CHAPTER XXV
I Narrowly Escape Capture.
Before parting with Thorn at Waxahachie, he told me if ever I happened to be in the upper part of Grimes County, to hunt for a man by the name of Camp, who was an old California friend of his father, having gone there with him in 1848. “You only need to tell him who you are, that you are associated with me in this trouble and he will do all he can for you.” I had nearly forgotten Thorn’s mentioning this, when I rode up to a house late in the evening, that seemed to me perhaps a stage stand. I decided to stop and stay all night there, calling at the gate. An old gentleman came out, to whom I told my business, and he told me, “Certainly you can stay; I am keeping a public house;” furthermore saying, “You walk right in, take a seat on the porch, supper will be ready directly; I will take your horse down to the barn and feed him.” His barn was some three hundred yards down the lane and across the road. I walked in, took a seat on the porch and very soon was called in to supper. I found at the table his wife and daughter and a gentleman traveler, who, in conversation with the ladies, stated that he had passed two companies of troops from Hempstead, coming on, and saying that they were nearly due there. I made out a hasty supper, immediately went down to the barn and told Mr. Camp I must have my horse right quick; told him who I was, by way of explanation why it was urgent for me to get my horse at once. He, of course, was surprised, and told me anything under the sun he could do for me, not to hesitate to demand it; said that he would go to the house and talk with this man and ascertain whether these troops were infantry or cavalry; furthermore, if they were infantry they were on their way to Centerville, where they had been expected for some time, to garrison that town. He says, “If they are infantry, they are evidently not after you and don’t know you are here; then you have got to stay all night with me and rest; you will be perfectly safe. I will put you in a room where there will be no danger to my family, in case anything should happen. I have a good shotgun that I will know how to use in your defense.”
I told Mr. Camp that I had promised my wife on parting with her, that I wouldn’t recognize the best friend I met anywhere, let no one know who I was and made him promise not to tell this man nor his family. He soon came back to the barn, while I was watching the road that these troops were on, and reported they were infantry, on their way to Centerville and made me leave my horse and go back to the house with him. These troops camped within about a quarter of a mile, at the mouth of his lane, and came to his house for milk, butter and chickens, while I was in bed asleep.
He gave me an early breakfast next morning and I started on with this gentleman, who Camp assured me was a particular friend of Tom Thorn’s and would fight for me, if he knew who I was. I told him that I did not intend to make myself known to him. We rode on together for about six miles, when we struck a creek, out of its banks. He suggested to me that he knew a foot log not far above there, where we could cross with our saddles and riggings; he would drive in his mare and she would cross and my horse would follow her, which he did. As soon as his mare got on the other side, she went flying up the road, with my horse following. He said he was satisfied that some friend of his would stop her somewhere on the road and we would hurry on afoot and try to get her, also my horse, and I had nothing to do but accept the situation. I spent nearly two anxious hours, watching the road in the direction in which the troops were coming, when he finally came up, leading my horse. We then saddled up and proceeded on our way and upon reaching the forks of the road, one leading to Centerville, the other to Leona, we parted; I taking the Leona road, which was called the old San Antonio road to Shreveport. I continued on this road, day and night, until I reached Marshall, where I found an old prison friend by the name of Fisher, who lived about a mile from the town and he insisted on my going out to his house to remain until I could take boat at Shreveport for New Orleans.
I spent several days with him, going up town, making my headquarters at the office of Ochiltree & Shaw. I was acquainted with Judge Ochiltree, whose son, Bill, was a public auctioneer. I turned him over my horse and saddle to sell at auction. While he was riding around the streets, crying the horse for sale to the highest bidder, he stopped in front of the office, called me to the door, said he was offered one hundred forty-eight and one-half dollars and that he had met a Federal lieutenant, who was stuck on the horse and he was going to make him pay two hundred dollars for him before he quit. I told him not to take another bid from him, as I did not want any Federal to ride that horse, so he had to sell him at one hundred forty-eight and one-half dollars.
I was now ready to move and, on investigation, found that two boats would leave Shreveport for New Orleans on Wednesday evening and on that day I went down to Shreveport to take passage on one of these boats. On arrival at Shreveport the stewards of these boats came aboard of the train and announced that the boats had failed to receive sufficient cotton to justify starting on the trip and had postponed sailing until the next Friday and if there were any passengers aboard, for New Orleans, they could go aboard of the boats at once and save hotel bills for several days, which I decided to do.
