[34]
Corporal Pike, scout and ranger.
Whether we consider the length of time during which he was employed, or the variety and hazardous character of the service in which he was engaged, we think no one of the scouts and spies employed by the commanders of the Union armies has ever passed through a greater number of startling and perilous adventures than Corporal James Pike, of the Fourth Ohio Cavalry. He has published a narrative of his services, which is replete with interest. We cannot follow him in any except the most remarkable of these, for want of space. A native of Leesburg, Ohio, and a printer by profession, he possessed in a large degree that love of adventure which is so often a characteristic of Western men. He gives us no clue to his age; but he must have been not more than five or six and twenty years old, when, in the winter of 1858-9, he had come to the determination, after working at his trade for some time at Jefferson City, to migrate to Kansas, where the border ruffian war was then raging, in search of adventures. Having been turned aside from this intention by the solicitation of a Texan adventurer, he went to Texas; and very soon joined a company of Rangers, and for nearly two years was engaged in warfare with the Comanche's and other of the savage Indian tribes in Northern Texas. After numerous hair-breadth escapes, and terrible suffering in the ill advised expedition against the Comanche Indians, prosecuted under Colonel Johnston, he returned to Waco, Texas, and found the community there, as elsewhere, all alive with excitement in regard to Mr. Lincoln's [35] election. Avowing himself a Union man, he was soon obliged to fly; though not until he had recorded himself as against the iniquitous ordinance of Secession. Great numbers of Union men were murdered at this time in Texas, simply for the avowal of Union sentiments; and Pike, desirous of doing his country some service against the bloodthirsty secessionists, escaped from the State into Arkansas; and when he fell in with rebels, represented himself as the nephew of Albert Pike, a rebel general then in the western part of the Indian Territory. More than once he found himself in situations from whence escape seemed impossible; but his ready wit, before long, enabled him to find some way of evading the picket lines of the enemy: and passing through Memphis and Nashville-meeting his father at the latter place-he made his way to Portsmouth, Ohio, by midsummer of 1861; and soon after enlisted, first in Fremont's bodyguard, and subsequently in the Fourth Ohio Cavalry. After spending two months in acquiring a knowledge of cavalry drill, Corporal Pike and the rest of his company were mustered into the U. S. service at Camp Dennison, on the 20th of November, 1861; and early in the spring moved to Louisville, where they were assigned to General O. M. Mitchel's division, and soon marched toward Bowling Green. General Mitchel was too shrewd a judge of character not to discern quickly Pike's qualifications for the secret service; and before he had been under him a week, he sent him, with some twenty comrades, on a scout toward Green River, Ky. On his return, he found General Mitchel's division before Bowling Green, and with another soldier, crossed the Big Barren river on a raft, with a coil of rope, to facilitate the construction [36] of a pontoon bridge. The army being safely in Bowling Green, Corporal Pike explored the adjacent region, and arrested the guerrillas, who, in the guise of Union soldiers, were plundering, burning, and destroying private and public property. In one of these expeditions, he was told of two of these marauders named Robinson and Keaton, about sixteen miles distant, who were constantly committing depredations. He started alone to arrest them, but before proceeding far met two men, and soon after a third, whom he knew to be guerrillas and secessionists; but whom he addressed as law-abiding citizens, telling them whom he was going to arrest, and insisted upon their coming with him and giving him assistance. They at first endeavored to excuse themselves, but as they were personally hostile to Robinson and Keaton, they finally consented to go with him, and he arrested the culprits, while they guarded and took charge of them. The Union people of the vicinity, not aware of the real character of Robinson and Keaton, and believing that this was a movement of the secessionists, followed in some force to Bowling Green, to demand their release; but by hard riding Pike reached there first, and delivered up, not only the two marauders, but the three guerrillas he had compelled to aid him in capturing them; and when the Union party, who had come on to demand their release, arrived at the provost-marshal's, it was found that there were three more bushwhackers in their ranks, who were also arrested and sent to jail. General Mitchel next sent him to ascertain the location and strength of Morgan's band, then just beginning to make some disturbance in Middle Tennessee. He succeeded in having an interview with Morgan, passing [37] himself off as a Texan ranger; ascertained the strength of his command, and after narrowly escaping capture two or three times, succeeded in reaching the Union lines near Nashville. General Mitchell, who was one of the most active and energetic of commanders, now determined to explore the roads and bridges leading to Shelbyville, preparatory to a movement upon that town, and sent Corporal Pike to perform that service-one of great difficulty and danger, inasmuch as it was remote from the Union lines, and all the roads were picketed by the Texan Rangers and Morgan's battalion. But danger only added new zest to any enterprise, and he undertook it cheerfully. His encounters on this expedition were many and startling, but when meeting the rebels in considerable numbers, he passed himself off as Captain Bonham, of the First Louisiana Cavalry, just escaped from the Union lines; and told his story so plausibly that it met with perfect credence. If there were but one or two, he trusted to his pistols and the speed of his good horse; and on one occasion, meeting at night a part of Morgan's battalion, the audacious fellow professed to be on picket duty, and demanded the countersign; but finding them ignorant of it, compelled them to file past, and when they were nearly across a rickety bridge in the vicinity, he put spurs to his horse and rode in an opposite direction. On the 8th of April, 1862, General Mitchell sent Pike to Decatur, Alabama, to get information as to the state of the country, and destroy the railroad bridge at that point if possible. Some of his adventures on this expedition we-e so characteristic of the