Capture and Escape: A Narrative of Army and Prison Life

by John Azor Kellogg

Something must be done. An inventory of stock was taken. I had a pair of badly-worn shoes. Spencer had a boot and a shoe. Jointly, we had the kettle made from the paint keg, and the new linen sack. Here were the materials from which a pair of shoes were to be constructed, and the feat was accomplished. An inventory of tools disclosed a needle and a jack-knife. A close inspection of the sack showed that it was strong, new, and that the ravelings could easily be converted into stout thread. There was leather enough in Spencer's one boot leg to furnish the soles, and material enough in the sack to make the uppers. It was amusing to see the rapidity with which Hatcher's face shortened up, as one difficulty after another was met and overcome.

It took the combined mechanical skill of the party to fashion and fit this novel foot-gear; but before night they were finished. Hatcher now had by far the best pair of shoes in the party; and if we had only been better supplied with rations, we should have started out that night in better condition for a night's march than at any time since we jumped from the cars.

But the fact was, we were hungry, and after an hour's march found that we were getting faint. Provisions must be had in some way. Leaving the road, we struck into a plantation, in hope of finding either corn or sweet potatoes. We were fortunate enough to secure some hard corn, and a quantity of a species of bean, which I have never seen in the North. They are called peas by the natives, but there is nothing about them, either in growth or appearance, that resembles a pea, and they do not taste like a bean. Be they what they may, they are nutritious if not palatable.

Building a fire in a hollow, and then making a screen of our blanket and coats, to prevent the light from being seen, we proceeded to cook our corn and beans. We soon discovered, however, that while it is an easy matter to cook beans in this way, hard corn has a perverse inclination to remain hard corn, however much it is boiled; so while our supper served a very useful purpose, it was nothing to boast of as a palatable meal. We lost at least three hours in finding, cooking, and eating our supper, and made our jaws ache in our effort to masticate it. Hence, daylight found us only about eighteen or twenty miles from our shoe shop of the day before.

We now knew that the people had been notified of our escape, and that in all probability there were even then parties searching for us. We knew that they had not as yet been able to get upon our trail. Every consideration of prudence demanded that we should remain concealed in the daytime, and we fully intended to observe this caution; but as the long day slowly dragged to a close we became impatient, and concluded to risk a start before dark—traveling away from any road, and thus making up for lost time. We were also anxious to find a negro, if possible, and procure something more palatable to eat than boiled corn.

Taking our course by the sun, we left the road and hurried into the woods. After traveling perhaps four or five miles in this way, we were somewhat shocked at hearing voices not far from us, and hastily concealed ourselves in a thicket. What was our astonishment to see two white men pass, not more than a rod from our place of concealment. After they had passed, we discovered that we had been traveling nearly on a parallel line with a well-traveled road, and probably had not been out of sight of it for a mile back. Here was a dilemma. Had they discovered us and gone on, making no sign, with a view of getting arms and returning for us, or had we been fortunate enough to escape observation?

It was evident that in case they had discovered us, our only safety lay in immediate flight. So, taking an entirely new direction, we started again with beating hearts and greatly accelerated speed. A mile, perhaps, on our new direction, and we came to an open, cultivated country. Beyond a field in our front, we could see a wood; we determined to risk crossing the field, and then change our course again. Skulking behind the fences and crouching along behind thickets, we at length succeeded once more in reaching the friendly shelter of the woods.

Interrupting a Revival

At the corner of the field, near the woods, was a cross-roads, and nearby a church. We could see neither the church nor the roads until reaching the fence, and then it was too late to return. We were in full view of the church, situated to the left of our line of march. Notwithstanding that by our reckoning it was not Sunday, it was filled with people, and some kind of religious services were being held.

Only a few rods farther and we should be out of sight, but we were not fortunate enough to escape observation. We could see fingers pointed at us. As soon as we were out of sight, our careless, measured walk changed to a brisk run. Leaving the road, we struck into the woods again, and as good fortune would have it happened to discover a negro cutting brush, and immediately told him who we were and of our dilemma.