Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1886-08-14
DISMAL SWAMP.
VIVID LANDMARK OF fHR BY
GONE BAYS.
A Visit to the Former Hidins-Piace
OF Runaway Slaves ana Hunt
ing Grounds Tor Fugitives.
HAmrroN lYAN. June 2oEh.

Away 10 the Dismal Swamp he speeds
His path is rugged and sore;
Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds,
Through many q len where the serpent feeds,
And man never tod before r
a pleasure party in the Dismal Swamp!
The very name of the thing has an indie
Enable fascination OF all Southern will
dernesses, Whist other possesses such hold
upon the Imagination as this vast impassa-
bic morass, haunted by the white canoe
Of the spirit maiden ami BY the grim ghos.
Of the runaway slave2
We have chartered for our gay party OF
ten the little steam tug Biyalve and on
sparkling May morning we 20 putting and
painting down Hampton creek aud out into
the Roads-handke rcbiefs fiuttering. colors
flying, shawls and cushions piled upon the
s.eyn of our little craft, where we recline
under our awning in luxurious ease. There
is nothing very novel thus far-a water
party in fair weather and on smooth waters
with song and laughter, youth and holiday
spirits on board.
In about two hours we touch at the gray
wharves of the quaint old Southern city of
Norfolk, Va, whore we gain much unasked
and undeSired information on the subject
of our projected explorations. We are told
that we cannot penetrate to the recesses of
the swamp in our Biyalve, and that even if
we could, the snakes would drop down
upon our heads from the oyerhanging
branches, and black flies and yellow flies
would surround us IN devouring ieglons
Secure in the possession of a pilot who has
been there before on Government sur
: ~ ~, Iol s,,f,
perlence, we are no whit dismsyed by these
predictions.
We steam gayly past the Portsmouth
Navy Yard, where the Dolphin lies quietly
at anchor, cross the glittering Chesapeake
and enter the quiet canal-the canal more
than a hundred years old between Nor
folk and the Passamagunk river. This is
surely typical Southern scene! We
gather in the bow and on the oof of the
cabin to view the sandy reaches of shore.
the pines, the slack" Southern farm yard
with its superannusted horses, the green
ribbon of the canal and its dusty white
tow paths in vanishing perspective.
There is a little stir of excitement as we
approach the first of the Clocks" which
mark a change of level in the canal. Two
huge gates set in massive stone masonary
bar our passage, and when the first has
shut behind us, a cataract of brown water,
tumbling through the second in creamy
foam, raises us i'll few moments to the
higher level, and we glide easily forward.
At the second of these locks. complicated
affair with three gates, we step on shore
! and up the granite steps and through the
| dusty grass III the warm sunshine Three
or four negro women and boys are balano-
| ing on their heads great baskets Of straw
berries, fresh from a neighboring field
4 Mi
unexpected complement TO our luncheon
| wild favored Dismal Swamp strawberries
| Again we are clustered at the bow,
among heared cushions, and under parti-
coIored umbrellas, pushing our way deeper
into the wilderness. Occasionally the boat
: lurches against an overhangiug branch, or
shivers aud jars as it strikes some hidden
snag. White water-lillies glitter almost
within reach, and the stately magnolia lifts
her pure cups at 3 tantalizing hight. A
horse and cart oyertake US, moving briskly
along the tow-path, and their owner, intro
ducing himself US Mr.. Wallace, &C ;osts us
with d cordial SALVATION. and the offer OF
truly Southern hospitality. Presently he
whips up and disappears in q cloud of dust.
and we picnic in the Stern, and are leisure
ly finishing our strawberries when the
bell rings and the boat stops at Wallace
town.
The visible features of the place are
dingy white store where Mr.. WalIaCc's
hands are supplied. crowded with the
aforesaid hands, no doubt, in all shades
of color and picturesque peculiarities OF
costume and attitude pretty white farm
b iuse. very Southern-lookiug, with wide
piazzas and lattice covered with red roses
and honeysuckie: sandy soil and sui.-
ing farm. reclaimed from this tangled bog
and higher up, large saw mll and lum-
her-yard fragrant with its yellow piles. Mr..
Wallace comes forward 70 meet Us aud
speed us on our way, and we soon hear of
curiously modern anachronism in this
still out-of the-way spot-a strike" in
the Dismal Swamp The men at Wallace
town have " struck for higher wages and
are lying idle. They get seventy-fve
cents day and are lodged rent free. Mr..
Wallace says that he cannot afford to pay
more in the present state of the lumber
market.
They tell US that our little tug, which
draws three and half feet of water, will
not take us further than the main canal,
where it branches off into a still narrower
inlet-three rifles of desolate marsh and
brown water-to Lake Drummond, in the
very heart of the Dismal Swamp. Mr..
Wallace puts his skitf at our disposal for
the expedition, and at the place just above,
where there is no strike" yet, we can
press a couple of negroes into our service
to propel this curious craft. 1t is now
mid-afternoon, and we are forced to debate
the propriety of penetrating further, but
the advice of our warm- hearted host and
our own adventurous spirits get the better
of our prudence, and we enter upon the
widest and most characteristic part of the
excursion.
The long wooden skif, or Fighter"
with seats along both side and shawls
draped upon the framework by way of an
awning, with two tall black fellows in the
stern who push with long poles, steals 81
lently up the grim inlet, overhung with
rank growths of cedar and.cypress and iuni-
per, and the lesser magnolia. or swamp
laurel" with masses of Virginia creeper
and beds of gigantic reeds and tall brakes.
We think of Longfellow's Hunted Ne
gro"
Where willo' the isps and glolFworms shine
In buiru h and in brake,
Where waving MOSES shroud the Ffue,
And the cedar grove. and the poisonous vine
Is spotted like the snake
Where hardly a human foot could pass.
Or human heart would dare,
On the quaking turf of the green morass
Ee crouehed in the rank and tangled grass
Like wild beas. in his lair.
we eau dllllO5t see the nnll-riuQen 10TH
of the miserable runaway, as he listens |
despairingly 10 the distant bay ofthe blood |
hound or the steps of his pursuers crashing |
through the marshy thicket.
Beautiful, treacherous Dismal Swamp |
Fatally poisoned. it would seem, by these |
memories of the wrongs of the black man |
In the midst of this fair desolation, they |
tell us, 1900 negroes are " logging to-day, |
worse off than in the old slavery days )"
for they can barely make living, and |
there is no one to care for them in sickness
or old age. Ignorant. wretched, poverty |
stricken, animal livesi We must presently |
pass one OF their huge lighters" with its
marked with red or blue chalk. scattering
aromatic odors; the wild, picturesque fig
ures and somber stolid faces of the loggers,
the red flannel shirts contrasting with the
shining black skins and old felt hats shad-