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Camp Fire and Cotton Field by Thomas W. Knox

T >> Thomas W. Knox >> Camp Fire and Cotton Field




It was difficult to make them understand they were doing wrong. The
army regulations and the intricacies of military law were unknown to
them. They had never studied any of General Halleck's translations
from the French, and, had they done so, I doubt if they would have
been much enlightened. None of them knew what "desertion" meant,
nor the duties of a soldier to adhere to his flag at all times. All
intended to return to the post after making a brief visit to their
families. Most of them would request their comrades to notify their
captains that they would only be absent a short time. Two, who
succeeded in eluding pursuit, made their appearance one morning as
if nothing had happened, and assured their officers that others
would shortly be back again. Gradually they came to understand
the wickedness of desertion, or absence without leave, but this
comprehension of their obligations was not easily acquired.

A captain, commanding a company at Waterproof, told me an amusing
story of a soldier "handing in his resignation." As the captain was
sitting in front of his quarters, one of his men approached him,
carrying his musket and all his accoutrements. Without a word the man
laid his entire outfit upon the ground, in front of the captain, and
then turned to walk away.

"Come back here," said the officer; "what do you mean by this?"

"I'se tired of staying here, and I'se going home," was the negro's
answer, and he again attempted to move off.

"Come back here and pick these things up," and the captain spoke in a
tone that convinced the negro he would do well to obey.

The negro told his story. He was weary of the war; he had been four
weeks a soldier; he wanted to see his family, and had concluded to
go home. If the captain desired it, he, would come back in a little
while, but he was going home then, "_any how_."

The officer possessed an amiable disposition, and explained to
the soldier the nature of military discipline. The latter was soon
convinced he had done wrong, and returned without a murmur to his
duty. Does any soldier, who reads this, imagine himself tendering his
resignation in the above manner with any prospect of its acceptance?

When the first regiment of colored volunteers was organized in Kansas,
it was mainly composed of negroes who had escaped from slavery in
Missouri. They were easily disciplined save upon a single point, and
on this they were very obstinate. Many of the negroes in Missouri, as
in other parts of the South, wear their hair, or wool, in little knots
or braids. They refused to submit to a close shearing, and threatened
to return to their masters rather than comply with the regulation.
Some actually left the camp and went home. The officers finally
carried their point by inducing some free negroes in Leavenworth,
whose heads were adorned with the "fighting cut," to visit the camp
and tell the obstinate ones that long locks were a badge of servitude.

The negroes on our plantation, as well as elsewhere, had a strong
desire to go to Waterproof to see the soldiers. Every Sunday they were
permitted to go there to attend church, the service being conducted by
one of their own color. They greatly regretted that the soldiers
did not parade on that day, as they missed their opportunities for
witnessing military drills. To the negroes from plantations in the
hands of disloyal owners, the military posts were a great attraction,
and they would suffer all privations rather than return home. Some
of them declared they would not go outside the lines under any
consideration. We needed more assistance on our plantation, but it
was next to impossible to induce negroes to go there after they found
shelter at the military posts. Dread of danger and fondness for their
new life were their reasons for remaining inside the lines. A portion
were entirely idle, but there were many who adopted various modes of
earning their subsistence.

At Natchez, Vicksburg, and other points, dealers in fruit, coffee,
lemonade, and similar articles, could be found in abundance. There
were dozens of places where washing was taken in, though it was not
always well done. Wood-sawing, house-cleaning, or any other kind of
work requiring strength, always found some one ready to perform it.
Many of those who found employment supported themselves, while
those who could not or would not find it, lived at the expense of
Government. The latter class was greatly in the majority.

I have elsewhere inserted the instructions which are printed in every
"Plantation Record," for the guidance of overseers in the olden time.
"Never trust a negro," is the maxim given by the writer of those
instructions. I was frequently cautioned not to believe any statements
made by negroes. They were charged with being habitual liars, and
entitled to no credence whatever. Mrs. B. constantly assured me the
negroes were great liars, and I must not believe them. This assurance
would be generally given when I cited them in support of any thing
she did not desire to approve. _Per contra_, she had no hesitation in
referring to the negroes to support any of her statements which their
testimony would strengthen. This was not altogether feminine weakness,
as I knew several instances in which white persons of the sterner sex
made reference to the testimony of slaves. The majority of Southern
men refuse to believe them on all occasions; but there are many who
refer to them if their statements are advantageous, yet declare them
utterly unworthy of credence when the case is reversed.

