37. The Escape of the Scout
By JOHN ESTEN COOKE (1863)
THE scout was just in time. The squad had finished their laugh, enjoyed their little comedy sufficiently, and now
designed bringing the affair to an end. The leader accordingly stooped down and dragged away the blanket—
when a shot followed, with the muzzle
of the pistol upon his breast, and he fell forward dead, covering Sutledge with his blood. The scene which
followed was brief. The rest of the squad levelled their muskets at the scout, and fired with the muzzles nearly
touching him, but he was wounded by none. The body of their companion lying across him received the larger
portion of the balls; and Sutledge rose to his feet, armed with his deadly revolver, which still contained four charges.
These he fired in succession rapidly, but with good aim, and two of the five remaining men were wounded. The
three others, finding their guns discharged, dropped them, and hastily ran toward the Federal camp.
Sutledge's companions had been aroused by the firing, but were of no assistance to him. One disgracefully fled
into the woods without firing a shot, and the other had committed the fatal fault of allowing his arms to become
wetted by the rain. When he attempted to fire his pistol the cap snapped, and none of the barrels could be discharged.
This proved, however, of no great importance. Sutledge had repulsed the whole party for the moment, and did not
need assistance. What remained for them now was a rapid retreat from the dangerous locality. The sudden firing, and
the men running in, had alarmed the Federal camp, and a large party were seen approaching rapidly to take vengeance
for the blood of their comrades. Sutledge accordingly hastened to retire, and disappeared with his companion just
as the enemy rushed upon the area near the bivouac fire. In this sudden change of base, stores of some value to him
were necessarily abandoned. In fact, he was compelled to leave his
horse, hat, shoes, blanket, and "Life of Jackson"—
to fly
bareheaded and in his stocking feet. Even thus lightened of all superfluous weight, it was doubtful if he could escape;
for the shouts which now resounded as he ran showed that the enemy were pursuing him hotly, with the-evident
determination of running him to earth and destroying him.
In a few moments it became plain to Sutledge that he was to be hunted down.
He surveyed his position at a glance, and estimated the chances. It seemed that nothing but his own quick eye and
knowledge of woodcraft could save him; if he was caught, there appeared to be small likelihood of his escaping death.
He felt that he would probably be treated as a guerilla, if not as a spy, and shot without benefit of clergy. For this
reason he did not intend to surrender. He proposed to escape if he could; if he could not, he would sell his life as
dearly as possible.
He had, however, been hunted before, and his brave heart did not recoil from the struggle. Running silently with bare
head and shoeless feet through the woods, he paused from time to time to listen to the shouts of his pursuers, and it
soon became obvious that they were rapidly approaching upon every side.
The woods were open-without undergrowth and every moment was now precious. Sutledge redoubled his speed,
and darting through the wood, suddenly found himself in a small open field, in the middle of which rose a clump of
pines, one of which had recently fallen. In the bushy top of this fallen tree he now concealed himself, panting from his
long run, and listening to the sound of his approaching foes closing in on every side. To fight and die seemed his only
resource; and reloading his pistol,
he grimly waited for the moment which should find him at bay, in the presence of his enemies.
He did not wait long. A few minutes only had elapsed when a party of three or four Federals entered the little
area, and approached the clump of pines. They passed close to the scout, looking everywhere for traces of him; but he
crouched down, held his breath, and they seemed about to prosecute their search in some other direction. Sutledge
was indeed congratulating himself upon his safety, when, raising his head, he caught the eye of one of the enemy,
who had lingered behind the rest, fixed steadily upon him. He was discovered; and starting to his feet, was greeted
with the shout, "Here he is!"which was instantly echoed by a hundred voices,
Sutledge now saw that his life hung upon a thread. Unless he could force his way through the cordon
hemming him in, he was lost. He was unwilling to waste the loads in his pistols before the final struggle took place—the
last desperate struggle which was to terminate all. But that conflict now seemed about to take place.
For a single instant the scout and his foes stood looking at each other, and neither made any movement to fire. In
presence of this desperate man, the enemy seemed averse to the encounter, and waited for their comrades to come up.
