FORAGING, AND A NEW PRISON.
During this trip our rations were salt beef and corn bread, but the
latter was unfit to eat, and I refused all rations, preferring to take
the chances of foraging until we reached Shreveport.
On the first day out we made about twelve miles. At dusk it commenced to
rain, and we camped in an old church at a cross roads. The wounded men
and ourselves were placed in one end of the building, they on one side
and we on the other, while the other end was used by our guards. They
piled up all their equipments in one corner, and spread their blankets
in the vacant space, then going off to a stillhouse in the neighborhood,
where they got gloriously drunk, and leaving only a sentinel at the
door.
When leaving Washington our party had been increased by three more
runaways, who bore the names of Robinson, Fenton and Stanton, so that we
were now six in all.
The guard at the door excited my envy, soon after his companions had
left, by coolly drawing from his haversack a lot of biscuits and the ham
of a shote. As he drew out his huge knife and began slicing off
tempting bits of lean meat my envy overcame any timidity I may have had,
and I determined to have some of that meat by fair means or foul.
Stanton came up to me as I came to this conclusion, and I remarked to
him that I was about to take supper with the rebel. His curiosity
spurred me on, and I walked out to the sentinel and asked if I could
have some of his meat and biscuit. Much to my surprise and pleasure he
promptly said: "Tub ber shure," and sliced off for me a liberal
allowance of ham, giving it to me with some biscuits. My success led
Stanton to follow suit, and we both had a fair meal with the generous
fellow.
It was now getting dark, and the rain kept coming down. We had full
possession of the room, and as Stanton and myself walked back to our
companions, we saw Fenton eating. Inquiry developed the fact that he had
been plundering the piled-up haversacks while we had been outside, and
when we learned that there was a supply still unappropriated we promptly
set out to empty the haversacks of everything desirable. During our talk
together the sentinel had added his haversack to the pile, and the first
thing to which we came was the balance of the ham from which we had just
dined, together with fourteen biscuits. We felt awfully mean about it,
but "self-preservation is the first law of nature," and we cleaned that
bone, throwing it and the haversack behind the wainscoting.
This food was sufficient for our wants, and we would have been satisfied
but that we found Rummel on one side eating some light bread, which he
had purloined from another haversack. This made us ambitious again, so
we went back and took all the desirable stuff we could find in the pile
for future use.
We got a lot of light bread, about a pound and a half of butter and some
sweet potatoes.
The wounded men had a kettle for cooking, and I borrowed this, built a
fire in the stove and cooked our sweet potatoes.
About this time some of the guards came back, and one of them came to me
to borrow the kettle, saying that he had some sweet potatoes to cook.
I told the man that he would have to wait until our stuff was cooked,
and he sat down quietly and waited, chatting with us to pass away the
time. When our potatoes were cooked we gave him the utensil, which he
filled with water and put on the fire before he went for his potatoes.
Then there was a row, as his potatoes happened to be those boiled by us.
Of course he could not identify the property, and I was indifferent, but
to my surprise, instead of accusing us, he did not seem to suspect
anyone save his comrades, and his accusation against them caused the
rest to investigate on their own hook. The row that now ensued took a
direction which we had not calculated upon, and we finally got well
scared. The men were all more or less drunk, and their denunciations and
reproaches of each other caused a row among themselves. The rest of the
party came back, and there was more investigation, more row and much
confusion. There were two classes of men in this crowd. About half were
poor whites, of the ignorant, malicious sort, and the balance of a
better class.
The question finally settled down to a denunciation of us by the
first-named portion, and accusations against them by the others. At this
stage of the game they began to talk of searching us, and we got scared,
for we had too much on hand to be able to "bluff" them off in a general
search, and their condition of excitement would not give us much chance
for argument.
We now did what might seem to be a very mean thing, but it was done on
the principle that, while our conviction of the robbery might, in their
present state, mean death to us, they might curse and swear mightily,
but would not harm anyone if they found the balance of their stuff where
we put it--among the wounded men. We hid it around as best we could and
awaited developments with much interest, but the row finally quieted
down and we all went to sleep.
We were up very early in the morning, as we had to dispose of the
plunder in some way, and went to work, for it was work. We ate all we
possibly could, including the butter, and stuffed the remainder inside
of our shirts. I had a butter taste in my mouth for a week afterward,
and it was a good while before I could eat the article with my former
relish.
Our guards made a partial search before we started, but they did not
attempt to be too personal, and we evaded the discovery of any of the
purloined food. It was plainly to be seen that we were now suspected,
but they rather regarded the thing as a good joke, now that they were
sober, and the search was for something to eat rather than to prove
anything.
We now had several days of travel and similar scenes, but the robberies
were now joint expeditions against the potato holes on the line of our
road, where the surplus of the crop was stored for the winter, and the
guards and ourselves shared alike in the guilt and proceeds.
When we reached Shreveport, we were taken through the town to Four Miles
Springs, where I had been before, and here we were kept for six weeks.
A stockade and quarters had been built since my former visit, and things
were much more comfortable.
We soon built a comfortable cabin in partnership with some other
captured runaways who had just been brought to this stockade, and one of
these, Lieutenant Bushnell, of the 120th Illinois, became my berthmate
when lots were cast to see who should occupy the several rude bunks
erected in our mansion.
Sweet potatoes at this time were $10 a bushel in Confederate money, and
my supply of cash came in so handy that we were enabled to refuse all
rations and to live on the fat of the land; but we did not risk the gout
by so doing. The fat of the land in those days was so well streaked with
lean that everyone had to take much lean in order to get any fat, and
the rebels themselves did not live in luxury.
