Читать книгу The Negro in The American Rebellion - William Wells Brown - Страница 12

James Lawson. – His Bravery. – Rescue of his Wife and Children. – He is sent out on Important Business. – He fights his Way Back. – He is Admired by Gens. Hooker and Sickles. – Rhett’s Servant. – “Foraging for Butter and Eggs.”

I spent three weeks at Liverpool Point, the outpost of Hooker’s Division, almost directly opposite Aquia Creek, waiting patiently for the advance of our left wing to follow up the army, becoming, if not a participator against the dying struggles of rebeldom, at least a chronicler of the triumphs in the march of the Union army.

During this time I was the guest of Col. Graham, of Mathias-Point memory, who had brought over from that place (last November) some thirty valuable chattels. A part of the camp was assigned to them. They built log huts, and obtained from the soldiers many comforts, making their quarters equal to any in the camp.

They had friends and relatives. Negroes feel as much sympathy for their friends and kin as the whites; and, from November to the present time, many a man in Virginia has lost a very likely slave, for the camp contains now upwards of a hundred fat and healthy negroes, in addition to its original number from Mathias Point.

One of the number deserves more honor than that accorded to Toussaint L’Ouverture in the brilliant lecture delivered by Wendell Phillips. He is unquestionably the hero of the Potomac, and deserves to be placed by the side of his most renowned black brethren.

The name of this negro is James Lawson, born near Hempstead, Virginia, and he belonged to a Mr. Taylor. He made his escape last December. On hearing his praises spoken by the captains of the gunboats on the Potomac, I was rather indisposed to admit the possession of all the qualities they give him credit for, and thought possibly his exploits had been exaggerated. His heroic courage, truthfulness, and exalted Christian character seemed too romantic for their realization. However, my doubts on that score were dispelled; and I am a witness of his last crowning act.

Jim, after making his escape from Virginia, shipped on board of “The Freeborn,” Flag-gunboat, Lieut. Samuel Ma-gaw commanding. He furnished Capt. Magaw with much valuable intelligence concerning the rebel movements, and, from his quiet, every-day behavior, soon won the esteem of the commanding officer.

Capt. Magaw, shortly after Jim’s arrival on board “The Freeborn,” sent him upon a scouting tour through the rebel fortifications, more to test his reliability than anything else; and the mission, although fraught with great danger, was executed by Jim in the most faithful manner. Again Jim was sent into Virginia, landing at the White House, below Mount Vernon, and going into the interior for several miles; encountering the fire of picket-guards and posted sentries; returned in safety to the shore; and was brought off in the captain’s gig, under the fire of the rebel musketry.

Jim had a wife and four children at that time still in Virginia. They belonged to the same man as Jim did. He was anxious to get them; yet it seemed impossible.

One day in January, Jim came to the captain’s room, and asked for permission to be landed that evening on the Virginia side, as he wished to bring off his family. “Why, Jim,” said Capt. Magaw, “how will you be able to pass the pickets?”

“I want to try, captain: I think I can get ‘em over safely,” meekly replied Jim.

“Well, you have my permission;” and Capt. Magaw ordered one of the gunboats to land Jim that night on whatever part of the shore he designated, and return for him the following evening.

True to his appointment, Jim was at the spot with his wife and family, and was taken on board the gunboat, and brought over to Liverpool Point, where Col. Graham had given them a log-house to live in, just back of his own quarters. Jim ran the gauntlet of the sentries unharmed, never taking to the roads, but keeping in the woods, every foot-path of which, and almost every tree, he knew from his boyhood up.

Several weeks afterwards another reconnoissance was planned, and Jim sent on it. He returned in safety, and was highly complimented by Gens. Hooker, Sickles, and the entire flotilla.

On Thursday, week ago, it became necessary to obtain correct information of the enemy’s movements. Since then, batteries at Shipping and Cockpit Points had been evacuated, and their troops moved to Fredericksburg. Jim was the man picked out for the occasion, by Gen. Sickles and Capt. Magaw. The general came down to Col. Graham’s quarters, about nine in the evening, and sent for Jim. There were present, the general, Col. Graham, and myself. Jim came into the colonel’s.

