Interesting Narrative of the Escape of Hurlbut from Richmond.
We have published some of the letters to the New York
Times of
Wm. Henry Hurlbut, who escaped from this city.
His last letter recounts the mode of his departure, which was aided and participated in by a native of
Troy, N. Y., who had been detailed from the Confederate army for special service in
Richmond, and so ‘"won upon the regard of his officers"’ that he got an honorable discharge from the service.
Having made up his mind to leave,
Hurlbut sent for his friend.
He says:
‘
His position made it easy for him to obtain all the information which we needed, and representing that it was his intention to visit
Baltimore for the purpose of buying goods, he succeeded, after the exercise of a little tact and the administration of strong liquors in proper quantities, in extracting from one of the
Maryland managers of the ‘"under ground line"’ a systematic account of the points to be made in passing from
Richmond to the
Potomac, with the names of certain persons at each of those points from whom the necessary facilities could be obtained.
This information my new ally brought to me on Wednesday, August 13. The next question was to secure a passport out of the city, the picket guards having been recently removed nearer the city lines and enjoined to keener vigilance.
It was, of course, out of the question for me to obtain a passport in my own person.
It might, indeed, and probably would have been granted to me, as I had just received a general passport to travel Southwards in the
Confederacy, but in receiving it I should have been required to subscribe an obligation of ‘"suit and service"’ to the
Confederate States, which I wished to avoid.
My companion, who considered himself to have been treated by the
Confederates as pirates treat the captive sailors to whom they offer the option of a berth in the forecastle or a dance from the yard-arm, was less punctilious upon this head, and going directly to the
Provost Marshal's office, obtained, without much difficulty, a pass permitting him to travel in
Hanover county.
A stroke of the pen extended this permission to his ‘ "brother,"’ and all was now ready, save the means of transportation.
I then sent my servant to find for me a buggy and horse suitable for country riding, as I intended to visit the battle fields, and might be absent perhaps two or three days. At 8 o'clock on Friday morning, August 15th, this establishment — perhaps the rustiest, most ramshackle and mud-destained vehicle in which two New Yorkers ever condescended to ride — drew up before my door.
From my windows we perceived that its advent had excited some degree of attention among a knot of Baltimorean detectives, who lived in a house nearly opposite, and were in the habit of making the summer night hideous with perpetual repetitions of ‘"My Maryland,"’ sung in a lamentable manner to the pathetic accompaniment of a diseased accordion.
We hastened, therefore, our departure, sallied boldly out, and examining the reins and harness with as much gravity and attention as if we had been on the point of testing the condition of Flora Temple or
Lady Suffolk, trotted quietly away up Marshall street, in what we believed to be the direction of the
Brook turnpike.
The day was favorable — that is, it was an ill favored day, such as is not uncommon toward the middle and end of August--a day of clouded skies, and chilly showers.
About three miles beyond the city limits, having previously passed the line of fortified redoubts guarded by a few loungers with lances, we came upon the picket-guard.
The picket-guard was a tall, good-natured fellow, in a butternut suit, who sauntered slowly down towards us from his seat beneath a tree on a slope near the road.
His only weapon was a large sword, which could hardly have interfered with the prosecution of our journey, had he been dissatisfied with our passport.
But this was not the case.
He returned it to us with the remark, that as the ‘ "enemy wasn't in
Hanover county, we might go ahead; for you know,"’ he added, in a confidential manner, ‘"when a country's invaded, we can't let people go riding about in it"’ Casually missing our way in a small wood which we found occupied by a cavalry camp, we came upon a second and superfluous picket on striking Brook turnpike. But it was now raining very hard, and the picket-guard, a ‘"city soldier"’ in a neat uniform, had no disposition to inspect us over closely, at the expense of an inevitable ducking. --So, ‘"past we glide"’ once more, and find ourselves upon the direct high-road to
Hanover Junction.
As we neared that point, distant some 20 miles from
Richmond, we came upon a moving column of
Longstreet's corps advancing to join the army of
Gen. Lee, and plowing its way painfully, with heavily loaded wagons and jaded horses, over roads that were half canals with mud and swamp water.
The National army had occupied this country in May and June, and the traces of its presence were everywhere visible in bits of carefully-laid plank and corduroy, of which the
Confederates now gladly availed themselves.
Of devastation, save in the blazing of trees and an occasional lapse in the line of worm fences, we saw no signs.
A young
Mississippian Lieutenant, extremely well mounted, joined us about five miles from the
Junction, and taking us for residents of the county, asked our pilotage to his point of destination.
As we had made up our minds to follow the telegraph lines we readily offered to show him the way, and carried him safely in. The
Junction was swarming with troops and country people, and it is not improbable that the company of our
Lieutenant may have saved us from some disagreeable inquiries.
At
Hanover Junction we were to find a farmer who would ferry us over the
North Anna river.
