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XII The Slave Woman at
the Tavern1 I WAS the
cook at
Delaney's Tavern hyar in Sharpsburg when the battle was fought. That
was a big
time, yes, a big time, and I never want to see no such time again. The day
befo' the
battle the two armies was jest a-feelin' for one another. That was on a
Tuesday. The Rebels was keepin' the Yankees back while mo' of their men
was
crossin' the Potomac. In the
evenin' the
tavern family was all in the kitchen when a young feller come in and
asked for
somethin' to eat. My old boss said: "We ain't got nothin' fo' our own
selves. You soldiers have e't us all out." The feller
went out
the do', and it wasn’t ten minutes befo' the barn was a-fire. The men
jest had
to get up on top of the house and spread wet blankets all over the roof
to keep
the tavern from burning. We couldn’t save the barn. That burnt down to
the
ground, and the chickens and everything in it was burnt up. Oh! it was
an awful
time. General Lee come to the house early the next morning. He was a fine-lookin' man, and he was the head general of 'em all in the Rebel army, you know. Our old boss was a Democrat, too; so he gave the general his breakfast. But while the officers was eatin' there in the dining-room a shell come right thoo the wall and busted and scattered brick and daubin' all over everything. There was so much dirt you couldn’t tell what was on the table. I was bringin' in coffee from the kitchen and had a cup and saucer in my hand. I don't know where I put that coffee, but I throwed it away, and we all got out of there in a hurry. GENERAL LEE'S BREAKFAST IS INTERRUPTED I went out
to the
gate. An old colored man was comin' down the pavement with an iron pot
on his
head. He said the Yankees had got the Rebels on the run, and there'd be
fightin' right in the town streets. He was goin' to get away, and he
was
carryin' that pot so he'd have somethin' to cook in. Pretty
soon I was
back workin' in the kitchen, but the soldiers told me I'd better get
out, and
then all of us in the house went into the cellar. We carried boards
down there
and spread carpets on 'em and took chairs down to set on. There was
seven or
eight of us, white and black, and we was all so scared we didn’t know
what we
was doin' half the time. They kept us in the cellar all day while they
was
fightin' backwards and forwards. My goodness alive! there was cannon
and
everything shootin'. Lord 'a' mercy, man! we could hear 'em plain
enough. The
cannon sounded jest like thunder, and the small-arms the same as
pop-guns.
Sometimes we'd run up and look out of a window to see what was
happening, but
we didn’t do that often — not the way them guns was firin'. By and by
word was
sent in for the women and children to all leave town. That was about —
le's see
— between ten and 'leven o'clock, I reckon. We went out on the street,
and
there lay a horse with his whole backbone split wide open. The
ambulances was
comin' into town, and the wounded men in 'em was hollerin', "O Lord! O
Lord! O Lord!" Poor
souls! and the
blood was runnin' down thoo the bottom of the wagons. Some of the
houses was
hospitals, and the doctors was cuttin' off people's legs and arms and
throwin'
'em out the do' jest like throwin' out old sticks. We hadn’t
gone only
a couple of houses when a shell busted right over our heads. So we took
back to
the cellar in a hurry. The way they was shootin' and goin' on we might
have
been killed befo' we was out of town. After
they'd fit
all day and it got to be night they ceased fightin' and wasn’t doin'
much
shootin', and then we come up and got a little mouthful of food. We
didn’t have
nothin' to eat in the cellar, and, indeed, we was glad to be there
ourselves,
and wasn’t botherin' about no dinner or no supper. At last
the Rebels
retreated and we heard 'em hollerin'. I spoke to one of 'em who was
passin',
and said, "Did you have a hard fight to-day?" "Yes,
Aunty," he said, "the Yankees give us the devil, and they'll give us
hell next." I went in
the house
and laid down, but I couldn’t sleep none because I didn’t know when
they'd
break in on me. Oh Lordy! that was a squally time — squally, squally
time —
squally time, sure! The Rebels
all got
away the next morning early. They run in every direction. You couldn’t
hardly
tell what direction they wasn’t runnin' to get across the Potomac into
Virginia. We was
afraid there
would be mo' fightin', and we went out of the town tereckly and stayed
with a
farmer till the next day. My old boss got a pass. There was pickets all
along
the road who would stop you. Yes, sir, they stopped every one that come
along
and asked where they was goin' to. We come home Friday, and then we had
everything to clean up. But we thanked the Lord we wasn’t killed, and
we didn’t
mind the dirt. Well, my time is pretty near out now. I can't do a day's work no mo', and I jest have to depend on the mercy of people. I'm goin' on eighty-seven years old, and I'm pretty near blind and can't hardly see any one. I have to go around with a cane, and mostly I jest set in my chair and do nothin'. _______________ 1 She was seated in her rocking-chair in her tiny sitting-room with a little shawl over her turbaned head. Her mind was still clear, but her body was bent and decrepit. A cat lay sleeping on the lounge, opposite the lounge was a table on which a family Bible was conspicuous. The walls of the room were adorned with a few framed photographs including an enlarged portrait, and there was a colored representation of the crucifixion, a picture of Lincoln, and one of Wilkes Booth with the devil looking over his shoulder. |