The Iron Furnace; or, Slavery and Secession

“The hounds are baying on my track,Christian, will you send me back?”

A feeling of strong sympathy arose in my bosom for the poor African, who, in his endeavour to escape from the Iron Furnace of Southern slavery, often encountered the bloodhounds, and was torn to pieces by them. “A fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind.”

I had remained but a short time in the tree, when I ascertained that the hounds were bearing eastward, and they soon passed at a distance. They were on the track of some other poor fugitive, and I rejoiced again in the hope of safety. Coming to a corn-field, I plucked two ears of corn, and ate them raw, having no matches wherewith to kindle a fire, which, indeed, would have increased my peril, as the smoke might advertise my presence to bitter and unrelenting foes.

Toward night I lay down in the woods, and fell asleep. Visions of abundance, both to eat and drink, haunted me, and every unusual sound would startle me. A fly peculiar to the South, whose buzz sounded like the voice of an old man, often awoke me with the fear that my enemies were near. As soon as Ursa Minor appeared, I took up my line of march. The night was very dark, and I became somewhat bewildered. At length I reached a crossroads, and as I was emerging from the wood, I saw two pickets a few yards from me. Stooping down, I crawled on my hands and knees back into the woods. As I retired, I heard one picket say to the other, “Who is that?”

He replied, “It is the lieutenant of the guard.”

“What does he want?” said the first.

“He is slipping round to see if we are asleep.”

After I got a safe distance in the bushes, I lay down and slept till the moon arose. To the surprise of my bewildered brain, it seemed to rise in the west. Taking my course, I hastened on, sometimes through woods, sometimes through cornfields, and sometimes through swamps. Coming to a large pasture, in which a number of cows were grazing, I tried to obtain some milk, but none of them would allow me to approach near enough to effect my purpose. My face was not of the right colour, and my costume belonged to a sex that never milked them. I travelled until day-break, when I concealed myself in a thicket of cane, and had scarcely fallen asleep when I heard the sound of the reveille, in a camp close at hand. Arising, I hurriedly beat a retreat, and travelled several hours before I dared take any rest. I at length lay down amid the branches of a fallen tree, and slept. Visions of home and friends flitted before me. Voices sweet and kind greeted me on all sides. The bitter taunts of cruel officers no longer assailed my ears. The loved ones at home were present, and the joys of the past were renewed. But, alas! the falling of a limb dissipated all my fancied pleasures. The reality returned, and I was still a fugitive escaping for life, and in the midst of a hostile country.

To-day my mock trial would have taken place, and I fancied the disappointment of Woodruff, who had stated that to his knowledge I was a spy, and to-day would have sworn it. And Barnes, the mail-robber, recommended for promotion because of his heroism in re-arresting me, how sad he must feel, that the bird had flown, and that he would not have the pleasure of witnessing my execution. I thanked God and took courage. Though faint and weary, I was still hopeful and trusting, often repeating,

“’Tis God has led me safe thus far,And he will bring me home.”

On this (Monday) night, I travelled steadily, crossing swamps, corn-fields, woods, and pastures. I came to only one cotton-field during the night. I passed through several wheat-fields, where the wheat had been harvested; I pulled a handful from a shock, and rubbed out some of the grain, but it was so bitter I could not eat it. I suspected every bush a secessionist, though I felt much more secure at night than in daylight. I avoided roads as much as possible, travelling on none except to cross them, which was done with great rapidity. The rising sun still found me pressing onward, and thirst and hunger were now consuming me. To satisfy hunger, I had recourse to the corn-field; but I could find no water. I would gladly have drank any kind of beverage, however filthy, so that my thirst might be allayed. About nine o’clock, when I had almost despaired of getting water at all, I came to a copious fountain in a gorge of the hills, and from its appearance, I seemed to be the discoverer. Around it there was no trace of human foot, nor hoof of cattle. On beholding it, I wept with joy. I remained by it about four hours, quaffing its cool and crystal waters, the first running water I had tasted since leaving prison. I also bathed my body and washed my clothes, drying them in the sun, and endeavoured to rid them of vermin, in which I only partially succeeded. I named this fountain Fons Beatus, and left it with sincere sorrow.

