The text below is an account of Sherman's army in Chesterfield County, South Carolina. It is a rare first-person account of young girl's experience.
Sherman's army arrived in Chesterfield County at the start of March 1865, during its march to North Carolina. Chesterfield County held little of military value, but it in the Union army's path towards strategically important cities in North Carolina such as Fayetteville.
At this point, the Confederacy had clearly lost the war. The Confederate army was unable to do more than delay Sherman's advance, and during the previous month, his troops had burn the state capital of Columbia. The war would end only a month later with Robert E. Lee's surrender.
The author of the account is Frances Emmaline Allen, the thirteen year-old daughter of the small farmers Eli and Mahala Allen. The account is recorded in a pamphlet found in the Matheson Library in Cheraw, South Carolina. The pamphlet is titled "Home Ground: Civil War Memoirs of a Burned County Chesterfield, SC" by Barbara Johns. The pamphlet also includes (1) a short letter to another resident of Chesterfield ("Harrietta") describing conditions in New York City during the Civil War, (2) an account by Emmaline titled "Homecoming – Leaving Home" describing life immediately after the war, (3) a short description of John Blakeney, a prominent resident, and (4) newspaper articles published in North Carolina during the Civil War.
Unfortunately, Barbara Johns does not explain how she came across Emmaline's account. The pamphlet appears to have been typed on a personal computer, so Johns presumably typed up the text of another document (Emmaline certainly did not use a computer – she died in 1930).
Its unclear when Emmaline wrote her account. The quality of writing is beyond that of a typical thirteen year old, and Emmaline uses the past tense, so it was likely written when Emmaline was an adult and living in North Carolina.
The text
Emaline's Tale
Spring 1865
My name is Pickle. Emaline Pickle A. I got the nickname 'Ema Pickle' from my love for pickles which saved me when the Yankees had our homes as their own for about a week. Mama and I were in the yard making soap in the wash pot when we heard the sound of galloping hooves along the road. A hard run horse lathered with foam came thundering into the yard of this calm spring morning. After that, we never had another quiet moment. Reality of what was happening far away was coming to our home ground.
Uncle Charlie dismounted and tethered his horse to a bush, then leaped up the steps to the piazza. He came rushing into the house all out of breath.
"You have to prepare now, the Yankees are coming!" He looked faint and we offered him a straight chair.
Mama told him we were already prepared. Our important items had been hidden with the help of the workers. She told him how we buried the silver in the garden and the hams down in the cellar under the porch. Flour and lard were between the walls of the house. The salt and sugar were buried in the path to the family graveyard. Personally, I had hidden several jars of pickles, since it was my job to save the canning. Maybe I had not been so careful. I hoped they would not other the dried peaches, apples, butterbeans or canned watermelon and fig preserves. The previous lard, flour, butter, vinegar salt and smokehouse meat were our main concern. We heard they were after gold and silver but without food we would starve.
We had laid by a bolt of cloth that was brought from the sale of cotton, in a small closet between the walls of the kitchen.
Since it was looking so gloomy for the Rebs, this war, some caught, huge thing. We didn't know for sure if we should go to all this trouble and we seemed to be waiting for nothing. Waiting just to be waiting.
Our trunks were packed to overflowing; surely they wouldn't go through them. We had sent the horses and mules to the creek bottom by the help and the cows and some hogs to the swamp. Valuables were buried in various locations spread all over the grounds. We just left one cow and some turkeys, chickens and a few hogs, hoping they would think that is all we have. Mama informed Uncle Charlie of this while he stopped to rest some.
"No, they're too smart." He remarked. "Too wise in the ways of concealment, even go into a cemetery and dig up newly dug graves. They have no respect for the dead and leave bodies on top of the ground for wild animals and hogs to feast on. For sure, do not hide things in the wall. They are stealing buckets and cutting the ropes. The officers lie to the slaves convincing them to tell where everything is hidden." He looked wild in his big dark eyes. We all had those large dark eyes, slightly slanted downward on the corners. Most of the family was tall and lanky, Mama says its from the dark Irish. When her brother, C. E. came to stay with us for awhile, Papa had to saw the legs off of a chair so he could fit under the table.
