Famous Adventures And Prison Escapes of the Civil War
V >> Various >> Famous Adventures And Prison Escapes of the Civil War[Illustration: QUESTIONING A PRISONER.]
FAMOUS ADVENTURES
AND PRISON ESCAPES
OF THE CIVIL WAR
[Illustration]
NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO.
1913
Copyright 1885, 1888, 1889, 1890, 1891, 1893, by
THE CENTURY CO.
CONTENTS
PAGE
WAR DIARY OF A UNION WOMAN IN THE SOUTH 1
THE LOCOMOTIVE CHASE IN GEORGIA 83
A ROMANCE OF MORGAN'S ROUGH-RIDERS 116
COLONEL ROSE'S TUNNEL AT LIBBY PRISON 184
A HARD ROAD TO TRAVEL OUT OF DIXIE 243
ESCAPE OF GENERAL BRECKINRIDGE 298
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
QUESTIONING A PRISONER Frontispiece
THE LOCOMOTIVE CHASE 85
GENERAL JOHN H. MORGAN 117
MAP OF THE MORGAN RAID 118
THE FARMER FROM CALFKILLER CREEK 123
GENERAL DUKE TESTS THE PIES 125
HOSPITALITIES OF THE FARM 131
LOOKING FOR THE FOOTPRINTS OF THE VAN 137
CORRIDOR AND CELLS IN THE OHIO STATE PENITENTIARY--CAPTAIN
HINES'S CELL 161
EXTERIOR OF THE PRISON--EXIT FROM TUNNEL 163
WITHIN THE WOODEN GATE 167
OVER THE PRISON WALL 171
"HURRY UP, MAJOR!" 175
CAPTAIN HINES OBJECTS 178
COLONEL THOMAS E. ROSE 185
A CORNER OF LIBBY PRISON 187
LIBBY PRISON IN 1865 189
MAJOR A.G. HAMILTON 191
LIBBY PRISON IN 1884 197
LIBERTY! 223
FIGHTING THE RATS 230
SECTION OF INTERIOR OF LIBBY PRISON AND TUNNEL 233
GROUND-PLAN OF LIBBY PRISON AND SURROUNDINGS 235
LIEUTENANTS E.E. SILL AND A.T. LAMSON 255
WE ARRIVE AT HEADEN'S 263
THE ESCAPE OF HEADEN 271
GREENVILLE JAIL 277
PINK BISHOP AT THE STILL 283
ARRIVAL HOME OF THE BAPTIST MINISTER 285
SURPRISED AT MRS. KITCHEN'S 291
THE MEETING WITH THE SECOND OHIO HEAVY ARTILLERY 295
SAND AS A DEFENSE AGAINST MOSQUITOS 307
SEARCHING FOR TURTLES' EGGS 310
THROUGH A SHALLOW LAGOON 313
EXCHANGING THE BOAT FOR THE SLOOP 315
OVER A CORAL-REEF 325
A ROUGH NIGHT IN THE GULF STREAM 331
FAMOUS ADVENTURES AND PRISON ESCAPES OF THE CIVIL WAR
WAR DIARY OF A UNION WOMAN IN THE SOUTH
EDITED BY G.W. CABLE
The following diary was originally written in lead-pencil and in a book
the leaves of which were too soft to take ink legibly. I have it direct
from the hands of its writer, a lady whom I have had the honor to know
for nearly thirty years. For good reasons the author's name is omitted,
and the initials of people and the names of places are sometimes
fictitiously given. Many of the persons mentioned were my own
acquaintances and friends. When, some twenty years afterward, she first
resolved to publish it, she brought me a clear, complete copy in ink. It
had cost much trouble, she said; for much of the pencil writing had been
made under such disadvantages and was so faint that at times she could
decipher it only under direct sunlight. She had succeeded, however, in
making a copy, _verbatim_ except for occasional improvement in the
grammatical form of a sentence, or now and then the omission, for
brevity's sake, of something unessential. The narrative has since been
severely abridged to bring it within magazine limits.
In reading this diary one is much charmed with its constant
understatement of romantic and perilous incidents and conditions. But
the original penciled pages show that, even in copying, the strong bent
of the writer to be brief has often led to the exclusion of facts that
enhance the interest of exciting situations, and sometimes the omission
robs her own heroism of due emphasis. I have restored one example of
this in a foot-note following the perilous voyage down the Mississippi.
G.W. CABLE.
