Oh! what a thrilling moment was that! Our hearts throbbed thick and fast with emotions we dared not manifest to those who were loafing indifferently around. In a minute, which seemed an hour, Andrews came back, opened the door, and said, very quietly and carelessly, "Let us go, now, boys." Just as quietly and carelessly we arose and followed him. The passengers who were lazily waiting for the train to move on and carry them to their destination, saw nothing in the transaction to excite their suspicions. Leisurely we moved forward—reached the head of the train—then Andrews, Brown our engineer, and Knight, who also could run an engine, leaped on the locomotive; Alfred Wilson took the top of the cars as brakesman, and the remainder of us clambered into the foremost baggage car, which, with two others, had been previously uncoupled from the hinder part of the train. For one moment of most intense suspense all was still—then a pull—a jar—a clang—and we were flying away on our perilous journey.
There are times in the life of man when whole years of intensest enjoyment seem condensed into a single moment. It was so with me then. I could comprehend the emotion of Columbus, when he first beheld through the dim dawn of morning, the new found, but long dreamed-of shores of America, or the less innocent, but no less vivid joy of Cortez, when he first planted the cross of Spain over the golden halls of Montezuma. My breast throbbed full with emotions of delight and gladness, that words labor in vain to express. A sense of ethereal lightness ran through all my veins, and I seemed to be ascending higher—higher—into realms of inexpressible bliss, with each pulsation of the engine. It was a moment of triumphant joy that will never return again. Not a dream of failure now shadowed my rapture. All had told us that the greatest difficulty was to reach and take possession of the engine, and after that, success was certain. It would have been, but for unforeseen contingencies.
Away we scoured, passing field, and village, and woodland. At each leap of the engine our hearts rose higher, and we talked merrily of the welcome that would greet us when we dashed into Huntsville a few hours later—our enterprise done, and the brightest laurels of the guerilla Morgan far eclipsed!
But the telegraph ran by our side, and was able, by the flashing of a single lightning message ahead, to arrest our progress and dissipate all our fondest hopes. There was no telegraphic station where we took the train, but we knew not how soon our enemies might reach one, or whether they might not have a portable battery at command. To obviate all danger on this point, we stopped, after running some four miles, to cut the wire.
John Scott, an active young man, climbed the pole, and with his hand knocked off the insulated box at the top, and swung down on the wire. Fortunately, there was a small saw on the engine, with which the wire was soon severed. While this was being done, another party took up a rail, and put it into the car to carry off with us. This did not long check our pursuers, but we had the satisfaction of learning that it threw them down an embankment, as will be narrated more fully in a Confederate account inserted hereafter.
When the engine first stopped, Andrews jumped off, clasped our hands in ecstasy, congratulating us that our difficulties were now all over; that we had the enemy at such a disadvantage that he could not harm us, and exhibited every sign of joy. Said he, "Only one more train to pass, and then we will put our engine to full speed, burn the bridges after us, dash through Chattanooga, and on to Mitchel at Huntsville." The programme would have been filled if we had met only one train.
We were ahead of time, and in order to meet the down train just on time, we were obliged to stop on the track awhile. These were tedious moments while we waited, but soon we moved on very slowly again. At the next station, Andrews borrowed a schedule from the tank-tender, telling him that he was running an express powder-train through to Beauregard. He gave the schedule, saying that he would send his shirt to Beauregard if he wanted it. When asked afterwards if he did not suspect anything, he said he would as soon have thought of suspecting Jeff Davis, as one who talked with so much assurance as Andrews did!
On we went till we reached the station where we were to pass what we believed to be the last train. Here the switch was not properly adjusted, and Andrews entered the station-house, without asking leave of anybody, took down the keys, and adjusted the switch. This raised some disturbance on the part of those around the station, but it was quieted by telling them the same powder story. After waiting a short time, the down train arrived, and we passed it without difficulty. But we observed on it what we did not like—a red flag, indicating that another train was behind.