I have met many negroes who could tell falsehoods much easier than
they could tell the truth. I have met others who saw no material
difference between truth and its opposite; and I have met many whose
statements could be fully relied upon. During his whole life, from
the very nature of the circumstances which, surround him, the slave
is trained in deception. If he did not learn to lie it would be
exceedingly strange. It is my belief that the negroes are as truthful
as could be expected from their education. White persons, under
similar experience and training, would not be good examples for the
young to imitate. The negroes tell many lies, but all negroes are
not liars. Many white persons tell the truth, but I have met, in the
course of my life, several men, of the Caucasian race, who never told
the truth unless by accident.

I found in the plantation negroes a proneness to exaggeration, in
cases where their fears or desires were concerned. One day, a negro
from the back country came riding rapidly to our plantation, declaring
that the woods, a mile distant, were "full of Rebels," and asking
where the Yankee soldiers were. I questioned him for some time. When
his fears were quieted, I ascertained that he had seen three mounted
men, an hour before, but did not know what they were, or whether armed
or not.

When I took the plantations, Mrs. B. told me there were twenty bales
of cotton already picked; the negroes had told her so. When I surveyed
the place on the first day of my occupation, the negroes called my
attention to the picked cotton, of which they thought there were
twenty or twenty-five bales. With my little experience in cotton, I
felt certain there would be not more than seven bales of that lot.
When it was passed through the gin and pressed, there were but five
bales.

We wished to plant about fifty acres of corn on the larger plantation.
There was a triangular patch in one corner that we estimated to
contain thirty acres. The foreman of the plow-gang, who had lived
twenty years on the place, thought there were about sixty acres. He
was surprised when we found, by actual measurement, that the patch
contained twenty-eight acres. Another spot, which he thought contained
twenty acres, measured less than ten. Doubtless the man's judgment had
been rarely called for, and its exercise, to any extent, was decidedly
a new sensation.

Any thing to which the negroes were unaccustomed became the subject
of amusing calculations. The "hog-minder" could estimate with
considerable accuracy the weight of a hog, either live or dressed.
When I asked him how much he supposed his own weight to be, he was
entirely lost. On my demanding an answer, he thought it might be three
hundred pounds. A hundred and sixty would not have been far from the
real figure.

Incorrect judgment is just as prevalent among ignorant whites as
among negroes, though with the latter there is generally a tendency to
overestimate. Where negroes make wrong estimates, in three cases out
of four they will be found excessive. With whites the variation will
be diminutive as often as excessive. In judging of numbers of men, a
column of troops, for example, both races are liable to exaggerate,
the negro generally going beyond the pale-face. Fifty mounted men may
ride past a plantation. The white inhabitants will tell you a hundred
soldiers have gone by, while the negroes will think there were two or
three hundred.

I was often surprised at the ability of the negroes to tell the names
of the steamboats plying on the river. None of the negroes could
read, but many of them would designate the different boats with great
accuracy. They recognized the steamers as they would recognize the
various trees of the forest. When a new boat made its appearance they
inquired its name, and forgot it very rarely.

On one occasion a steamer came in sight, on her way up the river.
Before she was near enough for me to make out the name on her side,
one of the negroes declared it was the _Laurel Hill_. His statement
proved correct. It was worthy of note that the boat had not passed
that point for nearly a year previous to that day.




CHAPTER XLII.

THE END OF THE EXPERIMENT.

The Nature of our "Protection."--Trade Following the Flag.--A
Fortunate Journey.--Our Last Visit.--Inhumanity of the
Guerrillas.--Driving Negroes into Captivity.--Killing an
Overseer.--Our Final Departure.--Plantations Elsewhere.