After registering on the “Bart-Able,” which was the finest boat on the river, I took a seat on the guards, the front of the passenger deck, and awaited for what would next turn up. Very soon a party of four men came aboard, whom I took to be gamblers. I was soon recognized by one of the party, who proved to be Ike Hutchison, who started out in the army with us, but was a professional gambler, a class of people I never had much use for. During the short time he was with us in our company, I treated him somewhat indifferently, which might have resulted seriously at this time. As soon as recognized by him, he came forward, grasped my hand, was very glad to see me and started to introduce me to his companions, when I drew him near me and whispered in his ear, “Jones—” He caught on, and introduced me to his companions as “Mr. Jones.” We then entered into a general conversation, took a drink together at the bar, when we both made it convenient to draw away from the crowd, out of hearing, when he asked, “What’s the matter, Henry?” I told him of my troubles, that I had the whole Federal Army hunting me to take my life, and that I was going down to New Orleans to try to get some sailboat for Mexico. He seemed surprised at my statement and told me that he was in the Government Secret Service, drew back his coat and showed me his badge, but said earnestly that I need not be apprehensive on that account; that he wouldn’t betray me. I told him, “Ike, my life is in your hands and I depend on your promise, but if you do betray me, some of my friends will get you.” He next told me that Lieutenant Black, an ex-member of our regiment, was at the Southwestern Printing Office, a commercial editor of the paper, and that I ought to go up and see him. He said he knew Black would be glad to see me. With this information I parted with him and went up and found my friend Black who, of course, was greatly surprised at my statement of my condition. When I expressed my fears about Hutchison betraying me, he said he did not believe that Ike would do that, but, studying a few moments, he said, “Now, if Ike does betray you and you are arrested, bring them up here; I have more influence than Ike. While I would not do such a thing for any other purpose, and would rather have my right hand cut off, but to save your life, I am willing to swear that Hutchison is mistaken and that you are ‘Mr. Jones.’ This will give us time enough to get a couple of good horses, which we will mount and go off together.”
Considering this proposition, realizing the enormity of the step he was about to take to save my life, from a lucrative and valuable position, commanding the esteem and confidence of the entire business community at Shreveport, to join me in becoming an outlaw, I consider he was one of the grandest and noblest characters that I have ever known and, at this writing, I regret to have to report that he has long since passed over the river, having died in Houston in the late seventies, a victim of consumption, and I was deprived of the pleasure of ever seeing him afterwards.
At the supper table that night I found only a little group of passengers aboard; two young ladies, one about twelve and the other about eighteen years old, a gentleman, whom I took to be their brother, wearing a mustache like my own, just about my age and size, and the captain of the boat, who sat between us, at the head of the table.
From their conversation I learned that these young ladies’ mother was aboard and was sick. After supper I went forward, took a seat on the guards and had a smoke.
The next morning I found only the two young ladies at the table for breakfast. Having planned to try to get access to the ladies’ end of the cabin during the trip, thereby avoiding the men aboard, I decided to form the acquaintance of these two young ladies and their brother and for this purpose entered into conversation with them, inquiring about the condition of their mother. While engaged in conversation, eating breakfast and sitting with my back to the front part of the cabin, I heard stateroom doors slamming behind me and, in looking around to ascertain the cause, found a policeman opening every door and looking in under the berths. Looking still further around I found six more policemen in the front end of the cabin, standing talking. This first man mentioned, continued his search in the staterooms, one after the other, until he passed us about two doors, then looked around and stared at me. I asked him, “Do you wish anything, sir?” He says, “Yes, sir; I am looking for a man about your size and appearance.” “Well, take a seat, sir!” I replied, “I will talk with you as soon as I finish breakfast.” He did not take a seat, but went back forward and joined the other policemen.
On the spur of the moment, I, of course, concluded that they were after me and, having resolved never to surrender, I started to run into my stateroom close by, get out my two pistols and start to shooting, but on a further reflection, was puzzled to know if they were after me. I could not understand why civil officers should be sent after me in place of soldiers, of which there were a good many in Shreveport. Then, I remembered the young man at the table the night before, and thought that they perhaps were after him and if through a mistake I should kill some of these civil officers, who no doubt had families and may have been Confederate soldiers, I would feel badly. I reconsidered by resolution and went forward to talk out of it, if they were after me, and with the assistance of my friend, Black, I believed I would have no trouble in doing so.
I walked up to this officer, who had spoken to me and said, “Now, I am ready to talk to you, sir.” He answered, “I beg your pardon; you are not the man we are after, but he is aboard here and we have just learned where he can be found.” I said: “All right, I am going up to the Southwestern Printing Office to see a friend and, if you do decide that I am the man you are hunting, you will find me at that place for the next hour.”
