The Boy Spy / A substantially true record of secret service during the war of the rebellion, a correct account of events witnessed by a soldier

by Joseph Orton Kerbey

I had traveled openly and boldly all day through the Rebel Army, carrying inside the lining of my cap the official papers I wished to get through. I had placed them in my hat because I calculated that, in case of a pursuit and probable capture, I might be able accidentally to "lose" the hat in a way that would not attract any particular attention, and a search of the regulation place for a spy to carry papers—in the shoes—would reveal nothing to implicate me. Night and darkness was rapidly coming on, yet I continued boldly to advance right along to the front, and, in the gloaming, I reached a little house setting back from the road, where I applied for supper and lodging. There were several soldiers about the yard, and officers were inside the house, as I judged from seeing their horses tied in the barnyard. An old bushwhacking proprietor, to whom I addressed myself, said that he couldn't keep me, as these officers had engaged the only accommodations he had. Turning to the officers I explained in a plausible manner that I had been hunting all day for a sick comrade, who had been left at a private house; that I was unable to find him—his name and regiment I was then able to furnish, knowing very well from their distance back, where I had located them, these men would not detect me—and as I was too tired and sick to go back that night, I must rest till morning, and so I would take a bed in the barn. I showed my request for a pass, across the face of which I had carefully endorsed in bold handwriting, in red ink, before leaving the office, the official words, "Approved, R. Chisholm, A. D. C."

That was a clear case of forgery, but "All's fair in love or war," and "desperate cases require desperate remedies."

The officers were of that kind who are easily impressed by an endorsement, especially if it is written across the face of the papers in red ink; and without any further question I was invited to sit down while a warm supper was being prepared for them.

I gathered from their conversation that the Rebel outposts were still some distance beyond. Though their own regiment was on this picket duty, their presence in the house was explained by the sickness of the younger of the two officers, the older having brought him in off the picket-line. There were also in addition to this line of pickets, a cavalry detachment that were supposed to be constantly moving up and down the roads in front of or between the two armies. So I was still a long way from our lines, and had yet some serious obstacles to overcome.

It wasn't exactly a pleasant evening for me, although I was so near home again. I lay there in that hay-loft or horse-shed, planning for the last dash for liberty; I knew that I must not attempt to move out of the barn until everybody was sound asleep; I had also some fear of a couple of dogs, that I'd seen running about the house rousing the folks when I should stir; I realized that I had a serious night's tramp ahead of me; my path must necessarily lead me over the fields and through the woods in tiresome detours that would be necessary in avoiding the road. For this reason I was anxious to make an early start from the barn; and just as soon as everything became quiet I silently groped my way out of the loft and slid myself down on the manure pile; crouched a moment to nervously listen and learn if the way was clear, and not hearing a sound of life, I started off cautiously on the last quarter-stretch of my night run for "liberty or death."

Keeping to the fields and woods, but in sight of the fence along the road as a guide, for some distance without meeting anyone or the hearing of a sound except the crickets and frogs, I became more emboldened and climbed over the fence into the road, striking out at a lively gait down a long hill. At the bottom of this hill, or rather in the valley between two hills, flowed a little stream which was spanned by one of those old-fashioned stone bridges. When I came close I discovered that a sentry was standing on it. I thought it was a picket; I could discern a moving object that looked to me through the darkness sufficiently like a soldier and his gun, to cause me to get back over the fence and make rapid tracks through the field to his flank. Almost exhausted, I found myself on the bank of the same little stream at a point where there was neither bridge or pickets.

I had learned enough about the military way of doing things to understand that, topographically, this little stream of water probably represented the Rebel picket-line, and I surmised that if I were able successfully to pass this point, that I should meet with no further danger from the infantry, and that cavalry could easily be avoided by keeping away from the roads, as I could travel over the routes where the horses could not be used.

I waded right in fearlessly; there was but little water running, but, oh dear! there was lots of mud concealed under the little bit of water, and when I pulled out, on the other side, I had gained several pounds in weight which had to be carried along up the next hill by a pair of legs already nearly exhausted. I got over that hill and passed down into another valley, and had, as before, become so emboldened by not meeting with anything in my path to relieve myself of the extra labor of climbing fences and crawling over logs, as well as scratching through briar bushes and tramping ploughed fields, I again took to the road.

All that day and most of the night I had now been going steadily in one direction, as I believed toward our lines, which I had figured could not be more than twenty miles distant from my starting point in the morning. Feeling that I could not be far from rest and glorious relief from the dreadful strain or suspense in which I had placed myself since leaving the barn, I recklessly pushed along the open road. Up to that point I could have retreated and saved myself, but now that I had gotten outside of the lines, no explanation would answer, if I were captured.

I was so fully satisfied that I was outside the Rebel lines and became so exhilarated with the feeling that came over me upon the thought that the next soldier I should meet would be our own boys in blue, that I started up the hill at a brisk dog-trot, feeling almost as fresh as when starting out in the morning.