It was severe work; both parties displaying the most determined courage, frequently contending in hand-to-hand encounters; indeed, I saw rebels fighting with pistols when the carbines of our men would be thrust in their faces. I got a good many good shots on this raid, and had some narrow chances myself. On two occasions the rebels fired whole volleys at me, at short range, while I would be trying to ascertain their position for the General; and at Farmington, I was a target for three pieces of artillery, loaded with grape—there being not another man within cannon range. The grape struck around, over, and under me, but still did not touch either myself or horse. In the same fight a fuse shell struck immediately beneath my horse, but, although burning when it struck, it did not explode.
At a little log school-house, before we reached Farmington, the rebels made a very decided stand. I saw one fellow fighting from behind a tree, his position being secure from our men, who were unable to get at him on account of a fence which lay in front of him. I dismounted, and ran behind a little tree that was near by, and, taking good aim, I shot him in the side, and he fell, a dead man. But such affairs happen on every battle field.
After Wheeler had been driven from Tennessee and Northern Alabama, the second division, consisting of Wilder's Mounted Infantry, went to Brownsboro, and was engaged in keeping the county clear of the enemy, and in protecting railroad works.
The amount of suffering among the citizens, resulting from this raid, was fearful. Everything eatable was seized by one or the other of the armies. The scenes witnessed called forth pity for the little children, who could not understand the nature of the calamity which had befallen them; and I also commiserated a portion of the women; but by far the larger number of the latter did not conduct themselves in a manner calculated to excite sympathy. They were vindictive, and seized every available occasion to manifest their ill nature. They were ever ready to drive their husbands and sons into the war, and they need not have expected much pity at our hands. Many, it is true, were always devotedly loyal—were ready to contribute to the success of the nation—but they did not constitute a majority.
While I was at Brownsboro, a dispatch came to Gen. Crook, by telegraph, directed to Gen. Sherman, with a request to forward it without delay. It was handed to me to carry to him, but none of us knew where he then was. Capt. Kennedy found an article in an old rebel paper which stated that he was at Corinth; but that was some time before, and we had no idea which way he was marching. Capt. Starr, of the 2d Kentucky Cavalry, with a squadron of men, went with me to Whitesburgh, on the Tennessee, ten miles from Huntsville; and I there took a canoe and run down the river, it being about two o'clock at night when I started on my lonely ride. About fifteen miles below Whitesburgh, I heard a noise, as if a party of men on the south bank were bailing out a ferry-boat; and, as I thought I would have time to pass it before it could be got ready to cross, I pushed on down. I could easily hear them coming as I proceeded, so that I paddled my very best; but on they came, faster and faster; I did my utmost, but still they gained on me; another stroke of their long sweeps, and they would be on my canoe. It was a critical time, but fortunately at this moment a man on the shore called out to them: "You all look as if you were going down the river; you don't look like you were coming here to me." I glanced over my shoulder, and there on the bank, at the edge of the water, sat the Captain of a band of rebel cavalry; while just above him I could see forty or fifty men with their horses. There were six men in the boat, whom I saw distinctly—two at the oars, one steering, and three standing gazing over the sides, at me. They were so close on my canoe at this time, that I raised my hand to catch the ferry-boat, in case she struck my little craft, to prevent her from dragging me under.
When the Captain hailed, they headed a little more up stream, and she missed my canoe about the length of my paddle. As they passed by, I could see them watching me eagerly, but they said not a word; while I plied my paddle with all my strength, and was soon out of their sight amid the darkness. The gap I ran through between the boat and the company on shore, was not more than thirty yards wide. I could not possibly have passed it safely had I made the least possible noise with my boat; but I approached them so quietly, that the party on shore did not discover me until I was speeding past them.
A few miles above Decatur I was overtaken by daylight, and knowing very well that the river was well picketed by the rebels all the way to Tuscumbia, I did not try to travel, but pulled ashore under a steep bluff, and hid my canoe under some overhanging willows, and hid myself in a cleft in the rocks to sleep and rest till the next night. It was in the latter part of October—about the 26th or 27th, I believe—and I had rather a cold time of it, among the stones. During the day a company of rebel cavalry rode along the top of the bluff, just over my head, but they did not see me, and I rested well till dark, when I pushed out in the stream and resumed my journey. I passed Decatur while the lights in the houses were still burning, and as I rowed by the foot of the main street, a single shot was fired on the bank—the flash of the gun being toward me—though I did not know what they were shooting at, nor did I call to inquire.
In the neighborhood of Lamb's ferry, just at the head of Muscle Shoals, I laid down in the bottom of my boat to rest a little, as I was very tired and sleepy. How long I slept I do not know,—not more than an hour, I think—when I heard a chicken crow, and waking up, I found I was floating by a house on the bank. I picked up my oar and began to paddle leisurely on, too tired and sleepy to work hard, and in a short time I passed another house. It was dark, to be sure, but still I could see that it bore a striking resemblance to the first one. Two brothers, I thought, live on adjoining plantations; or perhaps an old man and one of his children, and have built houses alike. I still pulled on, but lo! in a short time I passed another just like the other two. This was unaccountable for a minute, but I remembered I had seen a big cottonwood tree on the bank at each of the other houses, and now I thought of it, they too were as the houses and fences—all, all exactly alike; what could it mean? Was I bewitched? I started directly across the river, to the opposite bank, resolved to leave a country where such sameness prevailed. It savored too much of enchantment to suit me, so I would go elsewhere; but as I approached the channel, I discovered that I was in a big eddy, caused by an island on one side, and a sweeping curve in the bank on the other, and that I had been floating around in a circle—how long, I could not tell.
Shortly after I pulled ashore on an island, to pass another day, hiding my canoe under the overhanging boughs, which projected far out over the water, and lying down in my boat to sleep. After taking a long nap, I was awakened by a rattling in the chains of my boat, and raising up and peering over the gunwale, I espied a large, fat raccoon, reared up on his hind legs, playing with the loose end of the chain, as it dangled from the limb it was tied to. His look was astonishingly intelligent, and he enjoyed the sport till the swinging of the iron hit him on the nose, when he hustled off up the bank and was seen no more. Scarcely, however, was he away, before a mink came trotting down to the end of my boat, and cast an inquiring look into it; but one glance sufficed him, and he was off like a shot.