I then went up and spent an hour with my friend Black. When returning to the boat I met the police officer on the stairs, coming down, and he said to me, “We have found our man; he was in that woman’s stateroom, under her berth.” I asked him why he was arrested. He said he did not know, only there was a requisition from the Governor of Georgia for him. It seems the sheriff’s office had been abolished by the military, the sheriff removed from office as an impediment to reconstruction, and this was the reason this business was turned over to the city police department.
When I reached the cabin guards, I found the young ladies crying and asked them what was the matter. They told me that Colonel So-and-So, an old acquaintance of theirs, had just been arrested, but they did not know for what cause. It seems that these ladies and their mother lived in Louisiana, not far from New Orleans, and had been on a visit to Henderson, Texas, and were just returning home. It is hardly necessary to say that I kept shy of these folks the balance of the trip.
The next day I met up with an old gentleman by the name of Wilkerson from Columbia County, Georgia, who had been to Tyler, Texas, for the purpose of getting his son, who had been acting deputy sheriff, and had got in some trouble. I found the old gentleman a true Southern man, expressing his unreserved sympathy for the fallen South and denouncing in bitter terms the crime of reconstruction, as carried on. Needing some one to talk to and confide in, I had no hesitancy in making a confidant of him, which immediately enlisted his sympathy and kind interest and, without hesitation, he extended me an urgent invitation to go with him and make his house my home, saying that the armies had never touched his section of the State; they had got his negroes, but he had plenty of everything left and as long as he had a morsel left he would divide it with me. He further said whenever it was safe to send for my family, to do so, and we could stay at his home where we would be most welcome by all of his own family, besides himself, his wife, daughter and two sons, until I got out of my trouble.
Before reaching Marshall I had decided not to go to Mexico and place myself out of mail communication with my wife, but to go to Memphis, Tennessee, to see General Forrest, with whom I was well acquainted, having served under him in the early part of his career. I wanted to ask him to secure some kind of business for me, then to smuggle my family there and remain until the military were withdrawn.
On a further consideration of Mr. Wilkerson’s generous offer, especially the feature of being isolated away from any town and public travel, I decided I had better accept, which I had no hesitancy in doing and on our arrival at New Orleans, we took a boat for Mobile, thence by rail to Atlanta and his station in Columbia County, somewhere between Atlanta and Augusta.
My reception at the Wilkerson home by the rest of his family, especially his wife and daughter, after learning of my troubles, was most cordial and unreserved and certainly they tried to make me feel at home and forget my trouble during my stay of six weeks. It was here that I received my first letter from home. After six weeks, doing nothing, having nothing to occupy my mind, I decided that I ought to do something more than kill valuable time and try and get into business somewhere, where I might make a new start in life. For this purpose I requested Mr. Wilkerson to give me a letter of introduction to his commission merchant in Augusta, Georgia, where I must try and get into business. The whole family tried to persuade me to not take such a great risk. I, nevertheless, parted with them with expressions of my high appreciation of their kind interest in my behalf and proceeded to Augusta, armed with Mr. Wilkerson’s letter of introduction to the commission merchant, whose name I have forgotten.
On arrival at Augusta I put up at the best hotel and, I forgot to mention, having assumed the name of James E. Smith while at Mr. Wilkerson’s, I registered under this name. Having to pay five dollars per day for board and room, I decided that I must get a cheaper place, some good boarding house if possible. Presenting my letter of introduction to Mr. Wilkerson’s commission merchant, they stated they were not making a living for themselves, which was the condition of most of the business houses in Augusta, as some of the rich people in the country were sending in and drawing rations. These gentlemen then referred me to the only good boarding house they knew of which was reasonable in their rates. It was kept by Mrs. Oakman on Green Street, where I called and was informed by the lady that she could board me, but had only one place for me to sleep and that was in a room with two double beds in it, one of which had only one man sleeping in it, a printer and ex-Confederate soldier from Macon; if I was willing to sleep with him, she could take me and to which I agreed.
At the supper table that night I was shown a seat by a one-legged Federal captain, who was the Provost-Marshal of the place. When I entered my room that night I was introduced by my bedfellow to a Mr. Rice of Syracuse, New York, and a telegraph official, whose name I have forgotten, both occupying the other bed.
I found that Mr. Rice had been sent there by Henry A. Wilson of Massachusetts, the ex-Vice President of the United States, and Kelley of Pennsylvania, who were touring the South inciting the negroes to riot and murder of the whites, which will be remembered by the Mobile riot, which surpassed perhaps all the other places they visited.
Rice had instructions to buy out the Augusta Chronicle and Constitution, perhaps the most influential Democratic paper in Georgia and run it in the interest of the Radical Party, the object being to create a strong sentiment among the negroes and stimulate their hatred toward their old masters and the white race generally, and also to keep the scalawag white element of the country well in line with their fanatical scheme of making a finish of the South.
