Last days of Johnston's Army. A Comrade's experience with Gen. L. S. Baker's command at Weldon, N. C., during the fifteen days preceding Johnston's surrender at Greensboro, N. C. an Address delivered before A. P. Hill Camp Confederate Veterans, at Petersburg, Va.
by James M. Mullen.
comrades: Looking back, perhaps I am justified in saying that my lines during the late war were, in one sense, cast in pleasant places. At the time, and while the conflict was raging, I did not think so; but ‘blessings brighten as they take their flight.’ Hudibras says thatHe who fights and runs away,[98] and thinking ‘on my marcies’ during the piping times of peace that have succeeded the late unpleasantness, I have learned to properly appreciate my good fortune in being kept out of harm's way. The running away was not of our own choosing, for the boys of our battery would have had it otherwise, and we did not relish the paternal regard of the ‘powers that were,’ in our behalf. It did seem, however, that the authorities studiously avoided exposing us to danger, and kept the battery continuously on the move, so as to shield it from the enemy's bullets. Around Richmond, from April to November, 1862, either in camp of instruction or manning some of the heavy redoubts that encircled that city, we took no active part in the bloody scenes that were enacted at Seven Pines, Mechanicsville, Gaines' Mill, Cold Harbor, Savage's Station and Malvern Hill, though within sound, and, at times, in sight of bursting of shell and rattling of musketry upon those fields of carnage. From November, 1862, to June, 1863, we helped to guard the line of the Blackwater under Pryor, and assisted in the investment of Suffolk under Longstreet. During the remainder of 1863, with the exception of a few weeks at Chaffin's Bluff, we remained around Petersburg, our principle duty being to stand guard over Fort Clifton. The first five months of 1864 found us on the coast below Wilmington, N. C., about six miles above Fort Fisher. From there we were sent in June, 1864, to Weldon, N. C., where we remained until the close of the war. When approached, several weeks ago, with the request that, at some future meeting, I favor the camp with some of my war experiences, the same feeling took possession of me that doubtless came over that good woman when about to cast all she had—two mites—into the treasury of the Lord. I was oppressed with the consciousness that what I might be able to contribute would fail to entertain scarred veterans who had ‘stood like a stonewall’ with Jackson, or marched and fought with A. P. Hill's ‘Light Division.’ As it was not my privilege to witness or participate in any of the many glorious victories won by that imcomparable body of men, the Army of Northern Virginia, the din and shout of fierce battle are not within my experience. It can never be my pleasure to relate with bated breath and glowing cheek to my children and children's children, as one of the actors therein, those mighty passages of arms that made for Lee's ragged veterans a name as great as, if not greater than, that of any armed host whose achievements are recorded in the annals of history. ‘In all the tide of time’ the brilliant deeds of that array of ‘bright muskets and tattered uniforms’ will live and [99] glow upon the historic page, in attestation of the fortitude, prowess and courage of that noble band of patriot soldiers. Would that I could, as one of the actors in the bloody drama, tell of the charge up the heights of Cemetery Hill, when nothing daunted by
Will live to fight another day;
Cannon to the right of them,that gallant command pressed on, at the call of duty, to certain death. But if the privilege accorded the old soldier to
Cannon to the left of them,
Cannon in front of them,
Weep o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,is denied me, I am possessed of the proud consciousness of having done all I could—all that was permitted me to do—to secure the success of the cause I believed to be right. It is announced that I shall speak to-night of ‘A comrade's experience with General L. S. Baker's command at Weldon, N. C., during the fifteen days preceding the surrender of Johnston at Greensboro, N. C.’ I shall endeavor briefly to recount some of the incidents and events that came under my observation while with this little command during this short but eventful period. After the evacuation of Plymouth, Washington, Kinston and Goldsboro, Brigadier-General L. S. Baker was sent to Weldon, charged with the duty of holding on to that place, not only for the purpose of preserving railroad communication between the other forces in North Carolina and the Army of Northern Virginia, and those along the line of the Wilmington & Weldon railroad, from Goldsboro to that line, but of collecting supplies for these armies from that portion of Eastern Carolina not actually in the possession of the enemy. The authorities recognizing the importance of this position in these respects—it being one of the principal sources of supply for the armies in the field—instructed General Baker to hold it until the last moment, and, at the same time, watch out for and repel any raids of the enemy coming from the Blackwater and Chowan, and from Plymouth, Washington and Goldsboro. With the force under his command this was no light duty, and he was necessarily absent from Weldon most of his time, looking after the various points under his supervision. Weldon, however, was the headquarters of his department, which was styled ‘The Second [100] Military Division of North Carolina.’ In his absence, the captain of our battery (Captain L. H. Webb, Company A, Thirteenth Battalion North Carolina Light Artillery) was in command. You will remember that the days of which I speak were times that tried men's souls, and put to the severest test the metal with which the Confederate soldiers were made. All signs indicated that ‘the end was near at hand.’ Lee had abandoned Petersburg and Richmond, though this was unknown to us until several days thereafter, as I shall later on show; all of North Carolina east of the Wilmington and Weldon railroad had been given up; and Sherman had made his memorable march through Georgia to the sea, and through the Carolinas, having as his objective point Goldsboro, where he purposed to form a junction with Schofield, moving from Newberne and Kinston, and with Terry, moving from Wilmington. This was accomplished by him on the 23d of March, 1865. The giant arms of an octopus were rapidly closing upon the Confederacy in her final desperate but grand struggle for independence. Just one month previous to the junction of these three armies, flushed as they were with victory, that old war-horse, General Joe Johnston, had relieved Beauregard at Charlotte, N. C., and was charged with the difficult task of collecting and uniting in one army the scattered of Bragg, Hardee, Hood and Beauregard, for one supreme effort to stay the tide of the invader, and he prepared, if necessary, to unite his forces at Danville with those of Lee, who even then contemplated abandoning his position around Petersburg for that purpose, with the hope that the two armies might fall upon Sherman and crush him before Grant could come to his assistance. Vain hope born of desperation; for Sherman, having reached Goldsboro, his next plan was not to follow after Johnston, but open communication with Grant, so that the two might act together. This is shown by his special order, issued April 5th, at Goldsboro, which reads: ‘The next grand objective is to place this army (with its full equipment) north of Roanoke river, facing west, with a base for supplies at Norfolk, and at Winston or Murfreesboro on the Chowan, and in full communication with the Army of the Potomac at Petersburg; and also to do the enemy as much harm as possible en route.’ His army was to move on the 10th of April, in three columns of 25,000 each, with his cavalry under Kilpatrick, aiming directly for Weldon until it had crossed the Tar river, the general point of concentration being Warrenton, N. C. But his whole plan was suddenly changed by the news of the fall of Richmond and Petersburg, which reached him at Goldsboro on the [101] 6th of April. Inferring that Lee would succeed in making junction with Johnston, with a fraction of his army, at least, somewhere in the front, he prepared on the day he had appointed (April 10th) to leave Goldsboro, to move straight on Raleigh, which place he reached on April 13th, and found that Johnston had moved further on. Let us now leave Sherman at Raleigh, and go back to the little force at Weldon. And, in the outset, I take pleasure in acknowledging my indebtedness for much I shall now recount to my old commander, Captain L. H. Webb, than whom a truer soldier never drew sword, and who has very kindly furnished me extracts from his diary kept during this period. I have also obtained valuable information from that gallant soldier, Hon. James C. McRae, then Assistant Adjutant-General on General Baker's staff, and now one of the Superior Court judges for North Carolina. The task imposed upon this small force, consisting of two or three hundred infantry and our battery, numbering about one hundred and twenty-five men, was no light one. For weeks it had been in a state of constant activity and excitement, enhanced towards the last with continual suspense and anxiety. It had been constantly on the move to meet threatened advances from the directions of the Tar and lower Roanoke and the Chowan and Backwater rivers. If I remember aright, during the month of March it had been sent upon two expeditions through Northampton, Hertford and Bertie counties, to repel reported raids of the enemy's cavalry from the Chowan; one, to and below Tarboro to meet a threatened advance from the lower Tar and Roanoke, and one, down the Seaboard and Roanoke railroad towards Franklin, to check a cavalry raid from the Blackwater. This last expedition, however, was in April, the command returning to camp therefrom the night of April 6th. It was under command of Colonel Whitford, who had with him not to exceed two hundred infantry (about fifty of whom were members of our company, armed with inferior rifles) and two guns from our battery. I was with the expedition as a cannoneer of one of the guns of the battery. I forgot to say that we were conveyed down the Seaboard road upon two or three flat cars, and possibly a box car or two. Upon reaching Boykin's Depot, about twenty-five miles from Weldon, we discovered that all below