The Iron Furnace, or Slavery and Secession Part 4

"As to the guilt of my nativity," said I, "it is not my fault, for I could not have helped it if I had tried. But I glory in my native State. She has never done anything to disgrace her. She never repudiated her just debts, nor committed any other disgraceful act."

"Well, you ought to have staid there, or have gone back when Mississippi seceded."

"Give me an opportunity, and I will go instanter."

"The first _going_ you will do, will be to go to h.e.l.l, where, if the devil had his due, you would have been long ago; and before you leave us, we will give you a free ticket to the shades infernal."

"Thank you for your kind offer to give me a free pa.s.s to the infernal regions. I did not know before that you were the devil's ticket-agent. You have me in your power, and may destroy my life; but when you have done that, there is no more that you can do."

Very little was said to my fellow-prisoner, Clarke. A few curses for a traitor, tory, &c., was about all. We were now placed under guard, and conducted to Tupelo, and after visiting the provost-marshal's office and the office of the commander of the post, whose names were Peden and Clare, we were committed to the Central Military Prison. As we entered, Captain Bruce and Lieutenant Malone (two gentlemen who had been elected to those offices by their fellow-prisoners) received us with a cordial greeting.

Captain Bruce thus addressed us:

"Welcome, gentlemen, thrice welcome. I am rejoiced to see you at my hotel.

We are now doing a land-office business, as the large number of my boarders, whom you see, will testify. We have numerous arrivals daily, whilst the departures are very few, giving evidence that all are satisfied with their treatment. The bill of fare is not very extensive. In these war times we must not expect the luxuries of life, but be content with the necessaries. It is true, we cannot furnish you with coffee, or mola.s.ses, or sugar, or salt, or beef, or vegetables; but we have something more substantial--we have flour, rather dark in colour, to be sure, but people must not be squeamish. The boarders are required to do their own cooking, as they could otherwise have but little exercise; we consider it a sanitary measure, exercise being indispensable to health. We furnish the boarders, also, with meat--none of your lean meat, either, but fat middling, with a streak of lean in it. The Bible promises the righteous that their bread shall be given, and their water sure; but we go beyond the promise, and give not only bread (or rather the flour to make it) and water, but also fat, strong meat. What room will you be pleased to have?"

I replied, that as they seemed to be crowded, I would choose number 199.

"Well," said the Captain, "it shall be prepared. Lieutenant Malone, have room number 199 fitted up for the reception of these gentlemen."

Lieutenant Malone replied, that the room designated would be fitted up in style for our reception. He asked us if we had dined.

"No," replied Clarke; "we have not tasted food since yesterday at noon, when the Parson paid for his own dinner and the dinner of the guards. We asked for something to eat, but were as often refused, and now we are in a starving condition."

"I pity you," said Malone, laying aside his facetious style; "you shall have something to eat as soon as it can be cooked."

He then went to some of the prisoners, and set them to cooking, and we were soon furnished with the best repast the poor fellows could supply.

We entered the prison July 3d, 1862, at two o'clock, P. M. Our prison was a grocery-house, its dimensions about twenty-five by fifty feet. When we were incarcerated, there were about seventy prisoners in the building, whites, mulattoes and negroes. The prison was filthy in the extreme, and filled with vermin; even our food was infested with them. No brooms were furnished us, and we could not sweep the floor. No beds were furnished, and we were compelled to lie upon the floor, with no covering, and nothing but the hard planks beneath us.

Several times a day officers would come in and order a specified number of men to go and work, under a strong guard. We were made to clean the streets, roll barrels, and clean the hospital; but our own prison we were not permitted to clean. Every kind of drudgery, and the most menial services, were imposed upon us.

The crimes charged upon the prisoners were desertion, trading with the Yankees, adhesion to the United States government or Unionism, acting as spies, refusing Confederate bonds, and piloting the Yankees. The crime of the negroes and mulattoes was endeavouring to escape on the underground railroad from Dixie land and the Iron Furnace. These remained till their masters were informed of their arrest, and came for and released them. On the evening preceding our imprisonment, two prisoners had been led out and shot, and I soon learned that this was no unusual occurrence. Nearly every day witnessed the execution of one or more of us. Those who were doomed to die were heavily ironed. In some cases, however, those who were not in fetters were taken out and shot or hanged, often with no previous warning; though sometimes a few hours warning was given.

Our privations were so great from a want of proper food and water--for the scanty amount of water furnished us was tepid and foul--and from a lack of beds, cots, couches, or something better than a filthy floor whereon to sleep, that I resolved to attempt an escape at the risk of my life. I felt confident that I could not long survive such cruel treatment. As soon as my arrest was known to the thirty-second Mississippi regiment, encamped in the suburbs of Tupelo, the colonel, major, adjutant, and one of the captains called upon me. This regiment was raised in Tishomingo county, one of the companies, the Zollicoffer Avengers, being from Rienzi, where I had been for years proprietor and Princ.i.p.al of the Rienzi Female Seminary.