Three o’clock, P. M., arrived, and I felt bewildered. I knew not where I was. I might be near friends, I might be near bloodthirsty foes. I could scarcely walk. My iron bands had become very irksome. I felt that I was becoming childish. I could tell all my bones. I tried to pray, but could only utter, “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner!” Still I felt thankful that it was so well with me as it was.

At that very hour, had I not escaped, I should have been either on the scaffold at Tupelo, or suspended between heaven and earth, surrounded by an insulting and jeering army. This reflection made me thankful to God, even though I should die in the swamps. The sky became overcast, and I found it impossible to distinguish north from south. I therefore concealed myself and slept. It was night when I awoke, and the clouds still covered the sky threateningly, concealing my guiding star, and rendering it impossible for me to proceed. Thus, when I wished most to go forward, my progress was arrested, and my distressing suspense prolonged. During the whole night I was asleep and awake alternately, but could not at any time discern either moon or stars. Once, while sleeping behind a fallen tree by the roadside, a horseman passed by. His dog, a large and ferocious-looking animal, came running along by the side of the tree where I was lying. When he reached me, I raised up suddenly and brandishing a club menacingly, the alarmed and howling dog incontinently and ingloriously fled, leaving me master of the field.

On Wednesday morning the sun was still obscured until nine o’clock. I was then sick. There was a ringing in my ears, and I was affected with vertigo, a dimness of vision and faintness, which rendered me absolutely unfit for travel. It required an hour to walk a quarter of a mile. I found a good supply of blackberries, which very much refreshed me. Before me was a hill, the top of which I reached after two hours’ laborious ascent. I despaired of getting much further. I thought I must perish in the Iron Furnace of secession, which was heated very hot for me. Feeling confident that I must be near Tippah county, and knowing that there were many Union men in that county, I resolved to call at the first house on my route. If I remained where I was, I must perish, as I could go no further, and if I met with a Union family, I should be saved; if with “a secesh,” I might possibly impose upon their credulity, and get refreshment without being arrested. They might, however, cause my arrest. It was a dilemma such as I hope never to be placed in again. About an hour before sunset I came to a house, and remained near it for some time. At length I saw a negro girl come to the door. Knowing that where there were negroes, in nine cases out of ten there were secessionists near, I left the house as quickly as my enfeebled condition would permit. Going to another house, I remained near it till I was satisfied there were no negroes held by that family. I then went boldly up, knocked, gained admittance, and asked for some water, which was given me. The lady of the house, scrutinizing me closely, asked me if I were from Tupelo. I replied in the affirmative. She then inquired my name. I gave her my Christian name, John Hill, suppressing the surname. Her husband was sitting near, a man of Herculean frame; and as the wife’s inquisitiveness was beginning to alarm me, I turned to him and said: “My friend, you are a man of great physical powers, and at this time you ought to be in the army. The Yankees are overrunning all our country, and the service of every man is needed.” His wife replied that he was not in the army, nor would he go into it, unless he was forced to go. They had been told that the cavalry would be after him in a few days, to take him as a conscript; but she considered the conscript law, base and tyrannical. Overjoyed at the utterance of such sentiments as these, I then revealed my true character. I told them that I had recently made my escape from Tupelo, where I was doomed to execution on the gallows, and that I was now flying from prison and from death. I then exhibited the iron bands upon my ankles. Both promised all the aid in their power. The lady at once proposed to prepare supper, but I was too near the point of starvation to await the slow process of cooking. She therefore turned down the tablecloth, which covered the fragments remaining from dinner, and disclosed some corn bread and Irish potatoes. Though I never liked corn bread, I must confess I thought that was the sweetest morsel I had ever tasted.

After eating a little, however, I became very sick, and was compelled to desist. It was so long since I had partaken of any substantial food, that my stomach now could not bear it. The lady soon prepared supper, consisting of broiled chicken, and other delicacies. The fowl was quite small, and I ate nearly the whole of it, much to the chagrin of a little daughter of mine host, whom I heard complaining to her mother, afterward, in an adjoining room, saying, “Ma, all I got of that chicken was a little piece of the wing,” and “aint that gentleman a hoss to eat?” with other remarks by no means complimentary to my voracious appetite.

