Walking Home

[dawna]

Civilian Plight in the Ripley Area

The following story was written by Elsa Mae BLACK JACOBS on 03/30/1981. It was copied on computer disk in December of 2000. It tells of the account told to Elsa by her grandmother, Martha Lucinda RIMER KELLER BLACK, of how she and her family moved to Southern Illinois from Civil War torn Mississippi. Elsa JACOBS was born in Union County Illinois in 1920. During the long evenings, the farm house illuminated only by kerosene lamps, Elsa would listen to the experiences her grandmother would share of her life, her ancestry roots, and how her family survived the ravages of the terrible war. Martha BLACK would repeat these and other experiences to her grandchildren many times. Martha died in November of 1929. This is her story.

Martha Lucinda RIMER KELLER BLACK

James and Piety TROTT RIMER, together with two children, Nancy and Will, hardy North Carolina Dutch, migrated across the mountains to Sullivan County Tennessee circa 1845. A third child, James H. was born in 1847, during the few years in this area. Between 1847 and 1850, the Rimer family moved south to become Northern Mississippians. Their plantation was approximately 130 acres in Tippah County, five miles or so northwest of the county seat, Ripley. Ruecher Cemetary is nearby.

June 9, 1850, Martha Lucinda RIMER was born.

James, a blacksmith, farmer and plantation owner had slaves. These families were well treated and always kept together.

Early in the 1860’s the Civil War began. James, basically anti-slavery, decided to contribute his talents to the North. Before leaving for Memphis, Tennessee to shoe horses for the northern troops, he planned well for his family’s welfare. The smoke house was filled with cured meats and stored vegetables. There would be no hunger. Slaves were freed. Having no place to go they stayed on the plantation.

Shortly after James’ departure, Piety became seriously ill with Consumption (tuberculosis) and took to her bed. As weeks rolled by her condition worsened.

Word spread Yankee soldiers were raiding homes and plantation for food and arms. It came as no surprise when they were heard approaching. Quickly Will, Martha’s older brother, crippled in either a knee or leg, grabbed the only gun and hid it in a hollow front porch pillar. Raiding soldiers loaded their horses with all the supplies they could carry and took along live cows, horses, pigs and chickens. Food that couldn’t be carried was poisoned. The house was searched from room to room for guns, muzzle loading equipment, money or treasures. Piety, gravely ill, was unceremoniously jerked from her bed. The mattress was shredded.

Hard times really started. Large luscious hams and delicious looking meats were in the smokehouse. Fear of poisoning kept this food from being consumed. Starvation was a possibility. With the shortage of food, there also was a shortage or lack of salt. Floor boards in the smoke house were torn out and dirt was dug up to extract salt which may have fallen between the cracks in the floor.

A few weeks later, another dreaded raiding party came. Since nothing was left to scavenge, Will was the object of their ire. Because his physical disability prevented his being a soldier, he was snatched, tossed about among the men, generally roughed up, then “rode on a rail”. A future mistreatment was threatened. Next it would be tar and feathers.

During the winter, Piety steadily became weaker and weaker. Sadly she passed away. Neighbors cared for the remains. Loaded on a log wagon pulled by oxen, the casket was borne to the cemetery. Her barefoot children followed, walking through cold mud and ruts.

A cold, uninviting empty house awaited their grief stricken return. No food and no one to help. It was decided the three younger children would try finding their Daddy in Memphis. Placing their few belongings in a gunny sack, Mattie (Martha), 12 years old, Margaret, 9, and Henry, 5, slung the “dunnage” over a shoulder, bid home and remaining loved ones goodbye, “set out” walking west to Memphis. Scared and alone, the three clung together and cried. Mattie, bravely, was the leader. Miles were walked. Devastation and death were everywhere. In places, they stepped over and walked around dead and dieing soldiers and horses.

Hours later, they were overtaken by a troop of Yankee soldiers. Mattie informed the horsemen they were walking to Memphis to find their daddy, James Rimer, who shod horses for Northern troops. Immediately welcomed and assured of friends, each girl was placed behind a soldier on a horse. Henry, the baby, received special treatment—he rode in front. Traveling problems were solved. Yankee soldiers carried the children from camp to camp, passing them each day to another troop heading west. They rode, ate and slept with the men in blue.

In Memphis, unacquainted with the city, the last troops left them on a busy corner. Possessions across the shoulders, Mattie, Margaret, and Henry walked down a street, on their own again, feeling lonely and lost, strangers in a stranger city. Bravely they hurried along. Surprise of surprises—an incredible happening—they met their daddy on the street—a joyous but sad reunion. James took the three to his room. His only food, cheese and crackers, were devoured. Amid tears and explanations, sorrow and happiness, decisions were made. Horse shoeing would be forgotten for a time. James would accompany the children North via boat to Cairo, by train to Jonesboro, Union County, Illinois, to brother Jacob’s home. Arrangements were made as quickly as possible. All four boarded a steamboat on the Ole Mississippi, bound for Illinois. As an afterthought, James disembarked for a cup of coffee—the boat pulled out without him. As the steamer moved to the middle of the river, they heard him shout, “Wait for me on the dock in Cairo!” Another long distance and desolate adventure for three lonely children.

The boat docked in Cairo in late afternoon. Kind people invited Martha, Margaret and Henry to homes or to shelter in the city but each offer was declined. The next boat could arrive any hour—they had to be waiting. Huddled together on the dock, all night they waited on that foggy, dark, wet, muddy riverfront, listening to the slopping river sounds. Daddy did arrive on the following scheduled boat next morning, another happy reunion.

Together again, the four boarded a train for Jonesboro and Uncle Jacob’s home.

After “settling in” in Illinois, James returned to Memphis to continue horse shoeing until peace was declared. The South held nothing for him, naturally he went North to his youngsters. There he established a home in Meishenheimer Township and rented farmland. Several years rolled by. James married Susan KNUPP. Martha matured and was courted by a tall handsome young ex-soldier, “Sandy” KELLER. When Sandy asked James for Mattie’s hand in marriage, Daddy questioned, “Will you be good to her?” June 4, 1868 was the marriage date—and he was good to her!

January 1867 found James in Tippah County, Mississippi, to dispose of his holdings. The plantation sold for mere pittance, southern land was practically worthless. Also, he found Piety’s final resting-place and purchased a marker. His last ties to the south were broken.


"There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish." ~Keats~


Tippah County (Walter F. Cox, Jr.)

[gary]

Thank you Dawna for sharing this touching story of the brave girl who led her siblings north.

[dawna]

It's my pleasure Gary. For me, it's stories such as these (civilians & soldiers) that really matter.

Dawna