With shaky hands, he reached his fingers down inside a boot so worn that the top had caved in. I was astonished to see him retrieve something wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. A present for Mama. A pen and bottle of ink he had taken off a dead soldier.
"Place this where it won't be found for you are going to need it later."
There was a long silence broken only by some chickens crowing in the yard. I thought my uncle had fallen asleep for he sat with head down. His long beard resting on the breast of his homespun shirt. Maybe he had died. We began to get uneasy, but he looked up and continued.
"Some of the people you think are your friends turn their backs and inform the soldiers. Don't trust no one." He loudly declared.
It is tragic how you can't be. sure of who to trust. Scared to speak of the times to neighbor or kin, for they might be Union sympathizers and tell the blue bellies. All they know how to do is tear up everything and burn it. Destroy! Destroy!
"They are using metal rods to poke in the ground every few feet to look for anything of value. If your negroes know of the whereabouts of any valuables, then go! Run! Dig up what you can and hide it elsewhere, or you'll lose it all. By all means do not let them see."
"Do you still have the carriage?"
Mama stuttered an answer for she was overwhelmed by all this at once.
"If you put what you can in trunks," He insisted. "I'll help the boys tote them to the carriage and go into North Carolina. Things are not so bad there. We have cousins who would help us start over. Some even live where Sherman is not likely to go."
We were standing, mouths agape, dazed by this news. Feelings of doubt and anxiety washed over us. I looked at Mama and she was quivering all over, whether from fright or nerves, I know not. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched her hands gesture in despair. An action I had never witnessed from her. If we had known ahead what was to come, maybe we would have pulled foot for North Carolina. But, we preferred not to flee. Even though we heard they were supposed to be faring better there, mama and us nine children chose to stay and face a hostile enemy worse than we have ever imagined.
"Columbia is left in ruins, nothing but ashes." Charlie said. "Bridges burned and churches ruined. The demons are killing folks, raping women. Officers try, but can't keep them under control. Drunken soldiers torched horses and danced around cursing the state of South Carolina in the light of the flames like devils. If I am taken prisoner this day, my dear sister, then my mission is worth what I may suffer if some of these families left at home that I have warned can save themselves."
"I thought the sentinels gave a guard for the protection of women and children," Mama's face turned pale.
Uncle Charlie drew a long breath. He was overstaying his visit. It was dangerous to stay in one place long. He had traveled so far and was so exhausted he looked desperate for sleep.
"Even the convicts from prisons are among them. First, it's the infantry, then the calvary, next wagon trains and then stragglers. When one goes another is right behind to take what may be overlooked. They spare nothing, sack everything. Sew what you can into the garments on your back, it could be the only thing you may keep. Then I can't tell you they won't be ripped from you in their reckless greed. Hurry! Hurry! They are not far behind me. Do not dawdle!" He was yelling.
I raced upstairs to my room and opened the trunk I had so carefully packed earlier. It was crammed full of previous keepsakes. Oh, dead! What could be the most important things to save. A comb, ribbons for my hair, heirlooms from my great grandmother. Maybe this lace cap, collar and sleeves to match. Embroidered handkerchief, the china, the silver, the ... Oh, how can I do this so quickly?
I sank onto a heap of bed ticks piled on the floor and began to sob. How can I possibly get all of on my body? I just wanted to stand and scream, No! No!
Charlie came into the room and began to shout orders, what to do. He was very rough handed. When Nancy Haley Ann and I slowed a bit, he pushed us and gave us bus directions. Mary was so frightened that she ran outside and hid.
He called us weak, weepy, complaining women. Words like that smarted like brambles snagging the skin. He wasn't being a bit nice, or catering sympathy to our despair. We are children, not grown women.
"I thought you came here to help us, but you're acting like the enemy." I burst out, stamping my foot. Uncle Charlie could not believe I had insulted him in that fashion. He did not answer, but his eyes bored into me. I blushed and lowered my head. Even though I was acutely ashamed and embarrassed by my behavior, I never cared beans for my mama's brother anyway. He always bossed us children around when he came for a visit. Today was the worst of all.
Mama must have heard the racket and came into the room. Franklin, only two, was following close behind, hanging onto the folds of her dress. My other brothers and sisters were darting back and forth in a frenzy. One ran by with jewelry, another with silver coins.