The daughters of many of the officers of this regiment had been educated at this Seminary during my superintendence. Some of these officers had expressed themselves under great obligations to me, for the thorough, moral, mental, and physical training of their children while under my care. As proof of this, I have their own statements, as published in the public journals of the day. Owing me a debt of grat.i.tude, as they professed, could I expect less than the manifestation of deep sympathy for me in my sad condition--confined in a gloomy dungeon, deprived of the comforts, yea, even the necessaries of life, menaced and insulted by the officers in whose power I was? Whatever may have been my hopes, they were doomed to be blasted. These summer friends, so obsequious in my prosperity, conversed for a while on indifferent topics, never alluding to my condition, and as I did not obtrude it upon their attention, they left, promising to call again. I said, "Do so, gentlemen; you will always find me _at home_." Adjutant Irion, as he pa.s.sed out, asked Lieutenant Malone what the charge was against me. Malone replied that I was charged with being a Union man. The adjutant said, in a bitter and sarcastic tone, that I should never have been brought to Tupelo, but on my arrest should have been sent to h.e.l.l from the lowest limb of the nearest tree.

Having determined to escape at all hazards, I sought out an accomplice, a _compagnon de voyage_; that person was Richard Malone; his piercing eye, his intellectual physiognomy, led me to believe that if he consented to make the attempt with me, our chances for escape would be good. I drew Malone to one side, and covertly introduced the matter. He soon got my idea, and drawing from his pocket a paper, showed me the route mapped out which he intended to pursue, as he had for some days determined to escape, or die in the attempt. He was charged with being a spy, and there was little doubt that they would establish his guilt by false testimony. We went out now under every possible pretext. We no longer shunned the guard who came to obtain prisoners to do servile labour. Our object being to reconnoitre, in order to learn where guards were stationed, and to determine the best method of escape through the town after leaving the prison. During the day we made these observations: that there were two guards stationed at the back door, who were very verdant; that they would, after relief, come on duty again at midnight; that there was a building on the south side of the prison, extending beyond the prison and beyond the guards; that the moon would set about eleven o'clock, P. M.; that there were no guards stationed on the south side of the prison during the day; that one of the planks in the floor could be easily removed; and that there were several holes, when we were once under the floor, by which egress might be made either on the north or south side; that the coast was probably clearest in the direction of a corn-field some two hundred yards distant in a northwest direction.

At four o'clock P. M., our plan was fully matured. At midnight, (the moon being down, and the verdant guards on duty) we would raise the plank, get under the floor, and myself in the advance, make our exit through one of the holes on the south side of the jail, then crawl to the building, some fifteen feet distant, and continue crawling till we pa.s.sed the guards; then rise and make our way as cautiously as possible, to a point in the corn-field, a short distance in the rear of a garment which was hanging upon the fence. The one who first arrived must await the other. A signal was agreed upon, to prevent mistake. If the guards ordered us to halt, we had resolved to risk their fire, our watchword being, Liberty or death!

About this time the prisoners chose me their chaplain by acclamation.

During the day, we made known our intention of escaping to several fellow-prisoners, who promised us all the a.s.sistance in their power. All the prisoners who knew of the matter, earnestly desired our escape, and co-operated with us in effecting it. Clarke and Robinson begged us to take them along, averring there was no doubt that they would be shot. Malone told them that no more than two could go together; that if they wished to escape, they could make the attempt half an hour after us, which they agreed to. Clarke, however, came to me, and desired me to take him along, as he would rather go with us than with Robinson. He had a wife and five small children dependent on him for support, and if he perished, they must perish too. I consulted Malone, but he would not agree to have Clarke go with us. Three would be too many for safety, and he doubted whether Clarke had sufficient nerve to face the glittering bayonet, or tact enough to pa.s.s through the camps without detection. He might commit some blunder which would endanger our safety. I informed Clarke that the arrangement made, in which he and Robinson were to go together, must be adhered to. He begged me, by all that was sacred, to take him along. But Malone was inexorable, and I thought it best to acquiesce in his judgment.

Night drew on apace. Thick darkness gathered around us, and murky clouds covered the sky, as we sat down with the Federal prisoners to our scanty allowance. While partaking of our rude fare, Malone thus spoke:

"This day is the 4th of July, 1862, the anniversary of our patriot fathers' declaration of independence of British tyranny and oppression.

They had much to complain of. They suffered grievous wrongs and cruel bondage. But eighty-six years ago to-day they declared themselves to be a free and independent people, who would rather die than be again enslaved.

Of what worth was their declaration if they had remained inactive?

