Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 35.djvu/78

64 got a family down home, sir, and if I do what you tell me, I will be a deserter and disgrace my family, and I am never going to do that.'

"'What did Pearson say?' I asked. '"Get out of here, you d fool nigger, and rot in prison," and now, master, here I am, and I am going to stay here as long as you stays, if I starve and rot.'

"The officers captured at Port Hudson were from Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama, I think.

"There were thirteen negroes, all of whom remained faithful to the end, and although we had barely enough to eat to keep us alive, we divided equally with our servants.

"I am glad to be able to record the name of 'Pen,' who was one of the faithful servants among the thirteen. He belonged to Lieutenant" Coleman, of Robert's Mississippi Battery, also Dave Jackson, who belonged to James W. Maddox, of Abbey's Battery. 'Dave Jackson' and 'Pen,' like George, refused numerous offers from the Yankees and returned home with their masters. I have information also of a most devoted servant, who belonged to the Schnexnaydres, of St. James Parish (who were members of Watson's Battery). This negro stated to the Yankees, at the surrender of Port Hudson, 'I love my white folks above the freedom you talk about, and if I am ever free it got to come from them.'"

Dr. Christian was unable to remember the names of the officers from Port Hudson, which is to be regretted, but I submit that no stronger proof of the loyalty of the negroes is needed than is given in the history of the Johnson Island prisoners.

It may not be out of place to relate a few instances which came under my own observation. The first two years of the war I served with Griffith's-Barksdale's Mississippi Brigade. In the company I belonged to was a gallant fellow, Kit Gilmer, who was badly wounded at Sharpsburg. Our wounded were placed in a large stone barn, near the battlefield. When the army recrossed the Potomac, on Friday, September, 19, 1862, I ran into the barn, as we passed by, to see my wounded friends. I bid Kit Gilmer and others good-by, believing I would never see them again.

After remaining a day or so near Shepardstown, we fell back