After supper, mine host endeavoured to remove the heavy iron bands by which my ankles were clasped. This was accomplished after considerable labour. I asked him to retain the bands till called for, which he promised to do. The good lady furnished me with water and a suit of her husband’s clothes. After performing a thorough ablution, I donned the suit, and felt completely metamorphosed, and was thoroughly disguised, as my new suit had been made for a man of vastly larger physical proportions. I spent the night with my new friends, during which a heavy thunder-storm passed over. Had I been out in the drenching rain in my wretched condition, I must surely have perished. In the morning my host informed me of a Union man who knew the country in the direction of Rienzi, the point which I now determined to reach. This gentleman lived half a mile distant, and my host accompanied me to a thicket near his house, where I concealed myself till he brought Mr. – to me. Said my friend No. 2, “I am not familiar with the route to Rienzi, but will go with you to friend No. 3, who I am positive is well acquainted with the road. He can take you through the woods, so as to avoid the Confederate cavalry. As I undertake this at the risk of my life, we must wait till night. I would gladly have you come to my house, but I fear that it might transpire through my children that I had helped you to escape. I have a large family, and most of ’em is gals, and you know gals will talk. You can stay in my barn till I come for you. I will carry you provisions during the day, and to-night we will go to my friend’s.”

About three o’clock in the morning, he came with two horses, one of which he mounted, and I the other. The horse I rode was a blooded animal, and to use my friend’s expression, could run like a streak of lightning. I provided myself with a good whip, resolving, in case of danger, to put my horse to his utmost speed. A short time after daylight, we reached friend No. 3, who promised to conduct me to Rienzi. While at his house, I learned that a Unionist, Mr. N – , had been killed under circumstances of the greatest cruelty. His sentiments had become known to the rebels. He was arrested by their cavalry, and refusing to take the oath, they resolved to put him to death on the spot. He had a large family of small children, who, together with his wife, begged that his life might be spared. He himself had no favours to ask of the secessionists. Among his foes, the only point of dispute was, as to the mode of his death. Some favoured shooting, some hanging; but the prevailing majority were in favour of scalding him to death. And there, in the presence of his weeping and helpless family, these fiends in human form deliberately heated water, with which they scalded to death their chained and defenceless victim. Thus perished a patriot of whom the State was not worthy. The corpse was then suspended from a tree, with a label on the breast, stating that whoever cut him down and buried him, should suffer the same fate. My companions cut down the corpse by night, and buried it in the forest. May God reward them!

My friend No. 3 thought that it would be best to travel in daylight. He could follow by-paths, and avoid the rebel cavalry. We started about eight o’clock on Friday morning, and met with no incident worth narrating until we reached a mill; here we fell in with some six or seven rebel soldiers, who had been out on sick furlough, and were returning. They scanned us closely, and inquired whence we came, and whither bound. My friend specified a neighbourhood from which he affirmed we came, and stated that we were hunting stray oxen, asking whether they had seen a black ox and a pied ox in their travels. They replied in the negative; and in turn asked him who I was. He replied that I was his wife’s brother, who had come from Alabama about three months ago. They said I looked like “death on a pale hoss,” and wished to know what was the matter with me – if I were consumptive. My friend replied that I had had the chills for several months; and as there was no quinine in the country, it was impossible to stop them.

During this inquisition, I was ready at any moment to put spur to my horse, and run a race for life, had any attempt been made to arrest me, or if I had been recognised by any of the soldiers. We were, however, permitted to pass on, not without some suspicious glances. We at length reached a point ten miles from Rienzi. My guide now insisted on returning. It would be morning ere he reached home, and if met by cavalry, he must invent some plausible excuse for having a led horse. Nor did he dare return by the same route. Knowing the country, I permitted him to return. I then set out on foot, and at length reached the Federal pickets, three miles from Rienzi, where a horse was furnished me; and about ten o’clock I reached the head-quarters of Colonel Misner in Rienzi. When I gazed upon the star-spangled banner, beneath whose ample folds there was safety and protection – when I saw around me the Union hosts – I shed tears of joy, and from the depths of my heart returned thanks to Almighty God, who had given me my life at my request, preserving me, amid dangers seen and unseen, till I now was safe amid hosts of friends.

Colonel Misner requested me to report all that would be of service to General Rosecrans, which I did, he copying my report as I gave it. I reported, so far as I was informed, the probable number of troops in and around Tupelo, the topography of the country, the probable designs of the rebels, the number of troops sent to Richmond under Beauregard, &c. The Colonel requested me to go with him to head-quarters in the morning; but at the hour specified I was sick, and my physician, Dr. Holley, of the Thirty-sixth Illinois, thought it would not be advisable for me to go, even in an ambulance. My report, however, was carried up to General Rosecrans.

Through proper treatment I recovered in a few days, so as to be able to go into Jacinto, the nearest point in the Federal lines to my family. I called on General Jefferson C. Davis, who was in command of that post. The General had heard of my arrest, and expressed gratification at my safe return. I informed him of my desire to get my family within the lines. The General immediately proffered me all the cavalry at his command, and ordered them to prepare for the expedition. I thankfully accepted his kind offer, but after reflection concluded to send a messenger first, with a letter to my wife; if he were not intercepted, I knew that she would come in as soon as possible. The order to the cavalry was countermanded until this plan would be tried. The messenger was not intercepted, and on the next day I had the pleasure of beholding my wife and child, whose faces, a short time before, I had given up all hope of ever beholding on earth.

While here, I called on my friend, Lieutenant Richard Malone, who resides in Jacinto. On inquiring at his house for him, he heard my voice, and ran out to the gate to meet me. Grasping my hand, he could not for some time control his emotions so as to speak.

Malone gave me his history since we had parted at the outer wall of the prison. He reached the corn-field at the point designated, and anxiously awaited my arrival until near daylight, when he was compelled to seek safety in flight. We had agreed to meet in the corn-field at a place where there was a garment suspended upon the fence. We think there must have been two garments suspended at different points, and hence our mistake. We could not signal loud in consequence of the nearness of the pickets, and therefore did not meet. Soon after daylight, Malone found himself in the midst of a cavalry company which had encamped there during the night; they were making preparations for departure, and the majority of them were gathering blackberries. Joining them, he passed as a citizen, and when he reached the rear of the company, he gathered some sticks in his arms, and started towards a small cabin at a short distance, as if it were his residence. Before reaching it, he made a detour to the right, and passed into the dense woods. On the next day, about ten o’clock, A. M., he reached an open champaign country, through which it would have been dangerous to travel. To the west, about three hundred yards distant, was a dense woods, which he hoped to reach without detection. While travelling down a road for this purpose, four cavalrymen who were in pursuit dashed towards him, and ordered him to return with them to Tupelo. Malone replied, that as it was useless to resist, he must submit. He asked for some water; they had none in their canteens, but went to a house in the distance to obtain some. Malone was ordered to march before them, which he was compelled to do, though famishing from hunger and thirst. On reaching the house, they all went to the well and drew a bucket of water. There being no dipper, Malone remarked that he would go into the house and get one. One of the guards followed, and stationed himself at the door with his gun. Malone went into the house, and immediately passed out at the back door. The garden gate being open, he passed into the garden, when he commenced running. Two women in the house noticed his running, and clapping their hands exclaimed, “Your Yankee’s gone! Your Yankee’s gone!” The guards immediately followed, ordering him to halt, and firing at him with their revolvers. Malone quickly reached a corn-field, and soon after a swamp, whence he made good his escape, and after various vicissitudes reached his family in Jacinto, where I now found him.

I returned to Rienzi with my family, resolved to leave for the North. My wife, before leaving her father’s, learned, through a letter sent by a rebel officer to his wife, that all the guards who were on duty during the night I escaped from prison, were placed under close arrest, and were still in the dungeon at the time of his writing. There were eleven guards on each relief, and three reliefs during the night; there were, therefore, thirty-three guards placed under arrest because of my escape.