Supineness would not have saved them. But trusting in our G.o.d, who gives success to the righteous cause, they imperilled their lives, they hazarded their fortunes, and with untiring energy and sleepless vigilance they contested to the bitter end against all efforts to deprive them of their inalienable rights. Success crowned their efforts, and they rid themselves of tyrants' chains. We (I allude to my friend, Parson Aughey, and myself,) degenerate sons of these n.o.ble sires, have suffered wrong, nay, gross outrage. Citizens of the sunny South, guilty of no offence whatever, not even of constructive crime, we are immured in a loathsome dungeon, deprived of the comforts of life, separated from our families, and suffered to have no communication with them; dragging out a miserable existence, which an ignominious death on the scaffold must soon end. We, therefore, John H. Aughey and Richard Malone, in view of these acc.u.mulated wrongs and outrages, solemnly swear before High Heaven, and in presence of these witnesses, that we will be free, or perish in the attempt. Appealing to the G.o.d of liberty, of truth, and of righteousness, for the rect.i.tude of our motives and the justness of our cause, we commit ourselves into his hands, and implore his protection amid the dangers through which we are about to pa.s.s, and humbly pray that he will give us success, and restore us speedily to our families and friends, and to the enjoyment of our inalienable rights, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

Grasping the Lieutenant by the hand, I consented to this Declaration of Independence of rebel thraldom. We gave our respective addresses to our friends, who promised, that if they were ever liberated, and we were killed by the guards, they would write to our families, informing them of the manner of our death.

About ten o'clock, Malone raised the plank, and I went under to reconnoitre. I remained under the floor about ten minutes, having learned that there were no guards patroling the south side of the house, as we feared might be the case after night. We had learned, from observation, that there were none during the day. Just at the noon of night, we heard the relief called. Malone and I endeavoured to find the prisoners who were to raise the plank, but not being able readily to do so, we raised the plank ourselves, and both got under without difficulty. Malone getting under first, was, contrary to agreement, compelled to take the lead. As he was pa.s.sing out, he made considerable noise. To warn him of the danger, I patted him on the back. Reaching back, he gave my hand a warm pressure, to a.s.sure me that all was right, and pa.s.sed out. I followed, and reached the designated point in the corn-field in about half an hour, having to use the utmost precaution, and in some cases to pa.s.s the guards by crawling in a serpentine manner. When I arrived, I gave the preconcerted signal, but Malone was nowhere to be seen. I waited for him two hours at least, when I was compelled to seek my safety alone.

Not being able to meet with my friend, I regarded as a great misfortune, because, after reaching a point ten miles north of Tupelo, he would be familiar with the country. I had frequently pa.s.sed through the town on the railroad, but knew nothing of the country through which I must travel.

Somewhat depressed in spirits at the loss of my _compagnon de voyage_, I resolved to reach my family by the safest and most practicable route.

Still in the midst of camps, I had considerable difficulty in making my way out of them. When I thought that this had been effected, I found that day was brightening in the east. Looking around for some place to hide, I soon found a dense, though small thicket, in which I secreted myself as covertly as possible. Having slept but little since my arrest, I endeavoured to compose myself to slumber, and partially succeded; but soon the noise and confusion of soldiers pa.s.sing and re-pa.s.sing near, awoke and alarmed me. I soon learned that I was near a camp, and that the soldiers had found a suitable place for bathing in a creek which ran within thirty yards of my place of concealment. There were two paths by which they reached the creek. On one, they pa.s.sed within fifteen feet of me; on the other, within six or seven. About nine o'clock, I heard the booming of cannon all around me, proceeding from the different camps. The soldiers who pa.s.sed me stated, in their conversation, that the cannon were firing in honour of a great victory obtained over General McClellan, in Virginia.

According to their statement, his whole army, after a succession of losses, during eight days' fighting, had been completely annihilated, and that Stonewall Jackson would be in Was.h.i.+ngton city before the close of the week.

The day pa.s.sed slowly away. At one time two soldiers came within a few feet of me in search of blackberries, but pa.s.sed out without detecting me.

At another time two soldiers sat down to converse, so near that their lowest tones were distinctly audible. One informed the other that he had been in town in the morning, and had learned that the _Clerical Spy_, Parson Aughey, and a fellow by the name of Malone, had broke jail, but that they would soon be brought in, as a company of cavalry had been put on their track, with a pack of bloodhounds. Soon after this, one of them arose and struck a bush several times, which seemed to be but a very short distance above my head. I thought that he had discovered me, and was about to rise and run, when I heard him say to his companion, that he had attempted to kill a very large snake, which had escaped to the bushes. I began to feel somewhat uncomfortably situated when I learned that I was in close proximity to a large snake, though I would have preferred meeting with an anaconda, boa-constrictor, rattlesnake, or even the deadly cobra di capello, rather than with those vile secessionists thirsting for innocent blood.

