University of Virginia Library

20. 2O. A Quick-witted Negro
By GEORGE HENRY GORDON (1863)

AN incident that occurred at this time showed what folly it would be to discourage the negroes from escaping to our lines, and thereby reject their sometimes valuable assistance. Colonel Burr Porter, of the Fortieth Massachusetts Regiment, had sent a negro scout to the front, where he was making his way along a thickly wooded road, intent on avoiding everybody, when he came so suddenly upon a Dr. Richards,—a notorious Rebel,—that his only mode of escape was by his heels. Suspecting the darkey's movements, the doctor called to him to stop, firing his pistol at him at the same time to enforce his order. Fortunately the scout was not hit, and fled all the faster, until he gained a thicket, into which he plunged, running and scrambling until, breathless and exhausted, he fell suddenly into the hands of a squad of Rebel infantry. Escape now was hopeless ; his only source was in his wits. Gasping for breath, he utilized his first pursuer most effectually by crying out, "Don't stop me! Dr. Richards sent me to tell you that the Yankees are coming on your flank, with a large column of men; and he wants me, after telling you this to go down on your other flank, and tell some of your pickets there to look out."The other flank was in the direction of our front, where he would be safe if those who held him only believed lie was telling the truth.

Fortunately the message he bore was an urgent one; the occasion did not admit of prolonged discussion, though it was long enough to make the poor

fellow's heart throb with apprehension. For a few moments the scout's fate trembled in the balance. So well, however, did he conceal the struggle within himself, that when he was bidden to go ahead and give his message, he could detect no doubts within his captors. But joy so overcame the man at his unexpected good fortune, that when he sprang forward, he did so with an alertness that for the first time roused suspicions in a Rebel sergeant that all was not right; and he called to him to stop. There was but one hope now, and that was flight. The scout acted so energetically upon this conviction that he escaped unhurt, though a bullet passed through his hat; and he brought to us the information that a regiment of Rebel infantry last night crossed the Mattapony to the peninsula, and was now within seven miles of my outposts. I thought this poor negro had proved his right to possess the freedom to use for his own advancement those talents and faculties which he had made so serviceable to us.

The 29th of May increased my stock of negroes by fourteen,—old and young, crippled and able-bodied,—all of whom had escaped from the clutches of slavemasters. From them all I secured much valuable information. One facetious old woman lamented the loss of flour, corn-meal, and meat, which she had been obliged to leave behind; she feared they might fall into Rebel hands, and thus make them a little less hungry. She asked that my troops and gunboats might make a special trip to her domain to bring away her edibles, —urging as a bait that I might capture some Rebel pickets who were lying in wait to catch me.

Representing the Rebel pickets as quite vigilant, though entertaining a wholesome dread of gunboats,

she thought she could so direct the fire of our guns "dat some of dose big shells'll hit 'em,— dough dey say if you'se all cum up dey gwine to climb trees to 'vade your boat. I knows dey will clar if you fire at 'em. And, oh lordy, won't dey run and sweep away all de black folks to Richmond! Took my son dis morning. 'Cum up!' dey say to him; 'you har? go long! won't hab you telling Yankees eb'ryting.'"My stock of females has so largely increased, that I fear very much for the peace of mind of Old Bob,— Captain Scott's servant, a venerable darkey of more years than he knows, who, when asked if he was a hundred, replied, "Spec's I am, sir."While the captain was at Washington recovering from his Chancellorsville wound, Old Bob said to the captain, "I 'fraid some dose darkeys make me marry'em."But Bob escaped, and recalled a former charmer, to whom, though she wouldn't "put her name on de paper [a contract of marriage] when I was dar,"he caused a letter to be written. This he brought to the captain with the request, "Back dat, sir, ef you please "[direct it].

"To whom? "asked the captain.

"Well,"— in some confusion,— "put my name on it."

"But that won't reach any one! To whom do you wish to send it?"

"Wy, to Em'ly

"Emily who?"

"I dunno, sir!"

"Where is she.

"Wy, dar in Washington!"

"Where's I dar'?"

"Wy, Sandy Bill; he know! "So the letter went to "Emily, care of Sandy Bill, care of Mr. J. W.

Rodgers, Washington,"—the latter being the name of an officer whom Bob had attended during the captain's recovery.