A small boy puts us upon the road to this farmer's house, and the farmer himself not only put us across the river in a deep batteau, but upon our requesting him to take charge of our horse and buggy ‘"until we should return from
Baltimore,"’ volunteered an introduction of another farmer, who would see us safely over the ford of the
Mattaponi and set us on our way to the river
Rappahannock.
This second farmer, in consideration of a sum to him in hand paid, furnished us with a comfortable night's lodging, an excellent supper and breakfast, a good horse and wagon, and an intelligent negro guide.
We left his house at 3 A. M. on Saturday, and rode from the fading moonlight into the rosy dawn through a grand and silent forest of pines, in which we passed, without disturbing their repose, three Confederate cavalrymen, asleep beside their drowsy and picketed horses.
Dashing through a deep ford of the
Mattaponi we turned the last Confederate pickets a short distance to the east of
Bowling Green, baited our steed at a ‘ "town"’ of some half a dozen houses, known as
Lloyd, and crossed the river
Rappahannock at three o'clock of the afternoon in a wherry.
That the ferry at this point was a regular business like affair was evident enough, Before we reached it we met on the road several carriage loads of travellers, and two teams drawing heavy wagon loads of supplies, boxes of tea and
dry goods just ‘"over"’ from
Maryland.
In
Westmoreland county, where our
Rappahannock ferrymen put us ashore, we met a large party of Marylanders, fresh from
Baltimore.
There were some fifteen or twenty of them, and greeting us as Baltimoreans, they were urgent in their representations of the perils we should incur in attempting to reach the
Monumental City.
Westmoreland county, they told us, was then full of Marylanders, flying from the draft to come.
A camp of three hundred, they said, was established in the heart of the county, a few miles off and they informed me that, only the night before, they had arrested a negro, who, mistaking them for Nationals from
Fredericksburg, had come in to denounce his master as a rebel.
The negro they had secured, and were taking him to
Richmond.
We assumed a quiet and confident air in talking with these people, which made us ‘ "masters of the position,"’ and before we left them one of their number had agreed to take our buggy and horse back to
Richmond for us from the point at which we had left it on the
North Anna, offering us in re- turn the valuable information that at
Oak Grove, on the
Potomac shore of
Westmoreland, we should find the boat with two boatmen which brought him over from
Maryland, and which might probably be made available for taking us the other way, since we were so obstinately bent on running into the lion's mouth.
A negro with a fine pair of horses and a handsome New York built barouche was in waiting in the woods, just above the landing, and a drive of ten miles brought us to the small village of
Oak Grove.
Here in the cove of a small creek we found our boat, and after a short parley the boatmen agreed to land us in
Maryland.
They would not leave the creek till after dark, for fear of the ‘"tugs."’ which they seemed to hold in a very wholesome respect; and when we finally started, at dusk, the wind and the sea had risen so high that they feared to attempt the passage.
Of course we affected no disappointment at this delay, and bivouacked on the sand that night at the mouth of the creek.
At daylight next morning we rowed back to the cove we had left, and we were once more landed on the
Virginia shore!
Fortunately, however, we were not obliged to visit the town, but passed the day on a deserted plantation upon the cliffs overlooking the
Potomac, where we were hospitably entertained by a venerable ‘ "uncle"’ and ‘"maimer,"’ the sole guardians of that still and stately place.
The day was beautiful, the scene exquisitely calm and picturesque — nor could the dim consciousness of possible danger lurking in the rear disturb our enjoyment.
We lay upon the cliffs, watching the sails upon the river, and the far gleam of the
National flag as it waved in the light breeze upon the passing vessels, and the distant
Maryland short.
With the nightfall, we resumed our attempt to cross; and, after an exciting row of nearly three hours, the sea running quite high, slipped past the blockading line of National vessels, plainly discernible to the number of six at different points along the
Maryland shore, and drew in under the shadow of
Swan's Point.
From this point the boatmen rowed us through devious waterways, known to themselves better than, I fear, they are to our blockading vessels, into the
Wicomico river — upon the banks of which they landed us, forty-eight miles from
Washington, on the morning of Monday, August 18--From this point to within ten miles of the
Capital we made our way on foot, the thoroughly Southern temper of the country being sufficiently manifest in the fact that, while we met numbers of vehicles tending toward the river, we were unable to find anybody who would set us on our way to
Washington, the mere mention of such a proposition, unaccompanied as it was by any document verifying our ‘"Southern"’ claims, evidently drawing down upon us the suspicion and dislike of the country people.
At one place, indeed, where we induced an old lady to supply us with a meal, she subsequently informed us that we had been already announced in the village as ‘"a couple of Federal spies!"’
My experience, indeed, throughout this brief but interesting trip, convinced me that nothing could have been easier than for the
Confederates to organize along the
Virginia and
Maryland line a series of secret communications, the number and extent of which, I fear, the
Government has hardly appreciated — communications facilitated and protected by the disposition of the people who inhabit the regions traversed, highly important in their results to the seceded States, and only to be broken up by a much more minute and wide sweeping surveillance than had been attempted at the time when I passed the lines in August last.
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