I thought this 5th of July was the longest day I had ever known. The sun was so long in reaching the zenith, and so slow in pa.s.sing down the steep ecliptic way to the occident. The twilight, too, seemed of endless duration. But as all long days have had an end, so had this. The stars came glittering one by one. I soon recognised that old staunch and immovable friend of all travellers on the underground railroad, the polar-star.

Rising from my lair, I was soon homeward bound, guided by the north-star and an oriental constellation. Plunging into a dense wood I found my rapid advance impeded by the undergrowth, and great difficulty in following my guiding stars, as the boughs of the great oaks rendered them invisible, or dimly seen. Fatigued, hungry, and sleepy, I at length lay down at the foot of a large swamp-oak tree, intending to take a nap, and then rise and pursue my journey. When I awoke the sun was just rising. I arose filled with regret for the time I had lost. Though somewhat refreshed by my sound sleep, yet I was very hungry and almost famished with thirst.

After travelling about half a mile I came to a small log-house on a road-side. Feeling sick and faint, I resolved to go to the house to obtain water, and, if I liked the appearance of the inmates, to reveal my condition and ask for aid. Upon reaching the house I met the proprietor, but did not like his physiognomy. He looked the villain; a sinister expression, a countenance revealing no intellectuality, except a sort of low cunning, bore testimony that it would be foolish to repose confidence in the possessor of such villanous looks. I asked for water, intending to drink and leave. He pointed to the bucket; I drank and bade him good morning, and turned to leave. I had proceeded but a few steps, when I was ordered, in a stentorian tone, to halt. On looking round, I saw a soldier within a few steps, presenting a double-barrelled gun; another soldier was standing near, heavily armed. I asked by what authority he halted me. To which he replied:

"I know you, sir; I have heard you preach frequently. You are Parson Aughey, and you were arrested and confined in prison at Tupelo. I was in Lowrey's regiment yesterday, and learned that you had broken jail; and now, sir, you must return. My name is Dan Barnes. You may have heard of me."

I had indeed heard of him. He had been guilty of robbing the United States mail, had fled to Napoleon or Helena, Arkansas, where he was arrested, brought back, and incarcerated in jail at Pontotoc, and confined there for nearly a year. As the evidence against him was positive, he would have been sent to the penitentiary; but, fortunately for him, at this juncture Mississippi seceded. There being then no United States officers to execute the laws, he was liberated, and soon after joined the army.

After breakfast, which I paid for, Barnes called me to one side, and told me that he felt sorry for me, and would afford me an opportunity of escaping, if I would pay him a reasonable sum. He had been in a tight place himself, and would have been glad had some friend been near to aid him. He named two hundred and forty dollars as the _reasonable sum_ for permitting me to escape. After getting my money, their horses were saddled, and telling me he was playing-off on me, said I must go to General Jordan's head-quarters at Priceville, to which place he and Huff, the proprietor of the log cabin, conducted me.

On my arrival, General Jordan ordered me to be put in irons, and placed under guard. I was taken to a blacksmith's shop in the town, the General accompanying the guard, and heavy iron bands were put around my ankles, and connected by a chain. The bands were put on hot, and my boots were burnt in the operation. The blacksmith seemed averse to the order, and only obeyed it upon compulsion. The General stood by, and saw that it was well done. "Iron him securely--securely, sir," was his oft repeated order.

The ironing caused me much pain. My ankles were long discoloured from the effects of it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I was taken to a blacksmith's shop, and heavy iron bands put around my ankles." Page 104.]

After my manacles were put on, I was taken back to Tupelo by Barnes and another guard. On my arrival, the commander of the post and the Provost Marshal were filled with joy. Barnes gave them the history of the arrest, stating that I had attempted to bribe him; that he listened to my proposition with indignation, and when he had got the money, performed what he regarded his duty. The commander replied that all the property of traitors was theirs, and that he did right in deceiving me, after accepting the bribe. He also recommended Barnes for promotion for his heroic and patriotic act in arresting me. (Perhaps it secured for him a captaincy.) The following colloquy now took place between the commander of the post, the Provost Marshal, and myself:

"Why did you attempt to leave us?"

"Because, sir, your prison was so filthy, and your fare so meagre and unwholesome, that I could not endure it long, and live."

"Parson, you know the Bible says, the wicked flee when no man pursueth, but the righteous are as bold as a lion. You must have been guilty of crime, or you would not have tried to escape."

"I may have been guilty of the offence charged against me, and yet innocent of real _guilt_."

"You shall never be taken back to the prison you left, rest a.s.sured of that. Did any of the prisoners know of or aid you in your escape?"

"No, sir; none of them knew anything about it."

"Are you telling the truth?"

"I am."

"Where is Malone?"