“Jim.” said the general, “I want you to go over to Virginia to-night, and find out what forces they have at Aquia Creek and Fredericksburg. If you want any men to accompany you, pick them out.”

“I know two men that would like to go,” Jim answered.

“Well, get them, and be back as soon as possible.” Away went Jim over to the contraband camp, and, returning almost immediately, brought into our presence two very intelligent-looking darkies.

“Are you all ready?” inquired the general.

“All ready, sir,” the trio responded.

“Well, here, Jim, you take my pistol,” said Gen. Sickles, unbuckling it from his belt; “and, if you are successful, I will give you $100.”

Jim hoped he would be, and, bidding us good-by, started off for the gunboat “Satellite,” Capt. Foster, who landed them a short distance below the Potomac-Creek Batteries. They were to return early in the morning, but were unable, from the great distance they went in the interior. Long before daylight on Saturday morning, the gunboat was lying off at the appointed place. As the day dawned, Capt. Foster discovered a mounted picket-guard near the beach, and almost at the same instant saw Jim to the left of them, in the woods, sighting his gun at the rebel cavalry. He ordered the “gig” to be manned, and rowed to the shore. The rebels moved along slowly, thinking to intercept the boat, when Foster gave them a shell, which scattered them. Jim, with only one of his original companions, and two fresh contrabands, came on board. Jim had lost the other. He had been challenged by a picket when some distance in advance of Jim, and the negro, instead of answering the summons, fired the contents of Sickles’s revolver at the picket. It was an unfortunate occurrence; for at that time the entire picket-guard rushed out of a small house near the spot, and fired the contents of their muskets at Jim’s companion, killing him instantly. Jim and the other three hid themselves in a hollow, near a fence, and, after the pickets gave up pursuit, crept through the woods to the shore. From the close proximity of the rebel pickets, Jim could not display a light, which was the signal for Capt. Foster to send a boat.

Capt. Foster, after hearing Jim’s story of the shooting of his companion, determined to avenge his death; so, steaming his vessel close in to the shore, he sighted his guns for a barn, where the rebel cavalry were hiding behind. He fired two shells: one went right through the barn, killing four of the rebels, and seven of their horses. Capt. Foster, seeing the effect of his shot, said to Jim, who stood by, “Well, Jim, I’ve avenged the death of poor Cornelius” (the name of Jim’s lost companion).

Gen. Hooker has transmitted to the War Department an account of Jim’s reconnoissance to Fredericksburg, and unites with the army and navy stationed on the left wing of the Potomac, in the hope that the Government will present Jim with a fitting recompense for his gallant services. —War Correspondent of the New-York Times.

On Thursday, beyond Charlestown, our pickets descried a solitary horseman, with a bucket on his arm, jogging soberly towards them. He proved to be a dark mulatto, of about thirty-five. As he approached, they ordered a halt.

“Where are you from?”

“Southern Army, cap’n,” giving the military salute.

“Where are you going?”

“Coming to yous all.”

“What do you want?”

“Protection, boss. You won’t send me back, will you?”

“No, come in. Whose servant are you?”

“Cap’n Rhett’s, of South Carliny: you’s heard of Mr. Barnwell Rhett, editor of ‘The Charleston Mercury’? His brother commands a battery.”

“How did you get away?”

“Cap’n gove me fifteen dollars this morning, and said, ‘John, go out, and forage for butter and eggs.’ So you see, boss (with a broad grin), I’se out foraging! I pulled my hat over my eyes, and jogged along on the cap’n’s horse (see the brand S.C. on him?) with this basket on my arm, right by our guards and pickets. They never challenged me once. If they had, though, I brought the cap’n’s pass. And the new comer produced this document from his pocket-book, written in pencil, and carefully folded. I send you the original: —

“Pass my servant, John, on horseback, anywhere between Winchester and Martinsburg, in search of butter, &c., &e.

“A. BURNETT RHETT, Capt. Light Artillery, Lee’s Battalion.”