shrewdness and [38] audacity of the man that we cannot do better than to give them in his own words.Near to the town of Fayetteville, Lincoln county, Tennessee, night overtook me, and I left the road for a short distance and slept in the woods. This was Saturday night, and Sunday morning I rode into town. The citizens were astonished to see a single man, dressed in full Yankee costume-blue jacket, blue blouse, and blue pants-and armed with the well known Yankee accoutrements, venture among them. They gathered about me in a great crowd, and seemed to regard it as the freak of a madman, but on approaching me at the hotel, they found me entirely rational, cool, and of decent deportment, and they at once changed their minds, and took me for one of their own men in disguise. Seeing it was my best plan to encourage this belief, I ordered my breakfast, went to the stable to see my horse fed, and then returned to my room at the hotel. There were about three hundred men gathered on the sidewalk to ascertain what the strange arrival meant, and to hear the news; and they were watching me with eager interest. I felt that I was playing a delicate game, with my neck in a halter. If they had only known my true character, they would but too gladly have hanged me to the nearest tree. They asked me my name, which I told them; next my regiment, and with a swaggering air, I said: “ The Fourth Ohio Cavalry.” “ What is your colonel's name?” said one. “Colonel John Kennett,” I answered, slowly, and with a dubious look. “ What is your captain's name?” inquired another. [39] “Captain O. P. Robie,” I told him. “ Where is your command?” asked one who appeared to be a man of consequence. “At Shelbyville.” “Well,” he continued, “if your command is there, what are you doing here by yourself?” “ Why, sir,” I responded, “ if you want to know, I came to demand the surrender of this town.” “Well, well,” said the man; “ that is too good. One man to take a town like this,” and they enjoyed the joke hugely. They now began to look exceedingly wise; and I heard the whisper pass from mouth to mouth, that I was one of Morgan's men. This declaration I heard again and again, as I passed through the crowd. Soon after, a gentleman stepped up to me and requested to examine my gun, which I handed to him after removing the cap; but I at the same time drew out my pistol, cocked it, and held it in my hand till my piece was returned to me. After a brief survey of the gun, it was delivered over to me with trembling hand, when I restored the cap and put up my pistol. At this moment I was called to breakfast, and walked into the dining-room and sat down to the table, keeping an eye on every thing at once. I seated myself beside a man of good appearance, who had on a handsome uniform and the three stars of a rebel colonel. Slinging my carbine across my knees, with the hammer up, ready for instant use, I loosed my pistols, in the scabbard on one side, and a vicious bowie knife on the other, after which I began to appease my appetite on the good things before me, watching the colonel closely. He [40] looked at me three different times, and then rising abruptly from the table, darted out into the crowd, and I saw no more of him. A few minutes after, I heard the people on the sidewalk raise a loud laugh at the expense of some one. After eating a meal — the first since I had left camp-I went out into the crowd again, and called for the mayor, saying I wanted him to surrender the town. Again the bystanders raised a laugh, and called for some one to go for the mayor, as he was not present. They then began to joke me about our gunboats, saying the Yankees would never fight unless backed by them. I told them that General Mitchel had dry land gunboats, with steel soles and spring runners, and that he had used them with great effect at Bowling Green. One of the men said: “ If you're a Yankee, show us a Yankee trick, and we will believe you.” “Gentlemen,” said I, “I will do my best to show you one, before I leave this neck of timber.” “ Where are you going?” said one. “ Down the country,” I replied. “ Look here, now,” one of the fellows pursued, “ you may as well own up and tell us where the captain is.” “ What captain?” I asked. “Why Captain Morgan, to be sure.” “ Gentlemen,” said I, slowly, “you have waked up the wrong passenger. I belong to the Fourth Ohio Cavalry ;” and again the laugh rung out at my preposterous assertion. In obedience to directions, my horse was brought out, and it was a favorable time to leave, as they were all in [41] a good humor, and I consequently mounted and took the road to Huntsville at a gallop. Just as I passed the crowd one fellow sung out: “ Hold on there, you haven't shown us that Yankee trick yet.” “ There's plenty of time,” said I, turning in my saddle to watch their movements, “ before I leave this section of the country.” About five miles from Fayetteville is a very noted highland called Wells' Hill, and on the top of it there is a fork in the road, the left going directly south to Huntsville, and the right to Athens and Decatur. On reaching this road, I was in the act of turning into it, when I looked across on still another road, called the Meridian road, and discovered a train of wagons coming slowly up the hill. I watched it till I saw there was no guard near, and then riding around till I met the first wagon, I caused it to be drawn close along against the fence, and there stopped; then the next two to be drawn close alongside, thus making an effectual barricade against any force which was approaching from that direction. Next I seized the wagon master, who was some distance in the rear of the train, and shoved him and the drivers up into the fence corner, making one of them turn the mules loose from the wagons. The loads were covered with corn blades and other forage, so one could not see them, but the drivers told me that the wagons were loaded with bacon. After arranging things to my satisfaction, I produced a bunch of matches, and fired the fodder on the top of each of the wagers, which were of the old-fashioned [42] curved bodies, Conestoga pattern, each of which had on it four thousand pounds of bacon. The guns of the party all happened to be in the wagons, and none of them had any side arms, except the wagon master, who had something under his coat that looked like a pistol; and as he wore a belt, it is very probable he had one; and some of the citizens, I know had, for I saw three or four of them; but I was ready to shoot before they could recover from their surprise, so that it would have been foolhardy for them to resist, as I would certainly have killed the first man who made a motion to draw a weapon. I made no attempt