Thirteen months in the Rebel Army

by William G. Stevenson

This was the deserting soldier I met on the cars as we left Montgomery for Chattanooga. I put him in temporary possession of one of my horses; we united our destinies, and prepared for the future as well as we could.

We reached Chattanooga on June 1st, and I found it, to my chagrin, a military camp, containing 7,500 cavalry, under strict military rule. We were now in a trap, as our pass here ended, and we were near the Federal lines. How to get out of the town was now the problem, and one of the most difficult I had yet met in my study of Rebel topography. We put up at the Crutchfield House, stabled our horses, and sat about in the bar-room, saying nothing to attract attention, but getting all the information possible. I was specially careful not to be recognized. The cavalry company I had commanded on the long retreat from Nashville, was in Chattanooga at this time. Had any one of them seen me, my position would have been doubly critical; as it was, I felt the need of circumspection. It was clear to me that we could not leave Chattanooga in military garb, as we had entered it, for, without a pass, no cavalryman could leave the lines. This settled, a walk along the street, showed me a Jew clothing-store, with suits new and old, military and agricultural. My resolution was formed, and I went to the stable, taking with me a newly fledged cavalry officer, who needed and was able to pay for an elegant cavalry saddle. Being "hard up" for cash, I must sell: and he flush of money and pride, must buy. Thus I was rid of one chief evidence of the military profession. A small portion of the price purchased a plain farmer-like saddle and bridle. An accommodating dealer in clothes next made me look quite like a country farmer of the middle class. My companion was equally successful in transforming himself, and in the dusk of the evening we were passing out to the country as farmers who had been in to see the sights.

We safely reached and passed the outer pickets, and then took to the woods, and struck in toward the Tennessee river, hoping to find a ferry where money, backed, if necessary, by the moral suasion of pistols, would put us across. I was growing desperate, and determined not to be foiled. We made some twelve miles, and then rested in the woods till morning, when selecting the safest hiding-place I could find, I left my companion with the horses and started out on a reconnoissance.

Trudging along a road in the direction of the river, I met a guileless man who gave me some information of the name and locality of a ferryman, who had formerly acted in that capacity, though now no one was allowed to cross. Carefully noting all the facts I could draw out of this man, I strolled on and soon fell in with another, and gained additional light, one item of which was that the old "flat" lay near, and just below, the ferryman's house. Thus enlightened, I walked on and found the house and my breakfast. Being a traveler, I secured without suspicion sandwiches enough to supply my companion with dinner and supper, which he enjoyed as he took care of the horses in the woods. A circuitous route brought me to them, and I was pleased to see the horses making a good meal from the abundant grass. This was an important point, as our lives might yet depend upon their speed and endurance.

I laid before my companion the rather dubious prospect, that the orders were strict that no man should be ferried across the river; the ferryman was faithful to the South; he had been conscientious in his refusal to many applications; no sum would induce him to risk his neck, &c. All this I had heard from his lips, backed with a quantum sufficit of oaths, which for once I was rather willing to hear, having already learned that the man who accompanies his statements with a gratuitous and profuse profanity, is not usually brave to make them good when the trial comes. To his boastful words that "no white-livered traitor to the Southern cause should ever cross that ferry to give information to the Yankees," I fully assented, and advised him, to be doubly on his guard, as the Federals were not far off, not hinting that I wanted to cross. Yet my purpose was formed: we must cross the river that night, and this man must take us over, as there was no other hope of escape. Having laid the plan before my companion, as evening drew on I again sought the cabin of the retired ferryman. My second appearance was explained by the statement that I had got off the road, and wandering in the woods, had come round to the same place. This was literally true, though I must admit it did not give to him an impression of the whole truth. A rigid casuist might question the truthfulness of my statement to the Secession ferryman; but a man fleeing for his life, and hunted by a relentless enemy, has not much time to settle questions in casuistry.

After taking supper with the ferryman, we walked out smoking and chatting. By degrees I succeeded in taking him down near the ferry, and there sat down on the bank to try the effect upon his avaricious heart of the sight of some gold which I had purchased at Montgomery. His eyes glistened as he examined an eagle with unwonted eagerness, while we talked of the uncertain value of paper-money, and the probable future value of Confederate scrip.

As the time drew near when my companion, according to agreement, was to ride boldly to the river, I stepped down to take a look at his unused flat. He, of course, walked with me. While standing with my foot upon the end of his boat, I heard the tramp of the horses, and said to him, in a quiet tone—"Here is an eagle; you must take me and my companion over." He remonstrated, and could not risk his life for that, &c. Another ten dollars was demanded and paid, the horses were in the flat, and in two minutes we were off for—home.

During that dark and uncertain voyage, I had time not only to coax into quietness my restive horse, but also to conclude that it would never do to dismiss our Charon on the other bank, as half an hour might put on our track a squad of cavalry, who, in our ignorance of the roads and country, would soon return us to Rebeldom and a rope. A man who would take twenty dollars for twenty minutes' work, after swearing that his conscience would not allow him to disobey the authorities, was not to be trusted out of your sight. Standing near my companion, I whispered—"This man must pilot us to some point you will know." I should have stated that this deserting soldier was within sixty miles of his home, and had some knowledge of the localities not far north from our present position. With this purpose, I arranged, when we touched the bank, to be in the rear of the ferryman, and followed him as he stepped off the boat, to take breath before a return pull. "Now, my good fellow," said I, "you have done us one good turn for pay, you must do another for friendship. We are strangers here, and you must take us to the foot of Waldon's Ridge, and then we will release you." To this demand he demurred most vigorously; but my determined position between him and the boat, gentle words, and an eloquent exhibition of my six-shooter, the sheen of which the moonlight enabled him to perceive, soon ended the parley, and onward he moved. We kept him in the road slightly ahead of us, with our horses on his two flanks, and chatted as sociably as the circumstances would permit. I am not careful to justify this constrained service exacted of the ferryman, further than to say, that I was now visiting upon the head, or rather the legs, of a real Secessionist, for an hour or two, just what for many months they had inflicted upon me. For six long miles we guarded our prisoner-pilot, and, reaching the foot of the mountain, the summit of which would reveal to my friend localities which he could recognize, and from which he could tell our bearings and distances, we called a halt. After apologizing for our rudeness on the plea of self-preservation, and thanking him for his enforced service, we bade him good-night, not doubting that he would reach the river in time to ferry himself over before daylight, and console his frightened wife by the sight of the golden bribe.

We were now, at eleven o'clock at night, under the shadow of a dark mountain, and with no knowledge of the course we were to take, other than the general purpose of pressing northward.

After making some miles of headway and rising several hundred feet, we struck off at a right angle from the road, worked our way for a mile among the rocks, and tying our horses, lay down under an overhanging cliff and tried to sleep. But I wooed Somnus in vain. My brain and heart were too full. On the verge of a Canaan, for which I had looked and struggled daring thirteen wearisome months, would I now reach it in peace, or must other perils be encountered, and I perhaps thrust back into a dungeon to meet a deserter's fate? The future was still uncertain, and my mind turned backward, recalling childhood's joys and a mother's undying love. Oh, how I longed for one gentle caress from her soft hand to soothe me into sleep, and how vividly came back to my memory words committed long ago,—words which, with slight change, tenderly expressed the longing of my spirit that night. I sank into forgetfulness, repeating over and over those sweet strains: