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As we were evidently nearing the town, we were again
troubled to know how we should get around it and reach the river,
where we expected to find boats. We struck off on a road which
we supposed would take us to the river south of town, but traveling
but a short distance we found ourselves in the town, where a retreat
was as hazardous as anything else. It was about midnight and
the moon shone brightly, so we marched quietly through the village,
until we reached the southern boundary, where we chanced to meet
a "gentleman of color." The white people "slumbered
and slept." Our colored friend informed us that there was
no boat at the river, but what was guarded by the rebels. We
had by this time became exceedingly hungry and tired, but no alternative
was left but to push on to some other point. Branchville was
our next hope, which was sixteen miles south of Orangeburg and
also on the Edisto river. So off we started, taking the railroad
track as the safest route. After traveling in this direction
two miles, we met a negro man and his wife on their way toward
Orangeburg. We found them to be friendly and trusty. The man,
whose name was "Toney," lived a mile further down the
road, and his wife lived in Orangeburg. Toney said if we would
go on down near massa's plantation and wait, he would help his
wife carry up the forage which they had evidently been getting
off massa's plantation, and return and show us a hiding place,
as it was approaching daybreak. We took him at his word, and
sure enough, Tony
soon returned and conducted us to a dense forest, where we kindled
a fire to warm ourselves, and took a short sleep. About 9 o'clock
in the morning Toney came out with a basket of provisions, which
I assure you we relished. Pone, sweet potatoes, rice, boiled
and fried, fresh pork, were luxuries which we did not often indulge
in, except the pone.
Tony gave us all
the information he could, and stated that his master was an "ossifer
in the Confederick States." He told us if we would remain
there until 9 o'clock in the evening, he would bring us some more
provisions. We waited accordingly, but Tony
failed to appear. We concluded something had turned up, which
Tony could
not control, so we struck out for Branchville. It was Saturday
night, and a good time for meeting darkies, but just at the time
we most needed their aid, we failed to meet with any. Traveling
on until nearly daylight Sunday morning, we found ourselves in
the village of Branchville. We hastened with light steps through
the village, and marching about two miles beyond, daylight compelled
us to seek refuge in a swampy thicket, where we spent the Sabbath
in making pipes. When night came on again, we moved out to the
roadside to seek an interview with the first darkie we could see,
as it would be impossible for us to travel any further without
something to eat, and besides we needed information about the
boats. Providentially, we had waited but a few minutes when a
half dozen negroes came along, to whom we introduced ourselves,
and who seemed glad to see us. They conveyed us to a hiding place,
and went to their quarters and cooked us a half bushel of sweet
potatoes and brought out to us, together with some bread and pork,
and a lot of
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