This short pause gave the scout an opportunity to decide upon his course. If he could only secure a short start,—if he
were only mounted! His feet were bruised and sore, his strength greatly diminished by the close, hot chase. Oh! for
a horse to charge them and, break through, as he felt he could though they were forty deep! As the thought flashed
through his
mind, his eyes fell on a mule which was grazing in the field not far from him. To dart to the animal and throw himself
upon its back was the work of an instant; and in the midst of furious outcries and hastily fired shots he dug his heels
into the sides of the frightened animal, and commenced his race for life.
The mule had no sooner recovered from his first fright at finding himself so unceremoniously mounted, than he made
violent attempts by roaching his back, and kicking up, to unseat his rider. At the fifth or sixth kick-up, accompanied
by a movement which made the mule resemble an angry cat in outline, the scout was landed on the ground, amid the
shouts of his enemies, who rushed toward him, firing as they came.
They reached the spot, uttering outcries and curses; but their obstinate foe had once more eluded them. The scout
had risen quickly, darted into the woods, and the chase again commenced
with more ardour than at first.
Sutledge now put forth all his remaining strength to distance the enemy, following more hotly than ever on his
track. Panting and worn out almost, half resolving a hundred times to turn and fight and die, he still kept on, the shouts of
his enemies in his very cars., He was growing desperate, and had become nearly exhausted. A burning thirst raged in his
throat; and although the enemy were on his very heels, he could not resist the temptation as he reached a little
meadow through which ran a limpid stream, to pause and quench his thirst. Throwing himself upon his knees on the
margin of the brook, he stooped and swallowed one refreshing draught of the cool
water, and then rising up, found from the shouts of his pursuers that
they were at last upon him—all further hope
from flight of no avail. A last desperate expedient suggested itself—concealment in the undergrowth which
skirted the stream; and throwing himself at full length amid the bushes, not far from the spot where he had knelt down,
he hastily drew the undergrowth around him and awaited the struggle.
He had scarcely disappeared from view when his enemies reached the spot. He heard their footsteps; their
cries resounded; and suddenly the voice of one of them exclaimed:
"Here's the scoundrel's knee-print in the sand, where he drank just now! He isn't far off!"
This cry was the signal for all the detached parties to converge toward the spot; and very soon the field was full
of them. The scout heard them deploying in every direction to guard all the outlets, preparatory to a rigid search of
every species of covert in which a fugitive could conceal himself.
The moment had now come which was to decide his fate. The pursuers had searched every portion of the field
without success, and now returned to the point from which they had set forth, subjecting the covert to a second and
more rigid inspection. Their feet were heard trampling amid the undergrowth; they stopped to put aside the bushes,
and peer into every nook. Sutledge heard their very breathing, and cast an eye upon his pistols to see that he had
neglected nothing ; that every tube was capped, every barrel loaded, and both weapons cocked. All was right, and he
experienced the fierce joy of the man who feels that at least he need not die without dragging down more than one
enemy in his fall.
The steps were at his side; oaths and exclamations echoed in his very ears. One of the hostile party seemed
determined to leave no inch of the ground unexplored, and bent down, plunging his glances into the very bushes over
the scout's head.
Sutledge grasped his pistols with a firmer clutch, strung his nerves for instant contest, and prepared to rise suddenly
to his feet, to lay the curious individual before him dead with a pistol bullet through the heart, and to throw himself
like a tiger at bay into the midst of his enemies.
The bushes were thrust aside; an oath resounded within three feet of him ; he had covered the heart of his enemy
with the muzzle of his right-hand pistol crossed over his breast-when the autumn foliage swayed back to its place, an
exclamation of disappointment followed, and the footsteps retreated from his hiding-place.
The scout drew a long breath. He was saved.
All day long he lay hidden, hearing more than one sound
which proved that his enemies were still hovering near; but they had given up the search in despair. At night he quietly
rose, and found that the coast was clear. Proceeding cautiously to reconnoitre, he discovered that the ground
around his hiding-place was only partially guarded, and had little difficulty in escaping. Eluding such parties as were
still prowling around, be flanked the Federal pickets, travelled all night, and before daylight was safe within the
Southern lines.