that point the enemy had torn up and burned the track, so that it was impossible for us to proceed further on the train. Disembarking, we reconnoitered the situation for several miles around and remained there until next morning, when hearing that the enemy was making his way in the direction of Weldon, we boarded the [102] train and started back. After passing Seaboard, a small station about ten miles east of Weldon, Colonel Whitford, who was riding on the engine, saw one or two men run across the track some six or seven hundred yards ahead. He at once ordered the train stopped. This precaution was not taken any too soon, for as soon as some of the infantry were put off as skirmishers and the situation was taken in, it was discovered that the track for some distance just ahead of us was torn up and that the enemy had ambuscaded both sides. We had passed Seaboard about a mile. As soon as the train was stopped the enemy opened fire upon us. Colonel Whitford caused the train to be run back to Seaboard, where the remainder of the command was put in position to await the return of the skirmishers, who were ordered to fall back as soon as they could ascertain with some certainity the force and purpose of the enemy. They soon reported that the enemy, consisting of a regiment of cavalry, had retired in the direction of Jackson, which was distance some eight miles in a southeast direction from where we were, and away from Weldon. Colonel Whitford concluded to follow on after them, but I suspect with no hearty desire to meet up with them, for he could but know that our force was not able to cope successfully with a full regiment. Upon reaching Jackson, we learned there that the regiment was the Third New York Cavalry, about six hundred strong, well mounted and thoroughly equipped with Spencer repeating carbines, and had passed through that town some hours before, and then must be near Murfreesboro, some twenty-five miles distant. After waiting several hours at Jackson, our guns were ordered back overland to Weldon, while the infantry, under Colonel Whitford's command, retired to Halifax. I shall always remember with pleasure one little incident connected with this affair. Several weeks before, as we had more men than were required or needed to man the guns, about sixty of our company had been armed with rifles and acted with the infantry. When the train was halted and skirmishers thrown off, I was anxious to join them, and endeavored to get one of the riflemen to exchange places with me. I knew he was disaffected, and it occurred to me that he would not hesitate to shirk danger; but I reckoned without my host. He rejected the overture with some indignation, and remarked that if anybody had to use his rifle he proposed to do it himself; and I ascertained that he behaved as gallantly as any man. This but illustrates that it was not cowardice that caused a great many of our soldiers to waiver in their allegiance toward the close of the war, but the terrible hardships to which they were subjected, the [103] distressing accounts of suffering of their loved ones at home, and the intuitive knowledge that defeat was inevitable. I remember with sadness, without any feeling of censure, many instances of desertion of as brave men as ever marched to the tap of a drum. On the 7th of April, about 5 o'clock P. M., a telegram was received by Captain Webb, who was in command, from General Johnston, ordering that all trains north of the Roanoke river be recalled at once, all the artillery that could be moved got on the south side, and such heavy guns in the defences north of the river as could not be moved, be destroyed, and the railroad bridge burned. Steps were at once taken to execute the order, and, by hard service all night, the next morning (Saturday 8th) found everything in the shape of guns, ordnance, quartermaster and commissary stores removed from the north side of the river and delivered in Weldon, and combustibles at once gathered and placed at each end of the railroad bridge to fire it as soon as all the trains were safely over. The bridge, however, was not fired that day; why, I will let Captain Webb speak. I quote from his diary: ‘General Baker came up about 10 o'clock A. M., and ordered me with my battery and Williams' section of artillery across the river again. Upon getting my battery over the river, I put my guns in position along the old line as I thought best, and awaited ulterior orders from headquarters. My only support were the feeble remains of a company of so-called cavalry under Captain Strange. In all the twenty men of his command there was not a single man or officer decently mounted. With my old fiery Bucephalus, ‘Duncan,’ I could have charged and overturned every skeleton of a horse in his company. But the men were all true ‘tar-heels,’ and there was no braver man than Captain Strange.’ On the afternoon of the 10th the artillery was ordered back on the south side, and preparations made to leave Weldon. According to Captain Webb, there were then at that point about five hundred men, including at least seventy-five stragglers, furloughed men, convalescents from the hospitals, and detailed men. On the 12th the command to leave Weldon was given. Captain Webb was ordered to take charge of the column and start towards Raleigh, keeping as near the railroad as possible. By 10 o'clock A. M., the column was well on its way in good order, the objective being, if possible, to join General Johnston at or near Raleigh. We marched about sixteen miles that day. For several days previous to our departure, and even while the artillery was on the north side of the river, everything was done to [104] put the force in good marching condition. Unfit and worthless animals connected with the artillery, quartermaster and commissary departments, were condemned, and either sold or given away. To supply their places, squads of mounted men were detailed to make detours through the adjacent farms and plantations, to impress horses and mules. The extra men of the command were parcelled out and assigned to the different regular organizations, and everything in the way of stores sent off by rail up the Raleigh and Gaston railroad. The bridge, however, remained in statu quo, and was not burned until the night of the 13th, two days after we had marched away. One of the duties imposed upon the men of our battery, just before leaving Weldon, was the collection and destruction of boats along the river, so that, upon the burning of the bridge, communication with the north side might be effectually cut off. Perhaps it was a precautionary measure that could have been very safely dispensed with; and when I recall my experience in the performance of that duty, I am strongly inclined to that opinion. In company with a mountaineer, who knew nothing of boat craft, I was sent up the river for that purpose. After proceeding about half a mile above the bridge, we came across a boat; but the owner, who doubtless had taken the alarm, had hid the poles with which to propel it. Nothing daunted, we improvised the best we could, and started down the river. Tempted by the sight of some fish upon a slide near by, we essayed to cross over and secure them, and had almost reached the prize when my companion's pole broke, and away we went down the rapids. We fortunately passed the worst safely, and by dint of extra exertion reached the shore; but for a few moments there were two badly scared navigators. The rest of the trip to the point we were ordered to bring the boats was made by swinging around, one of us in the stern and the other at the bow, alternately catching hold of and turning loose the bushes along the bank. The scenes in and around Weldon these few days were heartrending. As early as the 8th the citizens in the country around, especially on the north side of the river, became panic-stricken, and came crowding into the town, imagining the direst calamities would befall them upon the withdrawal of the troops. We could but remember the kind and hospitable treatment these good and loyal people had always extended to Confederate soldiers, and were deeply touched at their distress. But some of us, who had witnessed similar scenes, took comfort in the thought that it would not be half as bad as they imagined. I remember the confusion and consternation in [105] and around my own home upon hearing of the capture of Roanoke Island; and yet, the storm of war passed by without inflicting the grievous woes apprehended. But Sherman and his bummers did not pass that way. By sunrise on the 13th we resumed our march in a hard rain, and with the roads in a terrible condition. Not long after starting we began to meet stragglers making their way to our rear. Among the first to attract our attention was a weary-looking, foot-sore and jaded young fellow in the dirty and tattered uniform of a lieutenant of infantry, who told us he was going home; that Lee had surrendered, and what was left of his army had been paroled. Up to this time we did not know that Petersburg had been abandoned, so completely were we insolated and cut off. Captain Webb, who was in command— General Baker not yet having come up—refused to believe him, and ordered him and some others under guard to accompany the command until their story was verified. But it was not long before all were fully convinced of the truth of their statements, for the roads were soon filled with soldiers returning from Lee's army. I shall never forget the feeling that came over me when fully impressed with the fact that Lee had surrendered. Until then I had never permitted myself to doubt the ultimate success of the Confederacy; and, as to the Army of Northern Virginia, I believed that, under ‘Marse Robert,’ it was simply invincible. I apprehend this feeling was shared by most of the Confederate soldiers; hence their endurance, courage and devotion under the sorest trials and in the darkest hours of the cause. With Lee's surrender, all hope fled, and thereafter obedience and discharge of duty were purely mechanical. Swift upon the heels of the news of this terrible disaster, and on the evening of the same day, came the rumor that Sherman was in possession of Raleigh, and that Johnston was retiring before him towards Greensboro. Madam Rumor was not a lying jade that time. About nightfall, weary and hungry, depressed with the gloomy outlook, and after a hard day's work, we halted and went into camp near Warrenton Junction. General Baker had not yet come up, and Captain Webb was in much doubt as to what course to