to take their side arms, as I did not want to lose my advantage over them for an instant. There were three good guns burned up in the wagons, one a double barrelled shot gun, and two old muskets. When the flames shot up, several citizens came to the scene of action, but I thrust them into the fence corner, along with the wagon master and teamsters. As soon as the wagons were so far destroyed that they began to fall down, and I saw that it would be impossible to save any thing of the wreck, I made the drivers mount the mules, and the wagon master his horse, and taking them on the road to Fayetteville, I told them that I was going to count one hundred; and that if, by that time, they were not out of sight, I would shoot the last one of them within range. I then began to count; “one,” “two,” “three,” etc., very deliberately, while they put spurs to their steeds, and in a brief time they were beyond my ken, over the hills, toward Fayetteville, to give the inhabitants an account of my Yankee trick. Wheeling my horse I put out once more for Decatur, [43] but at the same time inquiring my way to Athens, as if I intended to go there. As I passed the burning wagons again, I told the citizens standing around, that if they did not leave instanter, I would shoot the last one of them, and they scattered like blackbirds. About ten miles farther down the road, I heard the deep, sonorous tones of a preacher, belaboring a sinful congregation. He was evidently a devout believer in a terrible and endless punishment for the wicked, for he was holding out to his audience the fearful picture of a lost sinner in hell; making a comparison between his condition and that of Dives, who, he asserted, was once in a similar state of sinfulness while on earth, and who eventually brought up in hell, and from whence he expressed a strong desire to visit Abraham in his new abode; adding that the wishes of the unfortunate Dives could not be complied with for some geographical cause --something in the topography of the country — a gulf in the way, I believe. Over this subject he grew eloquent, and had probably got about to his “thirdly,” and the congregation were almost breathless with attention, when it occurred to me that there might be soldiers in the church, and I had better look after them ; otherwise they might give me some trouble. Riding up to the door, I made my horse enter about half way, so that I could see every man in the house. As his feet struck the floor of the church, with a loud, banging sound, the people were astonished to see a soldier, under arms, riding boldly in among them. Turning to the preacher, I inquired if there were any southern soldiers in the house. The clergyman was standing with his hand raised, as he was about to enforce some point he bad made, being the [44] very picture of earnest honesty, looking as if he believed every word that he had said. When he saw me, his hand dropped, and he seemed as badly frightened as if the identical devil he had so vividly described had appeared before him. He was almost overpowered with fright, and supporting himself by the rough pulpit, he glanced at the back door, and then faltered out: “ Not now, I believe, sir.” I saw that there had been rebel soldiers there, and that they had escaped in the direction of his glance; I instantly pulled my horse back, and spurred to the corner of the log church, just in time to see four men disappear in the brush across a field which lay back of the building. They were too far off for me to shoot at, and not desiring to disturb the worship further than the strictest military necessity demanded, I rode on, after desiring the clergyman to pray for the President of the United States. The rebel papers had an account of the affair, but they lied when they stated that I tried to make the preacher take a drink of whiskey; for I hadn't a drop to bless myself with. Pretty soon I met two soldiers riding leisurely along to church. I halted them, demanded their names, regiments, and companies, and informed them that they were prisoners of war; that I was a federal soldier, but that there was no way for me to dispose of them so far from our lines except one; I was sorry it was so-but I must shoot them. They begged I would spare their lives, and pledged their honor that they would go with me in good faith, if I would not kill them. I pretended to be in a deep study for a few moments, and then told them if they would take the oath of allegiance to the [45] United States I would let them go; and to this they agreed eagerly. Holding up my right hand, and removing my cap, they imitated my example, uncovered their heads, raised their hands, and with a solemn look, that would well become a court room, waited for me to administer “ the oath.” I had joked them far enough, however, and not wishing to be guilty of blasphemy by administering an obligation I had no authority to require of them, I told them that I would rely upon their honor, but they must do nothing toward pursuing me, or giving information concerning my whereabouts; and I then told them to “go in peace.” The next man I met was an old citizen, riding a very spirited horse, and dressed in a suit of butternut-colored homespun. Tall, thin featured, and gaunt, he was the very picture of a secesh planter. I stopped him, and inquired the way to Camargo; he pointed to the road he had just left, and told me to follow that. I now told him I was a confederate officer, and that I had orders from General Beauregard to gather up all the stragglers I could find, and bring them forthwith to Corinth; that we were expecting a great battle there with our “ detestable foe,” the Yankees, and that it was absolutely necessary for every one to be at his post. “ You will,” said I, “ do me a favor and your country good service by giving me the names of all soldiers who are at home without leave in your neighborhood.” “Certainly, sir,” he replied; “ I will do so with pleasure; and if I had time,” he added, “I would go with you, and help to find them.” I then drew out a note-book, and wrote down each [46] name he gave me, with the company and regiment of each man, together with his residence; and then asked him to refer me to some responsible citizens, who would give assistance if necessary. He gave me the names of half a dozen, who, he said, would not only assist me, but would give the names of other delinquents. He now prepared to ask me a few questions, and preface them with the statement that he was the Chief Justice, of Lincoln county, and that he was on his way to Fayetteville to open court on Monday morning. “ Are there many cases to be disposed of?” I asked. “Yes, a good many,” he said. “What is their nature