I
SECESSION
_New Orleans, Dec. 1, 1860._--I understand it now. Keeping journals is
for those who cannot, or dare not, speak out. So I shall set up a
journal, being only a rather lonely young girl in a very small and hated
minority. On my return here in November, after a foreign voyage and
absence of many months, I found myself behind in knowledge of the
political conflict, but heard the dread sounds of disunion and war
muttered in threatening tones. Surely no native-born woman loves her
country better than I love America. The blood of one of its
Revolutionary patriots flows in my veins, and it is the Union for which
he pledged his "life, fortune, and sacred honor" that I love, not any
divided or special section of it. So I have been reading attentively
and seeking light from foreigners and natives on all questions at issue.
Living from birth in slave countries, both foreign and American, and
passing through one slave insurrection in early childhood, the saddest
and also the pleasantest features of slavery have been familiar. If the
South goes to war for slavery, slavery is doomed in this country. To say
so is like opposing one drop to a roaring torrent.
_Sunday, Dec. ----, 1860._--In this season for peace I had hoped for a lull
in the excitement, yet this day has been full of bitterness. "Come, G.,"
said Mrs. ---- at breakfast, "leave _your_ church for to-day and come
with us to hear Dr. ---- on the situation. He will convince you." "It is
good to be convinced," I said; "I will go." The church was crowded to
suffocation with the elite of New Orleans. The preacher's text was,
"Shall we have fellowship with the stool of iniquity which frameth
mischief as a law?" ... The sermon was over at last, and then followed a
prayer.... Forever blessed be the fathers of the Episcopal Church for
giving us a fixed liturgy! When we met at dinner Mrs. F. exclaimed,
"Now, G., you heard him prove from the Bible that slavery is right and
that therefore secession is. Were you not convinced?" I said, "I was so
busy thinking how completely it proved too that Brigham Young is right
about polygamy that it quite weakened the force of the argument for me."
This raised a laugh, and covered my retreat.
_Jan. 26, 1861._--The solemn boom of cannon to-day announced that the
convention have passed the ordinance of secession. We must take a reef
in our patriotism and narrow it down to State limits. Mine still sticks
out all around the borders of the State. It will be bad if New Orleans
should secede from Louisiana and set up for herself. Then indeed I would
be "cabined, cribbed, confined." The faces in the house are jubilant
to-day. Why is it so easy for them and not for me to "ring out the old,
ring in the new"? I am out of place.
_Jan. 28, Monday._--Sunday has now got to be a day of special
excitement. The gentlemen save all the sensational papers to regale us
with at the late Sunday breakfast. Rob opened the battle yesterday
morning by saying to me in his most aggressive manner, "G., I believe
these are your sentiments"; and then he read aloud an article from the
"Journal des Debats" expressing in rather contemptuous terms the fact
that France will follow the policy of non-intervention. When I answered,
"Well, what do you expect? This is not their quarrel," he raved at me,
ending by a declaration that he would willingly pay my passage to
foreign parts if I would like to go. "Rob," said his father, "keep cool;
don't let that threat excite you. Cotton is king. Just wait till they
feel the pinch a little; their tone will change." I went to Trinity
Church. Some Union people who are not Episcopalians go there now because
the pastor has not so much chance to rail at the Lord when things are
not going to suit. But yesterday was a marked Sunday. The usual prayer
for the President and Congress was changed to the "governor and people
of this commonwealth and their representatives in convention assembled."
The city was very lively and noisy this evening with rockets and lights
in honor of secession. Mrs. F., in common with the neighbors,
illuminated. We walked out to see the houses of others gleaming amid the
dark shrubbery like a fairy scene. The perfect stillness added to the
effect, while the moon rose slowly with calm splendor. We hastened home
to dress for a soiree but on the stairs Edith said, "G., first come and
help me dress Phoebe and Chloe [the negro servants]. There is a ball
to-night in aristocratic colored society. This is Chloe's first
introduction to New Orleans circles, and Henry Judson, Phoebe's husband,
gave five dollars for a ticket for her." Chloe is a recent purchase from
Georgia. We superintended their very stylish toilets, and Edith said,
"G., run into your room, please, and write a pass for Henry. Put Mr.
D.'s name to it." "Why, Henry is free," I said. "That makes no
difference; all colored people must have a pass if out late. They choose
a master for protection, and always carry his pass. Henry chose Mr. D.,
but he's lost the pass he had."