While stopping here I claimed to be an ex-Confederate soldier from Tennessee, seeking employment. I had frequent discussions with Rice about the causes of the war and especially its cruel conduct by the Lincoln Government, which he approved unhesitatingly, saying that we deserved no better and he had come down here for the purpose of getting a slice of what was left. He said that he expected to make a cool hundred thousand and go back home and live on it for the balance of his days, in peace and plenty. On one occasion in our discussions, he seemed to get mad and said if he had his way about it, he would hang the last d—— one of us and commence by hanging Jeff Davis. He had hardly finished the sentence when I had a chair over his head and if it had not been caught by the telegraph official, I would likely have knocked him senseless.
On another occasion, when he was organizing his publishing force, he offered me the position of mailing clerk at a salary of $75.00 per month, which I turned down contemptuously, telling him that whenever I got ready to go to the dogs, I would affiliate with his sort. He said he thought he ought to have one good Rebel in his office. Now, I do not recall whether he succeeded in buying out the Chronicle and Constitution, or brought on new material for his paper.
After spending a few days in Augusta, I found that one of my old commanders, General Lafayette McLaws, was then acting clerk of the Superior Court, with his office at the court house. I scouted for General McLaws from Savannah, Georgia, to Bentonville, North Carolina, and immediately called upon him. I found him wearing his old Confederate gray, with buttons and trimmings shorn off, and in conversation, referred to his love of the old uniform, still preferring it, but he said it was not a matter of choice, but a matter of necessity. He had a large dependent family and his fee, or salary, hardly furnished him sufficient means for a decent support; besides, he expected to be ousted most any day, as the Radical sheriff, whose name I have forgotten, and Foster Blodgett, the mayor of the city, a renegade ex-Confederate major of artillery, would no doubt, succeed in their efforts to oust him. It is hardly necessary to say that during my stay here of several months, I made him daily visits and had a most pleasant, but sad, intercourse with him. He seemed to be at a loss as to his future; said he was educated a soldier, which he had always been and never tried to make a living as a civilian, in fact, didn’t know anything else. He had an urgent invitation from General Pope, he said, who was in command of Georgia, with headquarters at Atlanta, and who was an old classmate of his at West Point, to make him a visit, but was almost afraid to accept, fearing unjust criticism by leading men of the State of Georgia, who would suspect that the object of this visit was to get office and join the Radical band. This he never expected to do, though the State of Georgia had treated him badly and especially his rich acquaintances, at one time friends, and he seemed to feel he was an outcast with no prospect of ever re-entering the army, therefore, not knowing what to do.
He declined the visit to General Pope, with due and proper thanks, but, after a few years, during General Grant’s administration, was appointed marshal of the Southern District of Georgia and subsequently, by some other administration, postmaster of the city of Savannah, Georgia, in which position, he died. I had several nice letters from him while postmaster at Savannah; one just before his death.
I never cultivated or had much to say to our one-legged captain, the Provost-Marshal of the place, and in a few days, induced Mrs. Oakman to give me a seat at another table, thereby keeping my distance. No one at Augusta, Georgia, ever knew my secret but General McLaws, nor ever suspected anything wrong.
After spending nearly two months in Augusta, with no prospect of any business of any character, and having received notice from my wife that it was thought that they had got on my track, I concluded best to leave there for Lebanon, Tennessee, where I formed some pleasant acquaintances during the war, notably Captain James Britton, commanding a company from that town, called the Cedar Snags, which formed a part of the Fourth Tennessee Regiment. Captain Britton advised me to stay there until it became too dangerous, as quite a number of people knew me and I had to retain my own name in order to keep down discussion of my case among these people that knew me, thereby making it too public if I had assumed another name.
At Lebanon I found the family of General Anderson, whose son, Dewitt, became an intimate friend of mine, while in the army. He insisted on my spending a couple of weeks at his father’s ranch, about five miles out on the Nashville pike, which I decided to do. In the meantime, I was introduced by Captain Britton to Judge Green, the Dean of the great Law School at Lebanon, also to ex-Governor Campbell, and the Motley brothers, bankers, over whose bank I roomed with Captain Britton and boarded at Mr. Toliver’s, his brother-in-law. The above mentioned gentlemen, except Mr. Toliver and General Anderson, were influential, strong Union men during the war, but on account of the fanatical reconstruction policy, had just turned Rebels. I confided my trouble to ex-Governor Campbell and Judge Green and was assured by Governor Campbell that if I ever had the misfortune to be captured and my life was spared before my case could reach Washington, he would personally proceed to Washington, being an intimate friend of President Johnson’s, and intercede to have my life spared.
