WHY THE REGULATORS WERE NOT ASSISTED BY THE ENTIRE CAMP--PECULIARITIES
OF BOYS FROM DIFFERENT SECTIONS--HUNTING THE RAIDERS DOWN--EXPLOITS OF
MY LEFT-HANDED LIEUTENANT--RUNNING THE GAUNTLET.
I may not have made it wholly clear to the reader why we did not have
the active assistance of the whole prison in the struggle with the
Raiders. There were many reasons for this. First, the great bulk of
the prisoners were new comers, having been, at the farthest, but three
or four weeks in the Stockade. They did not comprehend the situation
of affairs as we older prisoners did. They did not understand that
all the outrages--or very nearly all--were the work of--a relatively
small crowd of graduates from the metropolitan school of vice. The
activity and audacity of the Raiders gave them the impression that at
least half the able-bodied men in the Stockade were engaged in these
depredations. This is always the case. A half dozen burglars or other
active criminals in a town will produce the impression that a large
portion of the population are law breakers. We never estimated that the
raiding N’Yaarkers, with their spies and other accomplices, exceeded
five hundred, but it would have been difficult to convince a new
prisoner that there were not thousands of them. Secondly, the prisoners
were made up of small squads from every regiment at the front along the
whole line from the Mississippi to the Atlantic. These were strangers
to and distrustful of all out side their own little circles. The
Eastern men were especially so. The Pennsylvanians and New Yorkers each
formed groups, and did not fraternize readily with those outside their
State lines. The New Jerseyans held aloof from all the rest, while the
Massachusetts soldiers had very little in Common with anybody--even
their fellow New Englanders. The Michigan men were modified New
Englanders. They had the same tricks of speech; they said “I be”
for “I am,” and “haag” for “hog;” “Let me look at your knife half a
second,” or “Give me just a sup of that water,” where we said simply
“Lend me your knife,” or “hand me a drink.” They were less reserved
than the true Yankees, more disposed to be social, and, with all their
eccentricities, were as manly, honorable a set of fellows as it was
my fortune to meet with in the army. I could ask no better comrades
than the boys of the Third Michigan Infantry, who belonged to the same
“Ninety” with me. The boys from Minnesota and Wisconsin were very much
like those from Michigan. Those from Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa and
Kansas all seemed cut off the same piece. To all intents and purposes
they might have come from the same County. They spoke the same dialect,
read the same newspapers, had studied McGuffey’s Readers, Mitchell’s
Geography, and Ray’s Arithmetics at school, admired the same great men,
and held generally the same opinions on any given subject. It was never
difficult to get them to act in unison--they did it spontaneously;
while it required an effort to bring about harmony of action with those
from other sections. Had the Western boys in prison been thoroughly
advised of the nature of our enterprise, we could, doubtless, have
commanded their cordial assistance, but they were not, and there was no
way in which it could be done readily, until after the decisive blow
was struck.
The work of arresting the leading Raiders went on actively all day on
the Fourth of July. They made occasional shows of fierce resistance,
but the events of the day before had destroyed their prestige, broken
their confidence, and driven away from their support very many who
followed their lead when they were considered all-powerful. They
scattered from their former haunts, and mingled with the crowds in
other parts of the prison, but were recognized, and reported to Key,
who sent parties to arrest them. Several times they managed to collect
enough adherents to drive off the squads sent after them, but this
only gave them a short respite, for the squad would return reinforced,
and make short work of them. Besides, the prisoners generally were
beginning to understand and approve of the Regulators’ movement, and
were disposed to give all the assistance needed.
Myself and “Egypt,” my taciturn Lieutenant of the sinewy left arm, were
sent with our company to arrest Pete Donnelly, a notorious character,
and leader of, a bad crowd. He was more “knocker” than Raider, however.
He was an old Pemberton building acquaintance, and as we marched up to
where he was standing at the head of his gathering clan, he recognized
me and said:
“Hello, Illinoy,” (the name by which I was generally known in prison)
“what do you want here?”
I replied, “Pete, Key has sent me for you. I want you to go to
headquarters.”
“What the ---- does Key want with me?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure; he only said to bring you.”
“But I haven’t had anything to do with them other snoozers you have
been a-having trouble with.”
“I don’t know anything about that; you can talk to Key as to that. I
only know that we are sent for you.”
“Well, you don’t think you can take me unless I choose to go? You haint
got anybody in that crowd big enough to make it worth while for him to
waste his time trying it.”
I replied diffidently that one never knew what--he could do till he
tried; that while none of us were very big, we were as willing a lot of
little fellows as he ever saw, and if it were all the same to him, we
would undertake to waste a little time getting him to headquarters.
The conversation seemed unnecessarily long to “Egypt,” who stood by my
side; about a half step in advance. Pete was becoming angrier and more
defiant every minute. His followers were crowding up to us, club in
hand. Finally Pete thrust his fist in my face, and roared out:
“By ---, I ain’t a going with ye, and ye can’t take me, you ---- ----
---- ”
This was “Egypt’s” cue. His long left arm uncoupled like the loosening
of the weight of a pile-driver. It caught Mr. Donnelly under the chin,
fairly lifted him from his feet, and dropped him on his back among his
followers. It seemed to me that the predominating expression in his
face as he went, over was that of profound wonder as to where that blow
could have come from, and why he did not see it in time to dodge or
ward it off.