generally?” was my next inquiry. “Why, they are mostly political,” said he. I was at no loss to know what the phrase meant; the accused were Union men, who, true to their principles, had refused to yield to the demands of the secessionists, but chose persecution rather than dishonor. I then concluded to have a little fun out of the old fellow, and render the persecuted loyalists what assistance I could. But as I did not desire to kill him in cold blood, I concluded to frighten him a little by way of punishment. Pointing to the dense column of smoke that was rising from the burning bacon, I said, roughly: “ Look there, old man.” “ Why, what in the name of God does that mean?” inquired he, raising his eyes in utter astonishment. “Why, sir,” I responded, “it means that I am a United States soldier, and I have just burned a rebel train up there, and am now about to dispose of the Chief Justice of Lincoln county” --at the same moment [47] raising the hammer of my gun, and drawing a bead on him. “ Great God! don't kill me, sir,” he piteously pleaded; “don't kill me.” “ Look here, old man,” said I, savagely, “if I let you live, do you think you will trouble Union men in this county again?” “0, no, no, I will not.” “ Won't bring 'em to trial?” I asked. “No, indeed, I will not,” he solemnly asserted; “ I have been compelled to enforce the law,” he then began in extenuation, when I interrupted him with, “ Don't talk to me about enforcing the laws, you old reprobate, or I will kill you in your tracks. Now, see here,” I continued, “ I will give you a chance for your life. This is a level road, and a straight one; now, I will count one hundred and fifty, and if you are not out of sight in that time, I shall kill you, just as sure as God made little apples.” I gave the word, and began to count, and he darted off, like an arrow, and was soon lost to my view in a cloud of dust. Again taking the Athens road, I pushed on rapidly for some time till I passed several houses, and then, reaching a shallow creek, leading into the woods, I turned down it, so that the place where I left the road could not be found. I traveled up by-ways till next sunset, when I met with an old man, who had just crossed the Athens road, and he told me that he had seen twelve of Young's Tennessee Cavalry and fifteen mounted citizens after a man “ who had been raising a disturbance up the country.” He said that I answered [48] the description exactly, and that he believed I was the man. “ You had better hide somewhere till after dark,” he advised me; “for they are alarming the whole country wherever they go.” I saw that he was a Union man, so that I told him that if I kept on riding they could better see and hear me, and perhaps it would give them a chance to bushwhack me. I then told him I wanted to find a sequestered spot, where I could leave my horse, and have him taken care of till I could get him again; and he told me of a very good Union man, who lived down in the woods, away from any public road, and advised me to leave my horse there; and he gave me such directions as would enable me to find the place, which I reached in safety. Leaving my horse, I took to the woods on foot, making direct for Decatur, taking the sun for my guide. The second night overtook me in the woods very near Madison depot, on the railroad between Huntsville and Decatur. I had tried to travel in the night, but was overtaken by a terrible storm, and the darkness was so great that I could not find my way. Being very tired, I slept soundly, with no other bed than the ground, and no cover but my rubber Talma.Soaked with the rain and famished with hunger, he made his way, in the early morning, toward the railroad, and followed it till about ten o'clock, when near Minerville he found the residence of a Union man, and obtained a meal, his host and himself being mutually suspicious of each other and both acting a part. Here he met some rebel cavalry soldiers, and passing himself [49] off as a Texan ranger ascertained what were the defences of the railroad bridge he was sent to inspect. After they were gone, he pursued his journey, seeking the opportunity of reaching and firing the bridge, but falling in with the camp of the (rebel) Second Tennessee Cavalry, and though their suspicions were not aroused as to his character, they insisted on fraternizing with him to such an extent that he had great difficulty in shaking them off, and was finally obliged to use threats, which, while they had the effect of driving his pertinacious friends away, rendered his own escape a matter of necessity. In attempting this, he got into a swamp, and endeavored to find his way through it to the river, and stealing a boat float down under the bridge and fire it. Failing in this, and knowing that there was no time to be lost, he turned his course and moved northward across the country to find the Union army. Travelling all day and until late at night, he was at length startled by the deep-mouthed baying, first, of a single bloodhound, and then soon after of several, and realized at once that the pursuers with their bloodhounds were on his track. Turning into a dense body of timber near by, he soon found a stream of water about waist deep, into which he plunged, and having crossed and broken their trail by so doing, he plunged into another swamp, where he kept on for an hour, the water being still nearly to his waist. Finding at length a pile of new rails rising a little above the water he clambered upon them and was soon asleep, though he could yet hear the distant baying of the hounds. In the morning, benumbed, and almost perishing with cold and hunger he again waded the swamp for half an hour, till he came to [50] the rear of a plantation, and attracting the attention of an aged negro, who, on finding that he was a Yankee soldier, brought him food, procured him a guide, and cheered him on his way. After some farther adventures, in which he confiscated a fine rebel horse and buggy and brought the driver, a stalwart negro, into the Union lines, he reached General Mitchel's headquarters at Huntsville, Alabama. Immediately on his return, he was sent with despatches to General Buell, at Corinth. Though very weary from his previous adventures, he set out immediately, and riding a powerful, thoroughbred horse at the top of his speed to Fayetteville, thirty-six miles distant, which he made in three hours, he procured another horse there, and continued his journey at the same rapid rate, but near Columbia, he was so much exhausted that he fell from his horse insensible, and lay an hour, unconscious, on the ground, but recovering his senses, he mounted his horse again and delivered his despatches at Columbia, from whence