only a few days after daddy aleck’s and nelson’s return, brutus came from loch adèle, bearing a piece of paper with hieroglyphics on it in pencil. after much studying over it by each one of us, we found it was a note from dear, faithful daddy hamedy: “miss, cum at once. mister yates dun dribe de peeple.” then mamma questioned the boy, not telling what trouble we had to make out the important document of which he was the bearer. he told his story. general kilpatrick and the whole army had camped on the place a week. they had burned the gin-house after taking all the provisions they could carry away, and left the negroes without a thing to eat, and the whole country was the same—nothing to eat for the white people who belonged there any more than for them—and mr. yates had come to the farm the day before and told daddy hamedy they must all leave the country at once and go back down to the low country from which they came. daddy{240} hamedy had answered him civilly; he said it would take them a day to prepare, and as soon as mr. yates left he had started this runner, brutus, off. he had travelled all night to bring it quick! mamma praised him and gave him the best meal she could and told him to go to sleep. everything was stirring that night, preparing for an early start. mamma went over to see mr. evans and consulted him about it and told him she was going up the next day. he advised her greatly against it, but, finding he could not persuade her to give it up, he said he would ride on horseback along with us. he had saved his riding-horse by taking it in the swamp as daddy aleck had.

so at daylight the next morning we started; mamma and i in the carriage with a basket of cooked food, daddy aleck driving and brutus beside him on the box, mr. evans riding beside the carriage. it was an awful experience, as it must always be to travel in the track of a destroying army. to begin with, the road was a quagmire. it took an experienced driver like daddy aleck to get us through, and even with all his care brutus and mr. evans had often to get a rail from the fences along the road and pry our wheels out of the bog. we were never out of the sight of{241} dead things, and the stench was almost unbearable. dead horses all along the way and, here and there, a leg or an arm sticking out of a hastily made too-shallow grave. along the way ten cows dead in one pen, and then eight or ten calves dead in another. dead hogs everywhere; the effort being to starve the inhabitants out, no living thing was left in a very abundant country. it is a country of small farms, just two-roomed houses; all now tightly shut up, no sign of life. wells with all means of drawing water destroyed. we stopped at one or two houses and knocked without any response, but at last we knocked at one where a tall, pale woman opened a crack of the door wide enough to talk through. no, she had nothing; could not help us in any way to draw water. so daddy aleck got his halters and tied them together and let his horse-bucket down into the well, and i was so thirsty i drank, but mamma would not. as we got beyond cheraw, fifteen miles on our way, we began to meet some of our people from morven, who had started on their hundred-mile flight to the low country, in obedience to mr. yates’s mandate—forlorn figures, a pot sometimes balanced on the head, and a bundle of clothing swung on the back, a baby in arms,{242} sometimes one or two children trailing behind. mamma stopped as we got to each traveller and told them to turn back; she had come to feed them and do all she could for them, and they need have no fear. to daddy aleck’s great indignation, she took some of the impedimenta from the most heavily loaded and we went on our way. we had made such an early start that few had gone more than a few miles, and all were so rejoiced to see mamma and so thankful to turn back that we began to feel quite cheerful.

it was lucky, for things were worse and worse as we went on; and when finally we got to pretty loch adèle a scene of desolation met us—every animal killed, and the negroes had had a kind of superstitious feeling about making use of the meat, or they could have cured meat enough to last the winter; for, though the yankees had burned down the gin-house, with cotton and provisions and salt, they could not destroy the latter, and there, in a blackened mass, was a small mountain of salt. if mr. yates had been any good he could have seen to that. the house was not burned, but everything in it was broken to pieces—beds, sideboard, chairs, tables, and on the floor the fragments of the beautiful big medal{243}lions of “night” and “morning,” chopped into little pieces. i found one baby’s foot, whole, in the mass of rubbish, which i kept a long time, it was so beautiful, quite the size of a real baby’s.

