Chapter XLI

I am not a Stephano, but a cramp.--TEMPEST.

Let every man shift for all the rest, and let no man Take
care for himself; for all is but fortune.--IBID.

The barn contained no fodder except damp husks. Burrowing into these, we wrapped our dripping coats about us, covered ourselves, faces and all, and shivered through the day, so weary that we drowsed a little, but too uncomfortable for any refreshing slumbers.

Rising at dark, with skins irritated by atoms of husk which had penetrated our clothing, we combed out our matted hair and beards--a very faint essay toward making our toilets. Hats, gloves, handkerchiefs, and haversacks, were hopelessly lost in the fodder. Hungry, cold, rheumatic, aching at every joint, we seemed to have exhausted our slender endurance.

[Sidenote: A CABIN OF FRIENDLY NEGROES.]

But a walk of ten minutes took us to a slave-cabin, where, as usual, we found devoted friends. The old negro killed two chickens, and then stood outside, to watch and warn us of the patrols, should he hear the clattering hoofs of their approaching horses. His wife and daughter cooked supper, while we stood before the blazing logs of the wide-mouthed fireplace, to dry our steaming garments.

It was the first dwelling I had entered for nearly twenty months. It was rude almost to squalor; but it looked more palatial than the most elegant and luxurious saloon. There was a soft bed, with clean, snowy sheets. How I envied those negroes, and longed to stretch my limbs upon it and sleep for a month! There were chairs, a table, plates, knives, and forks--the commonest comforts of life, which, like sweet cold water, clean clothing, and pure air, we never appreciate until once deprived of them.

[Sidenote: SOUTHERNERS UNACQUAINTED WITH TEA.]

We eagerly devoured the chickens and hot corn-bread, and drank steaming cups of green tea, which our ebony hostess, unfamiliar with the beverage that cheers, but not inebriates, prepared under my directions. Before starting I had taken the precaution to fill a pocket with tea, which I had been saving more than a year for that purpose. In commercial parlance, tea was tea in the Confederacy. The last pound we purchased, for daily use, cost us one hundred and twenty-seven dollars in Rebel currency, and we were compelled to send to Wilmington before we could obtain it even at that price.

It is an article little used by the Southerners, who are inveterate coffee-drinkers. All along our route we found the women, white and black, ignorant of the art of making tea without instructions. Captain Wolfe assured us that his father once attended a log-rolling in South Carolina, where, as a rare and costly luxury, the host regaled the workers with tea at the close of their labors. But, unacquainted with its use, they were only presented with the boiled leaves to eat! After this novel banquet, one old lady thus expressed the views of the rural assembly: "Well, I never tasted this before. It is pleasant enough; but except for the name of it, I don't consider tea a bit better than any other kind of greens!"

Experience on the great Plains and among the Rocky Mountains had taught me the superiority of tea over all stronger stimulants in severe, protracted hardships. Now it proved of inestimable service to us. After a two-hours' halt, refreshed by food and dry clothing, we seemed to have a new lease of life. Elastic and vigorous, we felt equal to almost any labor.

"May God bless you," said the old woman, bidding us adieu, while earnest sympathy shone from her own and her daughter's eyes and illumined their dark faces. To us they were "black, and comely too." The husband led us to the railroad, and there parted from us.

[Sidenote: WALKING TWELVE MILES FOR NOTHING.]

At midnight we were twenty-three miles from Salisbury, and three from Statesville. We wished to avoid the latter village; and leaving the railway, which ran due west, turned farther northward. In two miles we expected to strike the Wilkesboro road, at Allison's Mill. We followed the old negro's directions as well as possible, but soon suspected that we must be off the route. It was bitterly cold, and to avoid suffering we walked on and on with great rapidity. Before daylight, at a large plantation, we wakened a slave, and learned that, since leaving the railway, we had traveled twelve miles circuitously and gained just one half-mile on the journey! There were two Allison's Mills, and our black friend had directed us to the wrong one.

"Can you conceal us here to-day?" we asked in a whisper of the negro who gave us this information from his bed, in a little cabin.

"I reckon so. Master is a terrible war-man, a Confederate officer, and would kill me if he were to find it out. But I kept a sick Yankee captain here last summer for five days, and then he went on. Go to the barn and hide, and I will see you when I come to fodder the horses."

We found the barn, groped our way up into a hay-loft, under the eaves, and buried ourselves in the straw.

[Sidenote: EVERY BLACK FACE A FRIENDLY FACE.]

V. _Thursday, December 22._

The biting wind whistled and shrieked between the logs of the barn, and, cover ourselves as we would, it was too cold for sleep. The negro--an intelligent young man--spent several hours with us, asking questions about the North, brought us ample supplies of food, and a bottle of apple-brandy purloined from his master's private stores.

At dark he took us into his quarters, only separated by a narrow lane from the planter's house, and we were warmed and fed. A dozen of the blacks--including little boys and girls of ten and twelve years--visited us there. Among them was a peculiarly intelligent mulatto woman of twenty-five, comely, and neatly dressed. The poor girl interrogated us for an hour very earnestly about the progress of the War, its probable results, and the feeling and purposes of the North touching the slaves. Using language with rare propriety, she impressed me as one who would willingly give up life for her unfortunate race. With culture and opportunity, she would have been an intellectual and social power in any circle. She was the wife of a slave; but her companions told us that she had been compelled to become the mistress of her master. She spoke of him with intense loathing.