General Negley telegraphed them to General Buell. On his return, a negro hailed him and informed him that his master and eight other men were in ambush a little farther on, at a small mill, and intended to kill him. Thanking the negro for the information, he rode rapidly to the mill, and as the miller ran in when he saw him coming, he called him out and charged him with his murderous intention. He, at first denied it, but being told that it was of no use, and that if he did not own up the whole affair he (Pike) would bring a party of cavalry from Columbia and burn the mill, his house — and barn, and carry off all his property, he finally confessed who were his confederates and what had been their plans. Taking down [51] their names, and lecturing the old man severely, Corporal Pike rode away. He soon overtook a comrade from his own regiment, and feeling ill, stopped with his friend and another Union soldier at the house of a citizen, near Meridian, to pass the night. Here an attempt was made during the night to assassinate him, but being awake and seeing one of the assassins raise and aim his gun at him through the window, he fired his pistol, and wounded the assassin, probably mortally. His comrades carried him off, and Pike was not again disturbed. The next morning he reached Huntsville. General Mitchel immediately sent him to ascertain the rebel force at Bridgeport, Tennessee. He reached she vicinity without any notable adventure, ascertained the number and position of the rebel troops, made his report and sent it by a Union officer who had escorted him nearly to Bridgeport, told the officer he would remain in the mountains till the Union army came to take Bridgeport. Here, after some adventure, escaping once from the rebel pickets only by shooting the sergeant, and running the gauntlet of the fire of the squad; he was taken prisoner, partly in consequence of his own carelessness. He was taken first to Bridgeport, and thence to Chattanooga, where he was confined in the jail, where were, at that time, in the dungeon twenty-one men from the Second, the Twenty-first, and the Thirty-third Ohio regiments, whose adventures are related elsewhere in this work.1 After considerable suffering here, Corporal Pike was removed ;o Knoxville to another jail, where he was confined in an iron cage. Here he was told that he was [52] to be tried as a spy and would undoubtedly be hung. From Knoxville, he was sent to Mobile, and eight days later, removed to Tuscaloosa, and thence to Montgomery, Alabama, where he was taken very sick with pneumonia and typhoid fever, and was treated with great inhumanity, all medicine being refused him, and he being left for twelve days lying upon the deck of the boat, without a bed and with nothing but corn bread and spoiled old salt junk for food. From Montgomery he was sent to Macon, Georgia. Here, weal as he was, he attempted to escape, but was recaptured six days later, being run down with bloodhounds. Almost the 1st of October, 1862, he was sent with numerous other prisoners by way of Savannah, Augusta, Columbia, Raleigh, Petersburg, and Richmond, for exchange. They all suffered fearfully on the route, and many died. On the 18th of October, they were exchanged, and corporal Pike, reduced to a skeleton, and almost in a dying state, was taken to the Cliffburn hospital at Washington. Here, for some months, he lay almost hopelessly ill, but in March, 1863, had recovered sufficiently to join his regiment. Here he was soon again at his old work. Riding out one day some distance beyond the lines with a lieutenant of his company, they met an old negro preacher, who told them that there was a large body of rebel soldiers not far off. Corporal Pike requested the lieutenant to return to Murfreesboro while he went to see where the rebels were. After some scouting he discovered them, about one hundred and fifty in number, at the foot of a considerable hill; his position being above them, and two of their men, one mounted and the other [53] on foot, being near him, he approached and ordered them to halt, and as they fled repeated the order and fired, mortally wounding the mounted one, and then reloading, fired at the one on foot, whom he also wounded severely, and then in a loud voice called out “Forward the Fourth forward the Fourth Ohio!” Hearing the name of that regiment, which was a terror to the rebels in all that region, the whole rebel troop took to their horses and fled at the top of their speed (abandoning, as he afterward learned, a large forage train) toward Auburn, seven miles distant. After seeing them well started Pike rode off toward Murfreesboro. Stopping at a house which they had passed, he told the woman to tell them, when they returned, that there was but one man in the attacking party, and that he said he had flogged one hundred and fifty of them and could do it again. He next explored the rebel position at Woodbury, Tennessee, dodging and frightening the rebel pickets by some sharp practice, and on his return accompanied General Stanley in his raid on the rebel camps near Middleton, Tennessee, and while acting as aide to Colonel (acting Brigadier-General) Long, had some very narrow escapes, being at one time for a considerable period under the steady and continuous fire of a squad of rebel soldiers. Starting soon after on a scouting expedition in the vicinity of Harpeth Shoals, he found himself among a band of guerrillas, with whom he passed himself off as a Texan ranger, and learned from one of them the purposes of the rebel officers, and especially their intention of arresting and sending South a Union lady, the wife of a brave Union officer, then in that vicinity. Professing [54] an intention of going to the rebel camp, he ascertained the truth of the information he had received, and then riding to the house of the imperiled Union lady, he informed her of her danger, caught her a horse, and accompanied her to Nashville, avoiding by means of by-roads the rebel pickets. The forward movement of Rosecrans' army on Chattanooga had now commenced, and Corporal Pike was sent by General Stanley as a scout to search for some steamboats on the Hiawassee. While on this expedition he passed through the region where he was captured the year before, and after frightening relatives of the man who had betrayed him, he went up to the summit of Cumberland mountain, and near Cowan, in a narrow and crooked pass of the mountain, discovered that the rebels were blockading the gap, with the intention of cutting off and destroying any Union troops who might pass that way. They had felled some timber, but had not put much of it in position. There were about twenty rebel soldiers, who were guarding the