On the night previous to our departure from Rienzi, we were honoured with a serenade, through the politeness of General Granger, of the cavalry, and Colonel Bryner, of the Forty-seventh Illinois Regiment. Being called on for a speech, I thus responded:

Gentlemen – I return you sincere thanks for the honour intended myself and family. In the language of the last tune played by your band, I truly feel at “home again,” and it fills my soul with joy to meet my friends once more. What a vast difference a few miles makes! Tupelo is about forty miles south of Rienzi, on an air-line. There I was regarded as a base ingrate, as a despicable traitor, as an enemy to the country, chained as a felon, doomed to die, and before the execution of the sentence, subjected to every species of insult and contumely. Here I meet with the kindest expressions of sympathy from officers of all ranks, from the subaltern to the general, and there is not a private soldier who has heard my tale of woe, who does not manifest a kindly sympathy.

I hope that you will soon pass south of Tupelo; but in your march to the Gulf, may you fare better than I did in my journey to this place. Green corn eaten raw, berries, and stagnant water, would soon cause you to present the emaciated appearance that I do. On your route, call upon the secession sympathizers, and compel them to furnish you with better and more substantial food. My horse I left at Tupelo. He is a valuable animal. The rebel General Hardee, in the true spirit of secession, appropriated – that is, stole – him. However, I did not call to demand him when I left. Being in haste, I did not choose to spare the time, and leaving in the night, I did not wish to disturb the slumbers of the Tupelonians. He is a bright bay. If you meet with him, you may have him for nothing. I would much prefer that he serve the Federal army.

If you take General Jordan prisoner, send me word, and I will furnish you with the iron bands that he put on me, by which you may secure him till he meets the just award of his crimes, which would be death, for destroying the lives of so many Union men.

I hope that you may soon plant the stars and stripes on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, and play the “Star-spangled Banner” within hearing of its vertiginous billows, after having conquered every foe to the permanence of the glorious Union. I close with the sentiment of the immortal Jackson, which I wish you to bear constantly in mind, in your victorious progress – “The Federal Union – it must and shall be preserved!” Relying upon the God of battles, rest assured that the right cause will triumph, and that after having secured the great object of your warfare, the preservation of the Union, your children and your children’s children will rise up and call you blessed, rejoicing in the enjoyment of a free, united, and happy country.

Wishing you abundant success, I beg leave to retire.

On Saturday, the 2d of August, 1862, we left Rienzi, en route for the North, in company with William H. Hubbard, Esq., and family, who were also refugees. From the moment I reached the Federal lines I experienced nothing but kindness. I could not mention all who are deserving of thanks from myself and family. I am under special obligations to Generals Nelson, Rosecrans, Granger, Davis, and Asboth; also to Colonel Bryner and Lieutenant Colonel Thrush, of the Forty-seventh Illinois, and Surgeon Lucas, of same regiment, and to Dr. Holley, of the Thirty-sixth Illinois Volunteers; to Josiah King, Esq., of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; and Dr. McCook, of Steubenville, Ohio; also Mrs. Ann Wheelwright, of Newburyport, Massachusetts, whose kind letter will ever be remembered, and whose “material aid” entitles her to lasting gratitude; and to Rev. George Potts, D. D., of New York; and Mr. William E. Dubois, of Philadelphia; Rev. Dr. Sprole, Newburgh, New York; Rev. N. Hewitt, D. D., Bridgeport, Connecticut; and Rev. F. N. Ewing, Chicago, Illinois; Rev. J. M. Krebs, D. D., New York; Rev. A. D. Smith, D. D., New York; and Rev. F. Reck Harbaugh, Philadelphia, and many others.

Before closing this chapter I would mention the following incident:

On Wednesday evening, November 19th, I addressed the citizens of Philadelphia at the Sixth Presbyterian Church, (Rev. F. Reck Harbaugh’s.) A report of this address found its way into the city papers. Two days afterwards, while in conversation with Mr. Martien, at his book-store, two soldiers entered, one of whom approached, and thus addressed me:

“Do you know me, sir?”

I replied: “Your face is familiar, but I do not remember your name. It is my misfortune not to be able to remember proper names.”