I finally went down to the Anderson ranch to fish and hunt squirrels, in company with Dewitt, and found the old gentleman in charge, he preferring the ranch to his home in Lebanon. Returning from a hunt one day, alone, I found a horse at the gate and was met by Dewitt before reaching the gate, anxious to explain the object of the visitor’s presence and especially his character.
Dewitt stated that he was a captain, whose name I have forgotten, who commanded a company in Stokes’ Regiment, a notorious renegade; Captain Blackburn, commanding another company, was frequently on scouts with this gentleman and his company. During the war a Lieutenant Davis of the Terry Rangers, with eight of his men, were surrounded in a house by Captain Blackburn, with his company and this man’s company. They demanded Davis’s surrender, which Davis refused and kept them from the house all night, until their ammunition, gave out. Davis was badly wounded, in the nature of a broken ankle, unable to stand up, when he agreed to surrender, Blackburn promising that their lives should be spared and they should retain their horses, provided they would leave Tennessee at once, which Davis agreed to do and advised his men to move out and turn over their arms. After being disarmed, Blackburn had them led out into the woods and shot down in cold blood; he, himself, dragging Davis out to the gate post, cursing him and emptying the contents of his pistol into his head. Now this man, the guest of General Anderson, was present with his company, and Dewitt was anxious to apprise me of his great friendship to his father, during the war. When the Federals entered Lebanon the first time, General Anderson had some very fine horses and about eight thousand dollars in gold, with which he fled to the mountains near Middleton and made this man’s house his home, being old friends and acquaintances. While staying there a short time, this man came to him one day and told him that he felt that he could not stay at home longer, that he was a Union man in principle and, on account of it, was ostracised by some of the neighboring families and said he had decided to go and join Stokes’ cavalry, but his joining the Federal Army should make no difference with General Anderson, that he wanted him to continue making his house his home, assuring him that he would be as safe, although he had joined the Federal Army, to stay there, as though he had joined the Confederate Army. Knowing the man as he did, General Anderson had no hesitancy in accepting his generous offer, but remained there for several months with his fine horses and eight thousand dollars in gold, and this man never betrayed him. This was the man, then, that was a visitor at General Anderson’s, with his horse at the gate, of whose character Dewitt was anxious to have me acquainted, satisfied if he learned that I belonged to the Texas Rangers, he would refer to the Davis murder.
I entered the house and was introduced to him by General Anderson as Mr. Graber, formerly of the Texas Rangers. At the table this gentleman brought up the case of Lieutenant Davis and his man, and denounced it as a brutal murder, saying that he did his best to keep Blackburn from executing them, begged and plead for their lives, but to no purpose; he was second in command and could do nothing.
It seems strange that I should have met with a man who was present at the murder of Davis and his companions, which happened when I was a prisoner at Fort Delaware. Had any of Blackburn’s men been caught by any members of our command, they would certainly have been given a like treatment.
After spending a week with General Anderson and his son, Dewitt, at their ranch, I returned to town and had a conference with my several friends, deciding it would be prudent to leave there and go to Hickman, Kentucky, where Captain Britton had a cousin, a prominent attorney of the place, by the name of James Lauderdale, to whom he gave me a letter of introduction and told me not to hesitate to make a confidant of him and he would, no doubt, have influence to get me into some kind of business. Hickman, and a section of country tributary, were considered somewhat prosperous, at that time, and Hickman was doing a fair business. Being right on the Mississippi River it was a shipping point for considerable territory.
On my arrival, I presented my letter of introduction, in the name of J. D. Roberts. He received me very kindly and made me make his house my home until I could get into business. Here I found only his wife and his old father, who were exceedingly kind to me. He soon told me of a young lawyer, who used to be a member of our regiment, by the name of Theo O. Goalder, who resided there and practiced law. I immediately called on him at his office and asked him to assist Major Lauderdale to get me into some kind of business position. He said he had a young friend by the name of John Murphy, who was clerking for a Mr. Bailey in a grocery store. He said that Murphy was getting $50.00 per month and didn’t need the position, as he was well fixed, and was satisfied that he could induce him to resign in my favor and he could, no doubt, make it satisfactory with Mr. Bailey. We called upon Mr. Murphy, to whom I was introduced as Mr. Roberts, and also to Mr. Bailey, and after stating to him and Mr. Bailey that I had been a Confederate soldier and was out of business, seeking work, said I would very much appreciate the position, which was readily tendered me, through Goalder’s influence. I immediately went to work at this place, on a salary of $50.00 per month, and board, which was furnished me at the Bailey home, and a room in the store.