"We could fire, and re-treet."
"Yes; but they would probably surround us before we knew it."
"Well—dhan, I suppose we must be tak-en pree-so-neer."
"And would you like that, Charley?"
"I sup-pose if we cannot help it—what you do?" and he shrugged his shoulders.
"Are you willing to run the risk?"
"Oui—if you say so!"
But believing there might be an easier way of 'breaking and entering,' besides attacking the formidable door before us, I suggested a reconnoitre of the rear, where we found an opening defended only by a few boards nailed crosswise. These were soon ripped off, and, leaving Charley to guard against any surprise from without, I entered, taking his canteen, and proceeded to explore. There was corn in soak, and plenty of empty casks; but no whiskey. At length I lit upon a stone jug nearly full, from which came the smell of whiskey, and, giving Charley to understand I had found the prize, I proceeded to fill both the canteens, after having accomplished which, I thought it would be nothing out of the way to save what I had secured as much as possible, and therefore proceeded to fortify myself with a pull at the jug; but the first mouthful convinced me that the prize I had secured was not whiskey, but water (no doubt, the jug had contained whiskey once, as was evident from the smell). Vexed at my disappointment, I proceeded to examine further, but with no success, and I finally emerged empty-handed as I had entered. Charley was as much disappointed as I, but a shrug and muttered 'sacre' was all the evidence he gave of it. We then broke into the mill; but found nothing there except corn and some empty kegs. We went to a house or barn in the rear, filled with corn, but were equally unsuccessful. There was a house about a mile distant from the mill, and after a consultation, in which it was taken for granted that it must belong to the owner of the distillery, we started for it. Within a quarter of a mile of the house was a grove of young pines, and there we halted and arranged that I should go forward alone, and in case of danger Charley could come up at the proper, time, when I would ask him where he left the rest of the men, and he was to reply—"Waiting in the grove." Fixing on my bayonet, and looking to see if the cap of my piece was all right, I moved for the house, which I reached without molestation or discovery, except by a sentinel dog (not a fierce one), who retreated in good order at my approach. I entered the first door I came to, and proceeded through a bed room into which it opened, to the kitchen or general room of the house. My heavy tread announced a stranger, I suppose, for half a dozen females and as many children came in at once, and seemed transfixed and terrified at the apparition they beheld. Giving assurance that I intended no harm to any of them, I inquired if the master of the house was at home, and if so, where he then was? After a little hesitation, they told me he was in the garden, in front. I went out to him, and he returned my salutation without any exhibition of ill-will. I inquired if guerillas were numerous in the neighborhood, which he denied, saying, however, at length, that there had been 'a right smart' of mounted men in the neighborhood a short time previously. At this juncture Charley came up, and I questioned, and received such answer from him as agreed upon. I inquired about the distillery, but the planter disclaimed its ownership, saying that the man who owned it, lived a 'right smart' distance beyond. Had he any whiskey? No, sir; he hadn't a drop—we might search if we pleased—he had nothing in that line but some peach brandy (spirits), which had been burnt in the distillation, but was just as good, and we were welcome to it. Taking him at his word, we poured into our canteens enough of the spirits to warrant our filling them with water, and still leave a strong drink (I didn't have the heart to take all). We then asked if he had anything to eat, as we were hungry, when his wife immediately set before us a good dish of pork, corn bread, and sweet potatoes, which we did ample justice to. The children became more familiar, and some of the youngest actually came up to us, to share in our meal. They were the finest children I had seen in North Carolina. Thanking our host—for we had nothing better to give in return—we retraced our steps in better spirits, and soon rejoined our struggling and straggling comrades, who had been, and were still, wending along on their weary way.
We had in Co. K a young fellow, of small stature, named Tom McNally, who was one of the regimental 'markers.' Tom was full of fun, and had a great love for horseflesh. He accompanied the regiment on every expedition, and it was remarked, that he always managed to have a horse to ride ('confiscated,' of course, from rebels, in a manner peculiar to Tom). At the battle of Kinston, he came in possession of a fine colt; but, during the afternoon, while engaged in exploring the town, the animal was stolen by one of the 51st. Tom went up boldly to the headquarters of the regiment, and demanded the horse; but the colonel of the 51st told him he had no right to the animal, and should not have him.