we had a tremendous afternoon’s work to clear away and make the place habitable for the night, but brutus worked with me and i got two women to help, and we managed to prop up a table and put boards over the bottomless chairs, and by supper-time, with a bright fire burning, for we had only brought two candles, it was quite a different-looking place. mamma had brought two roast chickens and a piece of boiled bacon (as she had buried a box of bacon, fortunately) and a loaf of bread and some corn-dodgers which we toasted by the fire, so we had a good supper. the thing that worried us most was the fixing a comfortable bed for mr. evans, but we succeeded in propping up things, and, putting some straw and the blankets we had brought, made a comfortable resting-place; but, when it was all fixed, mr. evans absolutely refused to occupy it, said he preferred to rest on the three-legged sofa by the fire, and insisted that mamma and i should take the bed. which, after a little friendly contention, we did, and most thankful was i to stretch myself{244} on anything after the fatigues and agitations of the day.

early in the morning we were up and busy. brutus cooked hominy for breakfast and fried some bacon. after breakfast mr. evans, seeing mamma equal to the situation, rode back home. before we had sat down, forlorn-looking country people began to arrive. they sat around the fire on broken chairs while we ate breakfast. then mr. yates arrived. he was so startled when he saw mamma he looked as though he would faint. he said good morning and then went out. people still came and mamma was filled with wonder as to what it meant, till one man said:

“wall, when’s the auction goin’ to begin?”

mamma said: “what auction?”

he said: “we was notified by your agent how as there was to be an auction here to-day, an’ everything on the place was to be sold. i come to buy a plough.”

mamma said: “there will be no auction here to-day.”

then they one by one rose and said: “i reckon if there ain’t to be no auction, we better be gittin’ home.” and they made their adieus and left.

then we understood. mr. yates had ordered the negroes to leave, and intended to sell out all

[image unavailable.]

chicora wood.

photograph by amelia m. watson.

{245}

the things on the place and take the money, never supposing there was any possibility of mamma’s being informed in time to get up to prevent it. but he reckoned without knowing the negroes or mamma. as soon as they had all left, she summoned mr. yates and had a talk with him. she told him she would not need his services any more, that he had quite exceeded his authority in sending the negroes off without consulting her, and that the fact of his having advertised an auction without her consent also showed that he misunderstood the situation. he was quite insolent and said he would not go unless he was paid in full. to which she answered she had no intention of letting him go unpaid, asked for his accounts, looked over them, and gave him a check on mr. malloy in cheraw.

mamma found that below the salt was a large pile of rough rice which would not burn, and which was ample provision for the negroes. on examination we found that only the outside of the pile of rough rice was scorched. rough rice (which is the rice still encased in its thick, rough, outer shell) cannot burn, and there was enough rice there to keep the people well fed a long time, and they prefer rice to any other food. they beat it in mortars made by taking about three feet of the{246} trunk of a hardwood-tree and burning out the centre, so as to hold about six quarts of grain. then they make a pestle from a smaller limb of hardwood neatly smoothed and rounded at the end; and with these crude implements the stiff, hard, almost indestructible hull is easily removed.

mamma also found that away from the path of the enemy there were supplies of sorghum syrup and potatoes, etc., which people would gladly bring to exchange for salt and rice. so we turned home, an immense load lifted from our hearts. the people would not really suffer!

mamma made a little talk to the negroes, and told them just to stay quietly there and do their ordinary work, and that she had made arrangements for provisions for them to be brought to the farm every week, and that very soon she would have the flats come up from chicora wood and take them all back to the low country, and begged them not to lose their good reputation by breaking the law in any way, now that the whole country was so upset. and she thanked them for having behaved so well ever since papa had been taken, and having made it easy for her by their good conduct. and they courtesied and said: “tank gawd” that she had come to “luk after{247}” her people and not let them be driven away by “po’ buckra.” altogether it was a very comforting little scene. daddy hamedy made a little speech, assuring her of his fidelity to her, and that he would look after everything and let her know if anything went wrong. he apologized much for not having been able to protect the property, but he said general kilpatrick and the soldiers wouldn’t listen to him at all, and just cut the dam and drained off the water and got maussa’s wine, and got drunk on it, and sent some off in wagons, and were so harsh to him he just had to keep out of sight of them. by the time they set fire to the gin-house, full of good provisions and all the fine cotton-crop, he was struck down by a severe chill and had to go to bed. and, when one looked at his face, one had to believe in his distress. three of the young men had gone off with the soldiers. they wanted to take many more, but “tank de lawd,” they had more sense than to go. we left early the next morning and returned to crowley.