As Pete dropped, the rest of us stepped forward with our clubs, to
engage his followers, while “Egypt” and one or two others tied his
hands and otherwise secured him. But his henchmen made no effort to
rescue him, and we carried him over to headquarters without molestation.
The work of arresting increased in interest and excitement until it
developed into the furore of a hunt, with thousands eagerly engaged
in it. The Raiders’ tents were torn down and pillaged. Blankets, tent
poles, and cooking utensils were carried off as spoils, and the ground
was dug over for secreted property. A large quantity of watches,
chains, knives, rings, gold pens, etc., etc.--the booty of many a
raid--was found, and helped to give impetus to the hunt. Even the Rebel
Quartermaster, with the characteristic keen scent of the Rebels for
spoils, smelled from the outside the opportunity for gaining plunder,
and came in with a squad of Rebels equipped with spades, to dig for
buried treasures. How successful he was I know not, as I took no part
in any of the operations of that nature.
It was claimed that several skeletons of victims of the Raiders were
found buried beneath the tent. I cannot speak with any certainty as to
this, though my impression is that at least one was found.
By evening Key had perhaps one hundred and twenty-five of the most
noted Raiders in his hands. Wirz had allowed him the use of the small
stockade forming the entrance to the North Gate to confine them in.
The next thing was the judgment and punishment of the arrested ones.
For this purpose Key organized a court martial composed of thirteen
Sergeants, chosen from the latest arrivals of prisoners, that they
might have no prejudice against the Raiders. I believe that a man named
Dick McCullough, belonging to the Third Missouri Cavalry, was the
President of the Court. The trial was carefully conducted, with all
the formality of a legal procedure that the Court and those managing
the matter could remember as applicable to the crimes with which
the accused were charged. Each of these confronted by the witnesses
who testified against him, and allowed to cross-examine them to any
extent he desired. The defense was managed by one of their crowd,
the foul-tongued Tombs shyster, Pete Bradley, of whom I have before
spoken. Such was the fear of the vengeance of the Raiders and their
friends that many who had been badly abused dared not testify against
them, dreading midnight assassination if they did. Others would not go
before the Court except at night. But for all this there was no lack
of evidence; there were thousands who had been robbed and maltreated,
or who had seen these outrages committed on others, and the boldness
of the leaders in their bight of power rendered their identification a
matter of no difficulty whatever.
The trial lasted several days, and concluded with sentencing quite a
large number to run the gauntlet, a smaller number to wear balls and
chains, and the following six to be hanged:
John Sarsfield, One Hundred and Forty-Fourth New York.
William Collins, alias “Mosby,” Company D, Eighty-Eighth Pennsylvania,
Charles Curtis, Company A, Fifth Rhode Island Artillery.
Patrick Delaney, Company E, Eighty-Third Pennsylvania.
A. Muir, United States Navy.
Terence Sullivan, Seventy-Second New York.
These names and regiments are of little consequence, however, as I
believe all the rascals were professional bounty-jumpers, and did not
belong to any regiment longer than they could find an opportunity to
desert and join another.
Those sentenced to ball-and-chain were brought in immediately, and had
the irons fitted to them that had been worn by some of our men as a
punishment for trying to escape.
It was not yet determined how punishment should be meted out to the
remainder, but circumstances themselves decided the matter. Wirz
became tired of guarding so large a number as Key had arrested, and
he informed Key that he should turn them back into the Stockade
immediately. Key begged for little farther time to consider the
disposition of the cases, but Wirz refused it, and ordered the Officer
of the Guard to return all arrested, save those sentenced to death, to
the Stockade. In the meantime the news had spread through the prison
that the Raiders were to be sent in again unpunished, and an angry
mob, numbering some thousands, and mostly composed of men who had
suffered injuries at the hands of the marauders, gathered at the South
Gate, clubs in hand, to get such satisfaction as they could out of the
rascals. They formed in two long, parallel lines, facing inward, and
grimly awaited the incoming of the objects of their vengeance.
The Officer of the Guard opened the wicket in the gate, and began
forcing the Raiders through it--one at a time--at the point of the
bayonet, and each as he entered was told what he already realized
well--that he must run for his life. They did this with all the energy
that they possessed, and as they ran blows rained on their heads, arms
and backs. If they could succeed in breaking through the line at any
place they were generally let go without any further punishment. Three
of the number were beaten to death. I saw one of these killed. I had no
liking for the gauntlet performance, and refused to have anything to
do with it, as did most, if not all, of my crowd. While the gauntlet
was in operation, I was standing by my tent at the head of a little
street, about two hundred feet from the line, watching what was being
done. A sailor was let in. He had a large bowie knife concealed about
his person somewhere, which he drew, and struck savagely with at his
tormentors on either side. They fell back from before him, but closed
in behind and pounded him terribly. He broke through the line, and ran
up the street towards me. About midway of the distance stood a boy
who had helped carry a dead man out during the day, and while out had
secured a large pine rail which he had brought in with him. He was
holding this straight up in the air, as if at a “present arms.” He
seemed to have known from the first that the Raider would run that way.
Just as he came squarely under it, the boy dropped the rail like the
bar of a toll gate. It struck the Raider across the head, felled him as
if by a shot, and his pursuers then beat him to death.