"Nancy, Mahala Ann, get the pillow cases from the closet and fill them with linen. We will stuff them up the chimney. It is too warm for a fire. Now, Ema. You do as your uncle requested and not complain," mama said.
Our clothing became receptacles for valuables. We sewed in all the jewelry. Silver and gold coins each became its own ruffle so it would not jingle. I had a special item, Papa's gold watch. His grandpa had brought it from the old country. Next in turn would be Eli and on down through the family, but chances are that a girl should be the one to protect its whereabouts at this time. Papa left many other important things home for safe keeping when he joined the army in Chesterfield.
We layered as many dresses as possible on ourselves. I could hardly walk. Mama looked like she weighed 300 pounds. Each of us bustled about sweltering under the clothes. Hoops skirts and corsets made terrific, although very uncomfortable, hiding places.
Alfred, Eli and John dug provisions from the spring room and what they had buried in the path. They took what they could to the creek and put it under big rocks; carefully, so no slaves saw them. Flour and other staples were removed and relocated. It wasn't hard to conceal our actions, or at least that is what we thought. For some reason all the cotton pickers had disappeared from the fields and the years. Mammy Sal usually came to the kitchen house to help prepare meals. We found this unusual for she never appeared.
Jackson and Robert removed the hames from under the porch cellar, and tied them up in tree tops. Maybe the enemy won't look up.
Little Margaret came into the room. "What about me, mama? I want to hide something." Her little red rose bud lips pursed tight. "You are only four old!" Mama exclaimed.
Mama could not stand to see her pout, so she became the recipient of an important item. A needle and thread and some buttons were carefully sown into her bonnet so she would not be impaled.
Uncle Charlie kept watch by making trips down the road and returning to report. He also helped my brothers with their huge endeavor. That afternoon an eerie quiet fell over all. Charlie didn't want to leave us but he knew it was too dangerous to stay any longer for the truth came out that he was a deserter. But, it was for a good cause. Someone had to warn the women and children and he had kept ahead of Sherman and his great army. After a very tearful goodby, he mounted and rode through the woods in the direction of Mr. J's farm. Mama couldn't stop crying for she felt it was the last time we would ever see him again.
We almost didn't for he was taken prisoner. The next time we laid eyes on him, it was like looking at a different person for they ruined him. His whole body sagged and shook with raspy breathing. A long, deep scar ran the length of his jaw. A scar received because he didn't want to walk under the rag called the flag of the United States.
Nancy, Mahala Ann and Mama had just resumed the soap making when suddenly a rumble like thunder jarred the ground. A loud bang made them jump as a bullet tore a hole in the washpot and the water streamed out like pouring it from a teakettle.
Our worst fear came in a wave of blue as. the procession of soldiers quickly filled the yard, surrounded the horse and outbuildings. Several officers confronted my mama, brothers,and sisters. I heard Mahala Ann's muffled cries as the enemy surged about them. Mama gathered all the children close and stood still and straight in a huddle beside the kitchen door. The soldiers looked them up and down. The little brood did the same, and for a long moment everyone stood thus.
I went out to put some jars of pickles in a hole that was theme last year for a family of owls. The large tree was on the far side of the woodpile, and out of sight of the house. When the intruders came roaring down the road, I had made it no further than the back of the woodpile. Their big horses stomped down the flower beds and tore up our neat yard. Mama takes pride in the appearance of our property and she is sure to stick a fire poked down their throats. Loud voices in tones of authority echoed from all directions. They were ordering Mama around. At first, I wanted to rush into her arms, but something made me stop. For a few moments I was rooted to the spot. Then, reality hit me like sleet in the face. Maybe things would be go better if they didn't know of my existence. Then I could be of help, but, if I stood there any longer, it would be too late.
I always tell people that two jars of pickles saved me from receiving the harsh treatment that befell those left in the house. Afterward, my sisters were very jealous that I had not been in their situation. They never got over it and held it against me leaving guilt on my part forever.
My brothers, sisters and I had played fort in the middle of the huge woodpile. We had stacked the logs neatly around where the inside was empty. Outside, no one could not tell there was a hollow place and the height was well over the heads of men. Through a tangle of vines, we had a very small tunnel where we would crawl into and remove a few certain logs and go in, then replace the entrance and no one could tell we were inside. We hid there a few times when we did bad things and Papa was sure to whip us. None of the grownups knew about our secret. Quickly, I squatted low and ducked into the network of brambles and into my haven.