We did not look upon the post at Waterproof as a sure protection.
There was no cavalry to make the promised patrol between Waterproof
and the post next below it, or to hunt down any guerrillas that might
come near. A few of the soldiers were mounted on mules and horses
taken from the vicinity, but they were not effective for rapid
movements. It was understood, and semi-officially announced, that the
post was established for the protection of Government plantations. The
commandant assured me he had no orders to that effect. He was placed
there to defend the post, and nothing else. We were welcome to any
protection his presence afforded, but he could not go outside the
limits of the town to make any effort in our behalf.

There was a store at Waterproof which was doing a business of two
thousand dollars daily. Every day the wives, brothers, or sisters of
men known to belong to the marauding bands in the vicinity, would come
to the town and make any purchases they pleased, frequently paying for
them in money which the guerrillas had stolen. A gentleman, who was an
intimate friend of General Thomas, was one of the proprietors of this
store, and a son of that officer was currently reported to hold an
interest in it. After a time the ownership was transferred to a single
cotton speculator, but the trading went on without hinderance. This
speculator told me the guerrilla leader had sent him a verbal promise
that the post should not be disturbed or menaced so long as the store
remained there. Similar scenes were enacted at nearly all the posts
established for the "protection" of leased plantations. Trading stores
were in full operation, and the amount of goods that reached the
Rebels and their friends was enormous.

I have little doubt that this course served to prolong the resistance
to our arms along the Mississippi River. If we had stopped all
commercial intercourse with the inhabitants, we should have removed
the inducement for Rebel troops to remain in our vicinity. As matters
were managed, they kept close to our lines at all the military posts
between Cairo and Baton Rouge, sometimes remaining respectfully quiet,
and at others making occasional raids within a thousand yards of our
pickets.

The absence of cavalry, and there being no prospect that any would
arrive, led us to believe that we could not long remain unmolested. We
were "in for it," however, and continued to plow and plant, trusting
to good fortune in getting safely through. Our misfortune came at
last, and brought our free-labor enterprise to an untimely end.

As I stated in the previous chapter, Colburn and myself made daily
visits to the plantation, remaining there for dinner, and returning
to Waterproof in the afternoon. On Monday, May 2d, we made our usual
visit, and returned to the post. A steamer touched there, on its way
to Natchez, just after our return, and we accepted the invitation of
her captain to go to that place. Our journey to Natchez was purely
from impulse, and without any real or ostensible business to call us
away. It proved, personally, a very fortunate journey.

On Tuesday evening, a neighbor of ours reached Natchez, bringing news
that the guerrillas had visited our plantation on that day. I hastened
to Waterproof by the first boat, and found our worst fears were
realized.

Thirty guerrillas had surrounded our house at the hour we were
ordinarily at dinner. They called our names, and commanded us to come
out and be shot. The house was empty, and as there was no compliance
with the request, a half-dozen of the party, pistols in hand, searched
the building, swearing they would kill us on the spot. Had we been
there, I have no doubt the threat would have been carried out.

Failing to find us, they turned their attention to other matters. They
caught our overseer as he was attempting to escape toward Waterproof.
He was tied upon his horse, and guarded until the party was ready to
move. The teams were plowing in the field at the time the robbers
made their appearance. Some of the negroes unloosed the mules from the
plows, mounted them, and fled to Waterproof. Others, who were slow in
their movements, were captured with the animals. Such of the
negroes as were not captured at once, fled to the woods or concealed
themselves about the buildings.

Many of the negroes on the plantation were personally known to some of
the guerrillas. In most cases these negroes were not disturbed. Others
were gathered in front of the house, where they were drawn up in line
and securely tied. Some of them were compelled to mount the captured
mules and ride between their captors.

Several children were thrown upon the mules, or taken by the
guerrillas on their own horses, where they were firmly held. No
attention was paid to the cries of the children or the pleadings of
their mothers. Some of the latter followed their children, as the
guerrillas had, doubtless, expected. In others, the maternal instinct
was less than the dread of captivity. Among those taken was an infant,
little more than eight months old.