pursue. Let me narrate the events of the succeeding day in the words of Captain Webb himself. I quote from his diary: ‘Friday, April 14th. About day-light this morning the bugles sounded reveille, and as soon as the weary men could be got in line, and the horses hitched, without breakfast, we started for the junction, about four miles distant, intending to feed at that place. I pressed [106] on ahead of the column to see if I could hear anything of General Baker, and at that early hour I found the road filled with stragglers, all reiterating and confirming the news of yesterday. Nothing could be heard of the general. The column came up in about an hour, was halted, horses fed, and men got breakfast. About the time we were ready to move again a solitary horseman rode up to the depot, in whom I recognized General M. W. Ransom. He dismounted and hitched his horse, while I went forward to meet him. He confirmed the reports of General Lee's surrender, having himself been there and witnessed it. I told of my situation, the reported occupation of Raleigh by Sherman, and that, surrounded by the enemy as I was, I hardly knew what to do with the stores and men under my charge. He replied that he knew nothing of Sherman's position, but hardly thought he was in Raleigh, and that, being a paroled soldier, he could not give me any advice in the premises; but that his brother, General Robert Ransom, was at his house, only about four miles away, and, as he was not paroled, I could consult him. This I concluded to do, and countermanding the orders to resume the march, we mounted and rode off. We found General Robert Ransom at his house (he was home on sick furlough), and I entered at once into the matter which had brought me to his presence. General Matt Ransom was present, but took no part in the discussion. After some reflection, General Robert remarked that under the circumstances he could see no good in holding out longer; explained the difficulties of reaching Johnston if Sherman occupied Raleigh, and that he thought it best to remain where I was, and send a flag of truce to Sherman at Raleigh, offering to surrender upon the same terms accorded Lee's army. At the conclusion of General Robert's remarks, General Matt, forgetful of the fact that he was paroled and could give no advice, sprang to his feet, and exclaimed with flashing eye and extended arm: “Never! Under no consideration surrender until there is a force in your front sufficient to compel it. But what am I doing! I am a paroled prisoner and have no right to speak in this manner,” and walked out of the room. There was that in his manner, looks, and ringing tones, which settled the question for me, and bidding both “good-bye,” mounted my horse and rode back to Warrenton Junction. Upon arriving there I found a considerable number of the men in a state of disquietude and disorder, amounting to almost total demoralization. They had broken into one of the cars containing supplies of food, were wantonly wasting the supplies, and were preparing to break open other cars. Springing from my horse [107] and making my way to them, calling my bugler as I went, I had him sound the assembly, and bade them fall in with their several commands at once. The better and nobler instincts of good soldiers coming to their assistance, they soon quieted down and readily fell into line. I then addressed them as best I could; told them all the news I could learn; of my conference with the two generals; that we had food enough for a week at least, and in that time felt sure something would be done, either by the arrival of General Baker, or in some other way, which would enable us either to continue or close our services as Confederate soldiers in an honorable way. That I proposed now to move on to Ridgway, halt and call a council of officers; and urged them to be men a little longer and trust me, and I would do for them the best I could. My emotions choked my utterance; many of the men wept with me, and all promised implicit obedience to my orders. The column was soon formed and marched to Ridgway, where we arrived about noon. Hastily calling the officers together for consultation, we concluded to send an engine and tender up the road as near Raleigh as possible, and ascertain, if we could, whether Sherman was there or not. An engine on the track, already fired up, was seized, and as many men, armed with Enfield rifles, as could be were put aboard and in charge of Lieutenant Blount, of Tenth North Carolina troops, with orders to go as near Raleigh as he deemed safe, and if he found the enemy in occupation, to return with the best speed possible, burning the most important bridge on the road in his rear. The engine was about to move off, when the president of the road, who lives here, stepped up, and in an authoritative tone, ordered the men off, and the engineer not to move an inch. I renewed my former order, which the president again forbade, denying my authority to impress his rolling-stock in such service. Remonstrances proving unavailing, I directed a sergeant, with a file of men, to remove him into the railroad office and keep him under guard, which being done, the engine moved off up the road. In the consultation with the officers it was decided that if upon the return of