The blue men tramped everywhere, over everything. They searched and destroyed what they could find. I am surprised that the light of the sun still shines and it most likely wouldn't if they could get their hands on it. Then house and yard did not belong to us anymore. Big voices shouted all day and into the night along with the loud stomp of their boots on the porches and in the house. There was the sound of mad bellows and frightened scrams as the livestock was being slaughtered. They had found the fattening hogs from the swamp and the cows at the creek.
Animal not killed were in the garden ruining the vegetables. Through a crack in the logs, I could see a group of men sitting on the porch, their muskets laid aside staring down through the planks at some interest they had found. Suddenly, they swore with exasperation, fanned their noses and then laughed loudly at hogs underneath rooting and pooting. The hogs were trying to dig up the hidden meat that my brothers didn't have time to relocate.
The butt end of a musket was used to gain entry to any door that seemed to be locked. The fodder house, smoke-house, dairy, gin house and papa's cotton screw were all destroyed. I had a feeling the main house would be next. Fiddle music and loud singing came from inside and on the porches, merriment that could be heard far part candle lighting time.
Ounce I heard scrams followed by the high sharp sound of glass breaking. Our mirror perhaps. My heart sank, it was my great grandmother's, the only one we had to comb our hair by and get something out of our eyes with. I tried to see better through the cracks and when I shifted my position, a stick of wood became dislodged and hit my ankle. Not being able to cry out, a smothered whimper escaped and I feared being discovered. Men came running out of the house laughing and staggering around. Singing at the top of their lungs. They appeared to be roaring drunk, most likely they had found Papa's homebrew. Mama was in the yard tying to finish boiling the soap when a bearded rough looking solider staggered up to her. She was down on hands and knees trying to plug up the bullet hole with tallow.
"Time for supper, stop what you're doing old woman." he bellowed. "Get in here and cook us some meat."
Another raider came up and yanked the earrings out of her ears and grabbed her by her hair. He tore out the jeweled band she always wore around her top knot. One more previous thing we had failed to conceal. Her smooth hair rumpled up and hung down around her face. The first soldier pushed her down, then routed her toward the house and kicked her in her rear. He thrust my sister, Martha,aside and made her fall face first upon the ground. She had tried to come to Mama's rescue.
An old sow and drove of little piglets tore out of the woods and headed straight into the sweet potato patch. The poor things were still eating their fill when they met with their demise.
Long hours I lay, afraid to move, listening to their work of destruction. Somehow, they found our two mules and a soldier brought them into the yard with great difficulty. They stopped deadstill and when a bulldog looking man tried to push them in the direction he intended, he was kicked in the head and killed. The soldiers buried him not far from my hiding place in a shallow grave.
A kind of chill spilled over me, like when you step out of a warm kitchen into the snow and the icy air hits you. Even though it was spring, and the days were warm and nice, the nights still put a shiver to one who has no covers. Thank goodness for my extra clothing, but I was not spared hunger. All that I had was the pickles.
For another day, I lay in my hole. I slept with vermin crawling around my heard. Once I silently fought off a thick army of ants that took up residence. In my waiting silence I didn't know how much longer I could prevail alone without nourishment. At night, I would crawl out and stand on shaky legs and walk around and around. I tried to sleep int he day and stay awake at night, continually moving. On the second day, I felt that if nothing changed, a trip to the creek would have to be made. This meant walking through the woods at night and by the swamp for the creek was over half a mile. Passing by the swamp was a great fear, for no one ventured that way after dark. waiting for the night, I wondered what had happened Tony siblings. All bad memories of past differences between us faded and good ones magnified. My ears strained for the sound of their voices.
The next thing I heard was a sniffing noise. Burrowing further under the wood, I moved as little as possible. There was another sniffle and the crunch of someone walking in sand close by.Then, all was ominously quiet. Shivering, I immediately assumed the worst. But to my surprised, it was Finny, my friend. She belonged to Mammy Sal.
I tried to stand and almost fainted from hunger. I tryed to call her. Instead of words, I made a slight cracking noise. No wonder I frightened her. My voice rasped like a rusty hinge for there were no moisture left in my mouth from having no water to satisfy my thirst.
