Reminiscences of the Civil War

by Cora Mitchel

I was sad at leaving my sister behind, but her husband and home were there, and as a family we had traveled so much, both on this continent and Europe, that we were used to partings, and I set out on this unusual journey without forebodings.

The distance from Columbus to Apalachicola was about three hundred miles. We took a steamboat to Fort Gaines, where there was a military station, and where we would have to get a passport which we must present at a small station quite a distance below the obstruction. This was to stop, if possible, the constant escape of deserters.

Immediately on our arrival at Fort Gaines mother went to the arsenal for the passport. She was met by a very agreeable young adjutant, who said he had not the power to give us one, but he was expecting the major back at any moment and he would give it.

The next day she went out again, only to have the same experience. The third day with the same result. On the fourth day I said, “Let me go; perhaps he will give it to me.” Taking an attendant, I trudged along the two miles with great confidence, and was rewarded by being able to bring the promise of the precious document. My youth probably appealed to the young man, and he could not help feeling that I ought not to be detained. We did not know it then, but found out afterwards that he had orders to detain us till the major came, as we were not to be allowed to go on. He said for us to make our arrangements for departure the next day, and he would bring the passport himself to the steamboat which would take us down to the obstruction. I was triumphant, but mother had her doubts as to his keeping his word.

The next morning we went on board, hoping for the best. The bell rang for starting, but still no adjutant appeared. At last, just when our hearts were sinking with disappointment and the gang plank was being drawn in, he came galloping down the road with the passport in his hand. He probably had hoped the major would come at the last moment and relieve him of the responsibility. I never heard if he suffered from his disobedience of orders, but have always been grateful to him for his kindness. I still have the paper and treasure it very highly.

The distance to the obstruction was not great, and there we found “Bernardo” waiting for us with the new strong boat. My trunk and a few packages of food comprised the cargo, for we had to travel as light as possible. The other boatman, whom Bernardo had engaged, turned out to be a refugee like ourselves, and he was glad to give his services under the circumstances.

The river had utilized one of those bayous with which the Southern rivers are so well provided, as a means of escape around the obstruction. It had been widened and deepened by the force of the strong current, but as the stream carried off the banks the trees would fall in, making it much more dangerous, and the utmost care and skill were necessary to bring us through in safety. Mother and I lay in the bottom of the boat with strict orders not to move, while the little boat was tossed about by the swift current. If we had hit one of the projecting trees, we would have sunk immediately. Mother thought of her four helpless little children left in Apalachicola, and must have made many and earnest appeals for help and protection. I do not remember how long this lasted, but our progress was very swift, and finally the tension was relaxed and we glided out into the smooth waters of the river. How lovely it looked after the mad turmoil and anxiety of the bayou.

The men rested a while, letting the boat float down the peaceful river, and we all gave thanks for our deliverance from the dangers we had encountered.

About eleven o’clock that night we found a good landing, where we went ashore, and lighting a fire to keep the wild beasts away, we lay down on the ground for a little rest from our cramped positions.

Mother, worn out by the anxieties of the day, dozed off, but I was too excited by the novelty and beauty of the scene. The moon was full, and though just before Christmas, the weather was mild. The air was heavy with the scents of the forest behind us, from which could be heard, from time to time, the calls of owls, panthers and wildcats. We saw none, but there was always the expectation that one would appear.