II
THE VOLUNTEERS--FORT SUMTER
_Feb. 24, 1861._--The toil of the week is ended. Nearly a month has
passed since I wrote here. Events have crowded upon one another. On the
4th the cannon boomed in honor of Jefferson Davis's election, and day
before yesterday Washington's birthday was made the occasion of another
grand display and illumination, in honor of the birth of a new nation
and the breaking of that Union which he labored to cement. We drove to
the race-course to see the review of troops. A flag was presented to the
Washington Artillery by ladies. Senator Judah Benjamin made an
impassioned speech. The banner was orange satin on one side, crimson
silk on the other, the pelican and brood embroidered in pale green and
gold. Silver crossed cannon surmounted it, orange-colored fringe
surrounded it, and crimson tassels drooped from it. It was a brilliant,
unreal scene; with military bands clashing triumphant music, elegant
vehicles, high-stepping horses, and lovely women richly appareled.
Wedding-cards have been pouring in till the contagion has reached us;
Edith will be married next Thursday. The wedding-dress is being
fashioned, and the bridesmaids and groomsmen have arrived. Edith has
requested me to be special mistress of ceremonies on Thursday evening,
and I have told this terrible little rebel, who talks nothing but blood
and thunder, yet faints at the sight of a worm, that if I fill that
office no one shall mention war or politics during the whole evening, on
pain of expulsion.
_March 10, 1861._--The excitement in this house has risen to fever-heat
during the past week. The four gentlemen have each a different plan for
saving the country, and now that the bridal bouquets have faded, the
three ladies have again turned to public affairs; Lincoln's inauguration
and the story of the disguise in which he traveled to Washington is a
never-ending source of gossip. The family board being the common forum,
each gentleman as he appears first unloads his pockets of papers from
all the Southern States, and then his overflowing heart to his eager
female listeners, who in turn relate, inquire, sympathize, or cheer. If
I dare express a doubt that the path to victory will be a flowery one,
eyes flash, cheeks burn, and tongues clatter, till all are checked up
suddenly by a warning for "Order, order!" from the amiable lady
presiding. Thus we swallow politics with every meal. We take a mouthful
and read a telegram, one eye on table, the other on the paper. One must
be made of cool stuff to keep calm and collected, but I say but little.
This war fever has banished small talk. Through all the black servants
move about quietly, never seeming to notice that this is all about them.
"How can you speak so plainly before them?" I say.
"Why, what matter? They know that we shall keep the whip-handle."
_April 13, 1861._--More than a month has passed since the last date
here. This afternoon I was seated on the floor covered with loveliest
flowers, arranging a floral offering for the fair, when the gentlemen
arrived and with papers bearing news of the fall of Fort Sumter, which,
at her request, I read to Mrs. F.
_April 20._--The last few days have glided away in a halo of beauty. But
nobody has time or will to enjoy it. War, war! is the one idea. The
children play only with toy cannons and soldiers; the oldest inhabitant
goes by every day with his rifle to practice; the public squares are
full of companies drilling, and are now the fashionable resorts. We have
been told that it is best for women to learn how to shoot too, so as to
protect themselves when the men have all gone to battle. Every evening
after dinner we adjourn to the back lot and fire at a target with
pistols. Yesterday I dined at Uncle Ralph's. Some members of the bar
were present, and were jubilant about their brand-new Confederacy. It
would soon be the grandest government ever known. Uncle Ralph said
solemnly, "No, gentlemen; the day we seceded the star of our glory set."
The words sunk into my mind like a knell, and made me wonder at the mind
that could recognize that and yet adhere to the doctrine of secession.
In the evening I attended a farewell gathering at a friend's whose
brothers are to leave this week for Richmond. There was music. No minor
chord was permitted.
III
TRIBULATION
_April 25._--Yesterday I went with Cousin E. to have her picture taken.
The picture-galleries are doing a thriving business. Many companies are
ordered off to take possession of Fort Pickens (Florida), and all seem
to be leaving sweethearts behind them. The crowd was in high spirits;
they don't dream that any destinies will be spoiled. When I got home
Edith was reading from the daily paper of the dismissal of Miss G. from
her place as teacher for expressing abolition sentiments, and that she
would be ordered to leave the city. Soon a lady came with a paper
setting forth that she has established a "company"--we are nothing if
not military--for making lint and getting stores of linen to supply the
hospitals.
My name went down. If it hadn't, my spirit would have been wounded as
with sharp spears before night. Next came a little girl with a
subscription paper to get a flag for a certain company. The little
girls, especially the pretty ones, are kept busy trotting around with
subscription lists. Latest of all came little Guy, Mr. F.'s youngest
clerk, the pet of the firm as well as of his home, a mere boy of
sixteen. Such senseless sacrifices seem a sin. He chattered brightly,
but lingered about, saying good-by. He got through it bravely until
Edith's husband incautiously said, "You didn't kiss your little
sweetheart," as he always called Ellie, who had been allowed to sit up.