My lips were pursed up like biting into green persimmon for I tried to drink the pickle juice. Finny's eyes were stretched wide and her mouth flew open in preparation for a screw. No scream came, for she was struck dumb. "Finny, it's me, Ema! Please! Please don't scream!"
Her chin quivered real fast, and her mouth twitched. It was obvious that she was close to tears. I heard drips of water on the sand and looked down at the piddle slowing gathering at her feet where she had wet on herself. She listened to my request with her mouth standing open like that of a dead animal. I don't think she was capable of closing it.
I begged her to fetch me water for I was about to perish and not to tell of my hiding place. You never realize how much you need something until it is impossible to get. The small girl nodded, but she did not speak. Off she trotted looking back over her shoulder toward me as she scampered off. I feared soldiers would try and see what she was looking at. A huge, burly man with blond curls peeping out from under his cap, stopped her and bade her to knock over a chicken for supper. I heard him tell her he was in want of some chicken fixins. I was very nervous for while she chased the hen, she kept cutting her eyes in my direction. Later, she returned to the backside of the woodpile where my entrance was concealed and brought water. I have never been so thankful for anything in my life.
About dusk, there were sounds coming from the kitchen of a meal being eaten. Pots and pants rattling and silverware hitting plates. I visioned sitting at the table forking potatoes into my mouth and warm fresh homemade biscuits. It was about more than I could stand. The back door slammed and instead of the dreaded soldiers, it was Mama. Sheh held a bowl in her hands and was heading in the direction of the woodpile, but, she walked on past.
I scooted to the far corner to get a better look. A thump on the ground where Mama had stood up a thick log to stand on was a blessed sound. There she was peering over the top. At the sight of her loving face, I began to cry. Tears slid down her wrinkled cheeks. Funny, I never notices her having those wrinkles before.
"Ema, I am so happy to see you. Don't tryout, they might hear you." Mama's mouth barely moved as she whispered these words.
"Finny told me where you were and my only hope is that she is trustworthy for your sake. I will try to bring you scraps after breakfast if there is any left. It's hard to get out of the house without being followed or watched every minutes. They demand meals and have plundered all. We must not let them know we are afraid, that's a hard thing to do. I want to send you for help, but there is no where to go.
She raked the contents of the bowl onto a flat piece of wood. Then turned and walked quickly back toward the house. I didn't care if the bread and meat was half eaten. I was starving. For two days after that, I survived on slop, even running my small fingers to retrieve what had fallen between the cracks of the wood carefully picking out the bark bits.
Once, I had to take my shoe off to draw some soup that was puddled up on the ground. It was disgusting not to have cloth to wipe my mouth and instead using the back of my hand.
I was scared to stay and afraid to leave. Hunger pains running around in my stomach were so loud that if anyone came near they were sure to hear.
During the day, the trees swayed gently with bars of sunlight playing on the ground. Birds and squirrels would sit in the nearby Tres and chatter noisily. In my mind they were deliberately saying, "Here, look over here." At night, the crickets and tree frog's chirping announced spring and fishing time. Papa used to always take us to Cheraw fishing about this time of year and we looked forward to the trip. It has been three years since we last went and now I know that was a thing to remember and not to hope for again.
At night, I would watch the windows hoping to get a glimpse of my family. It was a long wait for the lard oil lamps to be put out. Then, I would rise on my shaky legs as long as I dared. Along in the dark out of my fort, my thoughts went in circles like my body pacing around and around. Maybe I should come forward and reveal myself. Weighing this in my head and the pacing made me dizzy and almost put me in a trance. Footsteps and voices slipped me into awareness. Perhaps I had made too much noise. Not another step should to be taken so I shrunk myself as small as possible against the outer wall and waited.
Next, came the sound of my sister, Nancy, giggling and flirting with a handsome officer. To my surprise and disgust, they strolled into the woods and I heard his deep smooth voice and her sweet one fade into the night. She had become a traitor to all that we believed in. Minutes may have been hours. It was a long time and I had no way of knowing how long. The returning couple passed by, then stopped at a large pine tree. She kissed him in the moonlight, then proceeded toward the house. My hunger had left me with gloomy thoughts which swam in my head. A feeling of deep frustration. What will Papa do when he finds out? But, we had not heard anything from Papa. If he should never return. Maybe he was d–––. No!
