Daring and Suffering: A History of the Great Railroad AdventurePittenger, William
History
Daring and Suffering: A History of the Great Railroad Adventure
Pittenger, William
Chattanooga Railroad Expedition, 1862; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Campaigns
"How far is it to Chattanooga?"
"_Three miles!_"
"Is this the road?"
"Yes, sah! _right ahead_."
I had afterwards reason to believe that these were men sent out to
arrest us, and that they did not stop me just because I was going
right to Chattanooga!
But it was evident that I was again on the wrong road. Indeed, it
seemed as if I was so hopelessly bewildered that it was impossible for
me to travel any _but_ the wrong road. As soon as the horsemen got out
of sight, I turned and followed them three or four miles, when I came
to a large road running at right angles with my own, which terminated
where it joined the other. I deliberated for some time as to which end
of this new road I should take. I had no guide to direct me, for my
old road was too crooked even to give me the direction of the dreaded
Chattanooga.
Many a time have I wished for a sight of the moon and stars. Long
before the clash of arms was heard in our land, before the thunder and
the wailing of battle had filled a nation with weeping, have I waited
and wished for the parting away of the tedious clouds, that, with my
telescope, I might gaze on the wonders and beauties of the worlds
above. But never did I bend a more anxious eye to the darkened
firmament, than in my solitary wanderings over the Georgia hills that
memorable night. But all in vain; no North Star appeared to point with
beam of hope to the land of the free.
At length I started off on the road that I thought most likely to lead
me in the right direction; but as usual I had the misfortune of being
wrong; for after I had gone a long distance, the moon broke through a
rift in the clouds, and for a moment poured her light down on the dark
forest through which I was passing. That one glance was enough to show
me that I was heading back toward the railroad I had left in the
morning. Wearily I turned and retraced my tedious steps.
One of my feet had been injured by an accident three mouths before,
and now pained me excessively. Still I dragged myself along. My nerves
had become completely exhausted by the long-continued tension they had
sustained, and now played me many fantastic tricks, which became more
vivid as the night waned away. I passed the place where I had made the
wrong choice of roads, and still toiled on.
The rain fell in torrents now. I was thinly clad, and as the wind,
which was blowing quite hard, drove the falling showers against me, my
teeth chattered, and I shivered to the bone. I passed many houses, and
feared the barking of the dogs might betray me to watchers within; but
my fears were groundless. The storm, which was then howling fearfully
through the trees, served to keep most of those who sought our lives,
within doors. Even the barking of the bloodhounds was heard but
seldom, and then far in the distance. I seemed to have the lonely,
fearful, stormy night to myself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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