“Are there many negroes in the rebel corps?”

“Heaps, boss.”

“Would the most of them come to us if they could?”

“All of them, cap’n. There isn’t a little pickanniny so high (waving his hand two feet from the ground) that wouldn’t.”

“Why did you expect protection?”

“Heard so in Maryland, before the Proclamation.”

“Where did you hear about the Proclamation?”

“Read it, air, in a Richmond paper.”

“What is it?”

“That every slave is to be emancipated on and after the thirteenth day of January. I can’t state it, boss.”

“Something like it. When did you learn to read?”

“In ‘49, sir. I was head waiter at Mrs. Nevitt’s boarding-house in Savannah, and Miss Walcott, a New-York lady, who was stopping there, taught me.”

“Does your master know it?”

“Capt. Rhett doesn’t know it, sir; but he isn’t my master. He thinks I’m free, and hired me at twenty five dollars a month; but he never paid me any of it. I belong to Mrs. John Spring. She used to hire me out summers, and have me wait on her every winter, when she came South. After the war, she couldn’t come, and they were going to sell me for Government because I belonged to a Northerner. Sold a great many negroes in that way. But I slipped away to the army. Have tried to come to you twice before in Maryland, but couldn’t pass our pickets.”

“Were you at Antietam?”

“Yes, boss. Mighty hard battle!”

“Who whipped?”

“Yous all, massa. They say you didn’t; but I saw it, and know. If you had fought us that next day, – Thursday, – you would have captured our whole army. They say so themselves.”

“Who?”

“Our officers, sir.”

“Did you ever hear of old John Brown?”

“Hear of him? Lord bless you, yes, boss: I’ve read his life, and have it now in my trunk in Charleston; sent to New York by the steward of ‘The James Adger,’ and got it. I’ve read it to heaps of the colored folks. Lord, they think John Brown was almost a god. Just say you was a friend of his, and any slave will almost kiss your feet, if you let him. They sav, if he was only alive now, he would be king. How it did frighten the white folks when he raised the insurrection! It was Sunday when we heard of it. They wouldn’t let a negro go into the streets. I was waiter at the Mills House in Charleston. There was a lady from Massachusetts, who came down to breakfast that morning at my table. ‘John,’ she says, ‘I want to see a negro church; where is the principal one?’ ‘Not any open to-day, mistress,’ I told her. ‘Why not?’ ‘Because a Mr. John Brown has raised an insurrection in Virginny.’ ‘Ah!’ she says; ‘well, they’d better look out, or they’ll get the white churches shut up in that way some of these days, too!’ Mr. Nicholson, one of the proprietors, was listening from the office to hear what she said. Wasn’t that lady watched after that? I have a History of San Domingo, too, and a Life of Fred. Douglass, in my trunk, that I got in the same way.”

“What do the slaves think about the war?”

“Well, boss, they all wish the Yankee army would come. The white folks tell them all sorts of bad stories about you all; but they don’t believe them.”

John was taken to Gen. McClellan, to whom he gave all the information he possessed about the position, numbers, and organization of the rebel army. His knowledge was full and valuable, and is corroborated by all the facts we have learned from other sources. The principal features of it I have already transmitted to you by telegraph. At the close of the interview, he asked anxiously, —

“General, you won’t send me back, will you?”

“Yes,” replied the general, with a smile, “I believe I will.”

“I hope you won’t, general. If you say so, I know I will have to go; but I come to yous all for protection, and I hope you won’t.”

“Well, then, I suppose we will not. No, John, you are at liberty to go where you please. Stay with the army, if you like. No one can ever take you against your will.”

“May the Lord bless you, general. I thought you wouldn’t drive me out. You’s the best friend I ever had; I shall never forget you till I die.” And John made the salute, re-mounted his horse, and rode back to the rear, his dusky face almost white with radiance.

An hour later, he was on duty as the servant of Capt. Batchelor, Quartermaster of Couch’s Second Division; and I do not believe there was another heart in our corps so light as his in the unwonted joy of freedom. —New York Tribune.