gap and directing a force of fifty or more negroes who were felling the trees. Finding his position a safe one, Pike determined to put a stop to this proceeding, and accordingly fired at the evident leader of the movement, and the bullet striking his horse he was thrown and severely injured, and the whole band of rebels were thrown into confusion; firing again, Pike ordered an imaginary comrade to run back and tell the regiment to hurry up, and then turning sent another shot whizzing among them, while he ordered a pretended body of skirmishers to come down from the opposite ridge and close in with the rebels, accompanying this order with such gestures [55] as to lead the rebels, who could see him, to believe that he was pointing them out to his friends. Firing again, he shouted “hurrah, boys, we'll surround them!” and the rebels fled in the greatest terror, the negroes shuffling along after them. As soon as they were gone lie crossed the pass to the opposite ridge, and followed the top of the ridge the remainder of that day and night, and till nine o'clock the following morning, when he was startled by hearing the sound of horses' feet behind him, stopping a moment and listening, he ascertained that there were about a dozen of them. He attempted to elude their observation by running out upon a spur which branched off from the main mountain, but the timber was open and they caught sight of him and immediately pursued. The mountain was steep, but they gained upon him, and although at first he seemed likely to escape, he soon came to the top of a cliff about three hundred feet high; turning to the right a few hundred yards, he again found a place where he could descend for some distance, but was then stopped by another cliff, which projected out like a shelf. Below the right-hand end of this cliff, a huge hickory tree was growing, and its shaggy top just reared itself above the shelf on which he stood, the trunk being about eight feet from the edge of the cliff. There was no time to lose, for already he could hear his pursuers clattering over the rocks above him; so running to the edge of the cliff and looking over the giddy height, he slung his rifle across his back and leaping out head-foremost, with all his strength, succeeded in grasping the body of the tree with his arms and holding, although the weight of his accoutrements almost jerked him off. Sliding rapidly down the tree he landed on [56] another bench of the mountain, from which, though with torn clothing and his hands, arms, and breast bleeding profusely from wounds received from the rough bark of the tree, he made his way down into the bottom of a deep ravine, and neither saw nor heard any thing more of his pursuers. Following the ravine to the base of the mountain he was an involuntary witness to the patriotic devotion of a loyal Tennessee family, the husband and father of which had been obliged to conceal himself for months to escape the rebel conscription, and his devoted wife had brought him food until such time as he could join the Union army. Continuing his search for the steamboats, he came upon the home of “Bob White,” on Walden Ridge. White was a thorough Unionist and the leader of a body of thirty to sixty Union Tennesseans, bushwackers, who were the terror of the rebel cavalry in that region. He was welcomed by White's family and remained with them one night, though the rebel cavalry came to the house in search of him, and White's men also called him up, fearing he might be a spy. After stirring up the rebels at one or two points, and again finding shelter for two or three nights among the persecuted East Tennessee Unionists, attending one of their religious meetings where every man was armed, and the services were conducted, like those of the Covenanters three hundred years ago, after night and in the concealment of the forest, lest their enemies should come upon them. In the battle of Chickamauga, as well as in the marches and skirmishes which preceded it, Corporal Pike was actively employed as a scout, and was much [57] of the time in imminent peril, while he rendered excellent service to the Union army. Leaving the Union army at Chattanooga, he next set out with General Crook's cavalry in pursuit of Wheeler's rebel cavalry, which had been attempting to break up the Union lines of communication with Nashville, where he had his share in some of the most desperate cavalry fighting of the war, being on two occasions the target of the enemy's rifles, and once of their artillery. Having arrived at Brownsboro, General Crook sent him with an important despatch from General Grant to General Sherman, whose location was not definitely known, though he was supposed to be not far from Corinth. The journey was a perilous one and the chances of success, to say the least, small; but the brave fellow did not hesitate for a moment, and taking a canoe at Whitesburg, opposite Huntsville, he descended the Tennessee river for more than a hundred miles, every mile of which was picketed by the enemy, ran the perilous rapids of the Muscle Shoals, forty miles in length, alone, and after being pursued and fired at by the rebels repeatedly landed near Tuscumbia, where he found Union troops, and was sent by special train to Iuka, where General Sherman was, but immediately on delivering the despatch he sunk down exhausted and fainting from intense fatigue. General Sherman, who is ever chary of his praise, so fully appreciated the daring and skill of this achievement, that he gave the corporal a testimonial in which he spoke of him in the highest terms. Returning to Chattanooga, he took part in the great battles of November 23-25. In a subsequent scouting expedition at the beginning of 1864, they found that o, certain rebel, Colonel W. C. [58] Walker, who had commanded a brigade at Cumberland Gap, had returned to his home in Cherokee county, N. C., with plenary conscripting powers, and was endeavoring to force every Union man in the region into. the rebel army, committing, at the same time, great outrages on the families of the Unionists. Pike and his companions resolved to take this villain prisoner and convey him to Chattanooga. Pike's party consisted of ten scouts and a few citizens, and on New Year's night they went to Walker's house, surrounded it, and called on him to surrender. He demanded who they were, and being told that they were Yankee soldiers, and that if he gave himself up he should be treated like a gentleman, and be regarded as a prisoner of war, he refused with an oath; and Pike then informed him that resistance would be useless, that his house was surrounded, and that they would take him, dead or alive. He answered, “I will surrender when I