A Virginia Girl in the Civil War, 1861-1865: being a record of the actual experiences of the wife of a Confederate officer
John Locke · en
“That shows well enough where the bridge is,” said Dan, pointing to
where the wagon had left a track close to the water’s edge and visible
for a short way under the water. “Follow that track,” he commanded our
driver, who was three-quarters of a man, being too young for a whole
man and too old for a lad, “the mules will find the bridge. They are
the most sure-footed animals in the world. Just let them have their
heads as soon as they get in the water.”
Jerry obeyed instructions. Sure enough, the mules got along well
enough. That is, for a short distance. Then, splash! down they went
under the water! We could just see their noses and their great ears
wiggling above the surface as they struck out into a gallant swim
for the opposite shore. Splash! we went in after them, and mules and
ambulance were swimming and floating together. Jerry was terrified, and
began to pray so hard that I got to laughing. All we could see of the
mules were six ears sticking out of the water and wiggling for dear
life, while our ambulance swam along like a gondola.
But things changed suddenly. Our ambulance was lifted slightly, came
down with a jolt, and wouldn’t budge! The mules strained forward, but
to no good. The ambulance wouldn’t stir, and their harness held them
back.
“The ambulance has caught on some part of the bridge,” said Dan.
We were in a serious dilemma. The road was one in much use, and we
pinned our hopes to some passer-by, but as we waited minutes seemed
hours. No one came. Perhaps the wagon that had preceded us had given
warning that the bridge was wrecked. We sat in the ambulance and
waited, not knowing what to do, not seeing what we could do. By some
saplings which stood in the water we measured the rise of the tide,
and we measured its rise in the ambulance by my trunk--I was getting
wet to my knees. Finally I sat on top of my trunk and drew my feet
up after me. The situation was serious enough, and Dan began to look
very anxious--Hatchers Run was always regarded as a dangerous stream
in flood time. Still, no sign of any one coming. The rain continued to
fall and the water to rise.
“At this rate we are sitting here to drown,” Dan said. “There’s but
one way out of it that I can see. From what I know of the situation
of our army there must be an encampment near here. Jerry, climb out of
this ambulance over the backs of these hind mules till you get to that
leader. Get on him, cut him loose, and swim out of this. Ride until you
find an encampment and bring us help.”
But Jerry didn’t look at it that way.