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An Unwritten Chapter of his Flight, Being The Story of his Stay at the Garrett Farm With Herald. FULL story of the cap ture and death of John Wilkes Booth has never been published because the Garrett family, of Virgin ia, who aided Wilkes Booth while he was flying from Washington, in ignorance of his identity, have always been exceedingly reticent and sensitive about their connection with the affair, and could seldom be induced to speak of it. Through an old friend of the family and an eye-witness of the scene, however, the following account of Booth’s actions dur ing the time the Garretts saw him,has been obtained, and is given for the first time to the public. For many years before, as well as during the war, there resides on an old plantation, between Port Royal and Bowling Green, Virginia, the family of Henry M. Garrett. Their house was a typical Southern one. It stood alone and hidden among elm trees, entirely secluded from the road and sur rounded by acres of land belonging to the estate. Not far from the house were various small negro cabins, and a large tobacco barn stood within a stone’s throw of the front porch. Old-fashioned flowers and shrubs dotted the lawn, which surrounded the house, while a rose-bed lay along its sunny side and a deep-scented hedge of box lined the garden walk. This hospitable old mansion opened its doors many a day to soldiers of both North ern and Southern Armies, as they marched back and forth on various campaigns. But the fortunes of war told sorely upon the means of the Garretts and it was with re lieved minds that they learned that peace had been declared. Two sons who had re turned from the war, gathered up the broken thread of their old life and the plan tation assumed a cheerful tone. About that time, on a bright spring day, April 24, 1865, two men were ferried over the Rappahannock from Port Conway to Port Royal. They were a strangely assorted pair. One of them, who was none other than John Wilkes Booth, was strikingly handsome. He was of medium height, with wavy hair, as black as a raven’s wing and dark eyes that could be stern and flash ing or dreamy and tender. Apparently he was about 27 or 28 years of age, and was fashionably dressed in a suit of dark brown broadcloth, and wore a soft felt hat. Be cause of his wounded ankle he walked with crutches. The appearance of Harold, his compan ion and accomplice, was in striking con trast. He was short and thick-set, with coarse features, coarser clothes and manners that betokened neither education nor re finement. As the boat touched the shore they inquired of the ferryman if there were any Confederate officers in the neighbor hood. A young man named Will Jett over heard the question, and, prompted by curi osity, went up to the strangers and intro duced himself as Lieutenant Jett. While walking from the landing up the shore Harold confided to Jett their history, and turning to Booth, who was a few yards be hind, said: ‘‘I have told this gentleman— Lieutenant Jett—who we are and what we have done.’’ Booth was surprised and started, and ex claimed: ‘‘Ah, I didn’t intend telling any one that.’’ Booth then proposed to Jett to take him to some place of safety, which Jett consent ed to do, and, procuring horses, they started off, accompanied by Lieutenants Ruggles and Bainbridge, friends of Jett, who met them on the road and joined the party. It was such an everyday occurrence for soldiers to beg a night’s shelter as they assed the Garrett farm that it caused no surprise to the family, who were seated on the porch in the afternoon of a fair spring day to see three men turn in from the main road and ride up to the front gate. They were Lieutenants Ruggles and Bainbridge, with Jett; the latter had be hind him on the same horse a young man whom he introduced as his friend Mr. Boyd, a Confederate soldier, who had been wounded at the evacuation of Petersburg, and asked if he might remain at the farm till the next day, when he—Jett—would call for him. Mr. Garrett consented readily, and Jett then remarked that he thought his father and Mr. Garrett were old friends. The latter replied, ‘‘Yes, we were partners in the mercantile business when we were young men,’’ and, turning to Mr. Boyd, who was none other than Booth, said: “‘By the way, I know some Boyds in King and Queen county. Are you a relative?’’ To which Booth replied : ‘‘Oh, I reckon all the Boyds are kin.’’ Jett then left, and while Bainbridge and Ruggles returned to their homes, rode on quickly to Bowling Green where he tele graphed to the government the unfortunate information he had gained in regard to the whereabouts of John Wilkes Booth. He then returned and spent the night with Harold, whom he had left at the farm of a Mrs. Clarke, near Port Royal. In the meantime, after the departure of Jett, Mr. Garrett turned to his guest and inquired if he had eaten dinner. Booth re plied no, but that it didn’t matter; he was not hungry. » Mr. Garrett then said to his daughter, who was near: ‘‘Can’t you get this gen tleman something to eat?’’ which she did immediately, and Booth, after lunching and joining the family later at a spent the evening discussing topics of the day, and retired early, sleeping up stairs in a room also occupied by the son, Jack Garrett. The latter went over early“next day to fish at Port Conway, and while there heard of the assassination of President Lincoln. Returning about 1 o’clock of that day, April 25, he entered the house just as the family were at dinner. He quickly related the startling intelligence, which was all unknown to the entire party, excepting the one who had committed the awful deed, and who sat so calmly, and to all appear ances, innocently before them. Old Mr. Garrett exclaimed: ‘‘Well, it was a reckless, thoughtless man who did it!” Booth was the first to reply: ‘You think so??? To which Mr. Garrett an swered: ‘‘Yes. No good wilcome of it.’’ Booth then asked him why he thought so, to which the old gentleman replied that Lincoln was a better President than he (Booth) imagined, and would be far more lenient to the South than the one who would probably take his place. Booth seemed very grave after this, and inquired the amount of reward offered. Young Gar rett told him,upon which Booth exclaimed, “One hundred thousand dollars! Why that is not as much as I would expect them to offer. I reckon they would give five hundred thousand for the murderer.’’ Miss Garrett then remarked, ‘‘ Well, you all need not give yourself any trouble on that point ;I suspect the one who did it was well paid.”’ At this Booth turned quickly towards her and said: ‘‘By whom do you suppose he was paid?’’ “Oh, by the North and South,’ she re plied. ‘‘I suppose there were a good many in the North as well as the South, who were anxious to be rid of the President.’ Booth replied very gravely, ‘‘No, Miss, it’s my opinion he was not paid a cent; he did it for notoriety’s sake.’ Someone then spoke up, ‘‘ Well, no one need worry, it’s not very likely you’ll ever see the man who did it about here.”? At this Booth remarked, though he had not previously mentioned his knowledge of the assassination, ‘‘Yes, I heard on the road here yesterday that he was making his way to India.’’ Willie Garrett, a younger son, then joined in. ‘‘Well, he had better not cross my path for I’d behead him, just to get a share !”? Booth looked gravely at him and said: **Ah, would you??? To which the young man laughingly re plied, ‘‘ Well, it would be a pretty big in ducement for a poor Johnny Reb, home from the war, without a cent in his pocket, but I wouldn’t hurt a hair of his head, for I’m tired of fighting, and have shouldered my gun for the last time.”’ Booth looked up at him, with his pecu liarly fascinating smile, and sad, ‘‘ Well, I hadn’t taken you for that bloodthirsty kind of man.”’ The conversation here ended as they left the table. Booth arose with difficulty and as he turned to readjust his crutches he laugh ingly remarked to Mrs. Garrett: ‘‘ Well, I’m last but not least, I hope.’’ She said, as he was leaving the room slowly and apparently painfully: ‘‘Mr. Boyd, I’m afraid your wound troubles you. Shall I dress it for you?’’ To which he courteously replied: ‘‘No, madame, I thank you, but it gives me little pain; there are other things I think of more than my wounds.”’ That same Thursday afternoon at about 5 o’clock clouds of dust were seen in the direction of Port Royal. The house com manded a fine view of the road in both di rections and was only about a stone’s throw from it. Presently three men rode up to the outer gate, which opened from the road into the lane leading up to the house. Booth exclaimed: ‘‘Why, there’s one of our men now!’ At which young Garrett inquired what he meant by ‘‘one of our men.’’ **Oh, well,’’ said Booth, ‘‘just one who crossed over the river with us.’’ He then asked young Garrett to go up Stairs and get his pistol for him. He had left it at the head of his bed, and it was hard for him to walk up the stairs after it. He seemed somewhat excited as he made the request. ‘‘Why,’’ said Garrett, ‘* What’s the matter? What makes you so nervous?’’ Booth answered quickly: *‘Oh, nothing, only I feel safer when I’m armed !’’ **Well!”? remarked Garrett, ‘I’ve been in the war four years, and I don’t feel ex cited when I see strange men and I never expect to use a pistol again.’’ With this remark he went upstairs, and, returning with the weapon, which was a seven-shooter, handed it to Booth, who stood up, and, leaning against the side of the door, buckled it in his belt, and raising his coat as he did so, revealed quite acci dentally that he was heavily armed with revolvers and a dagger. *“Now,’’ he said, as he tightened the strap to his belt, ‘‘I feel safe,’? and with that, leaning on his crutches, he swung himself quickly down to the gate, where Harold stood waiting for him and where, in low and earnest tones they conversed for three-quarters of an hour. Meanwhile the family began to suspect something seriously wrong with their vis itor, and young Garrett, being uneasy, went to his father’s room and told bim of the episode of the pistols. This all occurred between 5 and 6 o’clock Thursday afternoon. Meanwhile Ruggles and Jett had ridden down the road towards Port Royal and while Harold and Booth still talked at the gate they came back, galloping fast and furiously past the house, shouting to the men at the gate: ‘‘Make good your es cape, the Federals are crossing at Port Royal !”” ‘*Where are you going ?’’ they replied. **Down here in these thickets,’’ the an swer came back faintly, as they hurried on. Booth, notwithstanding his lameness, seemed intensely alert and active at all times, and he and Harold instantly sought the nearest shelter they could find in some underbrush back of the barn, about a hun dred yards from the house. While hidden there about fifty United States cavalrymen came in sight riding down the road from Port Royal. They stopped to water their horses just opposite the Garrett farm at a small place owned by a colored man named Ned Freeman, and a few minutes later galloped on a couple of miles to an old inn called the Trap, which was at that time a famous hostelry. There they took supper and rested for some hours. Soon after they passed, Harold and Booth returned to the house and proposed to Jack Garrett to take them to Guinea’s station. Booth offered ten dollars for the trip, but Garrett refused, as it was then sunde and his horse had been hard at work a day. ‘‘But why,” he asked, ‘‘are you so anx ious to reach Guinea’s tonight, and so ex cited ?’’’ **Because,’? Booth replied, ‘‘there’s a Maryland battery at Louisa Court House that has not disbanded yet, and we want to get with them.” Booth then proposed to buy Garrett’s horse, and offered one hundred and fifty dollars for it, but was refused, as it was the best one on the farm, the others having been stolen during the war. Young Garrett promised, however, to take Booth and Harold to Guinea’s early next morning, for which Booth handed him a ten-dollar bill. They then all joined the family on the front porch, and young Garrett again went to his father’s room and spoke of his fears and uneasiness concerning his strange guests. The old gentleman tried to quiet his son’s fears, but the latter replied that the war was over, and there must be some reason why these cavalrymen were going about, and that he would just step over to Ned Freeman’s and inquire of what the soldiers were in pursuit. Freeman informed him that they were hunting two soldiers, ‘‘one wounded and one not’’. This description agreed so ex actly with the appearance of the strangers with them that he returned immediately to the house and addressed Booth and Harold, saying: h‘‘Gentlemen, did you get into any trou ble before leaving Maryland? If so, you know what you have done and what the penalty will be. My father is an old man, and I do not want any more trouble brought on him. If by staying here you get him into any difficulty, I would rather you would leave, and at once.’’ Booth replied to this in a nonchalant manner: ‘‘Oh, yes, we did get into a little rush, but it was all cleared up before we left.’’ The supper bell just then prevented fur ther discussion of the subject, and after wards they adjourned to the front porch, where they smoked, and in the course of conversation which followed, Booth in quired if he and his companion could sleep on the porch that night. His request was denied on account of the dogs, which were particularly fierce at night, and would quickly attack a stranger, but they asked, ‘*Why not sleep upstairs, as you did last night? To which Booth re plied, ‘‘ Well, I think it best not to do so,’’ and, pointing to a large tobacco warehouse or barn, some distance from the house, said, ‘‘Why not there?’’ **Oh, that, they say, is all filled with rubbish, hay and tobacco.’’ During the war, when Port Royal was shelled, a good many people had stored their valuable furniture there, and only the day before a large chest containing old linen, family silver and cut glass had been removed, together with some costly furni ture, and restored to its former owner. Booth said that he did not mind the rub bish, and that he and Harold would sleep there. In the meantime, the family separated, and while Harold strolled around the grounds, Booth sat on the porch alone, in the twilight and his face wore a look of the deepest sadness. One of the ladies of the family, having taken a seat inside the window near where Booth sat, heard him murmur, ‘‘ Well, the ship’s gone down, down,down, never to rise again.’’ He repeated this, and his head sank lower and lower on his breast as he whispered with unutterable anguish, “down, down, down !?’ His unseen hearer, moved by the sadness of his tone, reaced forward and gently in quired what he meant by that. GRAY ANn a Conducted by,Henry Tlay Fairman.
Newspaper Details
Atlanta Sunny South
Atlanta, Georgia, US
Sat, Jan 18, 1896
Page 2
Full Page
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Steve M.
USA 06 Feb 2026
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