please.” Pike and his scouts, knowing that he had a body-guard constantly about him, now resolved to storm the house, and broke in the doors, front and rear. Walker retreated to an inner room, and still refused to surrender, making a stand with the evident intention of selling his life as dearly as possible. The doors of this room also having been broken in, Pike aimed at him with his pistol, again demanding his surrender; but he raised his Sharp's carbine to shoot Pike. Seeing, however, that the latter had the advantage of him, he replied, after a moment's hesitation, “Yes, boys, I'll surrender,” and partly turned to lay his carbine on the bed, when his wife caught Pike's arm, and with a sudden jerk destroyed his aim. Walker now wheeled instantly, caught up his gun, and again [59] raised it to shoot Pike, but delayed for an instant, his daughter being between them, and Pike called to his men to shoot, as he saw Walker was determined to kill him, and Jack Cook, of the 37th Indiana, fired, and killed him instantly. By this time, Walker's bodyguard were heard in another part of the house, and the daring scouts instantly attacked and captured them, without firing a shot, and took them all but two to Charleston, Tenn. After some months spent in scouting, and the destruction of rebel property, under the direction of General Custer, Colonel Miller, and General Logan, Pike and a brother scout, Charles A. Gray, were sent by direction of General Thomas to Augusta, Ga., to endeavor to destroy the great bridge over the Savannah river, and, if possible, also the immense powdermill which supplied most of the powder for the rebel armies. Having obtained their outfit at Nashville, they set out on their perilous undertaking, going by way of Chattanooga and Rocky Faced Ridge. The great campaigns of Sherman and Grant had now commenced, and it was of the greatest importance to prevent the two rebel generals Johnston and Lee from sending troops or supplies to each other. The destruction of the railroad bridge at Augusta would materially derange their communications, and once destroyed, it could not be repaired for months. Having taken part in the battle of Rocky Faced Ridge, the two scouts proceeded thence to the Charleston turnpike, and thence went on foot, over the region which Pike had traversed the preceding winter, and where Colonel Walker had been killed, and found the rebels still in terror over that event; scaled the Blue Ridge on the 20 h of May, and descending its [60] eastern slope, came to the head waters of the Tallulah river, remarkable for its numerous cataracts. They followed this stream to its junction with the Chattooga, the two forming the Tugalo, one of the two affluents of the Savannah river. Procuring a canoe, they floated down this stream, which had numerous rapids, and thence entered the Savannah, which above Augusta is a very rapid and rocky stream. They reached Hamburg, opposite Augusta, on the 3d of June, 1864, and concealed themselves where they could overlook both cities; but to their surprise and annoyance, they found that there were great numbers of Union prisoners there (twelve or fifteen hundred), on their way to Andersonville , and a large body of rebel troops guarding them, and that it would be utterly impossible for them to make any effort to accomplish their object, and nearly so to make their escape. The latter was all they could attempt, and during the night they got off and attempted to retrace their steps. They stole a couple of horses and rode them rapidly till morning, but were then overtaken and compelled to give up the horses, though their real character and objects were not suspected. Starting off, then, on foot, they made the best of their way toward the northwest, but two hours later they heard the baying of the bloodhounds, and knew that they were pursued. They made every effort to break the trail, passing through swamps and streams, doubling in their tracks, etc., etc., but all to no purpose. The pack of hounds was thirty-six in number, and just after nightfall their loud baying showed that they were close upon them; and in the midst of a dense thicket, the two men were compelled to stand at bay [61] and fight with the savage brutes, and the equally savage men who had used the dogs to hunt them down. On came the hounds through the thick undergrowth, making the deep forest echo with their savage baying, until, with a sudden bound, the leading dog was upon the fugitives, his eyes glaring, and his mouth foaming. For an instant he paused, as he saw them through the gloom, and the next he made a spring directly at Gray's face. He was large and snow-white, and this made him the better target, and as he sprang Pike turned upon him and fired, and he fell dead in an instant But at that moment the whole pack rushed upon them, and they could only distinguish them by their glaring eyes in the darkness, but they aimed at those, and killed one more and wounded four others, with nine shots, when the men came up, forcing their horses through the brush, cursing and swearing like madmen. When they had approached within about a hundred yards, the two scouts ordered them to halt, saying, that if they did not stop, they would fire on them. “Who are you?” demanded one of the men. “Yankee soldiers,” answered Pike. “ What are you doing in our country?” “We are here by order of our general.” “How many are there of you?” “ Two.” “Are you up a tree?” “No! We are not the sort of men to take to trees!” Then moving toward them, Pike said: “There are but two of us, but we are well armed, and can do you a great deal of damage if you drive us to it. We know that you have a strong force after us, for we have seen [62] you two or three times to-day; we know that resistance on our part would only result in useless bloodshed; still it is our privilege to sell our lives at as dear a price as we can make you pay; but we don't want to hurt you, nor do we want you to hurt us; and therefore, if you will agree to treat us as prisoners of war, we will surrender without a fight, because we see that one would be useless.” “ You will soon be made to surrender on our terms,” replied the rebels. “Then approach us at your peril,” answered Pike, “for we shall shoot as long as we can crook a finger.” Resolute as this reply was, they were in fact helpless; their ammunition exhausted, and the four or five charges in their pistols had all been tried on the dogs, but had failed to go off from the foulness of the weapons. While this parley had been going on, another large party had come up, and the two were disputing among themselves. Presently they hailed the two scouts pleasantly, “Halloo, Yank.” “Halloo yourself,” was the answer. “If