he left Houston, and was down with intermittent fever in a few days. After breakfast, on the third, a beautiful spot in the woods, under cypress and pine trees, was selected for a grave. The funeral took place at half-past nine o’clock in the morning, with three volleys fired over the remains by the guard, as poor Chapin, in a rough-made coffin, the best his comrades could make, was lowered into the grave.