The third day arrived and anxiously I waited. No one came all day. The lonely hours just dragged by. I smelled something burning and saw a thick, black column of smoke on the horizon. It wasn't long before the air above my heard was filled with smoke and ash fell now and then on my face. They were burning grain and cotton bales on the next farm. How long would it be until they fired our house and buildings?
We couldn't do one thing to stop these demons. We just had to wait out our fate. everyone needs a plan when in a situation like this. Without a plan there is no hope. With my mind clouded from hunger, thirst and fatigue, a plan would not come into focus.
I heard loud curses coming from the house. Someone was crying. Two soldiers burst out of the door and ran over the stubble in the cotton field holding Mama's prize bedtick high over their heads. Feathers were flying from the slit they had made in it with a knife. Their laughter rang out as they enjoyed their horrible feat and became mixed with the screams coming from the house. I put my fingers in my ears and squatted as low as I could inside the woodpile.
In the evening I expected to be fed. Maybe Finny would bring water. I waited and waited for Mama to come with the scraps, but darkness fell and my stomach ached badly. The night was clear with a pale full moon. The trip would have to be made. I couldn't stand it any longer. Carefully, I pushed away the logs that covered the escape route.
I poked my head and shoulders part of the way out, then pulled back in. Just pretend it is the same as last night and the night before when I walk around and around for awhile and then go back inside. Finally, I got my courage up to put a little ground between me and my hiding place. Then a little more ground. I could go back at any time, it's not that far away. Before long I could not see the woodpile and just had to make up in my mind there was no way out of it. I needed to go to the creek for water. Maybe I would faint along the woods or get lost.
What happened to my family/ I had not seen any of my sisters except Nancy since the house was taken. But I have heard their cries. Mama never spoke when she came with the scraps since the first time. She was afraid her words would be heard. I wanted to tell Mama what I knew about Nancy, but decided against it for fear words would be heard by others. Perhaps she already knew.
My lungs took in the sharp, spring air. I had not walked very far in days and at first my legs were very shaky. Sometimes in the dark you see things that aren't really there. In the light from a large low moon I crept cautiously. I was afraid to reach out to touch anything for it might be alive. A spiderweb netted my hair and neck and I brushed at it hard swinging arms and twirling around. In a tree nearby a whippoorwill shattered the night with its call and made me jump. Even though the cool, night air washed over my face, my insides felt hot. I tried to keep the footpath in sight slightly to the right of me, and it was difficult. Going slowly and stopped every few yards to make sure I wasn't straying away. In was not wise to keep directly on the path. My foot hid a large object and I toppled headlong over a dead cow whose carcass had been left to a large mass gathering of feasting maggots. Its flesh had burst open from being puffed so big.
I scrambled to my feet, not knowing which way to go for the shock of this discovery confused me. The foul smell that was on my hands and clothes was overpowering not only my sense of small. I heard a moaning noise, it seemed to be coming from. I couldn't cry or scream, just make this whimpering noise.
It was Dolly, I knew by her spots. Her head had been split by an axe. My head swam and my stomach contracted. Nausea washed over and I had to fight back against the warm feeling in my throat. It was hard not to cry, but tears escaped anyway running down my cheeks and into my open mouth. Oh! Salt, just when I needed.
Blustery, hostile voices along with the loud clicking of bayonets and splashing of water made me balk. I hid in the low bushes surrounding the creek by prostrating myself on the ground. The sickness was there, yet I could not make a sound of fear of being found.
A drifting fog wreathed the water, and made it hard to see. Straining to identify shapes. Eli's voice came clearly through the others. Several men were holding him by the heels and immersing his head in the rushing water. They were trying to make him tell where our valuables had been hidden. His screams and choking gasps and their curses seeped right through my skin. A lump of anger rose in my throat and I kept swallowing this back and it just boiled back up choking me. It was hard to keep from rushing forward to kill the beasts. Somehow, I managed to keep still and stay in the green fringed safety of the busy. It wasn't long before they gave up, for he had come so befuddled that it was no use to continue. At the time, it was impossible to tell if he was still alive or not, for they hauled him across one man's shoulder and made their way up the path toward the house.
