We embarked just as night was closing in, a negro taking the paddle.
The entire inhabitants followed us to the shore and knelt in prayer for our success; no cheers were given, but with hats, aprons and bandannas, they waved their farewells.
They remained until they saw us safely landed on the Georgia
shore, and we felt that we had parted with dear friends.
Our boatman secreted his boat and guided us to the turnpike.
We travelled without interruption for about two hours. The moon was very bright, and all was quiet save the sound of our own footsteps.
We had just crossed a bridge when we heard horsemen approaching, so dropped by the roadside, under the shadow of a tree.
We did not dare breathe as the five rebel cavalrymen rode past.
Renewing our journey, we soon saw a fire by the roadside, and creeping up to it saw a rebel picket on duty, his three comrades sleeping by the fire.
Thinking it dangerous to go on, we turned up a lane and found a negro, who secreted us. From him we learned that the roads were all picketed, and that the mounted patrols were constantly riding up and down.
Danger was on every hand, but we still had faith.
We remained with the negro through the day, and at night started again; we could not travel in the road, as the pickets were very thick, but made our way slowly through the woods.
Arriving at a plantation, we found the negroes much excited.
One of the girls started for the mansion, saying she was going to tell master.
We caught her and told her she must take care of us, but she would not talk, and turned back to the house, where all the colored people were gathered.
We followed and walked in. I was the spokesman and told our story.
They asked if we came through the yard.
We said we did; they could not