Lieutenant Blount, General Baker had not come up or been heard from, another meeting should be called for definite action. At 5 P. M. news came that General Baker and staff were coming, and about 6 P. M. they rode up. Upon his arrival the president of the road was set at liberty, and he at once made complaint to the general; but he endorsed all I had done, and then saying he would make his headquarters with the president, they rode off together. Soon after, he called a council of the officers, from which I returned about 9:30 P. M. With few dissenting votes it was [108] decided to send a flag of truce to Sherman, tendering our surrender upon the same terms allowed Lee's army. Lieutenant Blount had returned about 8 P. M., reporting that he had gone within twelve miles of Raleigh, and getting what he deemed reliable information that Sherman was in possession of the city, on his return, in obedience to orders, he had burned the railroad bridge over Cedar Creek.’ On the morning of the 15th, the general announced an entirely different programme from that determined upon the evening before. That now announced was, to abandon the artillery, and all except absolutely necessary supplies, and with the whole command in as light order as possible, mounted on artillery horses and transportation animals, as far as could be done, and armed as best we could, try to get to Johnston by passing around Sherman's rear. This change met with wide-spread dissatisfaction, but nothing further was done that day. On the 16th (Sunday), the general was urged by some of his officers to carry out at once the plan originally decided upon, to surrender; for they were satisfied they could not control their men longer. He promised to take the matter under consideration and announce his final decision at an assembly of all the forces that evening. The plan finally adopted was, to try and cut his way through to Johnston with all who would volunteer to follow him, the others to disband and go home as best they could. About fifty volunteered, of which nineteen were from our battery. These fifty were authorized to be mounted on government horses, and armed with Enfield rifles. This was done, and at mid night they took up their march. I might relate several ludicrous incidents of this march, but I have already detained you too long, and I must hasten on. The next morning, having been up all night, we presented anything but a martial appearance, and, if the truth must be told, our enthusiasm was at a low ebb, for we were pretty well satisfied that ours was a ‘wild goose chase.’ Nothing but a sense of duty, and a reluctance to turn back as long as we were called upon to go forward, carried us on. For two days we wandered on over the hills and through the woods of Franklin, Johnston and Wake counties. On one of these days we passed through Louisburg, worn out and hungry. The good citizens of the town received us enthusiastically, and treated us most hospitably. It must have been an amusing sight to see us straggling through the streets, with flowers in one hand and something to eat in the other. It made a deep impression on me at the time, and I shall never forget the scene. [109] About sundown on the 16th we reached Arpsboro and halted. There the general informed us he had reliable information that Johnston had surrendered, and he had determined to send in a flag of truce to Raleigh, tendering his surrender. On the next day, having recrossed the Tar river and countermarched several miles, we started the flag, the officer in charge bearing the following letter:
Shoulder his crutch, and show how fields are won,
A rumor reached us to-night, that President Lincoln had been assassinated. About 5 o'clock P. M. on the 20th, our flag returned with a letter from General Sherman to General Baker, stating that General Johnston had not surrendered, but that terms had been agreed upon between them for a cessation of hostilities and the restoration of peace. Accompanying the letter was a copy of the agreement. The letter gave General Baker the right to disband his force upon the terms granted Lee's army. The general, deeming it best to accept these terms, issued the following order:
And the following to each commanding officer in the force, mutatis mutandis, to-wit:
[111] The men were each furnished with the following:
In passing, let me say that the horse was the best pay I ever received from the Confederacy, and he proved a most valuable acquisition. Early the next morning (Friday, April 21st) we turned our faces homeward, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted off our shoulders, and relieved that the suspense was over. Captain Webb, who was going to join his wife on the Blackwater, accompanied the Perquimans county boys, of whom there was about a dozen. This party kept well together, until just before reaching Halifax, when Captain Webb, Wm. H. Whedbee and I pushed on ahead. I quote again from the captain's diary: ‘On Sunday, the 23d of April, at Martin's Cross-Roads, Northampton county, N. C., I parted from Mullen and Whedbee, the last two of my company to remain with me.’ And now, comrades, I have but little more to add. After leaving Captain Webb, Whedbee and I pushed on to Murfreesboro; reaching there, we found the ferry had been destroyed, and we were compelled to cross the Meherrin in a small canoe, swimming our horses. Our nearest route home from Murfreesboro would have been to cross the Chowan at Winton, but the citizens of Murfreesboro informed us that at Winton were several Federal gunboats. We did not know how we might be received by the enemy, so deemed it the wiser course to abandon that route and cross the Chowan at a ferry higher up. This we did, but there we met with the same luck as at the Meherrin, and had to cross in a small boat ourselves, and swim our horses. Here a bit of good luck befell us—not much, but we were thankful for small favors. We met with a gentleman who had a sulky which he wanted to get to the town (Hertford) in which I lived. [112] It must be borne in mind we were not cavalrymen, and yet we had been in the saddle seven or eight days, on the go all the time, were completely worn out, and had still before us about sixty miles to travel before reaching our homes. We gladly availed ourselves of this opportunity to change our mode of locomotion. Whedbee and I agreed we should ride ‘turn about,’ with my first go. But ‘all is not gold that glitters,’ and we are often doomed ‘to see our fondest hopes decay.’ I had hardly started before the fear of the thing breaking down took possession of me. The trouble was, compared with the vehicles (caissons and gun-carriages) I had been used to for three years, the frail appearance and elastic motion of the sulky were alarming. I soon yielded the concern to Whedbee, who seemed to take to it better. This was inspiring, and when my turn came again, I claimed the privilege, and accustomed myself to its motions. Whedbee, who lived in the country, left me when I was several miles from home. He was hardly out of sight, when I heard in the direction I was going the booming of cannon, repeated at intervals. It occurred to me at once, that the firing was from the gunboats lying in the river at Hertford, and out of respect to President Lincoln. This was not very comforting; for while there was no reason why I should apprehend trouble or annoyance, I did not fancy facing the music all alone, satisfied as I was of meeting in the town sailors and soldiers from these boats. But seating myself more firmly in my novel vehicle, drawing the reins of my steed tighter, and mustering up courage for the ordeal, I dashed over the bridge and through the main street of the town in fine style. As I expected, the town was filled with sailors and soldiers, but they gave me a cheer as I passed, and shouted, ‘there goes a johnny coming home in the best style yet.’ I realized at once that ‘this cruel war was over,’ and these hearty greetings from quondam foes went a long way towards reconstructing me. I would commend the example of these their brethren to those of the North who would keep alive the fires of sectional hate more than twenty-five long years after we Southern soldiers have laid down our arms in good faith. I venture to say that none of the men that greeted me so fraternally that April morning are found in the ranks of those who would deny us the right to meet together to commemorate the deeds of valor of our comrades in arms. They, no doubt, like us, look upon the courage and bravery of the ‘boys in blue’ and the ‘boys in grey’ as a common heritage, to be tenderly preserved and proudly transmitted to posterity. No want of loyalty and devotion to our common country, and the one flag that floats [113] above us prompts to do honor to our illustrious dead and contribute pittance to cheer the destitute who fought nobly and now endure uncomplainingly. We cherish in our hearts no feelings of disloyalty, neither do we regret the failure to establish the Confederacy. The war was inevitable. Inflamed as were the two sections of our country, the one stigmatizing the Constitution as ‘a league with hell and a covenant with death,’ while leading statesman of the other taunted the fanatical anti-slavery sentiment with the boast that ‘they would live to call the roll of their slaves at the foot of Bunker Hill,’ there was no arbitrament for the ‘irrepressible conflict’ but the sword. True we fought for a constitutional right, yet better violence to that than the perpetuity of an institution which was the fruitful source of ‘all our woes.’ Eliminated of its radical feature, time will right the wrong that was done ‘State's Rights’ (already we see the ‘Old Ship of State’ gradually drifting back to her rightful course), while slavery, that was surely sapping the ‘bone and sinew’ of this Southland of ours, is gone forever. Entertaining these sentiments, which I believe are those of our entire section, when I hear men like Foraker questioning the loyalty of the South to the Union, I feel that they but insult our intelligence and good faith. When they pour upon our heads the vials of their bitterness I am almost constrained to exclaim with old Jacob, ‘Cursed be their anger for it is fierce; and their wrath for it is cruel.’ They have yet to learn and appreciate this Southern people; and to their unjust criminations I can but retort in the words of Evan Macombich, when the mob sneered at his promise to come back and redeem his chief, ‘they ken neither the heart of a Hielandman, nor the honor of a gentleman.’
