Last in a series of 5 episodes
(To read "Emma's War" from the start, click here.)
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This photo from 1900-1912 shows the Carson House
looking very much like it does today.
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For four days April 19-22, 1865, residents of the Carson House near Marion, N.C., were terrorized by Union raiders and desperadoes who used the raid as a license to loot. Miss Emma Rankin told their story in The Charlotte Observer in 1895.
Saturday, April 22, 1865
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| Miss Emma Rankin |
Sometime after midnight, we heard a halt. In
breathless terror, we listened to the sound of spur and sabre and heavy tramp
up the walk, through the passage, down the long porch where was our room, and straight to our door, where the sound stopped, with a heavy
kick on the door. Not a word could we utter.
A
rough voice cried "Open the door. We want a light to go to the barn." No answer.
"Open the door, or we'll break it down" was
howled, with an oath, from the outside.
Mrs.
Carson then spoke, "I have but one piece of candle" (she had found this in one of
the rooms) "and I cannot give it to you."
"Give us a piece of it," they cried.
"I have no knife to cut it," said she.
"Open the door, and we'll give you one."
She hesitated. After a moment she said, "If
you'll promise not to come in, I'll open the door wide enough to get the knife,
and give you a piece of candle." They promised. I did not trust to "honor among
thieves" and expected them to push in. But she opened a crack in the door, got
the knife, gave them the candle, and off they went.
Just after daylight, the same rough voice was
heard at the door. "Open this door, I tell you, or I'll break it open," and
heavy kicks followed under which the door threatened to give way every moment.
We
now concluded to open the door. A man rather old, with the most frightful
countenance I think I ever saw, pushed in. I think I should know that face
after all these years. He came pretty near where I was standing, and
immediately spied an insignificant breastpin which I wore habitually, and had
not thought of concealing.
"Give me that pin," he insolently demanded.
"No, you cannot have it," I said.
"If you don't take it off, I'll take it off
for you," he replied.
"No, you will not dare touch me," I said. I
moved back toward the fireplace, where there was a large iron shovel, keeping
my eye fixed steadily upon him as he slowly moved after me. I determined if he
attempted to touch me to seize the shovel, and do the best I could with it. I
never took my eye off him, but did not allow him to shorten the distance
between us, as he moved toward me I moved back till we had gone half way around
the room. I persistently refused to let him have the pin, and to all his horrid
threats told him he dared not touch me.
"Dare not," he said, "I fear not God or man."
"I fear God," said I, "and you cannot harm me."
After many minutes, as it seemed to me, he
moved off, leaving me weak-kneed and ready enough to drop into the nearest
seat. A few days before a lady near by my home in Lenoir had been knocked down
and robbed of her watch by one of this same gang of marauders, and I know of no
earthly reason why this wretch should have desisted, but just at this hour, as
I afterwards learned, my dear father was on his knees, imploring the protection
of God upon his absent child, amid the dangers by which she was surrounded.