There were about 250 prisoners now at this point. The rations served to
them were brought in on a board. In order to get the privilege of doing
our own cooking we asked and obtained special permission to have our
rations served raw, and so we managed to have what we wanted.
There was a "greaser," from Mexico, on the outside, who made and sold
potato pies. I would get five for a $5 bill and give Bushnell two. At
the next pie meal he would reverse the order of things.
We made the acquaintance of a squad of men from the 16th Regiment of
Indiana Mounted Infantry, their leading spirit being a Captain Moore.
At roll-call the guards made the prisoners stand out in line, and Moore
was frequently prodded with a sword for hanging back and delaying
matters.
One day we made an excellent dummy from an old log and some clothes, and
carefully deposited it in Moore's bunk, covering it naturally with what
bedclothes we had. At next roll-call Moore was not to be found, and the
guards, after much swearing, went up to his cabin and found him,
apparently, in bed and asleep. After several calls and shakes,
accompanied by some artistic profanity, one of them prodded him gently
with his sword. A little harder punch followed, when he still slept, and
then a vicious one, when they threw back the covers and discovered the
deception. A crowd had followed them, and they were now well laughed at,
but they took it good-humoredly, only swearing at Moore for his
deviltry. When we went back to roll-call Moore was in his place in line,
and, as he gave a good excuse for absence and disclaimed all knowledge
of any joke, the guards had to be satisfied with some general cussing.
The rebel prisoners were also kept in this stockade--men who, as at
Washington, were imprisoned for various crimes and offenses.
One rebel prisoner complained of a theft. Moore hunted around, found a
suspect, convened a court-martial, had the man tried, found guilty and
sentenced to receive ten lashes, which were duly administered.
The court-martial and punishment are worthy of note. All the
preparations for the trial were made in due and ancient form, as
formally as if it had been ordered by the regularly-constituted
authorities in military life. The army (the prisoners) was well
represented by a judge-advocate, and the culprit by "learned counsel."
The offender was placed on the stand, and then witnesses for both sides
were thoroughly questioned and cross-questioned. Being found guilty in
usual form, the prisoner was sentenced as solemnly as if before a
regular court. The punishment was given by causing the thief to be bent
over a stump, with his hands and feet held by Confederate prisoners,
while the ten stripes were laid on with a halter strap in the hands of
another, who did not spare the victim. The rebel prisoners endorsed the
proceedings as being perfectly legal and just.
The feverish desire to escape was constantly present with every man in
the stockade, but there seemed to be little chance for getting away. We
were allowed to go out after wood, but there was a guard for each
prisoner when we went.
One rebel guard talked to me, and made a proposal. He was a rebel from
principle, he said, but had lost everything, and was now over forty
years old. What the outcome was to be he did not know, but he did know
that he wanted to make some money for himself and family, and had a
chance to do so if he had some help.
He told me of two steamboats, loaded with cotton, then lying tied up on
Red River, not over five miles away, and kept in readiness for a run up
some secluded bayou if the Yankees approached, calling my attention to
the fact that, as only two guards protected each vessel, the fires kept
in the furnaces made it a comparatively easy job to capture and get away
with one of the boats and its load. He said that he had contemplated the
capture of one boat for the purpose of taking it to New Orleans and
selling the cotton, but had given up the idea of trying it as originally
intended, fearing that the cotton and boat would be confiscated at New
Orleans, because he was a rebel, even if he succeeded in getting there.
The suggested scheme struck me as being a good one, and in several trips
made outside for wood with this man as my guard we perfected our plans
for making the attempt.
I was to select a pilot and crew from the prisoners, and he agreed to
arrange for our exit from the stockade. We kept up daily communication
with each other until all was in readiness.
I had found a pilot and crew to man the boat. The capture seemed an easy
job, as we would most likely find the guards asleep. We had accumulated
some rations for the trip, and it was settled as to what night the
start would be made.
The stockade was made with two-inch planks, twelve feet long, placed on
end on the ground and strongly braced. The soil was sandy.
When the appointed time came our party quietly went to the place which
had been selected for the work, and we were busily digging our way out,
under the fence, when someone _inside_ of the stockade reported us to
the sergeant at the gate, who yelled out:
"Sergeant of the guard! Prisoners escaping!"
The sentinel on whose beat we were to escape could do no less than fire
his gun, which he promptly did, and the bullet came through the fence at
about the proper distance above the ground to perforate the body of
anyone not lying down. It seemed almost a miracle that no one in our
party of eight was hit.
All was confusion in short order, and it is needless to say that our
party left for a better neighborhood. When a file of soldiers ultimately
appeared on the scene they found almost everyone up and asking
questions; but the parties who had drawn the fire of the sentry were
among those sleeping peacefully in their quarters and dreaming of a home
without rebel guards.
Added to the keen disappointment which we experienced over the
frustrated effort to escape, we had the usual regrets incident to the
failure of a business operation, for that boat and cargo in New Orleans
would have meant a snug little pile to divide, and in this respect my
own regrets were above the average felt by the crowd, for it had been
agreed upon by the party that the rebel manager and myself should have
an extra share of the spoils if the plan should be a success. By the law
of compensation, or of force, he and I now had the lion's share of the
disappointment.
With the sentinel a party to our escape and one of us as well, the thing
had seemed so easy that, speaking for myself at least, we had in
imagination seen ourselves, with bulging pockets, at home with our loved
ones.
Our feelings can better be imagined than described.
It was always one of the mysteries of life to me how any prisoner could
deliberately betray his comrades, and almost as much of a mystery how
schemes of escape became known to others.