“At Abbeville Mr. Davis was again urged by his friends to leave the country, either from the southern shores of Florida or by crossing the Mississippi and going to Mexico through Texas; but though he listened quietly to all they had to say upon the subject, and seemed to acquiesce in their views, he never expressed a decided willingness or readiness to do so.
“To some of his friends it was apparent that his capture was not specially sought by the military authorities, and that he had but to change his dress and his horse, and to travel with a single friend, to pass unrecognized and in safety to the sea-shore, and there embark. Hitherto, as has been already said, his coming along his selected route was known to the people miles in advance. Schools were dismissed that the children might, upon the road-side, greet him. Ladies, with fruits and flowers, presented with tears of sympathy, were seen at the gates of every homestead, far in advance, awaiting his approach; and it was hardly supposable that the general in command, whose spies, and scouts, and cavalry covered the country, and were heard of upon all sides, was the only person uninformed of Mr. Davis’ movements.
“The assertion that General Sherman, aware of this journey, permitted it to facilitate the departure of Mr. Davis and his friends from the country, is not made or designed; for it is possible that his capture was desired and attempted; but the facts are matters of history, and are given regardless of the speculations which they may justify.
“The party left Abbeville at 11 o’clock the same night for Washington, Georgia, a distance of some forty-five miles, and by riding briskly they reached the Savannah River at daylight, crossing it upon a pontoon bridge, and rode into Washington at about 10 o’clock A. M. Just before leaving Abbeville they learned that a body of Federal cavalry was en route to destroy this bridge, and might reach it before them, and hence they pushed on vigorously, meeting no enemy, but delayed about an hour by mistaking the right road.
“The night was intensely dark, the weather stormy. In approaching the bridge through the river swamp the guide and Colonel Preston Johnston, and another of the party, rode a half mile in advance, and the latter encountered a mounted Federal officer. The rays of blazing lightwood within a wood-cutter’s small cabin fell upon him as he stood motionless beneath a tree, and revealed his water-proof riding-coat and the gold band upon his cap. He hurriedly inquired, as he listened to the tramp of the coming horsemen:
“‘What troops are these?’
“‘What force is this?’
“‘Is this Jeff. Davis’ party?’
“‘Yes,’ replied the party addressed, while revolving in his mind the best course to pursue, ‘this is Jeff. Davis’ escort of five thousand men.’
“The officer vanished in the darkness, and no others were encountered.