you will surrender, we will treat you as prisoners of war, and there shall not one hair of your head be touched,” said the commander of the party. “All right,” answered the scouts, “on these conditions, and no others, you can have our arms. Let two men come over and take our weapons,” they asked. The rebels consented, but demanded that they should fire them in the air first. The scouts could not do this, because the attempt would show how helpless they were, but they objected on the ground that it evinced a lack of confidence in their honor. The rebel commander then ordered them to stand still and they would come [63] to them. They did so, and when completely surrounded, gave up their arms, Gray joking with them freely. No sooner were the arms delivered, than a part of the rebels changed their manner, and began to abuse them, a man by the name of Chamberlain, a renegade from Massachusetts, who it seemed owned the bloodhounds, swearing that if they had shot one of the dogs he would kill them. They now set out on their return toward Augusta, or rather toward Edgefield, S. C., and stopped at the house of a Mr. Serles, who treated them kindly, and endeavored to pacify the drunken crowd who were taking them along, as did his wife; but his two daughters went among the gang, and begged them to hang the two Yankees. “Don't let them live, men! Don't let them live!” they said, and by their urgency they had soon “fired the Southern heart” up nearly to the point of murder. Mr. Series exerted himself to the utmost, however, to quiet them, and they finally were allowed their supper, and moved off to the house of Lieut. Col. Talbot, one of their captors. Here they were allowed an hour or two sleep, and on awakening in the morning, found that the party who had captured them had all left, and that they were in the hands of a party of drunken militia, who did not regard themselves as bound in any respect by the stipulations of their captors. These brutes roused them up, tied them very securely, and then marched them to the woods near by, and made preparations to hang them. They began with Pike, and having their rope ready, asked him if he had any confession to make? “No,” was his reply I have nothing to confess to you. [64] “Do you desire to pray?” they asked. “ No,” was his reply again. “I am ready to die, and don't fear death.” “ Have you nothing to say?” they asked, astonished at his coolness. “ Yes,” he replied, “I have something to say that may interest you.” “Out with it then,” said one. He then told them very coolly that they were United States soldiers, acting in the discharge of their duties, and that they, as citizens, had no right to interrupt them; that the general under whose orders they (the scouts) were acting would retaliate promptly if a hair of their heads were injured, and their sons in the Confederate army might be the men on whom the retaliation would fall. He told them farther, that he and Gray belonged to different regiments, and that if they were hung, their regiments, which were sure to come thither, would burn every dollar's worth of property they possessed, and hang every man concerned in the transaction. “If,” he continued, “you are prepared to abide these consequences, I am.” The ringleaders now withdrew for a short time, for consultation, leaving the two scouts under a guard. After a little they returned, took them back to Talbot's house, and untied them, and Mrs. Talbot gave them a bountiful breakfast. Talbot himself was a villain; he had attempted the preceding night to murder them, after giving his pledge that not a hair of their heads should be touched, and had only failed because his gun would not go off. He and Chamberlain now promised to take them to Edgefield, and as they had [65] been forewarned that a crowd had assembled on the lower road to murder them, they asked to be taken by the upper route, and their captors finally consented. Arriving at Edgefield, the provost-marshal, who desired to have them murdered by a mob, refused to receive them from the militia, but a rebel lieutenant who was there, overruled him and ordered them to be put in the jail, subject to the orders of the military authorities at Augusta. Here, they were examined very closely, and questioned carefully, separately; but as they had buried all their bridge-burning fixtures before leaving Hamburg, and had agreed upon the statements they were to make, there was no such thing as entangling them. On the 9th of June, they were taken to Augusta. Here, they were confined on the smallest possible allowance of food, for fifty-seven days, when they were removed under a strong guard to Charleston, where they were put in the tower of the jail and kept five months under fire from the Union batteries. Vigorous efforts were made to procure their exchange, by the highest officers of the Union army, but in vain. When General Sherman's march through the Carolinas compelled the evacuation of Charleston, they were removed to Columbia, and when that was threatened, they were sent to Winnsboro on foot, with the intention of taking them to Salisbury, North Carolina, but on the way both escaped, Gray getting away first, and Pike the next night, February 18th, 1865, and after wandering about for two days, the latter found his way into the Union lines, where Gray had preceded him. He was most cordially received and fitted out in connection with Kilpatrick's command, and when General [66] Sherman reached Cheraw, was sent to carry despatches to Wilmington which was then occupied by the Union troops under Generals Schofield and Terry. The journey was a perilous one, as he descended Cape Fear river from the mouth of Rockfish creek, a distance of more than a hundred miles, in an open boat; and the whole shore of the river was lined with rebel troops. Having reached Wilmington in safety and delivered his despatches, he was immediately requested to carry despatches also to Newbern and Kinston, where he found General Schofield. Three hours after the delivery of these, General Schofield entrusted him with a despatch for General Sherman which he wished taken across the country. He started immediately, and after a long and somewhat dangerous tramp (for he could only go on foot in safety), he reached the general near Faison's depot. After the battle of Bentonville he applied for and received his discharge, having been in the service seven months over the time for which he had enlisted, and on the 1st of April, 1865, was mustered out at Columbus. It would be hard, we think, to find in the history of any war, an instance of a scout or spy who had encountered more dangers, hardships, and risks, or surmounted them more gallantly than Corporal James Pike.