Delaying but a few moments, the captors and the captives moved away.
Nineteen of our negroes were carried off, of whom ten were children
under eleven years of age. Of the nineteen, five managed to make their
escape within a few miles, and returned home during the night. One
woman, sixty-five years old, who had not for a long time been able
to do any work, was among those driven off. She fell exhausted before
walking three miles, and was beaten by the guerrillas until she lay
senseless by the roadside. It was not for several hours that she
recovered sufficiently to return to the plantation and tell the story
of barbarity.

From a plantation adjoining ours, thirty negroes were carried away
at the same time. Of these, a half-dozen escaped and returned.
The balance, joined to the party from our own plantation, formed a
mournful procession. I heard of them at many points, from residents of
the vicinity. These persons would not admit that the guerrillas were
treating the negroes cruelly. Those who escaped had a frightful story
to tell. They had been beaten most barbarously with whips, sticks, and
frequently with the butts of pistols; two or three were left senseless
by the roadside, and one old man had been shot, because he was too
much exhausted to go further. I learned, a few days later, that
the captured negroes were taken to Winnsboro; a small town in the
interior, and there sold to a party of Texas traders.

From our plantation the guerrillas stole twenty-four mules at the time
of their visit, and an equal number from our neighbors. These were
sold to the same party of traders that purchased the negroes, and
there was evidently as little compunction at speculating in the one
"property" as in the other.

Our overseer, Mr. Owen, had been bound upon his horse and taken away.
This I learned from the negroes remaining on the plantation. I made
diligent inquiries of parties who arrived from the direction taken by
the guerrillas, to ascertain, if possible, where he had been carried.
One person assured me, positively, that he saw Mr. Owen, a prisoner,
twenty miles away. Mrs.

Owen and five children were living at Waterproof, and, of course, were
much alarmed on hearing of his capture.

It was on Thursday, two days after the raid, that I visited the
plantation. Our lower plantation had not been disturbed, but many of
the negroes were gone, and all work was suspended. It was of no use
to attempt to prosecute the planting enterprise, and we immediately
prepared to abandon the locality. The remaining negroes were set at
work to shell the corn already gathered. As fast as shelled, it
was taken to Waterproof for shipment to market. The plows were left
rusting in the furrows, where they were standing at the moment the
guerrillas appeared. The heaps of cotton-seed and the implements used
by the planting-gang remained in _statu quo_. The cotton we planted
was growing finely. To leave four hundred acres thus growing, and
giving promise of a fine harvest, was to throw away much labor, but
there was no alternative.

On Saturday, four days after the raid, the corporal of a scouting
party came to our plantation and said the body of a white man had been
found in the woods a short distance away. I rode with him to the spot
he designated. The mystery concerning the fate of our overseer was
cleared up. The man was murdered within a thousand yards of the house.

From the main road leading past our plantation, a path diverged into
the forest. This path was taken by some of the guerrillas in their
retreat. Following it two hundred yards, and then turning a short
distance to the left, I found a small cypress-tree, not more than
thirty feet high. One limb of this tree drooped as it left the trunk,
and then turned upward. The lowest part of the bend of this limb was
not much higher than a tall man's head.

It was just such a tree, and just such a limb, as a party bent on
murder would select for hanging their victim. I thought, and still
think, that the guerrillas turned aside with the design of using the
rope as the instrument of death. Under this tree lay the remains of
our overseer. The body was fast decomposing. A flock of buzzards was
gathered around, and was driven away with difficulty. They had already
begun their work, so that recognition under different circumstances
would not have been easy. The skull was detached from the body, and
lay with the face uppermost. A portion of the scalp adhered to it, on
which a gray lock was visible. A bit of gray beard was clinging to the
chin.

In the centre of the forehead there was a perforation, evidently made
by a pistol-bullet. Death must have been instantaneous, the pistol
doing the work which the murderers doubtless intended to accomplish by
other means. The body had been stripped of all clothing, save a single
under-garment. Within a dozen yards lay a pair of old shoes, and close
by their side a tattered and misshapen hat. The shoes and hat were not
those which our overseer had worn, but were evidently discarded by
the guerrillas when they appropriated the apparel of their victim. I
caused a grave to be dug, and the remains placed in a rude coffin and
buried. If a head-stone had been obtainable, I would have given the
locality a permanent designation. The particulars of the murder we
were never able to ascertain.