Just as I started to come forth, a low bush detached itself from behind a tree and followed the others at a distance. If it was a friend or foe, I was too frightened to find out.
After a long drink of water, I decided to return. Maybe, mama had left the remains of supper. Closer to home, the smell of woodsmoke pierced my nostrils. Fire rose high into the night. The house. No. The woodpile.
The soldiers were burning every single stick, then threw something in and gloated over it. I ran back into the woods, stumbling over roots and logs, until I was back at the creek. Crazy thoughts rolled through my head. If I had stayed... miracle.... cooked alive....
I really needed a hallow log big enough for me, but, there was no way to see one in the dark. Afraid I would get lost if I wandered far, I sat down on a stump. Little eyes were everywhere. Any other time I would have been afraid. The little creatures were not my problem this night. It was the evil humans.
I could not go home and my fort ws gone. There was no use going to neighboring farms. Smoke came from the direction of the closest place days ago. Late, from other directions. Most likely they had the same circumstances as we did. The only thing left was to try and see if Finny's family would give me shelter. After all, they were Papa's dearest and oldest slaves. What about Uncle Charlie's warning not to trust anyone? Finny helped me and she didn't tell where I was, or did she? Maybe that is why they burned the woodpile. My mind asked questions and then tried to answer them making me more confused.
Picking my way as carefully as possible, I decided to follow the creek. On the bank were masses of brambles and it wasn't long before I became entangled. The flat woods in the South Carolina Sandhills have a lot of thick, impassable undergrowth.
Something slithered across in front of me, then a rat ran across with another rat on its back. The moon went behind a cloud and I tripped over a barrel half buried in the sand. It had once held rice. Franklin must not have covered it well and some soldiers saw a sign that it was recently placed there.
Eventually there was a road ahead, but which direction to go on it? Desperate to get to the cabins, I decided to take a right and keep just inside the shelter of trees. sometimes I would loose sight of the road but always found it again. Papa would be proud. He taught me how to spot the tallest tree and keep the top to my right so as to not get lost when out picking blackberries. As long as it is in view, I would end up back at the beginning.
An urge came to relieve myself and as I squatted over what I believed to be a mass of moss, something crunched under my foot. I stepped aside and my other foot crunched what did not sound like stepping on twigs. At first, it was difficult to make out just what I had been standing in the midst of that would be making a sharp brittle noise under my feet. Realization hit me as I found that I had been standing in the ribcage of a deadman.
I must have fainted, for the next sound I heard was the loud croak of a frog sitting close by. Scrambling up, I must have miscalculated the direction in my flight, for I ran headlong down a blind trail straight into the ooze of the dreaded swamp. Fear took hold so hard that my kneecaps jumped up and down and would not stop.
The strangeness of cold wet air met me, the kind that streams up in your face when you look down a well. Marred in the damp soft ground where I had to pull one foot out at a time with a jerk, made the going slow.
There was a snap of twig behind me and the sound of sucking footsteps. I whirled to face a blurred figure which grabbed my arm in a viselike grasp, the fingers dug into my wrist. My screams were a high, choking sound that didn't seem one from my throat at all.
The monster thought I was out hiding some valuables and there was no persuading him otherwise. He dragged me farther and father into the swamp. Said he would teach me to lie. That he would make me sorry I was ever born if I didn't reveal to him at once what I knew. He turned his face toward mine swearing at me the whole way with huge puffs of breath that smelt of whisky and rotten teeth.
When he would stop up for a minute to rest, my kneecaps would jump up and down and my teeth were chattering so loud that he slapped me hard in the face. The smell of his sweat almost choked me.
"Stop that infernal noise."
I kept trying to shake him off by twisting this way and that, when suddenly both our feet slid into the black water of a quagmire. Once you get in, it's hard to get out of the slippery, moss and black mud. The past two days of rain made it all the worse.
I wanted to scream my hot words of anger at him, but it was of no use. We scrambled and fought like two blind dogs in a meat house. I was surprised to find out how much strength I really had. Then he was going down and down into some kind of sinkhole. His hand lost its grasp on me, but still snatched at my clothes, grabbing, losing hold, then gaining it. He was going to take me with him to my death.
At one time we both went under. I saw white in front of my eyes. This is it, I thought. The end.
