The Negro in The American Rebellion

The rebels will skedaddle.”

In his march, Gen. Sherman was followed by large numbers of contrabands. They were always the first to welcome our troops. On entering Fayetteville, the general was met by slaves, old and young; and a man of many years exclaimed, —

“Tank de Almighty God, Mr. Sherman has come at last! We knew it, we prayed for de day, and de Lord Jesus heard our prayers. Mr. Sherman has come wid his company.”

One fat old woman said to him, while shaking him by the hand, which he always gladly gives to those poor people, “I prayed dis long time for yer, and de blessing ob de Lord is on yer. But yesterday afternoon, when yer stopped trowing de shells into de town, and de soldiers run away from de hill ober dar, I thout dat Gen. Burygar had driven you away, for dey said so; but here yer am dun gone. Bress de Lord, yer will hab a place in heaben: yer will go dar sure.”

Several officers of the army, among them Gen. Slocum, were gathered round, interested in the scene. The general asked them: —

“Well, men, what can I do for you? Where are you from?”

“We’s jus come from Cheraw. Massa took us with him to carry mules and horses away from youins.”

“You thought we would get them. Did you wish us to get the mules?”

“Oh, yes, massa! dat’s what I wanted. We knowed youins cumin’, and I wanted you to hav dem mules; but no use: dey heard dat youins on de road, and nuthin’ would stop dem. Why, as we cum along, de cavalry run away from the Yanks as if they fright to deth. Dey jumped into de river, and some of dem lost dere hosses. Dey frightened at the very name ob Sherman.”

Some one at this point said, “That is Gen. Serman who is talking to you.”

“God bress me! is you Mr. Sherman?”

“Yes: I am Mr. Sherman.”

“Dats him, su’ miff,” said one.

“Is dat de great Mr. Sherman that we’s heard ob so long?” said another.

“Why, dey so frightened at your berry name, dat dey run right away,” shouted a third.

“It is not me that they are afraid of,” said the general: “the name of another man would have the same effect with them if he had this army. It is these soldiers that they run away from.”

“Oh, no!” they all exclaimed. “It’s de name of Sherman, su’; and we hab wanted to see you so long while you trabbel all roun jis whar you like to go. Dey said dat dey wanted to git you a little furder on, and den dey whip all your soldiers; but, God bress me, you keep cumin’ and a cumin’ and dey allers git out.”

“Dey mighty ‘fraid ob you, sar; day say you kill de colored men, too,” said an old man, who had not heretofore taken part in the conversation.

With much earnestness, Gen. Sherman replied, —

“Old man, and all of you, understand me. I desire that bad men should fear me, and the enemies of the Government which we are all fighting for. Now we are your friends; you are now free.” (“Thank you, Massa Sherman,” was ejaculated by the group.) “You can go where you please; you can come with us, or go home to your children. Wherever you go, you are no longer slaves. You ought to be able to take care of yourselves.” (“We is; we will.”) “You must earn your freedom, then you will be entitled to it, sure; you have a right to be all that you can be, but you must be industrious, and earn the right to be men. If you go back to your families, and I tell you again you can go with us if you wish, you must do the best you can. When you get a chance, go to Beaufort or Charleston, where you will have a little farm to work for yourselves.”

The poor negroes were filled with gratitude and hope by these kind words, uttered in the kindest manner, and they went away with thanks and blessings on their lips.

During the skirmishing, one of our men who, by the way, was a forager, was slightly wounded. The most serious accident of the day occurred to a negro woman, who was in a house where the rebels had taken cover. When I saw this woman, who would not have been selected as a type of South-Carolina female beauty, the blood was streaming over her neck and bosom from a wound in the lobe of her ear, which the bullet had just clipped and passed on.

“What was it that struck you, aunty?” I asked her.

“Lor bress me, massa, I dun know, I jus fell right down.”

“Didn’t you feel any thing, nor hear any sound?”

“Yes, now I ‘member, I heerd a s-z-z-z-z-z, and den I jus knock down. I drap on de groun’. I’se so glad I not dead, for if I died den de bad man would git me, cos I dance lately a heap.”

A contraband’s poetical version of the President’s Emancipation Proclamation.

“I’se gwine to tell ye, Sambo,
What I heard in town to-day, —
I listened at the cap’n’s tent:
I’ll tell ye what he say.

He say dat Massa Linkum,
Way yonder Norf, ye see, —
Him write it in de Yankee book,
‘De nigger gwine for free.’

And now, ye see, I tell ye
What Massa Linkum done:
De seeesh can’t get way from dat
No more’n dey dodge a gun.

It’s jes’ as sure as preachin’,
I tell ye, Sambo, true, —
De nigger’s trouble ober now,
No more dem lash for you.

I ‘speeted dat would happen:
I had a sense, ye see,
Of something big been gwine to come
To make de people free.

I t’ought de flamin’ angel
Been gwine for blow de trump;
But Massa Linkum write de word
Dat make de rebel jump.

So now we’ll pick de cotton,
So now we’ll broke de corn:
De nigger’s body am his own
De bery day he born.

He grind de grits in safety,
He eat de yams in peace;
De Lord, him bring de jubilee,
De Lord, him set de feas’.

So now, I tell ye, Sambo,
Ye’re born a man to-day:
Nobody gwine for con trad ie’
What Massa Linkum say.

Him gwine for free de nigger: