I got up a little before daylight, and, notwithstanding the
drenching rain, I secured our horses, which, to my intense relief, were
present. But my horse showed a back rapidly getting worse, and both looked “mean”
to a degree. Lawley being ill, he declined starting in the rain, and our host
became more and more surly when we stated our intention of remaining with him.
However, the sight of real gold instead of Confederate paper, or even
greenbacks, soothed him wonderfully, and he furnished us with some breakfast.
All this time M'Laws's division was passing the door; but so strict was the
discipline, that the only man who loafed in was immediately pounced upon and
carried away captive. At 2 P.M., the weather having become a little clearer, we
made a start, but under very unpromising circumstances. Lawley was so ill that
he could hardly ride; his horse was most unsafe, and had cast a shoe; — my
animal was in such a miserable state that I had not the inhumanity to ride him;
— but, by the assistance of his tail, I managed to struggle through the deep
mud and wet. We soon became entangled with M'Laws's division, and reached the
Potomac, a distance of nine miles and a half, at 5 P.M.; the river is both wide
and deep, and in fording it (for which purpose I was obliged to mount) we
couldn't keep our legs out of the water. The little town of Williamsport is on
the opposite bank of the river, and we were now in Maryland. We had the mortification
to learn that Generals Lee and Longstreet had quitted Williamsport this morning
at 11 o'clock, and were therefore obliged to toil on to Hagerstown, six miles
farther. This latter place is evidently by no means Rebel in its sentiments,
for all the houses were shut up, and many apparently abandoned. The few natives
that were about stared at the troops with sulky indifference.
After passing through Hagerstown, we could obtain no certain
information of the whereabouts of the two generals, nor could we get any
willing hospitality from any one; but at 9 P.M., our horses being quite
exhausted, we forced ourselves into the house of a Dutchman, who became a
little more civil at the sight of gold, although the assurance that we were
English travellers, and not Rebels, had produced no effect. I had walked
to-day, in mud and rain, seventeen miles, and I dared not take off my solitary
pair of boots, because I knew I should never get them on again.
SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three
Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 239-41
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