Somehow, I managed to get my head and arms up out of the water. Even thought he still had hold of me, I managed to grab the exposed tree roots and wrap my arms around them while my dress was being yanked and ripped. Since there were so many layers of clothes, one less didn't really make a difference. Finally, he released his grip and I watched in horror the roundness of his mouth frozen forever as it formed his last words. For awhile, I remained clinging to tree roots on the steep bank. When death lunges at you and missed, you can hardly go away from it quickly. Your mind reels and your sense whirl and at first it is hard to realize that you are still alive.
At last, I hauled myself onto the edge of the slippery bank. Afraid to travel for there might be quicksand, I sat down beside a tree and rested. The cool, spring wind bore through my soaked clothes. I sat there wringing out my dripping hair.
In the faint light of dawn, I managed to find my way to Finny's cabin. Instead of going straight up to the door, I stopped in the grove of Myrtle trees and listened for scraps of conversation going on. Something was happening. I overheard plans of joining up with the soldiers that were leaving today for Anson County, North Carolina. To my amazement, some of Papa's best and most trusted families had sold us out to the Yankees. They had Mama's Waterbury clock and other valuables that we had hidden with their assistance in their possession and the laughter and jokes made me sick to my stomach. My blood boiled to think of such treachery, yet, I could do nothing but listen. Retreating into the surrounding woods, I stayed hidden until everyone was gone in the direction of our house. A dray and rig was loaded full of their belongings and ours. This must be the awaited day for departure.
After what felt like hours, I went inside their cabin, the first time in shelter for days. It had a sour smell of old apples and animals. Not thinking it fit to sit or lie on what little furniture they had left, I sat down on the dirt floor. Right now, exhaustion took over and I became careless of the consequences. What if someone returned? I fell asleep listening to the cry of mockingbirds calling to each other in the tall ponds.
I woke up later in the day. For a little while, I couldn't remember where I was. My legs and back ached either from sleeping on the hard floor or the ordeal in the swamp. Memory came back and rushed over me like a giant wave. Taking my chances, I started for hime trembling from fear and anticipation of facing my family.
As fast as they came, the enemy had left. Another group came by for them to join with. Long lines of soldiers passed out of our yard and but he road, heading north. Mama said Nancy left with them. She told me that my sister was taken as a hostage because the soldiers did not find as many valuables as they expected. I couldn't imagine what they had expected, everything we owned was taken. Including the negroes. A few weeks later, Finny ran into the yard. She had managed to escape and all she wanted to do was come home. She told that one of her little brothers had died and the soldiers would let her mammy have time to bury him, just left the body on the roadside The decision to leave her family and return to us was made then and there and at the next available moment she left.
This faithful friend stayed with us for many years to come. It was her choice, for she was free to do as she liked. When she later married and had her first child, a girl, she named it Emmaline just for me.
Later, Nancy was returned by the officer. He said she had left on her own free will. Mama called him a liar.
She did not believe Nancy could do such a thing. It upset Mama so that I didn't mention my secret. But, really, I knew what the did. Sometimes its better to know and not say. Just keep secrets from even someone as close to you as Mama if it will hurt her to know the truth. It was difficult to predict Nancy's moods and she caused a lot of problems in our household. She was prone to lie. Everyone knows a lie will grow, can either kill or cripple you and everyone close to you. Nancy had a different set of values than the rest of us. Sh was very emotional and always tried to find something to satisfy her. Something she never could put her hands on. When her lover thought she was becoming too much of a burden, he sent her away. It seems that she had a problem with not wanting to cross the Mason-Dixon Line.
There was nothing to do but to face shame and come back to her family. She led them to believe that it was the soldier's fault. But, every time she passed by me, I gave her a cold hard look. I think she knew that I knew.
Our house was spared from the torch, but only because they had used it for headquarters. Mama said that one of the officers always thanked her for meals and was decent towards them all. He even tried to protect my sisters from the men. We came to find out that he was the one Nancy took liking to. Mama said she didn't care if he did thank her for he wasn't welcome one bit. We were left with a little pig which the officer brought into the yard and gave to John as they moved out. The months came and went as we struggled along with not enough to eat and not enough to wear. We did manage to salvage a piece of the mirror large enough to use.