By this time we had learned that every black face was a friendly face. So far as fidelity was concerned, we felt just as safe among the negroes as if in our Northern homes. Male or female, old or young, intelligent or simple, we were fully assured they would never betray us.

[Sidenote: TOUCHING FIDELITY OF THE SLAVES.]

Some one has said that it needs three generations to make a gentleman. Heaven only knows how many generations are required to make a freeman! But we have been accustomed to consider this perfect trustworthiness, this complete loyalty to friends, a distinctively Saxon trait. The very rare degree to which the negroes have manifested it, is an augury of brightest hope and promise for their future. It is a faint indication of what they may one day become, with Justice, Time, and Opportunity.

They were always ready to help anybody opposed to the Rebels. Union refugees, Confederate deserters, escaped prisoners--all received from them the same prompt and invariable kindness. But let a Rebel soldier, on his way to the army, or returning from it, apply to them, and he would find but cold kindness.

The moment they met us, they would do whatever we required upon impulse and instinct. But afterward, when there was leisure for conversation, they would question us with some anxiety. Few had ever seen a Yankee before. They would repeat to us the bugbear stories of their masters, about our whipping them to force them into the Union army, and starving their wives and children. Professing utterly to discredit these reports, they still desired a little reassurance. We can never forget their upturned, eager eyes, and earnest faces. Happily we could tell them that the Nation was rising to the great principles of Freedom, Education, and an open Career for every human being.

Starting at ten o'clock to-night, we had an arduous march over the rough, frozen ground. Hard labor and loss of sleep began to tell upon us. I think every member of the party had his mental balance more or less shaken. Davis was haggard, with blood-shot eyes; "Junius" was pallid, and threatened with typhoid fever; Wolfe, with a sprained ankle, could barely limp; I was weak and short of breath, from the pneumonic affection. Charley Thurston was our best foot, and we always put him foremost. With his Confederate uniform and his ready invention, he could play Rebel soldier admirably.

[Sidenote: PURSUED BY A HOME GUARD.]

Toward morning we were compelled to stop, build a fire in the dense pine-forest, and rest for an hour. We were uncertain about the roads, and just before daylight Charley stopped to make inquiries of an old farmer. Then we went on, and, as the road was very secluded, were talking with less discretion than usual, when a twig snapped behind us. Instantly turning around, we saw the old man following stealthily, listening to our conversation. We ordered him to halt; but he ran away with wonderful agility for a septuagenarian.

The moment he was out of sight, we left the road, and ran, too, in an opposite direction, fast as our tired limbs could carry us. It would be a very nice point to determine which was the more frightened, we or our late pursuer. We afterward learned that he was an unrelenting Rebel and a zealous Home Guard. He was doubtless endeavoring to follow us to our shelter, that he might bring out his company, and capture us during the day.

Long after daylight we continued running, until we had put five miles between ourselves and the road. The region was very open, and it seemed morally certain that we would be discovered through the barking dogs at some of the farm-houses. But about nine o'clock we halted in a pine-grove, small but thick, and built a great fire of rails, which, being very dry, emitted little smoke. There was danger that the blaze would be discovered; but in our feeble condition we could no longer endure the inclemency of the weather.

VI. _Friday, December 23._

[Sidenote: HELP IN THE LAST EXTREMITY.]

Hungry and fatigued, with our feet to the fire, we could sleep an hour at a time upon the frozen ground before the cold awakened us. When, after a waiting which seemed endless, the welcome darkness came at last, it lifted a load from our hearts; we no longer listened anxiously for the coming of the Guard.

Starting again, we toiled on with slow and painful steps. We were entering a region where slaves were few, and we could find no negroes. "Junius," in a high fever, was so weak that we were almost compelled to carry him, and his voice was faint as the wail of an infant. Again and again he begged us to go on, and leave him to rest upon the ground. We had sore apprehensions that it might become necessary to commit him to the first friends we found, and press forward without him.

About eight o'clock Charley entered a little tavern to procure provisions. He assumed his favorite character of a Rebel soldier, on parole, going to his home in Wilkes County for the holidays. An old man was spending the night there. While supper was cooking, he gave to Charley a recognizing sign of the Sons of America. It was instantly answered; and, stepping outside, they had an interview.

Then our new friend stealthily led his three mules from the tavern stable, through the fields to the road, placed three of us upon them, and guided us five miles, to the house of his brother, another strong Union man. The brother warmed us, fed us, and "stayed us with flagons" of apple-brandy; then brought out two of his mules, and again we pressed forward. They cautioned us not to intrust the secret of their assistance to any one, reminding us that it would be a hanging matter for them.

[Sidenote: CARRIED FIFTEEN MILES BY FRIENDS.]

So, on this cold winter night, while we were so stiff and exhausted that we could barely keep our seats on the steeds they had so thoughtfully furnished, these kind friends conducted us fifteen miles, and left us in the Union settlement we were seeking, fifty miles from Salisbury.