Three days later we abandoned the plantation. We paid the negroes
for the work they had done, and discharged them from further service.
Those that lived on the plantation previous to our going there,
generally remained, as the guerrillas had assured them they would
be unmolested if they cultivated no cotton. A few of them went to
Natchez, to live near their "missus." Those whom we had hired from
other localities scattered in various directions. Some went to the
Contraband Home at Davis's Bend, others to the negro quarters at
Natchez, others to plantations near Vidalia, and a few returned to
their former homes. Our "family" of a hundred and sixty persons was
thus broken up.

We removed the widow and children of our overseer to Natchez, and
purchased for them the stock and goodwill of a boarding-house keeper.
We sent a note to the leader of the guerrilla band that manifested
such a desire to "go through" us, and informed him that we could
be found in St. Louis or New York. Before the end of May we passed
Vicksburg on our Journey Due North.

Most of the plantations in the vicinity of Natchez, Vicksburg, and
Milliken's Bend were given up. Probably a dozen lessees were killed,
and the same number carried to Texas. Near Vicksburg, the chivalric
guerrillas captured two lessees, and tortured them most barbarously
before putting them to death. They cut off the ears of one man, and
broke his nose by a blow from a club. Thus mutilated, he was compelled
to walk three or four miles. When he fell, fainting from loss of
blood, he was tied to a tree, and the privilege of shooting him
was sold at auction. They required his companion to witness these
brutalities. Whenever he turned away his eyes, his captors pressed the
point of a saber into his cheek. Finally, they compelled him to take
a spade and dig his own grave. When it was finished, they stripped
him of his clothing, and shot him as he stood by the brink of the
newly-opened trench.

Blanchard and Robinson, two lessees near Natchez, both of them
residents of Boston, were murdered with nearly the same fiendishness
as exhibited in the preceding case. Their fate was for some time
unknown. It was at length ascertained from a negro who was captured at
the same time, but managed to escape. That "slavery makes barbarians"
would seem to be well established by the conduct of these residents of
Louisiana.

In the vicinity of Baton Rouge and New Orleans there were but few
guerrillas, and the plantations generally escaped undisturbed. In all
localities the "army-worm" made its appearance in July and August, and
swept away almost the entire crop. Many plantations that were expected
to yield a thousand bales did not yield a hundred, and some of them
made less than ten. The appearance of this destructive worm was very
sudden. On some plantations, where the cotton was growing finely and
without a trace of blight, the fields, three days later, appeared as
if swept by fire. There was consequently but little cotton made during
the season.

The possibility of producing the great staples of the South by
free labor was fully established. Beyond this there was little
accomplished.

My four months of cotton-planting was an experience I shall
never regret, though I have no desire to renew it under similar
circumstances. Agriculture is generally considered a peaceful pursuit.
To the best of my recollection I found it quite the reverse.

For the benefit of those who desire to know the process of cotton
culture, from the planting season to the picking season, I give the
following extract from an article written by Colonel T. B. Thorpe,
of Louisiana, several years ago. After describing the process of
preparing the ground and planting the seed, Colonel Thorpe says:--



If the weather be favorable, the young plant is discovered making its
way through in six or ten days, and "the scraping" of the crop, as it
is termed, now begins. A light plow is again called into requisition,
which is run along the drill, throwing the _earth away from the
plant;_ then come the laborers with their hoes, who dexterously cut
away the superabundant shoots and the intruding weeds, and leave a
single cotton-plant in little hills, generally two feet apart.

Of all the labors of the field, the dexterity displayed by the negroes
in "scraping cotton" is most calculated to call forth the admiration
of the novice spectator. The hoe is a rude instrument, however well
made and handled; the young cotton-plant is as delicate as vegetation
can be, and springs up in lines of solid masses, composed of hundreds
of plants. The field-hand, however, will single one delicate shoot
from the surrounding multitude, and with his rude hoe he will trim
away the remainder with all the boldness of touch of a master, leaving
the incipient stalk unharmed and alone in its glory; and at nightfall
you can look along the extending rows, and find the plants correct in
line, and of the required distance of separation from each other.