An Account of the Escape of Six Federal Soldiers from Prison at Danville, Va. W. H. Newlin

      "Foiled at Seven-Mile Ferry."—Page 20.

      On reaching the upland we halted at the road side, and Trippe reported the discoveries he had made at the ferry. He had gone very cautiously down hill, and had soon stood where he could see the river plainly, and also the ferry-boat. He had stood perfectly still until he had assured himself that no guard was near. He could see nothing but the forest-trees, the river, and the ferry-boat, in the light of the brightly shining moon, which made the frost and waters sparkle. He could hear no sound, save those of the swiftly running waters, and these amply sufficed to drown any noise he himself might make. He turned around and started back to us, to beckon us forward. Almost at the same instant he heard a noise. Thinking he might have trodden on a stick and broken it, thus making the noise himself, he proceeded half a dozen steps further; when, still hearing something, he stopped, and again looked in the direction of the ferry. A little to the right of it, in the edge of the woods, he saw the sparks of a fire flying upward. He watched the fire closely, and it sent up a blaze which shed light far around. One Butternut cavalryman was first seen to stir the fire, and then add fuel to it. Soon three others got up from their bed and warmed themselves. Trippe stood still, and watched them, until they laid down and covered themselves in their bed. He then silently withdrew, feeling sure he had not been heard or seen. As he did so, the horses of the cavalrymen neighed, and pawed the ground, as if manifesting uneasiness. As we were sure the Confederates were not aware of our presence, we felt glad we had escaped so well. Our escape was a narrow one, however; had we arrived at the ferry ten minutes sooner, we should most certainly have been recaptured.

      Our disappointment in not getting across the river at the ferry was great, as we could make no progress in the direction we wished to go until we had gained its northern bank. We consulted briefly as to the course we should pursue; and soon determined to retrace our steps until we should find another road, or some path that would lead us up the river. We started. As the weather was cold and morning approaching, we hurried on. An obscure road, leading off in a south-west direction, was soon found. We changed our course, and followed it. It led by some plantation houses. We left the road and houses some distance to our right, as we did not wish to alarm the dogs and set them to barking.

      On returning to the road, we followed it directly up the river until we had traveled five or six miles, from Seven-mile Ferry. It became evident that day-break was at hand. A safe hiding-place for the day next engaged our attention, and we halted. It was first determined that one of our number should go a quarter of a mile further up the road, to see if any houses were near in that direction. Sutherland went some distance ahead, and on returning reported none. As we had passed but one house since falling back from the ferry, we judged we were some distance from any human habitation. The query then arose, shall we hide in the open woods on our left, or in the inclosed woods on our right? After a short parley, we concluded to secrete ourselves in the inclosed woods. We could then get to the river without having the road to cross. Any parties of cavalrymen that might be out scouring the country, were also less likely to come across us in our retreat. Accordingly we crossed the rail-fence, and left it and the road directly behind us. We worked our way through the thickets of brush and briers until we were fully a quarter of a mile from the road, in the direction of the river. On a spot of ground entirely surrounded by pine-trees and bushes we made our bed, and, lying down, soon fell asleep.

      The weather being quite cold in the early morning, we waked up at sunrise, on account of cold feet and general discomfort of body. Trippe got up and took a partial survey of the adjacent woods. He went northward, still further from the road we had left at day-break, and found an open space where we could make our bed in the sunshine. To this open space, which was covered over with tall dead grass, we moved our haversacks and bedding. As we wished to rest well during the day, we took pains to make a good bed. Quite a lot of dead grass and leaves was first gathered. On the grass and leaves we spread the four overcoats belonging to our party. On the overcoats we spread Smith's bed quilt. Our caps, haversacks, and blouses were used as pillows, and our five blankets were used as covering. In this manner we usually made our bed all through our trip, varying it, of course, according to circumstances. Having completed our bed, we laid ourselves down to rest, and slept comfortably until late in the day. We made it a rule for each of our party to sleep as much as desired during the day. We did not require one of our number to keep awake as a watch for the others during the day. If we had done so, we, of course, would have watched by turns. The propriety of so doing was often discussed, but we generally deemed it safest to have no watch, as the person watching would have to sit or stand up, and would thus expose himself to the danger of being seen by somebody who might be passing, and so lead to our recapture.

      It was near four o'clock in the afternoon of February 20th, when we aroused ourselves from our first slumber as refugees from prison. We got up and went down into a hollow near us, where there was running water, and washed our faces. After combing our hair, we opened our haversacks, and were about commencing to eat, when we discovered that our corn-bread was frozen. Our matches—of which we had two small boxes—which we had luckily procured some two weeks before, now came in good play, as it was needful to have a small fire in order to thaw our bread. We secured a small lot of dry pine limbs and twigs, and built a fire in the hollow sufficient for our purposes; and soon we had dispatched our first meal since leaving Ward No. 1. After finishing our meal, we put our blankets and other baggage in traveling order. As it was too early to set out, we engaged in conversation, laying plans and expedients for effecting a crossing of the river. We resolved to put ourselves across Dan River that night, or on the following day, at almost any risk. As a final preparation for the night's marching, we each secured a stout stick or cane. One of the boys alleged our canes would be needed in case of attack. Taylor had a very large cane for a man of his size. On being spoken to concerning it, he remarked that he was going to cross the river on it. The evening wore away. The king of day having sunk below the western horizon, we began to look for the moon, whose light was to shine upon our pathway. It had not appeared above the horizon; soon afterward, however, the moon arose, and began shedding light. We felt a kind of loneliness on leaving the place which had sheltered us during the day.

      As Danville, Virginia, was within one mile of the southern boundary of the State, and as we were at least thirteen miles south-west of that place, we knew we were in the friendly brush and thickets of North Carolina. On setting out, instead of going directly back to the road, we traveled parallel with it for more than a mile. We then changed our course and went back to it, thinking it late enough to travel it without meeting any one. We had gone but a few miles on the road, and passed but one house, when the noise of the river assured us it was not far off. We then left the road and sought the banks of the stream. We crossed an old field, in which we found much mud and water. The walking was slavish and wearisome, as the wet, clayey soil adhered to our shoes. The snow, which had recently melted, had swollen the branches. We found it necessary to cross a branch or almost go back on our trail. By means of a fence, a water gate, and some rails, we succeeded in crossing it without much difficulty. It required time and close watching, however.

      On leaving the branch behind us we climbed a fence and entered the woods. These woods were dense, and there was a thick, brushy undergrowth, which greatly impeded our progress. We found it impossible to go directly to the river. It was quite dark, for, although the moon was shining brightly, its light penetrated the heavy woods imperfectly. From the incessant roar of waters we judged we were near the river; but we struggled on through vines and thickets for a full half-hour longer. It was not a great while until we could see, ahead of us, quite an opening; it was the course of the river through the forests. We pressed on and soon stood upon the bank, against which dashed the angry waters. Huge pieces of ice were borne swiftly down the swollen stream. We had thought of constructing