Booth's leg had been broken by a fracture of the fibula, or small bone of the leg, when he fell on the stage on leaping from the President's box, and by this time had become very painful. He greatly needed the support of a splint, and quiet as well. He was in a position, however, to get neither; for although he had reached the house of a co-conspirator, who was a country doctor, and well disposed to render him all the aid he could, he appears to have made a very bungling out, dressing the broken limb with some pasteboard and a bandage that gave but a very imperfect support. As to the rest he required, that was impossible, for although Mudd placed him in an upstairs room and kept him until the afternoon, they were admonished by seeing a squad of soldiers under Lieutenant Dana passing down past Mudd's place, which was a quarter of a mile off the road to Bryantown, that there was no rest for the wicked; and as quickly as it could be done after the soldiers passed, Mudd got rid of his dangerous charge by sending them by an unfrequented route to the house of his friend and neighbor, Samuel Cox, about six miles nearer to the Potomac. Booth was on no new ground, neither amongst strangers either to his person or to his wicked purpose. He had spent a good deal of his time during the previous fall in that part of Maryland, preparing a way for his escape after accomplishing his purpose. His way had seemed clear to him in advance; his route had been selected; his friendly acquaintanceships secured. But, alas! the broken leg. Under the guise of looking at the country with a desire to purchase lands, he had perfected all his arrangements, and had expected to pass swiftly over his route, accompanied by Atzerodt (whose home was in this neighborhood, and who knew all about the contraband trade with the rebel capital, the underground mail route between Richmond and Washington, and all of the people engaged in these operations, and also the place and facilities for crossing the Potomac), and also by Payne and Herold. He had purposed to be safe on the soil of the Old Dominion e'er this time. Instead of realizing all this, he found himself a cripple, scarcely able to travel, and closely pursued by those whom he knew to be on his trail, with no other companion than his devoted but inefficient friend, Herold; and thus he was compelled to realize that
"The best laid schemes o' mice and men
Gang aft aglee;
And lea' us nought but grief and pain
For promised joy."
Mudd had done all he could to relieve him, but dare not try to conceal and keep him. He could only forward him to the next stage of his journey and to a safe place of concealment. This he faithfully did. Cox lived near Port Tobacco, the home of Atzerodt; and as his was too public a place to afford safety to the fugitives, he turned them over to his neighbor, Thomas Jones, a contraband trader between Maryland and Richmond, who, in the midst of a constant scouring of the country by pursuing parties, kept his charge concealed in the woods near his house, supplying them with food and doing everything he could for their comfort, waiting and watching constantly to find an opportunity to get them across the Potomac. They were hunted so closely that they could hear the neighing of the horses of the troopers, and fearing they might be betrayed by their horses answering the calls, Herold led them into a swamp near where they lay concealed in the pines and shot them.
The river was being continually patroled by gun-boats, and the task of getting his wards across proved both difficult and dangerous to Jones. The proclamation of the Secretary of War, offering one hundred thousand dollars for the capture of Booth, and warning all persons from aiding the fugitives in any way in making their escape, had been published broadcast, yet Jones was true to his trust. Neither the offered rewards nor the warnings of the proclamation had any effect on him; but for a whole week he kept them secreted in the pines on his premises, where Booth lay night and day wrapped in a pair of blankets that had most likely been furnished him by Dr. Mudd. Finally, being furnished by Jones with a boat, they took their own risks and effected a crossing; but they were seen by a colored man, upon whose report General Baker got on their track and finally effected their capture.
There can be no doubt that Booth had selected this as the route for his escape months before, and that all of his visits to this part of Maryland had been made with reference to this plan. Being at length across the Potomac, even though under such unfavorable auspices, Booth no doubt drew a free and exultant breath at having been permitted to set his foot at last on the soil of the Old Dominion. He felt that he was now amongst friends who would aid him in his progress, or help him by concealment, as the case might require; and his friend Jones no doubt breathed with a freedom he had not known for some days at finding himself cut loose from his dangerous charge. Booth was greatly disappointed at the cold reception given him by the people on whom he had counted so much after crossing into Virginia. He had expected to be lionized and honored as the hero of the age; but instead of that he received a comparatively cold reception that stung his vanity like the poison of an asp.
DAVID E. HEROLD.
It is true the people showed no disposition to betray him; but, at the same time, they manifested a disposition to enter into no compromising friendship with him, or in any way to assume any responsibility in his behalf by helping him to escape. How much of this was due to abhorrence of his crime, and how much to a dread of consequences, can only be a matter of conjecture. The fact that they were willing to let him escape, if he could, would throw the preponderance on the latter as the governing motive of their conduct. Sad, indeed, was Booth's condition at this time. More than a week had elapsed since he had perpetrated his great crime and commenced his guilty flight; and now he found himself on foot, so lame as scarcely to be able to walk a step, even with the help of a crutch, and scarcely more than fifty miles from his starting point. His companion in crime, Herold, was now the only human being on whose friendship and fidelity he could certainly rely. A reward of one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars offered for his capture, the brand of Cain upon him, his fractured bone cutting into the flesh at every movement of his limb,—a constant admonition of a frowning Providence,—it is no wonder that the diurnal entries in his book begin to bear evidence of a remorse that can never be appeased. We can but pity his deplorable condition, for he was a fellow-man; but then he was at the same time a monster in crime, directed by hatred of a fellow-man without just cause, and of wickedness that had brought upon him the blood of one of the greatest and best of men, not only of his own age and country, but of all the ages of the world. When we contemplate his crime, our sympathies refuse to go with him, and our sense of justice finds a grateful feeling of relief in the evidence now clearly pointing to the fact that he is a doomed man.
By the aid of his blind follower, Herold, he is able to maintain his concealment, and after a wretched fashion to resume his flight in an old wagon drawn by two miserable horses and driven by a negro. In this state he reaches Port Conway, on the Rappahannock, in King George County, Virginia. Here his driver refuses to take him any further. It is just at this juncture and in this dilemma that they are met by three confederate soldiers, Major Ruggles, Lieutenant Bainbridge, and Captain William Jett, the latter of Moseby's command.
Herold, thinking they were recruiting for the rebel service, was quick to see in them a means of assistance in getting South, and under the protection of the stars and bars, and so revealed their identity, appealing to them for assistance. A little later, Booth, getting out of the wretched conveyance, came forward, and to assure himself of their disposition toward him, accosted them with the interrogatory, "I suppose you have been told who we are?" then, throwing himself back on his crutch, and straightening himself up, with pistol cocked and drawn, he said, "Yes, I am Wilkes Booth, the slayer of Abraham Lincoln, and I am worth just one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars to the man that captures me." His attitude and speech was that of a man at bay, under the power of a desperate purpose never to be taken alive. These three officers of the confederate army (for they were such at this time, not having been paroled), whilst mildly protesting that they did not sanction his acts as an assassin, assured him that they did not want any blood money, and promised to render him all the assistance in their power in making his escape, a promise which they faithfully kept. Major Ruggles dismounted and placed Booth on his horse, when the whole party crossed over the Rappahannock, from Port Conway, in King George, to Port Royal, in Caroline County, Virginia, and after an ineffectual effort to find quarters for Booth in the town, they took him three miles on the road to Bowling Green, the county seat of the latter county, where they succeeded in getting a man by the name of Garrett to take him in, with the understanding that he would do all he could for his comfort and safety. Garrett took Booth and Herold in with a full knowledge of all the facts in the case, and with some manifest reluctance from a knowledge of the danger he would thus incur.