He turned and suddenly broke into agonizing sobs and then ran down the
steps.
_May 10._--I am tired and ashamed of myself. Last week I attended a
meeting of the lint society to hand in the small contribution of linen I
had been able to gather. We scraped lint till it was dark. A paper was
shown, entitled the "Volunteer's Friend," started by the girls of the
high school, and I was asked to help the girls with it. I positively
declined. To-day I was pressed into service to make red flannel
cartridge-bags for ten-inch columbiads. I basted while Mrs. S. sewed,
and I felt ashamed to think that I had not the moral courage to say, "I
don't approve of your war and won't help you, particularly in the
murderous part of it."
_May 27._--This has been a scenic Sabbath. Various companies about to
depart for Virginia occupied the prominent churches to have their flags
consecrated. The streets were resonant with the clangor of drums and
trumpets. E. and myself went to Christ Church because the Washington
Artillery were to be there.
_June 13._--To-day has been appointed a Fast Day. I spent the morning
writing a letter on which I put my first Confederate postage-stamp. It
is of a brown color and has a large 5 in the center. To-morrow must be
devoted to all my foreign correspondents before the expected blockade
cuts us off.
_June 29._--I attended a fine luncheon yesterday at one of the public
schools. A lady remarked to a school official that the cost of
provisions in the Confederacy was getting very high, butter, especially,
being scarce and costly. "Never fear, my dear madam," he replied. "Texas
alone can furnish butter enough to supply the whole Confederacy; we'll
soon be getting it from there." It's just as well to have this sublime
confidence.
_July 15._--The quiet of midsummer reigns, but ripples of excitement
break around us as the papers tell of skirmishes and attacks here and
there in Virginia. "Rich Mountain" and "Carrick's Ford" were the last.
"You see," said Mrs. D. at breakfast to-day, "my prophecy is coming true
that Virginia will be the seat of war." "Indeed," I burst out,
forgetting my resolution not to argue, "you may think yourselves lucky
if this war turns out to have any seat in particular."
So far, no one especially connected with me has gone to fight. How glad
I am for his mother's sake that Rob's lameness will keep him at home.
Mr. F., Mr. S., and Uncle Ralph are beyond the age for active service,
and Edith says Mr. D. can't go now. She is very enthusiastic about other
people's husbands being enrolled, and regrets that her Alex is not
strong enough to defend his country and his rights.
_July 22._--What a day! I feel like one who has been out in a high wind,
and cannot get my breath. The newsboys are still shouting with their
extras, "Battle of Bull's Run! List of the killed! Battle of Manassas!
List of the wounded!" Tender-hearted Mrs. F. was sobbing so she could
not serve the tea; but nobody cared for tea. "O G.!" she said, "three
thousand of our own, dear Southern boys are lying out there." "My dear
Fannie," spoke Mr. F., "they are heroes now. They died in a glorious
cause, and it is not in vain. This will end it. The sacrifice had to be
made, but those killed have gained immortal names." Then Rob rushed in
with a new extra, reading of the spoils captured, and grief was
forgotten. Words cannot paint the excitement. Rob capered about and
cheered; Edith danced around ringing the dinner-bell and shouting,
"Victory!" Mrs. F. waved a small Confederate flag, while she wiped her
eyes, and Mr. D. hastened to the piano and in his most brilliant style
struck up "Dixie," followed by "My Maryland" and the "Bonnie Blue Flag."
"Do not look so gloomy, G.," whispered Mr. S. "You should be happy
to-night; for, as Mr. F. says, now we shall have peace."
"And is that the way you think of the men of your own blood and race?" I
replied. But an utter scorn came over me and choked me, and I walked out
of the room. What proof is there in this dark hour that they are not
right? Only the emphatic answer of my own soul. To-morrow I will pack my
trunk and accept the invitation to visit at Uncle Ralph's country house.
_Sept. 25._--When I opened the door of Mrs. F.'s room on my return, the
rattle of two sewing-machines and a blaze of color met me.
"Ah, G., you are just in time to help us; these are coats for Jeff
Thompson's men. All the cloth in the city is exhausted; these
flannel-lined oil-cloth table-covers are all we could obtain to make
overcoats for Thompson's poor boys. They will be very warm and
serviceable."
"Serviceable--yes! The Federal army will fly when they see those coats!
I only wish I could be with the regiment when these are shared around."
Yet I helped make them.
Seriously, I wonder if any soldiers will ever wear these remarkable
coats--the most bewildering combination of brilliant, intense reds,
greens, yellows, and blues in big flowers meandering over as vivid
grounds; and as no table-cover was large enough to make a coat, the
sleeves of each were of a different color and pattern. However, the
coats were duly finished. Then we set to work on gray pantaloons, and I
have just carried a bundle to an ardent young lady who wishes to assist.
A slight gloom is settling down, and the inmates here are not quite so
cheerfully confident as in July.
IV
A BELEAGUERED CITY
_Oct. 22._--When I came to breakfast this morning Rob was capering over
another victory--Ball's Bluff. He would read me, "We pitched the Yankees
over the bluff," and ask me in the next breath to go to the theater
this evening. I turned on the poor fellow. "Don't tell me about your
victories. You vowed by all your idols that the blockade would be raised
by October 1, and I notice the ships are still serenely anchored below
the city."
"G., you are just as pertinacious yourself in championing your opinions.
What sustains you when nobody agrees with you?"
_Oct. 28._--When I dropped in at Uncle Ralph's last evening to welcome
them back, the whole family were busy at a great center-table copying
sequestration acts for the Confederate Government. The property of all
Northerners and Unionists is to be sequestrated, and Uncle Ralph can
hardly get the work done fast enough. My aunt apologized for the rooms
looking chilly; she feared to put the carpets down, as the city might be
taken and burned by the Federals. "We are living as much packed up as
possible. A signal has been agreed upon, and the instant the army
approaches we shall be off to the country again."
Great preparations are being made for defense. At several other places
where I called the women were almost hysterical. They seemed to look
forward to being blown up with shot and shell, finished with cold steel,
or whisked off to some Northern prison. When I got home Edith and Mr. D.
had just returned also.
"Alex," said Edith, "I was up at your orange-lots to-day, and the sour
oranges are dropping to the ground, while they cannot get lemons for our
sick soldiers."
"That's my kind, considerate wife," replied Mr. D.
"Why didn't I think of that before? Jim shall fill some barrels
to-morrow and take them to the hospitals as a present from you."
_Nov. 10._--Surely this year will ever be memorable to me for its
perfection of natural beauty. Never was sunshine such pure gold, or
moonlight such transparent silver. The beautiful custom prevalent here
of decking the graves with flowers on All Saints' day was well
fulfilled, so profuse and rich were the blossoms. On All-hallow eve Mrs.
S. and myself visited a large cemetery. The chrysanthemums lay like
great masses of snow and flame and gold in every garden we passed, and
were piled on every costly tomb and lowly grave. The battle of Manassas
robed many of our women in mourning, and some of those who had no graves
to deck were weeping silently as they walked through the scented
avenues.
A few days ago Mrs. E. arrived here. She is a widow, of Natchez, a
friend of Mrs. F.'s, and is traveling home with the dead body of her
eldest son, killed at Manassas. She stopped two days waiting for a boat,
and begged me to share her room and read her to sleep, saying she
couldn't be alone since he was killed; she feared her mind would give
way. So I read all the comforting chapters to be found till she dropped
into forgetfulness, but the recollection of those weeping mothers in the
cemetery banished sleep for me.
_Nov. 26._--The lingering summer is passing into those misty autumn days
I love so well, when there is gold and fire above and around us. But the
glory of the natural and the gloom of the moral world agree not well
together. This morning Mrs. F. came to my room in dire distress. "You
see," she said, "cold weather is coming on fast, and our poor fellows
are lying out at night with nothing to cover them. There is a wail for
blankets, but there is not a blanket in town. I have gathered up all the
spare bed-clothing, and now want every available rug or table-cover in
the house. Can't I have yours, G.? We must make these small sacrifices
of comfort and elegance, you know, to secure independence and freedom."
"Very well," I said, denuding the table. "This may do for a drummer
boy."
_Dec. 26, 1861._--The foul weather cleared off bright and cool in time
for Christmas. There is a midwinter lull in the movement of troops. In
the evening we went to the grand bazaar in the St. Louis Hotel, got up
to clothe the soldiers. This bazaar has furnished the gayest, most
fashionable war-work yet, and has kept social circles in a flutter of
pleasant, heroic excitement all through December. Everything beautiful
or rare garnered in the homes of the rich was given for exhibition, and
in some cases for raffle and sale. There were many fine paintings,
statues, bronzes, engravings, gems, laces--in fact, heirlooms and
bric-a-brac of all sorts. There were many lovely creole girls present,
in exquisite toilets, passing to and fro through the decorated rooms,
listening to the band clash out the Anvil Chorus.